Acquiesce

by CORY CYR

  It was better for both of us that he walked away, because I couldn't have. I was too in love and in lust with him. He had a career to get back to and that third book. He could have never given me what I needed. He was too young and I was too old. Our lives were going in different directions, and Acquiesce had been a pit stop in life for both of us.

  ***

  There wasn't much social conversation on the flight back. I'm sure after the way it turned out, they wished they'd never brought me, but I was glad they did. I wouldn't change anything about the last three weeks. I'd miss him and our time together, but we were on different paths. I wiped a tear that had eased its way out of the corner of my eye, because when you love someone, you cry. I suppose it's human nature, especially if they don't love you back.

  “Are you okay, Nic?” Pru asked, handing me a bottle of water.

  “Yeah, I'll be fine. How about you?”

  “Things with Milo are up in the air. He's going to call next week. Then I guess I'll know more.”

  I patted her hand. “Things will be fine. He seems like a nice man,” I said as I watched Dee roll her eyes. I laughed because she would never change.

  My staff seemed overly excited to see me when I got home. There was a floral arrangement sitting on the table by the front entrance.

  “For you, Ms. Barrington. It came yesterday.”

  The flowers were native of the island of Venir. I recognized them right away.

  Thank you. ~ Cass

  I sat on the cushioned lounger, holding the card. I had no idea why he was thanking me. It took all the will I had not to track him down and call him, but our time had ended, and now it was time for me to begin the next chapter of my life.

  Epilogue~Nicola

  Six months later…

  “So what's the scoop? Are you or not?” I asked, tapping the side of my cell phone.

  “Hey, it's my turn to fifty question your ass. Yes and yes, we will be there for Christmas. I swear. Now my turn. When are you leaving?”

  “Tonight on the red eye.” I paused, rolling my eyes.

  “Quit rolling your eyes, Nic. I can tell you're doing it.” Pru giggled.

  “Whatever. I'll call you when I get settled, and do not tell Dee my new address.”

  “I doubt you have to worry about Dee. She's at Acquiesce. She and Lorraina are business partners now.”

  I laughed loudly. “That's just perfect. I can't think of a better place or a better person. They are made for each other.”

  “I'm Switzerland. I'm going to remain neutral.”

  “Okay, you do that, Pru. I'll text you when I land.”

  “Good luck, Nic.”

  ***

  I flipped the pages of the magazine I was pretending to read during the flight. The plane was congested with people, which made me regret not chartering a private flight, but I hated that kind of wasteful spending.

  The last six months had been hectic. I’d let Chris's business partners buy my shares, and I had more money than I'd ever spend now.

  I’d spent the last few months reestablishing connections with some of my past charities and getting them set back up. I’d neglected so many things during my “hermit” years, as I now referred to them.

  I’d sold all the homes except for the loft in New York. I had many offers to do charity work on the East Coast. It would make commuting a bit easier if I relocated.

  I reconnected with old friends and made new ones. My life had come together in the past six months for the most part. I spent most of my nights in restless sleep, dreaming about Cass, many days not eating and having a continuous pit in my stomach. It had become too hard to balance both sets of emotions. I couldn't continue my new life without knowing for sure everything between us was resolved.

  ***

  “Chapters twenty-four through fifty by tomorrow, and no excuses.”

  “That’s a lot of reading,” I said, walking down the aisle toward him as he stepped out from behind the podium. My stare slid down him from top to bottom. Cass looked like a sexy version of a nerd. The only thing he was missing was a pocket protector. He had on a dark navy-blue suit with a gray shirt open at his throat and a gray tie he had loosened during the day. He wore thick glasses and his hair was short and slicked back. The stubble on this chin almost made me swoon. He was gorgeous.

  He took off his glasses and blinked a few times, appearing to think I was a mirage.

  “What… what are you doing here?” he asked as he moved toward me.

  “I'm living in New York, and I wanted to see you. I’ve been waiting for your third book. When is the release date?”

  Cass shuffled his feet as he drew closer. “I gave the advance back and chose not to publish,” he said in a hushed tone.

  That familiar sensation of heat rushing to my core began as he moved close enough to touch.

  “You cut your hair,” he remarked, fondling the ends.

  “I did, and so did you.” I chuckled.

  “Yes, well, in full disclosure, this is how I normally look, so if you're looking for that beach bum, he's not here.”

  “I like this Cass very much,” I said as I reached up and brushed my hand against his cheek. I watched as he closed his eyes and tilted his head back.

  “I was so wrong, so fucking wrong, Nic,” he said as his eyes searched mine for acknowledgement. His arms immediately enveloped me as his breath cupped my ear. I instantly felt wet with that familiar tight coil in my body.

  “You’re wrong, Professor Vance? What would your students say?” I mused.

  “I love the way you say my name.”

  “Why, professor, you actually love something?”

  “Yes, I love you.”

  I blinked in succession, not believing what I’d just heard. “Are you sure, because according t—”

  Cass's lips crushed mine with fury and a sense of need. I felt him swell against me as he continued the kiss. He broke off, panting while adjusting himself.

  “I suppose I should ask if you still love me.”

  “Do you really believe six months could change the way I feel? I carried a torch for Chris for eleven years. I'll always love you, but what about our age difference?”

  “I had six months of not eating, not sleeping, basically hell thinking about the way I treated you and how I lied. Yes, I thought about our age difference and how that might affect our chances of having a relationship. But the one thing I am certain of is love, for me, never existed until I met you. Should that emotion be defined by a number? Should we deny ourselves because of our age? I know how I feel right now, and I don't want to waste any more time sweating the insignificant stuff. I want to experience this, what we have. I want it all with you.”

  “I once told you I wanted you to need me, not want me. Do you need me, Cass?”

  “More than oxygen. Oh God, baby, I've never needed anyone like I need you. Yes, I need you, yes, I want you, and yes, I acquiesce—I love you.”

  “That's all I wanted to hear, because I feel the same.”

  Cass continued to hug me, cradling my head into his chest. “Do you think Chris would have approved of me?”

  I looked up at him solemnly. “Who do you think persuaded me to say I love you in the first place?”

  The End

  Books by Cory Cyr

  Reviving Haven

  Bite & Release

  About the Author

  I began writing music and poetry at an early age. My love of music became my sole focus and I spent quite a few years as the lead singer for many local rock bands. In high school, I was fascinated with the macabre and started writing science fiction and horror stories so dark they earned me the nickname “Gory Cory.”

  After years of writing dark tales, I never thought in a million years my first published books would be Adult Romance—themed younger men/older women. My books are for suited for over 18.

  You can find me at:

  Email: coyrcyr.author@gmail.com

  Facebook: Autho
r Cory Cyr

  Twitter:@coryauthor

  Pinterest & Goodreads

  Instagram: coryauthor

  SNaTCH

  SUMMER 2015

  THE SHITS ABOUT TO GET REAL

  Prologue

  Amsterdam, Tuesday

  This was the part of the mission I loathed the most. Having some obese, sweaty motherfucker, stabbing me restlessly with the bulbous head of his overly large appendage. Thrusting, ramming, and prodding all while attempting access from behind. I reluctantly gave in and pushed back slightly on my heels to accommodate him, giving him easier entry and letting him slide into my sex. I moaned, out of boredom and frustration, making him retreat for a moment only to have him plow back into me deeply.

  If I weren't currently holding on to a black ceramic sink for support, in this extremely luxurious men's bathroom, I'd be checking my nails right now. I sure could use a manicure. I'm hungry for a patty melt. Fuck, did I remember to set the DVR to record The Walking Dead? This was taking too long. Why couldn't I just shoot him? Why in God's name did I have to fuck him? Damn Quist and his gadgets. What the hell was I, the poster child for his patents?

  It had taken me almost seven days to set this up and catch his eye. Then all it had taken was a skirt so short I had to get waxed twice, a badly styled blond wig, brown contacts that burned like a bitch, and enough skin to show off my tits and many tattoos. So here I was with my skirt pushed up to my boobs, two body guards standing in plain sight, who appeared almost as bored as I was, and Mr. Arms Dealer of Amsterdam.

  “Ah, your cunt is so tight. Much too tight for a whore, but that's all right. I like it,” he said between sweaty grunts.

  “Maybe I'm a virgin,” I replied, trying to impale myself farther on his cock, hoping to get this show on the road.

  He began laughing loudly as he panted. “No, no virgins in Amsterdam. I think it must be my enormous fat cock. Yes, I'm sure that's it. So what's your name, fillette?”

  Jesus, it had been a long time since any man had called me girlie. What was I, twelve? He wishes. Okay, that thought made me want to puke. This person was a French arms dealer, not a child molester, which in retrospect saved his life. Pedophiles I always killed. Hell, I wouldn't even charge money to take them out, but according to Quist, arms dealers got laid then eliminated. Fucking Quist—I should kill him too.

  “Annalist—my name.” I paused, starting to get annoyed. Shouldn't he be dead by now? “Look, do you want to fuck or chat? I don't care. It's your money.” I moaned, feigning the beginnings of an orgasm.

  He took that as sign to grab me by my neck and pound into me roughly. Any other time, I enjoyed BDSM sex, but I was concerned the device Quist had fitted in me couldn't withstand such aggression. Maybe there weren't enough toxins for his body weight. Had Quist known this man was four hundred pounds? I tried to remember the dossier.

  His name was Henri Melville, but people called him Ahab. Maybe because he was a distant relative to the famous writer, but I was inclined to believe it was his Moby Dick attached to his white whale of a body. He was a tall man with excessive body hair, loved smoking expensive cigars, and had an addiction for fucking—prostitutes mostly.

  Ahab was French by birth but chose to live and work in Amsterdam. Unscrupulous by nature, he sold his weapons to anyone who could pay the most. Chechens, Somali pirates, IRA extremists, even Al-Qaeda—all of them knew who to come to for weapons of destruction. This time was critical because he had chosen to market a bioweapon so lethal that one drop could take out a small country.

  What the world's greatest intelligence agencies couldn't accomplish, Saliente, a private firm, could. I was one of twenty-five operatives, but without a doubt, not to sound boastful, I was the best. Killing was my forte. I was skilled at it. It was a profitable business, and because there were so many evil assholes in the world, business was good.

  Any minute now, the mixture would kick in and the mission would go as planned, and I could get the fuck out of here. The cocktail was simple, a super mix of Ephocto with some added caffeine and just the right amount of methamphetamine along with some other shit Quist threw in for good measure. Good thing I trusted him with my life, because right now that formula was inside a glove measured and positioned to line the wall of my vagina.

  The Glove was one of Quist's many inventions. He had created it out of a strong polymer, and because it was designed specifically for me, it felt natural. I did have concerns it might rupture or leak, but he had assured me it was one hundred percent safe—at least for me.

  Hopefully, between Ahab's size, his smoking, and the fact he’d been banging me for about twenty minutes, once he came, it would be over. I hoped he enjoyed the fuck, because this orgasm would be his last. Microabrasives would make sure once he ejaculated, the formula inside the glove would enter his system quickly, causing cardiac arrest.

  I gazed at myself in the mirror as I noticed Moby was beginning to sweat. I couldn't tell if it was because of the fucking, his size, or please, dear God, let it be a heart attack. His face began to turn a ruddy red as sweat poured profusely from his brow. Thirty seconds. I had to prepare my five-foot-six athletic frame for when his four hundred pounds caved in on me, or I'd be crushed by his mass.

  His eyes began to bulge as his jaw clenched tightly. His hands tightened on my hips and I felt his fingertips gouge into my skin as I felt him falling forward. I managed to squeeze myself from under him and at the same time dislodge his cock from me.

  “Oh my God, mister. Mister, are you okay?” I screamed, pretending alarm as his bodyguards stepped in. “Something's wrong. Someone get help,” I cried, motioning to the bodyguards.

  The first guard leaned forward, kneeling down to turn Ahab over. The other one followed to assist as well. I tugged down my skirt as I backed up against the far wall, pretending to be in shock as well as scared. I watched as bodyguard number one spoke into his watch, apparently calling for backup. Five minutes later, another man arrived, one that clearly had all the authority. Fucking head of security.

  “What the fuck, Jules?” Mr. Authority said as he leaned over inspecting Ahab.

  “I'm pretty sure he's dead.”

  “You think? You… what did you do?” he said, pointing at me.

  I stayed in character and cowered in the corner.

  “I did what he wanted… me to. I let him fuck me. That's what he was paying me for. It's my job,” I replied, sniffling, acting frightened.

  He eyed me carefully, scrutinizing me from head to toe. He then looked over at the two bodyguards.

  “Boss, I swear we were here the whole time. She's just another whore. He was fucking her and he just keeled over,” the bodyguard said as he threw up his hands.

  Mr. Authority squinted as he stared at me while letting out a sigh. Damn, the two bodyguards were dumbasses, but this guy might be a tougher nut to crack. He moved in closer to me.

  “All right, you, get the fuck out of here. Move. You weren't here—just go, NOW,” he bellowed.

  I moved toward him, trying to smooth out my clothing. As I passed him, I felt his eyes burning a hole into my back. Shit, this one is smart. I stopped short, because I knew if I didn't, I was dead.

  “He didn't pay me. I need to get paid. My pimp will kill me if I don't,” I said, staring up at Mr. Authority.

  “Do you know who that is, whore? Do you know who you were just fucking?”

  I twisted a lock of blond hair around my finger and shrugged. “Yeah, he was just another John paying my rent for the next week. I did my job. It's a shame he died, but I still need to be paid.”

  He continued to glower at me, and now I was hoping I hadn't overstepped my bounds by being too melodramatic. I watched as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a wad of bills, peeling off a hundred euro note and handing it to me. I stared blankly at the bill.

  Seriously, you dumb motherfucker? Even hookers on the street are paid more than that. I'm supposed to be a high-class prostitute. This guy thinks he has me
. He's toying with me, testing me. What a mistake.

  “Really?” I toss him a look along with a smirk. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “You do realize what you did here, right—whore?”

  I rolled my eyes and glared at him. “Yeah, I fucked him so good he died while coming. Good way to go if you ask me. That alone should be worth two fifty.” I willed my body to calm itself, because this clown was agitating me. Of course, I had no gun; otherwise, I'd just shoot them all and be on my way to the goddamn airport. Fuck this interrogation crap.

  He gave me an icy look as he peeled off another hundred euro. “That's it. Take it and get the fuck out of here and feel lucky you're not joining him. Fucking whores!”

  I grabbed the bill and made my way out into the hall. I quickly found the exit and stepped into the alley. Never did the stench of garbage and night air smell so good. I leaned against the wall just long enough to catch my breath. I wanted to get to my hostel, grab my shit, and get to the airport. I had an hour to do it all.

  “Can you spare some change?” a tiny voice whispered.

  I looked down and saw a young girl, maybe thirteen or so, terribly thin and filthy. She was one of the many street people headed for a life of despair, probably drugs or prostitution.

  “Here you go. Should get you by a couple days,” I said, pressing the two euro bills into her tiny hand.

  She stared at me in disbelief after she eyed the money. I gave her a weak smile as I made my way out of the alley. My mission had been accomplished, and I couldn't wait to get back to San Diego. All this talk about Moby Dick and white whales… Fuck that patty melt, I'm thinking seafood.