by Jessa Kane
Finally, the fairy gets her balance and flings out her hands. “Ta-da! I’m your—”
“I heard.”
“Oh.” Her face goes pink, arms drifting down to her sides. “Did I mess up already?”
Why is my heart flopping around like a fish? “No. No, you did fine, but…” I clear my throat hard and step aside. “You may…”
I can’t bring myself to say “leave.”
Just say it.
“You want me to go to the bedroom, right?” There is a brave set to her shoulders as she sails past me. “I hope you don’t mind, I already had a tiny peek at the master. Everyone is so jealous that I get to see the inside of this wonderful place. It has been towering over the beach for so long and no one has ever been invited.”
I follow her out of the kitchen and toward a staircase. “Who is everyone?”
She stops and turns with her hand on the rail. “Sorry?”
There is a rather obnoxious need to know who this girl associates with, how often and where. “You said ‘everyone is jealous.’ Who is ‘everyone’?”
“Oh!” She counts off on her fingers. “My sisters, some of our regular customers, Marcel the cook—”
“You work in a restaurant.”
“Yes.” She starts up the stairs, her peachy little ass on display, the pink strip of her thong separating cheeks that lift, fall, lift, making the tie around my neck feel like it’s strangling me. “That’s where your friends found me.”
It hits me hard how fucking debased this situation is. My partners went into this girl’s place of work and paid her to service me for a week, even though she’s young as hell and clearly innocent. I’m not a man who does things like this. I’m not turned on by breaking the rules or flexing my power. This is wrong and yet, I follow her up the stairs as if in a trance.
The fairy stops at the top step and flits to the window overlooking the ocean, sighing with hearts in her eyes. “Isn’t my island beautiful?”
“Yes,” I say, even though I can’t tear my eyes off her long enough to look. “What is your name, girl?”
A dimple pops in her cheek. “Nova.”
Those two syllables whisper through me like a cool breeze. “Are you here of your own free will, Nova?”
Am I looking too closely or does a hint of the sparkle leave her eyes? “Yes.” She ducks her head and glides past me, the pink ribbon fluttering out behind her, stopping when she reaches a doorway, her supple, young body outlined in gentle light. She pinches one end of the pink ribbon between her fingers and draws it slowly through its loop, the sound of rasping silk making my cock throb uncontrollably. Finally, the ribbon flutters to the floor, baring her hot, perky little tits and I have to remind myself to breathe. “I’m here of my own free will, Lincoln But I’m really here to bend to your will. Aren’t I?” she says huskily, trailing a finger down the doorjamb. “Wonder how you’ll do it?”
3
Nova
I turn and sway into the bedroom, my hands flailing as soon as I’m out of Lincoln’s sight. Oh my goodness, what made me think I could be convincing as a seductress? Especially after I fell on my butt downstairs in front of him? What a dork. If I haven’t already blown this whole plan, I will be shocked. He hasn’t even touched me. He actually just seems confused by me.
Why did he have to be so handsome?
Ever since I was hired last week, my sisters made me watch endless hours of James Bond movies, forcing me to study the way Bond Girls move, speak, seduce. If Lincoln looked like one of his business partners, I might be more in control of the situation. Might be able to concentrate and keep my rapid-fire pulse under control. But the fact is, Lincoln is James Bond. Cool, inscrutable, masculine, suave, handsome. Did I mention that?
There isn’t a dark hair or a thread out of place, even though he’s just flown in from New York. His crisp white shirt and dark navy tie are perfectly pressed. His amber eyes are sharp and arresting. Is it any wonder I’m dancing nervously around the bedroom right now, my game plan having totally leaked out of my ear the moment he made his presence known in the kitchen?
Get yourself under control.
Remember, your parents are counting on you.
Your sisters are counting on you.
In a week, Lincoln will have gone back to New York and if I don’t make something useful come from this experience, I’ll let everyone down.
“I can’t let that happen,” I whisper.
“What was that?” Lincoln says, appearing in the doorway, his hands fisted at his sides, those corded forearms flexed.
“Nothing,” I breathe, wondering why my nipples keep puckering in such a painful way. “I just, um…” Turning in a circle, I search the room for my backpack. “I brought some tools.”
A single one of his eyebrows jumps. “Tools.”
“Yes, all kinds,” I say enthusiastically, retrieving my threadbare, red backpack from the floor and setting it on the massive king-sized bed. I’m excruciatingly aware that I’m standing in front of a man in nothing but thong underpants and high heels, but I need to make it seem like this is the usual for me. I unzip the backpack and remove a black bar with a leather loop attached to either end, borrowed from Raquel. “Well, looky here. We have this,” I say, swallowing hard and wishing I’d studied the contents of my backpack before opening it. Why oh why did I let my sisters pack for me? “This is for, um…”
“Do you know what it’s for, Nova?”
“Yes, of course.” My face is on fire. “It’s for exercise. Doing sit ups, maybe?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I think I see his lips twitch. “What else have you got in your bag of tricks?”
I drop the bar like it’s on fire and go digging through my bag, pulling out a red ball with a thick string attached. “Oh, uh…”
“Maybe this one is for playing catch?”
Is that amusement in his tone? I can’t tell. But if I keep pulling unfamiliar objects out of this bag, he’s definitely going to peg me for an inexperienced virgin. Who wants one of those? I’ve been hired to rock his world, not disappoint him with my lack of skill.
“Maybe we don’t need any of these things?” I say, turning and lounging back on the bed, relieved when his eyes blaze over my naked body, focusing in on the juncture of my thighs. “Maybe you could just…”
“Just what, Nova?” Never taking his hungry gaze off me, he slowly loosens his tie. “Take out this cock you’ve made so hard and pound it into my little virgin sacrifice?”
“I’m not a virgin,” I lie in a rush.
His tie is off now and he trails the silky end of it down my belly and over my mound, tickling me in places I didn’t know I could feel ticklish. “You’re as innocent as the day you were born, little fairy.”
Failure settles heavily on my shoulders. I’ve screwed up and let everyone down. And it only took me fifteen minutes. “Does that mean you don’t want me?”
His gaze flies to mine, then cuts away, lines forming on his forehead. “I don’t want or need anyone. I despise being touched.”
Shock replaces my sense of failure.
I should be distressed. Disappointed. After all, there is no way I can get pregnant without him touching me. Thus, my method of saving the restaurant and making my family proud is ruined. But there is something in his tone that cuts through all those worries. Absorbs me. Straightens my spine, makes me look deeper at this man who—until now—has given off such an air of invincibility. “Not even hugs?”
“Especially not hugs,” he scoffs, still not looking at me. “What use are those?”
“To make someone feel safe and wanted.”
Lincoln shakes his head, laughing without humor, but the sound cuts off abruptly. “Who gives you hugs, little fairy?”
“Nobody. Not anymore.” My chest twists. “It doesn’t mean I don’t want them.”
My words seem to hit him like a missile strike. Why? He remains very still for long moments before pacing away, an agitated hand in his
hair. “Well you won’t be getting them from me.”
And that bothers him. It’s plain to see. There’s something fierce, almost protective, inside me that wants to look deeper, to find out what makes him dislike being touched. Would my delving bother him, though? It’s been so long since I had anyone to talk to. Maybe I’ll do it wrong. Maybe I don’t know how to be a friend, especially to a man as obviously tortured as this one. “Do you want me to leave?” I whisper.
“No.”
Some of my tension ebbs, though I don’t know why. There’s something inside calling on me to remain. “If you don’t like to be touched, why did your friends hire me?”
“They don’t know.” He turns with his arms crossed. “They know nothing about me, clearly, or they wouldn’t have sent me to an island for a week to relax.”
He says that last word as if it tastes like week-old trout.
“You don’t like relaxing, either?” I giggle. “What do you like?”
“Being productive. Working. Making deals.”
I flop backwards on the bed. “I’m tired just thinking about it.”
The softness of the bedspread on my bare back is so nice, I close my eyes and luxuriate in the sensation, rubbing myself on it like a kitten. When I lift my lids again, there is Lincoln, staring down at me. I angle my head and consider him, noticing his strained jaw and the bulge at the front of his slacks. I know what that means, because my sisters told me several times throughout the course of the week. It means he’s horny, girl, and you’ve done your job.
Lincoln is aroused, but doesn’t want my touch.
I don’t know how to make him happy. And…I want to, I realize.
Something inside me says he hasn’t been happy in a very long time.
“You’re fucking exquisite,” he says hoarsely, raking a hand over his open mouth. “I’ve never seen anything or anyone that comes close. I’ll give you that.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, not knowing what else to say. “Lincoln?”
His throat muscles shift. “Yes?”
“I can’t satisfy you physically, but what if I could help you relax in other ways?”
His skepticism is obvious. “Oh yeah? How?”
I shrug a shoulder. “This is my island. I could show you places so beautiful, you won’t be able to catch your breath.”
“I can’t catch my breath right now,” he says in a raw voice, seeming to surprise himself. That slip-up annoys him and his demeanor changes, going from exposed to commanding. “You’re mine for the week, Nova. I’ll be deciding what we do.” He hooks a finger in the waistband of my panties, somehow avoiding a brush with my skin, and before I can ask his intentions, the only remaining clothing on my body is stripped away. “Right now, I want to watch you come.”
In an instant, my heart rate is sprinting a thousand miles an hour, the fear of the unknown bearing down on me once again. “M-me? But…”
Lincoln holds my panties to his nose and inhales deeply, a groan rippling in his chest. “But what?”
“I don’t know how,” I admit, heat clinging to my neck.
Disbelief rearranges his features, struck through with anger. “I’ll going to kill my business partners. Sending you to a stranger for your first fuck. Your first orgasm. I’m sure they offered you so much money, you had no choice but to come here, didn’t they?”
My nod is almost imperceptible. It’s all I can manage. Lincoln is mad…on my behalf? When was the last time I had someone all to myself on my side?
Lincoln curses, his face intense while he chews something over. “I’d like to be the one who gives you your first orgasm, Nova. I want to watch it make your eyes blind. I want to watch your hips shake, hear you whine like a baby. I want to smell it. But I won’t do it unless you ask me. Unless you say, ‘please show me what an orgasm feels like, Lincoln.’”
The tight buds of my nipples are making me restless. I yearn to press the palms of my hands over them to squeeze, but I don’t know if that would be odd. “How are you going to…do that…without touching me?”
“Skillfully.” His chest heaves as he waits for me to respond, as if his very sanity is riding on my answer. “Say the words if you want to feel good, little fairy.”
Do I want this?
To agree to something I’ve never experienced, no idea how it’ll end?
My body aches in places it never has before. My nipples throb in time with a newfound pulse between my legs and…I need something. An end to this anticipation, this stir of confusing desires. And if he won’t even be touching me, how scary could it be? Before I can question myself, I close my eyes and blurt the words. “Please show me what an orgasm feels like, Lincoln.”
His growl is predatory. Triumphant. “Stand up. Go wait by the couch.”
There’s a couch?
Since we walked into this room, I’ve been unaware of everything but Lincoln. His consuming energy, his gorgeous face and tall, muscled frame. Even the tic in his jaw makes my tummy clench. Every single time.
“Nova,” he prompts, beginning to search through my backpack. “Do as you’re told.”
“Yes, sir,” I murmur, rising naked from the bed to go stand by the couch. It’s positioned in front of the window, the glitter of my town spread out below. If anyone looks up here, they might even be able to make out our silhouettes through the gauzy white curtains. My naked body on display for this man, nothing but high heels of which to boast.
Should that excite me so much?
It does. To such a degree that I whimper while watching Lincoln approach in the window, the folds of my sex growing heavy and damp. Is that normal?
“Bend over and grip the arm of the couch,” he instructs. “Legs spread.”
Oh this is bad, isn’t it? Inappropriate in the extreme. And still I eagerly do as I’m told, enjoying the role as his plaything. Enjoying the act whether it’s wrong or right. As soon as I’m bent forward and my ankles are hip-width apart, I hear a humming sound. What is that?
A smooth object brushes my inner thigh—and it’s vibrating.
“Ohhh,” I exclaim, tilting my hips up. The light judder sends a flock of pulsations up, up and my core clenches tightly, dropping my mouth open on a sob. “What is that?”
“It’s a vibrator,” Lincoln answers thickly, slowly dragging the object up my thigh. When it’s nearly at my sex, I bite down on my bottom lip and dig my fingertips into the arm of the couch. If this vibrator feels so good on my thigh, what is it going to feel like there? “I’m going to use it on your pussy now.”
I nod vigorously, afraid to let go of my held breath—
The buzz finds me, pressing firmly to some glorious spot, a place that swells, seems to bloom like rose petals and everything inside me rejoices, expands. Stars burst in front of my eyes. “Lincoln.”
“You’ve already drenched the goddamn thing.” Lincoln grinds the vibration over that incredibly sensitive spot and I cry out. “Were you made for fucking, little girl?”
“I…I…I don’t know!”
“Christ, yes you were. You should see this little cunt pulsate.”
All of a sudden, the buzz is gone. The friction is gone. I whine Lincoln’s name, my thighs continuing to shake violently, my body begging for something. Anything. “P-please can I have it back?”
Lincoln appears to my left, towering above me, his eyes bright with what instinct tells me is arousal. There’s a sheen of sweat on his upper lip, his chest rifling up and down. In his hand, he holds a clear, curved wand. That is what’s making me feel like this?
Or is it Lincoln?
Because I can’t imagine exposing myself like this to anyone else. The very idea of it would have terrified me. But right now, I feel nothing but…celebrated. Just looking into his amber eyes is keeping me right on the edge of that release I could feel approaching. Even without the wand, I’m poised there on the precipice.
“Goddamn,” he grits out, his eyes running over my face, my body. “You can’t be real.”
>
I can’t form words. I can only pant shamelessly as Lincoln presses a button on the vibrator, increasing the noise. Coming so close, so close we’re only a breath away from our first touch, Lincoln slides the vibrator between my legs, wedging the quivering ridge between my thighs. “Ride it. Look at me while you slide your hot, little pussy up and down, up and down. But if you let it inside you, I’ll take it away. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I sob. “Yes.”
I’m a slave to sensation, rubbing my slippery flesh on the vibrator. In my periphery, I can see myself rubbing my sex on the arm of the couch, faster, faster, my thighs hugging it on either side. It’s indecent. It has to be. But I can’t do anything but buck my hips and absorb the intense tremors from the wand while Lincoln stares right into my soul, hoarse sounds falling from his mouth.
“It feels s-so good when I press down here,” I say, leaning forward and holding, my teeth chattering. “Wh-why, Lincoln?”
“That’s your clit, Nova. Grind into it.” I gasp, the room spinning around me. “Those eyes are losing focus, little girl. You’re almost there. Show it to me—”
“Lincoln.”
My scream of his name burns up my throat. There’s a mighty squeeze inside me, contracting, relenting, contracting—and then it bursts, drowning my senses in a pleasure so intense, I can’t believe it has existed all this time. Tears stream down my cheeks, whimpers catching in my throat as my sex pulses, pulses, constricts, shooting bliss down to my toes.
“Wow,” I breathe, a drowsy smile spreading on my face, just for Lincoln.
The last thing I remember before falling sideways onto the couch in a state of utter euphoria—and passing clean out—is Lincoln watching my smile bloom in awe.
Right before I drift off, I remember my job here is to get pregnant.
