Chapter Six
Mia
The front door opened, the tinkle of its bell drawing my attention away from the middle-aged window-shopping couple I was dealing with sitting on a sectional.
They weren’t going to buy, and we both knew it, but it was my job to help them anyway.
I didn’t mind because sometimes people came back and bought in the end.
Besides, my two days off started in two hours. They were helping pass the time.
All those thoughts fled my mind as I stared at the person filling the doorframe.
He was tall enough that he almost had to duck and broad-shouldered enough that he entered at a slight angle.
He would have fit through the door, but it would have been tight.
Those were the first two things I noticed about him.
My third thought was that I was going crazy.
It was him. The man from the auction. Mr. Suit.
I’d never actually gotten his name, but that hadn’t mattered to me that night when my vibrator had been rocketing across my clit to the thought of his cock deep inside me.
Even now, staring at him in his black button-up with the sleeves rolled back to expose thickly muscled forearms, I felt my body come alive.
I’d fallen asleep an exhausted mess after several unusually intense orgasms that should have left me drained for days.
And yet, right then, not two days later, I was picking out the closest chair that would support his bulk while I bounced up and down on him.
My brain was racing, and my clit was beginning to pulse slowly with unanswered desire.
How could a man I’d talked to for two minutes turn me into such a puddle of arousal?
I was at work, dammit. I should be focused!
He walked over to me with his white hair partially pulled back in a ponytail while the sides fell loose, giving him a sort of roguish medieval aura. The stubble on his face was a mixture of salt and pepper that blended perfectly.
“Are you busy?” he asked.
Unable to speak, my mouth frozen, I turned helplessly to the customers I’d been working with.
“She’s done with you,” he growled at them. “Go buy something, and make sure to say she helped you.”
The couple scurried away, leaving us alone.
“Thanks,” I said sarcastically, my mouth working all of a sudden. “Now, how am I going to close that sale?”
He snorted derisively. “They were talking about how much more they liked the sectional at another store. They weren’t buying. I saved you from wasting your time.”
“Saved me,” I said, wondering where the attitude came from. “Is that what you call it? I work mainly on commission, mister, so how am I supposed to do that now?”
He grinned. “I don’t think that will be an issue for a while.”
I frowned at him. “Why is that?”
“Because I’m going to make your year.”
“What are you talking about? And how did you know I worked here? Are you stalking me?”
“Hardly,” he said, his gray eyes flashing with amusement. “Sheer coincidence, as a matter of fact. Why? Would you like me to?”
My words caught in my throat as his gaze traveled down my body.
I wasn’t wearing anything even remotely scandalous, but I felt like a mere sexual object to him anyway, with how he gazed at me.
I wore black pants and a royal blue button-up blouse that covered me from neck to ankle.
So, how did I feel utterly exposed to him, as if I was on display?
“I need furniture,” he said when I didn’t respond, too busy trying to turn off my pussy before it ruined my underwear, though I suspected it was too late for that.
The man was a walking sex advertisement, and I was horny in the worst of ways. Like a drunk college girl who needed chicken nuggets. I was the drunk college girl. Helpless before him, and he hadn’t done anything besides exist. Like those damn tasty nuggets!
“Furniture,” I managed to squeak out. “Well, I guess you came to the right place.”
He glanced behind me at the store full of household furniture. “Yes, I did.”
“Um, what do you need?” I shook my head, trying to let myself fall into saleswoman mode.
“Let’s see,” he said, his eyes unfocusing while he thought. “Six bedroom sets, three sitting rooms, two studies, a library, various hallway décor including wall art, and three dining room tables capable of seating ten each, minimum. Let’s start with that.”
I gaped at him.
“Too much?” he asked with a frown. “I thought this store would be able to handle such a request.”
“What? No, no, no, we can definitely do it!” I exclaimed in a rush. “If you want the exact same bedroom set six times, that might be tricky, we’d probably have to order some of it, but Simmonds Furniture has the biggest warehouse around.”
That was a bit of a stretch, depending on the definition of “around.” On the other end of the city, our main competitor, Goban’s Fine Furniture, had a larger warehouse. But they were jerks, so it evened out. Not that I would be telling Mr. Suit that.
Oh, he’s talking to me, I thought, my inner monolog interrupted.
“Let’s start with the bedrooms, then. I’ll make sure not to get six of the same,” he said.
“Okay. Sure. Let’s head on over.” I gestured for him to lead, but he didn’t move, instead waiting for me to go.
I started walking, and he followed. It took me a dozen steps before I realized he was staring at my ass.
With my face burning, I took him to the bed section, where I absolutely did not daydream about being thrown down on one by his strong arms while he tore my pants off and took me right there in the middle of the store.
What is wrong with me? I’ve never been this much of a … a … I don’t even know. A slut? Why do I immediately want nothing but his mouth, or his hands, all over my body? Not every item is meant to be for sex!
Trying to make myself focus, I looked away from him and stared out the window. I busied myself with looking at the various cars as I walked to the middle of our bedroom sets.
“Waiting for someone?” he rumbled from unexpectedly close behind me.
I jumped and whirled, backing up a step. My leg hit a bed, and I abruptly sat down, staring up at him.
“N-no,” I said, gathering myself. “I actually was just wondering if you’d come here in the car. That’s all.”
How I’d thought of that lie on the fly, I didn’t know, but damn, I was good!
“No. I have other things to pick up that require more space,” he said, slowly looking around at our items on display. “Okay, two of this style, one of those, one of those, and two of those.”
I followed his pointing figure, my brain already racking up dollar signs. “Okay,” I said, hurriedly grabbing a clipboard from the nearby workers' table. “What pieces do you want from them?”
His face darkened. “All of them. I want it looking exactly as is.”
“Uh, sure,” I said, noting which sets he’d pointed toward. “We can do that.”
“Make sure the things on top go as well,” he said, gesturing at the various knick-knacks we used for staging the furniture. “Art on the walls as well. All of it.”
“Sure,” I said, not one to argue. My commission was going to be huge. It would even make a large dent in the money needed to get my dad’s car!
I finished marking down the bedroom sets, and we went through everything else just as fast. He looked the options over, sat down on a couch here and a chair there, then started rapid-fire saying what he wanted.
It was the easiest, fastest, six-figure sale I’d ever made in my ten years of working at Simmonds.
“Is that everything?” I asked as he scanned the store.
“Yes,” he said. “When can you deliver it?”
“It’ll take multiple shipments,” I pointed out. “But we can probably have the first one out there next week?”
“Too long,” he said. “Two days. How much?”
“Ahhhh.” I didn’t have control over the shipping schedule. I couldn’t just shove everyone aside to make room for him, even if I wanted to. Which I did. “Let me check.”
“Figure it out, and let me know,” he rumbled. “Give me the cost. If it’s reasonable, I’ll pay it.”
“Can do. Or, at least, I could if I knew how to let you know, Mr. …”
He started, looking almost abashed. “Where are my manners? My name is Torrent, but please, call me Tor.”
“Mia,” I said, though it was right there on my nametag if he’d forgotten from the auction. I stuck out my hand. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Tor.”
He grinned as I said his name and reached out, taking my hand. Instead of shaking it, however, he brought it to his mouth, brushing his lips against the back of my palm, sending little sparks of electricity down through my body.
“The pleasure,” he purred, “is all mine.”
I struggled to regain my composure. “Well, Tor, if you’ll just fill this out, we can move on to the next step.”
I somehow managed to go through the rest of the payment process without losing my mind in a swirl of lust or anything else.
“Thank you for your help today, Mia,” he said on his way out, tormenting my mind and my sopping cunt with the way he said my name, the letters dripping from his tongue.
“No problem,” I said tightly, hoping there was enough charge left in my vibrator because holy fuck was it going to get some heavy use tonight!
Then he left, and I sat down in the nearest chair with a massive sigh.
I could see one of my coworkers, Monica, staring at me with a huge shit-eating grin on her face, but I didn’t have it in me to deal with her.
Not right then. I needed several moments to collect my dignity and calm the throbbing between my legs.
The front door tinkled again, but I didn’t look up. It was someone else’s turn.
“Mia.”
I looked up to see he was back. “Tor!” I said, shooting to my feet, worried about the frown on his face. “Is something wrong? Did we forget something?”
“No,” he said, looking out in the parking lot, then back at me. “The car.”
“Yes? What about it?”
His eyebrows scrunched together and then relaxed, followed by other parts of his face. “It meant a lot to you, didn’t it?”
“Yes,” I said, thinking of my mother.
“I have an offer for you.”
I raised my eyebrows. “What’s that?”
“Before the furniture arrives, my house, it needs cleaning. No one’s lived in it for a number of years.”
“Ookay,” I drawled out. “What does that have to do with me?”
“If you clean it, then I’ll sell you the car for the sixty thousand dollars you said you have.” His face was all bunched up as he spoke, as if he didn’t understand why he was doing what he was.
“Are you serious?” I gasped. “You’re going to pay me twelve thousand dollars to clean your house?”
It was a huge house, given the six bedrooms and giant kitchen he apparently had, but still! Twelve grand to clean a house? I could do that!
“Yes, of course, I’m serious. Why would I make an offer if I wasn’t?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “‘Cause you want to screw me? Uh, screw with me.”
Oh, god. Did I really just say that? Seriously?
Tor coughed. “The house needs cleaning. Do you want the car or not?”
“What? Yes. Yes! Of course, I do. Thank you so much, Tor. Today is my last day of work for two days, so I can start tomorrow if that works?”
“Excellent,” he said, “it does.”
I didn’t give a flying fuck that I was going to spend my “weekend”—I worked retail, so my days off were Tuesday and Wednesday—cleaning.
I would make an obscene amount of money.
With the sale of his furniture, I might have been able to afford the extra money.
But now, I would get to keep that and still get the car.
It was the single best day I’d had since my mother died. I couldn’t believe my luck!
“Good,” Tor rumbled. “You have my address. I’d arrive early. It’s pretty dirty.”
“I’ve got this,” I said confidently. “Thank you so much, Tor. It means a lot that you’d be willing to help me out like this.”
My dad would be so happy! I couldn’t wait to see him driving around in the Chevelle. He would positively flip.
“See you in the morning,” he said, still looking slightly concerned.
“Yep.”
He left, and I immediately pulled out my phone to text my dad the good news. I just had to let him know I was going to get the car for him!