Mr Garcia: Chapter 5

The makeup artist applies my blush, and I feel my face heat with frustration. Or is that excitement, or just sheer terror. I can’t even tell anymore.

“Curtain time, girls!” Porsha calls. “Line up in your order.” Her eyes glance over to me. “Cartier, darling, you will be choosing third tonight.”

I nod.

“You will work your choosing order number backwards to number ten, and then for the next two weeks after that, you will choose last. This is how we keep it fair.”

“Okay, sure.” I fake a smile. I won’t be here then, anyway.

“Can I choose first?” The girl with the long dark hair asks. “I know it’s not my turn, but I really want a certain person. I’ve been waiting for him to come back for months.”

Sebastian.

I look her up and down, she’s beautiful with thick, long dark hair and a small tight and toned figure. She has the most attractive face of anyone I’ve ever seen. She’s wearing a short red dress that shows all of her curves. Her large breasts are peeking out of her top, and her legs go on for miles.

Sebastian’s slept with her before; I know it. I get a vision of her with him, and my stomach twists with disgust.

“No.” Porsha looks through her printed schedule. “You are…”

I hold my breath, waiting for Porsha to finish. I don’t know if I want to choose before or after the girl. What if I pick him and he really wants her?

Damn it, I’m now regretting asking him to come at all.

“You are second tonight, Luna,” Porsha finishes.

“Yes,” Luna smiles and punches the air.

Shit…She’s before me.

I drop my head. I just want to get the hell out of here.

“Line up, girls.” Porsha smiles. “Game faces on. Our gentlemen pay a lot of money for your company.”

The girls laugh and chatter as they line up, while I close my eyes and try to brace myself to be brave.

The first girl makes her way out onto the catwalk. She walks up and back, and then she spins and walks back out to the end. She performs a sexy twirl to the sounds of quiet excitement from the men, before she stands to the side of the catwalk and places her hand on her hip.

Luna is next, and I watch on as she does the same. My heart is literally in my throat.

Fuck this, I’m never coming back here. This is beyond stressful.

The song changes to Sexual Healing by Marvin Gaye, and I exhale heavily. This music is slower, sexier… tantric even. And now it’s my turn.

I walk out to the seductive beat. When I make it to the end of the catwalk, I glance around at the gorgeous men before me.

But not the one I’m after.

I walk to the back, twirl, and then I strut back to the front, placing my hand on my hip just in time to look up into the hungry stare of Mr. Garcia.

He’s sitting at a table at the back with a glass of amber fluid in one hand and a cigar in the other. His legs are spread wide, his appearance dominant.

Our eyes lock, and he slowly brings the cigar to his lips and sucks hard. He inhales, and a thin stream of smoke disappears into his mouth.

Fuck me, this man is sex on legs.

My insides begin to pulse as I imagine him naked and over the top of me.

I remember the way he gripped my face the last time we were together. The way he licked my lips. The way he bit my neck. The way he went down on me midway through sex and licked the mess he’d made.

My nipples harden at the memory. No wonder he has a fucking fan club.

I’m the damn president.

I can pretend all I want that there is something between us, but when I see him here, like this, reality hits home. I want to be dominated by him. I want him to use me, and damn it, I want to be fucked.

His eyes are dark, and I nearly forget what I’m supposed to be doing.

I slowly turn and take my place at the side of the stage.

I watch the rest of the parade, concentrating on not looking up, but I can feel the heat of his gaze.

Is he always this sexual? Or does this club bring something out in him?

The parade ends, and Porsha walks out with the microphone in hand.

“Gentlemen, may I introduce Eleonore.”

The men fall in to silence.

“State your intentions!” Porsha calls.

The men line up in front of Eleonore and, one by one, they introduce themselves. “Who will you choose, Eleonore?”

“Mr. Parker.” She smiles.

A good-looking man steps up and takes her hand. He walks her from the stage. He looks like an athlete or something. Young and virile.

Good choice.

“Gentlemen, may I introduce Luna,” Porsha says, holding Luna’s hand up. “State your intentions.”

The men line up again. All except one.

Mr. Garcia remains seated as he sips his scotch. He looks every bit like the powerful, walking orgasm that he is.

“Who will you choose Luna?” Porsha asks.

Luna smiles and points to Garcia. “Mr. Smith.”

Shit.

He runs his tongue over his teeth and tilts his jaw to the ceiling.

“Mr. Smith.” Porsha smiles. “You are one lucky man tonight.”

Sebastian slowly stands and then comes and takes Luna’s hand. He leads her from the stage, and I drop my head in dismay. What?

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“May I introduce Cartier!” Porsha calls. “This is only her second shift. Who will be her second date?”

The men move and stand in a line in front of me.

“Fifty thousand!” a man calls.

“Sixty-five!” another man calls.

I glance toward the door to see Sebastian leaving with Luna. He’s holding her hand. He says something to her, and she laughs in response as they continue to leave.

He didn’t even stay to see who I chose, I taste the bile of my stomach as it turns.

God, I read this all wrong.

He doesn’t care that I work here. He just doesn’t give a fuck.

I go through the introductions with the men one by one, and they all seem nice.

But none are who I want.

“Who will it be, Cartier? Who will be your date for tonight?”

I look between them. I want to go for the kindest looking man—the one I know will handle my sexual rejection.

“Mr. Stevenson,” I say softly.

He’s blonde and sweet looking. He walks over and takes my hand to kiss the back of it. “Hello, Cartier.”

“Hi.” I force a smile.

He leads me down the catwalk and we walk toward the exit.

Is Sebastian kissing her right now? Is he grabbing her face and licking it?

God, it’s one thing to never experience a man like Mr. Garcia, but to know what he’s like and not be able to have him… to know that someone else is having it in your place… that’s another level of torture.

Mr. Stevenson and I make it into the elevator, and I stare at the back of the doors.

He picks up my hand and kisses the back of it.

“I can’t wait to get you alone, Cartier. I bid for you last week, too.”

I force a smile and, unable to think of a reply, remain silent.

The elevator doors open and we walk down to the room where he opens the door and lets me inside.

Should I just leave? Fuck, this is a mess.

“Champagne?” he asks.

“Please.” I cross my arms and walk over to the window to stare out at the city of London below. The heavy flow of traffic lights up the streets.

So, this is what it feels like to hate yourself.

No money is worth this.

Stop it.

Moments later, Mr. Stevenson passes me a glass of champagne.

“Thank you.” I take a tentative sip as his eyes hold mine. “Do you come here often?”

“When I need to.”

My heart pounds in my chest. “You mean… when you need sex?”

“Among other things.”

God.

There’s a knock at the door. “Are you expecting someone?” I ask.

“No.” He frowns, walks to the door and opens it.

Mr. Garcia stands in the corridor.

“Can I come in?” he asks.

“What do you want?” Mr. Stevenson responds.

Sebastian walks past him and into the apartment. He closes the door behind him, and his eyes find mine across the room before he turns his attention back to Mr. Stevenson.

“We’re swapping partners,” Garcia announces.

“Over my dead body.”

“Don’t fucking test me.”

“I said no.” Mr. Stevenson pushes Sebastian, and then Sebastian pushes him back. “Leave. Your new room is 121. Luna is waiting for you. I’ve made it worth her while, and she’s excited for the swap,” Sebastian tells him.

“She didn’t pick me first, asshole. I want Cartier.” He shoves him again.

“You can’t have her,” Sebastian growls.

“Stop it!” I snap. “I’m not an object you can just have! Neither of you can fucking have me.” I walk over to the door and open it in a rush. “Get out. The both of you. I’m not having sex with either of you idiots, so just leave.”

Sebastian tilts his chin, clearly happy with my outburst.

“See?” he gestures to me with his hand. “She’s not having sex with anybody. You may as well take Luna up on her offer. We both know she’s a sure thing.”

I stare at Sebastian for a moment as I process his words, and an angry haze begins to cloud my vision. Just how many fucking times has Sebastian been with Luna?

“You know what? Just get out.” I’m going to get fired for this, but I don’t give a crap. I’m too angry to care anymore.

“Me?” Sebastian scoffs.

“Yes, you! What makes you think I want Luna’s sloppy seconds? Anyone’s sloppy seconds, actually. This place, as well as you, insults my intelligence.” I push him out the door, and then I turn to Mr. Stevenson. “This is your last chance: Luna or the spare room?”

His eyes hold mine. “You’re actually serious?”

“Yes. I’m fucking serious.” I march up the hallway toward the bedroom. “Having sex with you is the last thing I want to do, so I know what offer I would take if I were you.” I call as I slam the bedroom door shut behind me.

My heart is beating hard in my chest, and I take a deep breath to try calm myself down.

Damn it, I’m going to get fired.

Ten thousand pounds is better than nothing, though. It’s a start.

But will I even get paid for tonight?

I needed twenty thousand, but I don’t care anymore. No amount of money is worth degrading myself to this level.

I walk into the bathroom and stare at myself in the mirror. All dressed up with nowhere to go. What a joke.

I hear the door slam, and I put my ear to the back of my door and listen carefully.

I think Mr. Stevenson has gone.

I walk back up the hallway, and I see the key to the apartment on the kitchen counter, I exhale with relief.

Thank God for Luna. I wonder if she will be with both of them now. Is that even a thing?

For fuck’s sake… just yuck.

I can’t believe I’m being forced to even think about that.

Champagne. I need all the champagne.

I take the bottle and fill my flute to the top. I take a sip. It’s crisp, refreshing, and tastes delicious.

“Are you going to offer me a glass?” a deep voice asks behind me.

I spin to see Sebastian sitting back with his arms stretched out across the back of the couch, his leg crossed at the ankle.

I didn’t see him when I came in, was he there the whole time?

“I told you to leave,” I say.

“And I told you that I wanted to spend the night with you,” he replies calmly.

“Well, you can’t,” I snap, I drain my glass and refill it.

“What’s wrong with you tonight?”

My eyes widen. “You have to ask? You can’t be that stupid.”

He gives me a slow sexy smile. “Try me.”

I roll my eyes. “Go away, Sebastian. I’m not interested.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re fucking with my head!” I snap. “And I don’t even know you.”

He stands and comes to me in one movement. He pours himself a glass of champagne and then taps his glass with mine. “I think you have that the wrong way around… Cartier.” He takes a slow sip.

“My name is April.”

“Is it? Because I was introduced to you as Cartier.”

“See?” I bark. “You’re doing it again. Fucking with my head.”

He chuckles and sips his champagne.

He thinks this is funny.

“Please leave.” I turn my back to him. “I wanted to talk to you this morning and you didn’t want any of it, so don’t show up here now demanding sex.”

“Have I mentioned sex?”

I spin back toward him. “I believe your words were: any wet pussy will do.”

Amusement flashes across his face. “I may have been a bit ̶ ,” he pauses as if searching for the right word. “Aggravated last time I saw you. My apologies if I ruffled your feathers.”

“You were an asshole.”

“I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“But you were here.”

He sips his champagne as his eyes hold mine. “As a means to an end.”

“Oh, you mean… my means on your end.”

“Don’t be crass.”

I lean closer. “I’ll be whatever I fucking like, Mr. Garcia,” I whisper.

We stare at each other as the air crackles between us, and damn it, it’s there again… the temptation to have angry sex with this man.

Fucked up, hot, and toe-curling pleasure. The kind that you only dream about.

“Why did you leave in a rush the other night?” I ask.

He stays silent.

I shake my head. “Go home, Sebastian.” I sigh. “I’m not playing your mind games. I’m twenty-five, not twelve.”

“Regardless of your age, you’re too young for me.” He lifts his glass, and I watch his tongue dart out and swipe across his bottom lip.

I feel a throb between my legs.

“I know that.”

He raises an eyebrow as if surprised by my answer.

“Maybe I am too young for you… which is a shame,” I add.

“Why?”

“Because you were the first man I’d ever slept with.”

A confused frown creases his brow.

“I’d slept with little boys before, but never a man, and it was pretty fucking perfect… until you ruined it.”

His jaw clenches, our eyes are locked, and damn, if he isn’t the hottest man I’ve ever seen in my life. Tall, dark and dangerous, the kind out of romance novels.

He steps toward me and cups my face. “You thought it was perfect.” He dusts his thumb over my bottom lip, and his eyes search mine.

“You know it was—.”

He cuts me off with a kiss. His lips take mine, and his tongue dances seductively in my mouth.

My toes curl. Damn it, the way he kisses. It’s just so. . .

“We’re no good for each other, Sebastian,” I murmur against his lips.

He takes my face in both hands. “I know. So, let’s be bad for each other instead.

Something snaps inside of me.

I bring my hands to the back of his head, and I kiss him back with everything I have. Our kiss turns desperate. We lose control and turn into animals. I’ve never had a sexual attraction like this to anyone. It’s uncontrollable. Kissing this man is the very last thing I should be doing, but hell, I can’t stop.

“Naked,” he growls. “I need you fucking naked.”

I tear his suit jacket off his shoulders and throw it to the side. I get to work on his shirt buttons. I need him naked.

His lips find my neck, and he runs his teeth down it. I feel like I’m about to combust and am filled with urgency as I struggle with his pants. The button finally breaks free, and I pull his pants down in one sharp movement.

His hard cock springs free. Pre-ejaculate is already beading on its end, and my insides turn to jelly. He puts me over his shoulder and marches up the hallway, the room passing me by upside down.

When we get to the bedroom, he slowly slides me down his body until I’m standing before him.

His eyes close, and his lips press against mine. “Do you know how fucking beautiful you are?” he whispers.

Taking his face in my hands, I kiss him, our tongues dancing together for a long time.

He reaches around and works the zipper of my dress before he takes it off. I stand before him in pale pink lace underwear. His eyes darken as he drinks me in.

He licks my shoulder with his thick tongue. Goosebumps scatter, and I shudder at the mere sight of him.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmurs against my mouth.

“You,” I breathe. He lifts my behind, bringing me up against his erection. “All of you,” I pant, curling my leg around his hip.

He stops and steps back from me. As his chest rises and falls and he struggles for air, he takes my bra off, and then he takes my erect nipple into his mouth. He bites it, and I cry out. There’s just the right amount of pain mixed in with pleasure. His hands slide down my panties, and he lifts one of my legs to the bed. His fingers explore my sex while he continues to suck on my nipple. He slides three large fingers deep inside my sex, and my head tips back.

God, he knows his way around a woman’s body.

He pulls back to look at me, and with his dark eyes fixed firmly on mine, he works me. The sound of wet flesh hangs in the air, and the muscles in his shoulders flex as he finger-fucks me with force.

Sebastian Garcia may be wrong for me in every single way, but how could I ever deny myself this pleasure?

His lips curl and he inhales sharply. “You have no fucking idea how badly I want you.”

He bites me hard as if losing control and I cry out as my head thrashes back. “Ahh.”

He throws me back onto the bed and tears a condom open with his teeth. He spits out the wrapper, slides the condom on and crawls over me.

“Open,” he mouths.

I do as he asks, and he lifts my legs and places them up to my shoulders.

“Careful,” I whisper.

His face softens. “Baby.” He kisses me tenderly. “I won’t hurt you.”

My heart constricts. It almost feels safer when he’s mean. At least then I have some resistance.

He falls back onto his knees and brushes the tip of his penis back and forth through my swollen, wet sex. I shudder when he rubs it over my clitoris. I’m so close to coming, it’s not even funny. Oh, dear God. . .

Hold it.

He pushes the tip in a little and meets resistance. His jaw hangs slack as he watches where our bodies meet.

“Let me in. Give me some cream and let me in.” He pushes in a little farther, and my body sucks at his. It wants this.

Fuck… we all do.

He slowly pushes in, and my head falls back.

He holds my legs in the air as he slowly pushes his full length in. He puts his hand on the bottom of my stomach and holds our bodies snug up against each other to try and let me adjust to his size. My insides flutter.

This is too good. He’s too good and a fucking heartbreak waiting to happen.

“Sebastian.” I reach for him.

His eyelids are hooded as he watches me, lost in his own world of gratification, unable to answer my call to him.

I sit up to grab his body and pull him down on top of me. I need him closer.

He brings my legs higher and circles himself deep inside of me. We both moan in pleasure.

“Fuck, yes… April,” he whispers against my ear. “Can you feel how deep I am inside of you? Do you know how many times you’ve made me come this week thinking about this beautiful, creamy cunt of yours?” He bites my ear hard, and goosebumps scatter down my spine. “I want to blow inside of you so fucking hard… again and again and again.”

Oh God.

I glance over to the mirror on the wall to see us together like this. His thick quads are spread wide, and his dark skin is rippled with muscle. The visual is a sensory overload, and I cry out as a freight train of an orgasm rips through me.

He smiles darkly as he pumps me through it, and then he readjusts his stance to hold my ankles and spread my legs wide.

“Squeeze me,” he pants, pumping me with force. The bed begins to slam into the wall. “You suck my cock for me, baby.”

Our eyes are locked, and I clench around him.

His lip curls in appreciation. “Harder.”

I clench harder, and his head tips back. My hands are on his thighs and the power behind them is doing things to my brain cells, frying every last one.

His hands drop to the mattress, and he holds himself up on straightened arms as he really lets me have it. The sound of our skin slapping together echoes throughout the room, and then he begins to moan. The sound is deep and guttural, almost animalistic. He scrunches his face up and hits me hard. I feel his cock jerk as he comes hard deep inside of me.

We move together slowly to rub out his orgasm, our lips meeting once again.

Our kiss is tender, and an unexpected intimacy runs between us.

And then he falls still. His haunted eyes rise to meet mine.

For some reason, I feel the need to comfort him.

“It’s okay, baby,” I whisper as I brush the hair back from his face. “I’m here.”

He rests his head on my chest and nestles in between my breasts. Our hearts are still racing as he clings to me for dear life.

I hold him tightly and kiss the top of his head, a feeling of uneasiness fills me.

Something is wrong. He clings to me tighter, and I hold him right back.

Something tells me that Mr. Garcia is damaged goods.

It’s pitch black as I dream a heavenly scene.

Arousal swims throughout my body and I lie back to enjoy it.

It feels good.

I like this dream. I like it a lot.

My legs spread farther apart, and I smile to myself.

I feel a kiss on my inner thigh, and my sleepy eyes flutter open. My hand goes down to the covers, and I feel movement beneath them.

Wait…what?

A thick tongue swipes through my sex, and a thrill runs through me.

This is real.

I’m still in the Escape Room with Sebastian.

This man is insatiable. We had sex three times last night before we fell asleep, and now I wake up to this.

I pull the covers back, and in the twinkle of the moonlight pouring through the window, I see Sebastian licking me up like his life depends on it.

I smile with a sharp inhale, and I cup his face in my hand.

His eyes hold mine, and he kisses my sex with an open mouth.

“Nightcap,” he whispers.

I spread my legs wider. “Please… be my guest.”

He licks me deeper and deeper, and with every stroke, my arousal grows.

My back begins to arch off the bed, chasing a deeper connection.

“Get up here, Garcia.”

He chuckles as he crawls up over my body with my arousal glistening on his skin. When he kisses me, I taste myself on him.

“You’re quite the tomcat,” I whisper.

He smiles against my lips as he rolls a condom on. “The temptation with you is just too great.” I wrap my legs around his waist, and he slides in deep.

My body ripples around him.

“You’re perfect,” I whisper up at him in awe.

He smiles softly. “And you’re deluded.”

I smile as he kisses me deeper. I’m not even joking; Sebastian Garcia is male perfection.

I don’t ever want this night to end.

“I have to go, babe.”

I roll over and squint against the light, trying to regain my focus.

Sebastian is dressed in his suit, doing up his tie.

I sit up on my elbows. “Where are you going?”

“I have a meeting.” He bends and kisses me softly, brushing my hair back from my forehead. “I’m already late.”

“Well…” I pause and flop back down onto my pillow. “When will I see you?”

He moves to the mirror and readjusts his tie. “I’m not sure.”

I stare at his back. He makes eye contact with me in the mirror, and then looks away.

“Will you come to the café and see me?” I ask.

I know I sound whiny, but last night was special, and I know he felt it, too.

“No.” He adjusts his cufflinks without making eye contact.

“No?” I frown. “Just like that? No?”

“I’m not seeing you out of here until. . . “His voice trails off.

“Until what?”

“Until you resign.”

I give him a stifled smile, well that’s better than never, I guess. “Two more shifts to go.”

He raises an eyebrow as he walks into the bathroom. “We’ll see.” I hear him mutter under his breath. I hear him brushing his teeth, and then he reappears again. He moves to the bottom of the bed and pulls the blankets back to grab my foot. He drags me to the end of the bed, and I laugh out loud. He bends and kisses my sex.

“Last night was amazing,” he whispers before kissing me on the inner thigh.

My heart swells as I watch him, “It was, wasn’t it?” I smile.

He kisses my sex again. “I have to go. Stop distracting me.”

I giggle and sit up. “I’m not saying anything.”

He turns and raises his eyebrows.

I curl my finger. “Come here.”

He dives over me on the bed, pinning my hands behind my head as he spreads my legs with his knee.

“Until next time,” he whispers as he looks down at me, his face millimeters from mine.

My stomach flutters. “Until next time.”

He kisses me softly and then gets up and walks down the hallway with purpose. I hear the front door click closed, and I smile goofily up at the ceiling and scrunch my eyes shut tight in excitement.

Until next time.

I watch my glass of water bouncing across my desk to the beat of the loud music next door.

This is fucking bullshit.

I close my eyes and turn up the volume on my headphones.

It’s fine. It’s totally fine.

I hear something smash up against our shared wall, and I tear my headphones off.

What was that?

I hear screaming and laughter follow. She must have at least thirty people in her tiny room. I’ve called security three times already tonight, and none of them ever come because Penelope is fucking them all.

My phone beeps with a text from Brandon.

I exhale heavily, no I don’t want to sleep on a mattress on someone’s floor.

“Drink it down, down, down, down,” the chorus of drunk people chant on the other side of the wall.

I text him back.

Twenty minutes later, I knock on Brandon’s door. He answers wearing his flannel pajamas.

“Hi.” He stands back to let me walk past him.

I smile at his cute little get up. He’s so young at only eighteen, yet he’s already made up a bed on the floor for me.

“Do you want to sleep in my bed?” he asks. “It’s way more comfortable.”

“No.” I drop my bag on the dresser. “The floor is great, thank you.”

“Do you want to watch a movie?”

“Yeah, okay.” I smile, because I already know I won’t be watching the movie. I’ll be lying on the floor, daydreaming about my Mr. Garcia.

I wish tonight was next time.

I sit in a cafe and smile as I read through the Saturday morning paper.

Today’s the day.

After my little slumber party last night on the floor, I’m determined to find a new apartment. I don’t care where or what it is, as long as it’s half decent, I’m taking it.

I circle another one to look at.

“Here you go.” The waitress arrives with my pancakes.

“Thank you.” I fold my paper in half and put it on the bench seat beside me. I sip my coffee and begin to eat my blueberry pancakes. Yum, these are good. I take a big bite and then glance down at my folded newspaper.

I frown when I see Sebastian.

I quickly open the paper and read the headline on the back. It’s the social page.

There’s a picture of him and two men, and they each have a beautiful woman on their arm.

I read the note beside the picture: Julian and Brielle Masters, Spencer and Charlotte Jones, and Sebastian Garcia with partner Gabriella Beckman attending the Governor’s Charity Ball in London.

I quickly read the article. The ball took place last night, meaning he spent Thursday night with me, took me a million times, and then he spent Friday night with her.

Did he have her a million times, too?

My heart constricts with disappointment.

Asshole.