Damien leaves my sight.
It is a big slap on my face to see him leave just like that, looking so uninterested, leaving only a cold glare before he scoots out. Hannah sneers at me in my mortification.
I can only flush with shame. I don't know what he could be thinking after he sees me on his doorstep. What's worse is that I have no clue if the offer is still on. Who knows? He could have paid this Hannah girl my million dollars! I can only think about the great loss when I see her manicured nails which might roughly estimate a hundred dollars in my observation. Gosh, don't let my million dollars be wasted on those French nails.
I thought of crying.
I went up here not expecting this treatment. I thought I'd have my money after tonight.
"Why are you still here?" Hannah grins as she emphasizes those shapely hips of hers.
Just when I am about to turn away, I hear a loud solid sound hitting the floor.
Damien threw away Hannah's red purse, shoes, and clothes in front of her.
"What are you doing, babe?" she asks, visibly horrified.
His sudden return surprises me, and my legs are glued to the ground. This time, he's in his plain gray t-shirt and pajamas, and a white cotton towel hanging around his neck.
"Thank you for the night, Hannah. Payment will be forwarded tomorrow morning," Damien says dryly, his eyes shifting to my disconcerted ones.
"You're kidding, right?"
"No."
Oh, God! I don't know what's happening to me, but I feel like bursting into tears. There's only one thing in my mind, and that is my money.
Hannah picks up her things.
"Can I even use the bathroom?" she asks.
"No."
"Fuck!" Hannah storms out of the flat in Damien's thin piece of clothing.
A single tear finally escapes my eye. I hurriedly wipe it away to hide them from him.
"Come in," he says, his face still devoid of any emotion.
My legs tremble when I cross his threshold. I let out a huge breath to get rid of the disquiet that is slowly creeping its way into me.
His penthouse is huge, five times bigger than all the rooms in my house combined. It's all marble in shades of gray, black, and white and littered with expensive and stylish portraits and furniture. It's amazing, really! I can't believe that a university student like himself is living in such a grand place. I've never heard him brag about his wealth to anyone in school. He's so friendly to everybody, one will think that he's just one of them. Except for the Lamborghini he's driving and the designer clothes he's wearing, he's pretty approachable. The foyer that leads to his living room is decorated with a huge lit up crystal chandelier, making the place entirely bright. It emanates the air of elegance, making me feel like I am entering a royal palace. The living room, a combination of modern and ancient European regal, almost blind my eyes. I have never seen such an extravagant room in my enter life. As I step my way inside, I can't stop but feel so poor and little.
"This way, Angel," he says as he leads me to a chaise facing the huge ceiling to floor glass window that overlooks the striking nightscape of the metropolitan. He sits on the couch adjacent to it.
I dread the silence that wraps the entire room. All we do is listen to the air passing through our nostrils. Damien watches me blaze with heat with those piercing stares. The silence doesn't give me time to calm myself. It makes my discomfort even worse. I can count the loud beating of my heart joined by the consequent throbbing of my fingers. I don't know if initiating the conversation is a good idea. I don't even know how to start.
"Angel," he says.
Finally!
"Please let me know why you're here," he continued
He should know.
"I assume you know," I reply, meeting his gaze.
He leans forward with his hands clasped together.
"Please tell me the offer is still on."
"I want you to tell me what you specifically want, Angel." His voice is so goddamn sexy that I start to curse myself. Ray is right.
"The payment you offer for..." I pause as doubt resurfaces in my head. I can't say the word.
"For what, Angel?"
"F-for..."
Can I really do it? I ask myself again.
Can I?
"Angel?"
"For sex."
He leans back on the couch, his face forming a reserved smile.
"One-night stand," I add, looking down the floor, feeling the warmth of mortification spread across my cheeks and the twisting of my stomach. I can already feel his eyes wanting to see more than the blushes. They won't leave me alone.
"Ask me again, Angel."
I press my lips together as I find no words to describe how I feel.
"I just want to let you know that I'm doing this because I need the money badly," I say.
He rises from his seat, goes straight to the table, and pulls out something from the drawer. "You should have notified me earlier, Angel. You see, I don't have a million dollars in my drawer, and I'm afraid my vault is empty."
"I'm okay with installments," I reply.
He turns to face me with a piece of paper on his hands. It looks like a check.
"Five grand upfront and another five grand after tonight if you please me. Tomorrow, if my mother doesn't find my bank transaction a little suspicious, I might withdraw five-hundred grand, and the other half next week."
Ten thousand dollars for tonight then. I won't be leaving his penthouse empty handed.
"That works for me."
"Okay then. I'll hold onto this for a while," he says as he places the check back in the drawer. "Shall we get started?"
I sigh. This is a bit weird. I feel like we're doing business together, so detached and all about money and gains.
"Can I use the restroom?" I ask as Damien walk closer to me. The soft footsteps he makes amplify the strong noise in my heart.
"Sure."
"Thanks," I answer, trying to maintain a composed front.
"It's in there." He points at the door behind me. It must be his bedroom because it's the only huge door in his flat with gold carvings on it. Damien leads me inside, and I am astounded to see how huge his bed is, still all crumpled. The picture of lying on that bed with him quarries a hole at the pit of my stomach. A sudden shiver trails from my nape down my spine.
It is not a surprise to see his bedroom having all this extravagance. It must be great to wake up in a room like this every day, seeing the gigantic crystals of the chandeliers the moment you open your eyes.
"Angel." He cocks his head to the direction of the bathroom.
My gaze quickly shifts from the bed to the huge door.
"Don't take off your undergarments. I like a little challenge." His smirk resurfaces.
My cheeks blush as a smile breaks through my defenses.
I recall Hannah's appearance. She was wearing this rather large polo shirt. I wonder if I should look like her. In movies, I see women dress like her.
"I will need to borrow a towel and a shirt."
Damien turns away and heads to a walk-in closet. My eyes feast on its size. I could see walls of cabinets that most probably contain all his expensive designer clothes. It is also well lighted. I am too overwhelmed with its sophistication that I hardly notice his return. He's carrying a clean cotton towel and a light blue polo shirt.
My pulse quickens as I receive them from him.
"I'll be waiting for you, Angel," he whispers.
I scurry into the bathroom and shut the door behind me.
I know this feeling is expected. I should have known that this sucks. I don't like how it twists my insides and how it mixes the coldness and warmth in my body. Not even the grand bathroom could appease the monster that is going berserk inside my chest. My head is spinning, and I am starting to lose control of what is going on in my mind.
Calming myself takes a while.
I've never done something like this my entire life, but I will have to do this because I need to. I took off all my clothes and hit the shower. I use the soap that is in there despite the fact that it's Damien's. I don't mind smelling like him for tonight. I'd rather smell like him than...
Wait.
I pause from lathering the soap when I realize that I had already showered when I came back home a while ago.
Damn! So this is how I am when my head is flying like a beeâ so clueless of what I am doing and repeating things just to give myself ample time for escape. I have not realized that I was just slowing down the night because I don't want it to happen.
I jump out of the shower and reach for the towel hanging on the bar. I begin drying myself up.
I came here for one objective. Now that it is within my reach, I have no other reason to say no. I recall how I panicked when Damien left my sight a while ago. It felt so terrible to see him leave like that without saying a word. It was like hope left with him.
I am this close to a life free from problems.
I am this close to my ten thousand dollars.
Why let this opportunity slip away?
With only my undergarments and the polo shirt on, I leave the bathroom. I feel the cold wrapping my bare legs, but I force myself to stand in front of him. Damien is sitting on the couch just beside his bed. His legs are crossed together, and on his hand is a glass of whiskey.
The familiar warmth spread across my cheeks again when his eyes focus on me.
"Are you ready?" he asks, eyeing me over the rim of his glass.
I nod shyly.
He puts down the glass on the nightstand and stands up from the couch. Watching him walk toward me was the longest wait in my life. When he reaches me, he immediately rests his hands on my waist, pulling me close to him, our faces only an inch away.
I am literally frozen when I feel him harden on my belly. I feel so small and fragile when he touches me. I could only follow the movement of his mouth, looking for the right time and spot to land on my pale face.
His palms travel down from my hips to my lower back down again to my ass and push me up and closer to him that I gasp at the discomfort his erection brings on my abdomen. I feel my thighs shaking and the little thing in between pulsating.
"I like that sound," he mumbles at the corner of my mouth. "Now," he says as he pulls back from me and whispers on my ear, "take my shirt off."
"Me?"
"Yes."
He steps forward and shows me the hem of his shirt.
"Go on." His voice is gentle despite the huskiness and the menacing tone my ears hear.
I pull up his shirt over his head and slide them off his arms. His muscles and biceps look so different up close. I am struck to see a tribal tattoo on his chest trailing toward his left shoulder down to his muscular biceps. I'm afraid I feel a little something in the pit of my stomach at the sight of that tattoo. It makes him so... I imagine Ray salivating when he sees him like this.
I shake my head when I realize that I am staring at it for quite too long.
Damien reaches for my hands, spreads my palms, and places them on top of his well-defined chest. I gulp at the thought of touching Damien Etheridge like this. His gray eyes darken, and they seem more serious than I have ever seen.
This is weird, really weird. My throat dries up as I see myself in the mirror burning red.
He slides up my hands to his neck so that they encircle him. We're so close again that he's looking down on me and I looking up at him. His hands cup my tiny waist.
For a while, we just stand there. His mouth lightly brushing the skin of my face as I start to feel ultra-sensitive. Even the air that comes out of his nose and mouth raises every hair in my body.
He scoops me in his arms and, the next thing I know, we're already on the bed with him reclining on top of me. His eyes staring deep into my soul.
There's nothing noisier in the entire room than my heartbeat and my ragged breathing.
"Touch me," he demanded.
"Where?"
"Anywhere."
I drop my stare to the block of muscles in front of me. My breathing has become labored as I feel paralyzed under him. Both his arms are beside my head, pinning me down and blocking every route of escape. His legs are intertwined with mine.
I feel my lips trembling. "Damien, I've never done this before," I speak.
"It's alright." His voice sends tingles from my ears and onto my face. His hands start to massage my waist down to my thighs. "Just do what I say. Touch me, Angel."
I run my fingers through his skin, from his shoulders down to his chest and hard abdomen to the ridge of his pelvis. I don't understand what I feel. My fingers feel so cold while the rest of my body are exploding with heat.
Damien begins to brush his lips to my throat, causing me to arch my back.
It's really going to happen now. I just shut my eyes at the thought of it.
His fingers carefully unbutton my shirt. I can feel the labored rise and fall of my chest. I can't open my eyes because I'm afraid of what I will seeâ his eyes filled with lust and danger. He looks a bit scary.
I feel so bare and vulnerable. I know his eyes are on my body. I just don't know what his reaction is, and I won't dare see.
Think of the ten thousand dollars, Angel, I keep telling myself.
My hand reflexively shuts my mouth to stop myself from squealing when the tip of his nose and soft lips land on the valley of my breasts. I feel his lips smirk against my skin. What's so amusing? The discomfort grows stronger when his lips descend from the mass of my breasts popping out of my bra to my stomach and to someplace a little farther below.
His expert hands then travel from my legs to the inside of my thighs, spreading them apart. I have to clutch the bed sheet to prevent myself from squealing again.
The ten thousand dollars, Angel, I hear my conscience telling me.
Think of Dad and Mom...
My tears burst when I feel his breath threatening the entrance of my femininity.
"No, no, no," I murmur.
"What's wrong?" he asks as he pulls himself up, leveling himself up to me.
I cry, letting go of the trapped emotions inside me. "I c-can't..."
"Sshh..." He squares his large hands on my face, calming me down. "Angel, it will be alright."
"Damien..." I open my eyes. "I don't know..."
"Angel, I thought you want to do this."
"I do... but I don't know..."
I see the frustration on his face. He turns to the other side of the bed and sighs deeply.
"Let's call this a night," he mutters.
I feel like protesting, yet I did nothing.
That's it.
Nothing happened.
I let the opportunity slip through my fingers this time. I can't say anything because I know Damien won't listen.
I just said no.
"Stay there," he says coldly as he turns his back on me and pulls the blanket over us "Sleep, Angel."