Forever Black (3 page)

It
started to get extremely hot in the club, and I needed some fresh air. I told
Peyton I’d be back as I headed towards the door. As I stepped outside, I saw
Frankie escorting Mr. Eye Candy out of the club.

“Ok
Mr. Black, you have had way too much to drink tonight, and it’s time for you to
go home.” He was stumbling from side to side and mumbling something.

“Frankie,
what’s going on?” I casually asked.

“Hey
Elle, this gentleman has had too much to drink, and he started causing a scene
when the bartender refused to serve him.”

“What
are you going to do with him?”

“I
just escort them out, what they do after that is not my concern.”

I
looked at him and cocked my head, “He can barely stand, how do you expect him to
get home?” My head was telling me to stop immediately because it knew what I
was about to do, but my heart was telling me to help him. “I’ll make sure he
gets home safe,” I said to Frankie.

“Elle,
that is not a good idea, you don’t know whom you’re dealing with here.”

I
put my hand up, “I know what I’m doing, and he needs help.”

Frankie
shook his head, “You have a good heart Elle, but sometimes I think you’re
crazy; please be careful.”

I
grabbed my cell phone from my purse and called a cab. Mr. Eye candy was sitting
on the cement against the wall. I took notice at his expensive black tailored
suit and the white shirt that was partially unbuttoned, showing off his
muscular chest.  His 6ft stature was lean, but seriously muscular. Like his
hair and face, his body appeared to be perfect. I walked over to him and
grabbed his arm to help him up.

“Come
on, let’s get you home.”

He
looked over at me with his drunken green eyes, “Do I know you?” he slurred.

I
patted him on the back and walked him to the curb just as the cab pulled up.
Before I pushed him in, I took his wallet out of his back pocket. He stumbled
into the seat, and I climbed in next to him. I opened his wallet, took out his driver’s
license and handed it to the driver, “Drop him off here.” He handed his license
back to me, and I took it upon myself to read his name.

I
patted him on the arm, “Nice to meet you Connor Black.”

He
looked at me and put his head on my shoulder. I let a small smile escape my
lips.

The
cab pulled around to the garage area. “This is where they like to be dropped
off. He should have a key that fits that elevator over there; his name should
be on the inside next to the key hole telling you which floor he is on, good
luck.”

I
stared at the cabbie because one: how did he know this and two: I had no
intention of taking him further than the elevator. I opened his wallet and
thumbed through his money. I shook my head at the fact he only had several $100
bills. I took out a hundred and handed it to the driver, “Keep the change,” I
winked.

A
large smile swept across his face, “Thanks ma’am.”

“Don’t
mention it; you can thank him next time.”

I
opened the door and grabbed his arm pulling him out of the cab. I put his arm
over my shoulder and walked him to the elevator. He kept stumbling almost
taking me down with him. I searched his pocket for his keys. It was that
awkward moment when I put my hand in his side pocket and felt something semi
hard that were not his keys. I pushed the button on the elevator and he looked
at me.

“You
are a beautiful woman, and I’m going to fuck you really hard,” he said as he
grabbed my ass. I sighed and removed his hand from my behind, “Only in your
dreams sweetie, only in your dreams.”

The
elevator opened. I escorted him inside and looked at the different keys on his
key ring wondering which one fit the elevator. I turned to him as he was
leaning up against the back of the elevator, “Can you please show me which key goes
here.” He flashed me a drunken smile and seductively took the key ring from me;
picked which key and held it up. “Thank you,” I smiled.

I
inserted the key into the lock next to his name as it took us up to the top
floor. The elevator doors opened to the biggest and most beautiful penthouse I
have ever seen. Ok, it was the only penthouse I’ve ever seen, but it was still
beautiful. My full intention was to lean him up against the wall and leave; I’d
assume he would pass out on the floor and wake up in the morning; that was
until he looked at me and said he was going to be sick. I rolled my eyes as I
asked him to take me to his bedroom; I figured that would get his attention
real quick. He pointed to the stairs, and I held onto him, trying to hold him
up as he tripped up each step. We finally made it to the top as I saw a
bathroom on the left. He didn’t make it. He vomited all over his clothes. I
shook my head for this was a sight that was all too familiar to me.

I
hurried him to the bathroom where he leaned over and hugged the porcelain of
god for a good hour. I stood there admiring the beauty of his bathroom. The
taupe walls and black granite countertops gave it a classic, but luxurious
look.

I
found a washcloth and ran it under lukewarm water. I walked over to him as he
sat against the wall with his head down. He smelled liked vomit, and I had to
get him to change his clothes.

“Come
on buddy; let’s see if we can get you changed.” I put his arm around me and
with a little help from him; I lifted him off the floor. We made it down the
hallway to his bedroom. I opened the double doors that led inside and gasped;
his bedroom was bigger than my entire apartment. I took him over to the king
size bed and sat him down.

“Are
you an angel?” he slurred as he gently rubbed my cheek. His skin felt warm, and
his touch felt nice, too nice as it gave me tiny goose bumps.

I
took his hand away, “Yeah, I guess I am.”

He
drunkenly smiled and fell back on the bed. I knew this was going to take some work,
trying to get his clothes off, but I could not let him sit in his own vomit all
night. I took his shoes and socks off first. I climbed on top so I was
straddling him and unbuttoned his shirt, rolling him from side to side taking
his arms out. It probably would have been easier to take his shirt off in the
bathroom, but I didn’t think about that. I moved down to the button on his
pants; oh god I cannot believe I’m doing this. My thought was, just to let him
lie there and sleep it off, but his pants received the worst of his vomit and
he genuinely smelled. I unbuttoned his pants and lifted his hips so I could
pull them off. It was a struggle, but I finally managed.

I
could not help but look at his sculpted body as he laid there almost perfectly
naked only in his black silk boxers. I’m only human, right? He was lean,
muscular and perfectly defined from head to toe. I felt dirty standing over his
passed out body checking him out, but no one should ever look like that perfect,
it is just not right.  I needed to move him up to his pillow. I put the cool
cloth on his head, and he stirred. I grabbed under his arms and pulled him up
the best I could. I turned him on his side in case he vomited again; a slight
groan came from his mouth. I found a blanket, on a chair in the corner of his
room, and covered him with it. I sighed and looked at the clock on the night stand;
it read 1:00 am.

I
was exhausted and desperately needing some sleep. It was then I realized I
never told Peyton I was leaving. I ran down the stairs and grabbed my purse off
the table. I took out my phone and saw a text message from her.

“Frankie
told me what you’re doing, and I know you like to play Good Samaritan, but I’m
worried, text me.”
  I quickly replied.

“I’m
fine; I managed to get him home, and he is passed out on his bed. I’m heading
home now; I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

I
stood in the hallway and looked at the stairs. Memories were flooding my mind
as I had to walk back to his room to check on him one last time. He had rolled
on his back, so I rolled him back on his side. His bed was so comfortable that
I decided to sit next to him and make sure he stayed on his side the rest of
the night. Then maybe get a little bit of sleep.

I
awoke from a dream I had about my father. I quickly sat up, but my brain had not
fully registered where I was. I scanned the room and looked over at him
sleeping peacefully. I shook my head in disbelief that I fell asleep for so
long as I made my way to the bathroom. I splashed some water on my face and
downed some mouthwash I found in his cabinet. I ran my fingers through my hair
and headed downstairs. I should have just left right then and there, but I
needed coffee, and so would he when we woke up.

I
walked to the kitchen and stopped dead in my tracks. The mahogany cabinets
topped with dark grey granite counter tops were utterly stunning. A large
curved island sat in the middle of the kitchen with a built-in stove on one
side, as three stainless steel ovens were built-in opposite the other wall. I
found what I needed and made a pot of coffee. I had a recipe for a hangover
cocktail that I used to make my dad every day. I scanned the kitchen and
surprisingly enough, it had everything I needed to make one. I had my back
turned to the doorway, making the hangover cocktail, when I heard someone clear
their throat. I was startled, and I slowly turned around.

He
stood in the middle of the kitchen in a pair of black pajama bottoms that hung low
on his hips outlining his muscular form. I gulped at the site of him standing
there, hung over and still looking as incredible as he did last night. He
looked at me and cocked his head to one side.

“Did
I not go over the rules with you last night?

“Huh?”
I frowned.

“I
don’t do sleepovers. You were supposed to leave after I fucked you; so would
you mind telling me why you’re still here, in my kitchen, making yourself
comfortable?”

His
tone was arrogant and crude, obviously he did not remember anything from last
night, but I didn’t expect he would. His green eyes looked dark and angry, but
he’ll have to get over it; I didn’t have time for this. I set the glass with
the hangover drink on the counter and slid it to him. He narrowed his eyes at
me.

“I
asked you a question, and I expect an answer.”

I
sighed and rolled my eyes, “Listen buddy; I don’t know what you think happened
last night, but you didn’t fuck me; I would never give you the pleasure; trust
me.” Ok, I was lying, I would have given him the pleasure, but he didn’t need
to know that. He cocked his head and stared at me narrowing his eyes.

“You
drank yourself into oblivion at the club last night, and they kicked you out. I
was walking outside when it happened and being the good person I am; I called a
cab to make sure you got home safely. Then you proceeded to vomit all over
yourself, so I had to get you to the bathroom and out of your clothes, because
frankly, you smelled.” He raised his eyebrows.

“I
was on my way out the door when I decided to check on you one more time. I went
back to your room and you were lying on your back, so I rolled you on your side
again in case you vomited; I would not have wanted you to choke to death.” He
shifted his weight and crossed his arms. “I fell asleep from exhaustion after
dealing with you, and when I woke up I decided to make you a pot of coffee and
a hangover cocktail. I was leaving in a few minutes, and I did not expect you
to be up for at least a few more hours.”

He
took a few steps closer, “So, you’re telling me nothing happened between us?” I
rolled my eyes, didn’t this man listen to a word I just said.

“No,
nothing happened; I just needed to make sure you were going to be ok; you were
obnoxiously drunk,” I looked down.

“What
is this?” he asked as he picked up the glass.

“Just
drink it; you will start to feel better in about 15 minutes. I’ll pour you some
coffee and be on my way.”

I
started to feel a little dizzy as I reached for a mug and it slipped out of my
hands crashing to the floor.

“Fuck,”
I said as I bent down to pick up the broken pieces.

“Hey,
you’re going to cut yourself,” he walked over to me and bent down.

“I’m
sorry,” I said shaking my head and picking up the broken porcelain.

“Stop!”
his voice commanded.

His
voice was startling, but I didn’t listen because it was my mess and I was going
to clean it up. He grabbed my hands and turned them over taking the broken pieces
out of them. Our eyes met when he saw the scars on my wrists. I pulled back
quickly and stood up. He continued to pick up the pieces. I took my purse from
the counter.

“I’m
sorry again for the mug. I’ll replace it for you, and I hope you feel better.”
I turned and headed out the kitchen.

“Wait,”
I heard him say.

I
turned around and looked at him. “At least let me pay you for your trouble last
night.”

“I’m
not taking your money, and it was no trouble.” Ok, it was, but he is alive, and
I feel better knowing that I probably saved his life. He rolled his eyes, “Then
at least have a cup of coffee before you go.” I sighed. I seriously needed it,
and one cup wouldn’t hurt.