No Refunds No Exchanges: A Hudson Family Series- Book 4- Matt and Ali

by Chontelle Brison

  Matt

  Catching the door before it clicked I waited as my client’s footsteps padded away. I have to admit I was stunned. When I had knocked on her door and heard a crash, my first instinct was to get in that room, by whatever means necessary. I was lucky a maid was down the hall and that I was able to charm her into opening the door for me.

  Nothing could have prepared me for the scene I walked in on. A woman with raven colored hair, definitely darker than my almost-black locks, was pulling herself to her feet from the floor. From the looks of it, she’d tripped or something, and her dinner had landed all over her. Her almond shaped, dark eyes had widened in embarrassment when I came crashing through her door but then had quickly narrowed in suspicion.

  I knew I was about thirty minutes early but getting ready had taken less time than I had expected. Plus, most clients loved the fact that they got extra time with me whenever I ran ahead of schedule. This woman, the woman with the dark eyes, high cheekbones, and slightly upturned nose, hadn’t looked pleased at all. In fact, her full, plump, pink lips looked more annoyed than anything.

  Gentleman that I was, I tried not to notice the pasta and mushroom sauce dripping off her t-shirt that said something about dogs. It was hard to tell because the bulk of the spaghetti was over her chest, which seemed to be rounded and full, but I had tried not to zone in on it.

  In short, the woman was adorable. I loved the way her cheeks blushed as she tried to get rid of me. I had sought to put her at ease, I had smiled, made my voice quiet and soothing and even removed my suit jacket so that she could get a glimpse of the merchandise she had purchased for the night. However, unlike most of the women that have hired me, the closer I got the more horrified she became. Could she really be so shy that the poor thing didn’t even know how to act around me? I was sure this whole ‘interview’ thing was just a cover, so I had already anticipated that I was going to have to spend a lot of time putting this client at ease.

  It wasn’t unusual that a woman was nervous around me. Many women were so used to taking care of everyone else’s needs that they never got to see to their own. Women by nature seemed to be constantly giving but never really receiving. So, I was used to having to make my clients feel comfortable with taking pleasure for themselves. At least the first time they met me, after that the women would usually get bolder and actually start asking for what they wanted. I loved it. Nothing was hotter than taking a woman who was shy and unsure of how to ask for pleasure and then hearing her scream my name as she came around my cock.

  There was something innately beautiful about a woman when she came; her face, her moans, the way her body clenched my cock, my fingers or my tongue. I’m not going to lie it was a helluva an ego stroke to know I could bring a woman there.

  That brought me back to my current client. The little minx had actually tried to kick me out. While I appreciate the fact that she was willing to pay me for the night even if I left, I didn’t want her money. Something about his woman got my attention.

  First, women always dolled up to see me. I had never shown up and been met by a lady in a ponytail, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. Second, while initially shy, I had never had a woman back out of a date before. Lastly, she seemed unaffected by my obvious charm. Sure, I caught her checking out my body, but she appeared to be waging some inner battle with herself that caused her deny my natural charisma. Yeah, that last one just chafed! There was no way I was going to walk into the office tomorrow and tell the guys I had gotten kicked out by a spaghetti covered, jean wearing little firecracker! I would never hear the end of it! I was Matt Wolf, I charmed the panties off women, literally, for a living!

  I’m sure Ms. Sunny Daise, or whatever her real name was, thought she had effectively dismissed me, but all she’d done was issue a challenge. Oh! Challenge accepted doll, prepared to surrender!

  Opening then shutting the door behind me I followed the sounds of her shower into the master suite of the hotel room. I had always liked the Venetian, it’s Italian marble floors, views of the Las Vegas strip and comfortable mattresses made my job that much easier. I checked the bathroom door, but it was locked. Odd, what kind of person locks a door when they think they’re alone? Paranoid people…people with trust issues. Hmm…Ms. Daise was giving me more clues to who she was then she realized.

  Noticing the large duffle bag on the bed, I decided to see if there was anything in there that might help me put the woman at ease. Yes, it was an invasion of privacy, but if this was war and she was the prize, then I wasn’t above being nosy. The duffle bag was stuffed with jeans, tee shirts, magazines about animals, gum, cotton underwear, one ugly white bra, and socks. There was no lingerie, no dresses and nothing was folded. It was as if she had shoved it all in the bag and ran out the door in a hurry. Turning from the bag, I noticed a legal pad and laptop on the small desk in the corner of the room. Opening the laptop, I was surprised to find it password protected. Geez, paranoid much?

  Looking at the legal pad that had, what looked like a coffee stain on it, I saw an itemized list of questions. Had she thought to ask me questions as a way of keeping her cover until she was comfortable? I couldn’t quite piece it all together, but I loved a good puzzle. Grabbing her discarded clothes off the ground, I grabbed a towel from the wet bar and cleaned up the floor where the pasta had dropped and put everything in the laundry bag that hotel provided located in the closet. However, before shoving the stained clothing into the bag, I had glanced at the sizes. Seeing her shoes next to the bed, I got her size off those too. As well as, the undergarments in her bag. Smiling, I walked to the hotel phone and decided to pull in a few favors. Ms. Daise was going to get all she’d paid for and then some.

  Ali

  By the time I had stepped out of the shower, I was feeling more and more comfortable with my decision to show stud meister the door. Who needed some hot guy making eyes at you, only because you had paid him to? Besides, Panda Express and some Grey’s Anatomy re-runs and I was about to have an awesome night. Grabbing a large, fluffy towel, I dried off and wrapped myself up. I ran a hand through my wet hair. I really should take the time to cut it, I don’t normally let it grow this long. Sitting about two inches below my shoulders I had let it grow past my usual above shoulder style because I hated wasting time in a salon. Well, not that I could afford a salon. What I really mean is that I hate spending time in the local Fantastic Sams or Great Clips. I just didn’t see a reason to spend so much money on hair, especially when I usually just pulled my thick mane back into a ponytail anyways. To me, the more money I saved on frills, the more money I could pump back into the animals.

  Glancing, and then shrugging at my reflection because really, what was I going to do? I didn’t believe in fairytales and the last time I checked Fairy God mothers only waved their wands for the beautiful girls, I wasn’t one of those. I mean, I’m not an ogre or anything and men have never run screaming from the room because of my face, but I knew that nothing would ever come from them flirting with me or vice versa because once they saw my burn scars or saw me limp they’d head for the hills.

  Opening the bathroom door, I walked over to the bed to grab some fresh, pasta free clothing from my bag. I stopped short when I realized my bag wasn’t on the bed. Figuring I must have put it in the closet and not remembered, I walked over to accordion looking doors and pulled them open. I didn’t see my bag, but I did see the hotel laundry bag that was stuffed with my stained clothes, that I did not put there, swinging back and forth on a hanger.

  Feeling like I was trapped in a creepy episode of Dexter, I backed away from the swinging bag and turned toward the door. Gripping my towel in a death vice, I walked toward my phone that I knew was lying on the table.

  “Shit!” I shrieked when I went into the main room and saw that all the spaghetti had been cleaned up. It was as if it had never happened, even the stupid placemat had been washed and put back on the table in a neat and orderly fashion.

  What was missing from the neatly arrang
ed table top was my damn phone! What the hell was going on here? I kept staring at the clean table top as if I could magically will my phone to appear. Clearly, dark forces were at work here! I mean, I’m not a Zombie Apocalypse kind of gal, but I was certainly getting the heebie geebies. I took a slow step back from the table and came into contact with a wall. Nope, not a wall…a chest! A hard, chiseled, man chest was standing so close behind me that I could feel him breathing!

  “Ahhhh!” I shouted as I turned to face my attacker. No way was I going to be stabbed from behind by some brain-eating dead guy. Without any hesitation, I kicked out my good leg and attempted to make sure zombie man didn’t make any babies this century.

  “Wait! Wait! Hold on!” Someone shouted, but I was so panicked that my vision blurred. I rushed the intruder putting my shoulder into his stomach and smiled when I heard him grunt. The force of my tackle landed us over the sofa and back down to the floor. Unfortunately, that put me on my back. The towel barely covered my breasts, a strong leg was between my thighs with a knee that was dangerously close to spots that hadn’t been paid attention to in a long time. My long hair covered my face obscuring my vision. Crap! Now, I was trapped and blind! Balling up my fist I swung out while I lifted my hips from the floor to try to buck my, would be, killer off of me.

  A large hand caught my wrist and then when I swung out with the other, I found them both pulled into one firm grip and stretched up above my head.

  I shook my head to clear my hair from covering my face and looked up into the face of my, soon to be very dead or at least begging for death when I was finished with him, attacker.

  “Whoa, babe! You have to calm down sweetie! It’s just me, Matt!” A familiar voice, belonging to a familiar face huffed breathlessly.

  “Mr. Wolf?” All the fight left my body when I recognized the male escort that I had hired! Wait! Hadn’t I kicked him out? Yep, this was the stuff the all those Dateline reports warned people about! Shit, I was about to become one of Chris Hansen’s Dateline Predator stories!

  A full mouth grin greeted me as he let go of my hands and backed off my body to sit at my feet. I could tell by the way he was watching me that he wasn’t sure if I would take another swing at him or not. Quickly adjusting my towel, I scrambled up and put the sofa between us.

  “I..How did you? Didn’t I…” I stammered confusedly. Was the sexy, red briefs escort a killer? Did he have a thing for cleaning up food messes and bagging up dirty laundry? What the hell kind of killer was that neat? Dexter, he was incredibly neat…almost OCD about his kills and the mess that came after! Damn, it’s always the good looking guys, either they’re married or serial killers! Calm! Gotta keep calm until you can get to the door!

  “To answer your question doll, yes, you did try to kick me out, but as you can see… you failed.” His voice was calm and matter of fact. Standing up slowly he made his way to the front of the sofa, the only thing between us was that glorious piece of furniture.

  “Um, listen, Mr. Wolf…”

  “Call me Matt, babe.” He interrupted, AGAIN.

  “Mr. Wolf,” I sneered as I barely held my temper in check. I had a bad temper when provoked. Normally I was very non-confrontational, I liked to blend in and not attract attention, but this ego-maniac was dancing on my last nerve!

  Ignoring his amused smirk I took a step away from the couch and toward the hotel door, “I’m not sure how I could be clearer. I won’t be needing, using, or wanting your services tonight. You have been well paid, and I would like you to leave.” There, I had been polite, professional and even cordial. Nowhere in there did I let it be known that my nipples were so hard they hurt or that I could still feel where his knee had brushed against my sex.

  “Doll…” he began, but this time, I cut him off.

  “Listen, Mr. Wolf, stalker, creeper, crazy guy or whatever you like to be called in that delusional mind of yours, my name is not baby, babe, honey, hon, doll, sweetie or sweetheart. Jesus, do women really just stand there and let you call them all these stupid cake names? Geez, it’s like something an asshole would come up with because he can’t remember the woman’s name!” I chuckled and then stopped when his green eyes widened in surprise.

  “Oh my God! I’m right aren’t I?” I asked but didn’t really need him to answer. His frustrated look told me I had hit the nail on the head.

  “You call women all these pet names because then you don’t have to remember what their names actually are?…Wow! I must say Mr. Wolf that is genius. Incredibly shitty and disingenuous but genius all the same!”

  I was so busy being amused at having pegged him correctly I hadn’t noticed that he had moved to the side of the sofa, and now nothing stood between up except three feet and my towel. Oh dear God! Great job Ali, you had a chance to escape the psycho-killer, but NOOOO, you decided to poke the bear and piss it off! Grrrr.

  Adjusting the towel so that my scars weren’t visible I mentally thanked the universe for the fact that the oversized cloth was long enough that it covered my thighs. Still, whatever look, Mr. Wolf had on his face made me nervous. I suddenly realized that this must be what Nala’s prey feel like when being stalked by the stealthy lioness back at the sanctuary.

  In the game of musical feet, I realized I was quickly running out of escape room as I backed up and the man followed. Sensing the door was right behind me I turned and made a quick grab for the handle. I had yanked open the door about three inches before a broad, muscular chest crashed into my back, effectively closing the door and my opportunity for escape.

  Feeling a sense of panic start to overwhelm me I tried to make my breathing slow down. Of course, that would been have easier if my senses weren’t being assaulted by a musky cologne coupled with a scent that was all man!

  He was close, so close I could feel his breath on my ear. He was breathing as hard as I was. I was rather disgusted that here I was, about ready to be hacked to pieces, and all my body could do was react to being close to a man. I couldn’t tell you the last time I had been held by a man, caressed, or even touched. The last time I had been intimate with a guy was with some joker I met with every few months. We had met in a bar, I was lonely, and he was horny so he agreed to my terms. The lights must be off, he can be undressed but not me, I would pull my top down to expose my breasts, but there was no way I was going to reveal my scars.

  The man had been willing to let me ride him until we orgasmed and accepted the fact that I would never give him more. It had been a comfortable arrangement until I saw his phone light up with a text from his wife! Yeah, that was probably bad on my part, but I hadn’t wanted him to ask me questions about my life. Therefore, I had decided not to ask him about anything in his life. Yeah, lesson learned…some questions must be asked. Things like. ‘Are you married?’ should be right up there with, ‘Do you have a police record?

  A featherlight kiss brushed across the exposed flesh of my neck, and I jumped.

  “P-please just go, I’m a terrible dead person, I look awful in white and the last thing I want to do is haunt a casino for all of eternity.” I laid my forehead against the door, hoping he would move away enough so that I could bolt.

  Warm hands gripped my shoulders and slowly turned me around. Sexy- killer man bent at the legs to line up his green eyes with my dark ones, and I was surprised when his face showed concern. Odd for a psycho-killer. But hey, I haven’t met that many so who am I to judge what's strange or not.

  “First, my name is Matt, so when you call my name make sure you get it right.” He smiled, and his whole face lit up. He went from creepy stalker to bedroom vibrator material in the space of a smile. He leaned in closer, and I immediately reared back as far as I could. Sighing, he followed me back and until his cool forehead rested against mine.

  “What do you want, Matt?” I practically whispered. I wasn’t used to someone being this close to me, he had apparently had no idea of the concept of personal space. He was so gorgeous that I didn’t know if I wanted to lick him or run f
or my life.

  The smug bastard smiled when I finally said his name. The jerk was totally enjoying this, he liked the fact that I was scared. Now that just pissed me off.

  “I want to take you to dinner.” He replied stepping back from me and straightening to his full height.

  I leaned back against the door and took in his disheveled hair, his blue, silk dress shirt that was rolled up to his elbows, showing off his muscular forearms.

  This is a game, come on, he’s either going to chop you up into little pieces or his ego is so huge that he’s never been dismissed before. Either way, food is not necessary.

  “That’s a nice offer but I’ve already eaten,” I answered tilting my chin up defiantly. Of course, my stomach chose that moment to out me in my lie.

  Giving me a lopsided grin he leaned against the door, his large hand resting just above my head.

  “Well, I know the floor got fed, and your clothes definitely got their share of your pasta, but I’m pretty sure that your stomach is more than willing to let me take you to dinner because it's being honest,” He teased, those green eyes trapping mine in their gaze.

  Putting my hand behind my back, I tried not to smile when I felt the door handle. I didn’t know what his game was. Why would he want to go to dinner? I had plainly told him that I was canceling the interview? He had to know that he looked like he had stepped on the cover of GQ Magazine and I looked like I had sprung from the clothing racks of Goodwill. I didn’t know what his angle was, and I definitely didn’t like that fact that his body being so close made my cheeks flush. He a kid, remember that! He can’t be more than mid-twenties, and that means hands off, you are not a cougar woman!