by Nikki Chase
She has cute, perky tits, but it’s the way her slender waist flares out into those hips and ass that gets me. I could just imagine my fingers digging into her waist as I bend her over and pull her back against me, impaling her on me again and again. My cock stirs in my pants.
I don't know what it is about her, but every little move she makes amuses me. Maybe it's just refreshing to see a girl not kissing my ass. She puts up a bit of a fight, which makes it more satisfying when her resolve crumbles, when she inevitably has to do my bidding.
She stops a couple of feet away from me and shoves the tray full of the usual party finger foods between us without a word.
“Aren't you going to ask if I want some canapés?” I trap her gaze and watch as the fire burns within.
“You already asked me to come here. You obviously want them,” she says in a clipped tone. She's trying to stay polite, despite her anger.
“Maybe all I want is for you to come closer.”
“I’m already close enough. Now, if there's nothing else, I have other guests to serve.”
“I don't see anyone else around here.” I look around to emphasize my point. This is a large mansion, and most of the guests are lounging by the swimming pool. This hallway is deserted. “And aren't you supposed to address me more politely?”
“If there's nothing else, I’d like to go where the other guests are, Sir,” she repeats herself, adding the honorific at the end begrudgingly.
Interesting.
When faced with the choice between obeying me and losing her job, she chooses the option that makes her money, even if she has to sacrifice a little dignity doing so. This girl has a price, just like everybody else.
What makes her interesting is how much she seems to resent that, and how openly she displays that resentment. She's transparent.
I’d love to see her genuine reactions to my hands all over her, my fingers inside her. Fuck, I’d love to spread her legs and plunge balls deep inside her. I’d watch her face as I do, her lips parting in lust to let a breathy moan escape, her eyes begging for more even if she doesn't want to say it.
“Oh, but there is something else. I'm sure you'll want to hear this,” I say.
She continues to look back into my eyes with defiance, not knowing I’m going to crush that disobedience out of her.
I'm not done with her. Far from it. She's wrong if she thinks she's going to walk away just like that.
Daisy
“Daisy, right?” He takes one step closer, fixing his piercing gaze on me like he’s a lion stalking his prey. Confident, unhurried, dangerous.
I want to step back away from him, but there's something about him that freezes me in place. He's looking at me like he's about to pounce on me if I so much as make a move in the wrong direction.
“Yes, Sir,” I say with as much fight as I can muster. My heart hammers in my rib cage. My eyes follow his movements as he inspects me like he's about to eat me alive. My insides grow warmer from his intense attention. I feel funny, like there's something stirring in my core, reacting to his presence.
I’ve never felt like this before; it's terrifying.
It doesn't help that I'm practically naked. It makes me feel vulnerable, especially when he looks so put together in his navy-blue designer suit that shows off his tall, lean physique perfectly.
I thought I was already feeling self-conscious before, walking around in skimpy lingerie while all around me, high-society ladies swish by in their dazzling gowns, their hair perfectly styled and their bodies adorned with bright, shiny gemstones. But Caine is much more intimidating than all the guests at this party combined.
There's an easy, casual grace to his every move. His gestures are so fluid they're hypnotizing. He's refined, almost feline-like. He's in his element here in this ritzy mansion, while I’m completely out of my depth.
Now I know why people keep deadly exotic animals as pets. There's something magnetic about them, something about that deadliness itself that makes you want to see if you can get close and survive, like some kind of a suicidal teenager’s idea of a bravery challenge.
“Do you know who I am?” He smirks like he already knows the answer.
A part of me wants to say no just to spite him, maybe make him see he’s not as important as he thinks he is. At the same time, I feel like he’d see right through me. I can't hurt his vanity when he’s fully aware of what a big deal he is.
“Yes, Sir,” I say without breaking eye contact.
“Who am I, then?”
“You're Caine Foster, Sir.”
“I see you’ve learned how to properly address me. Don't you think this is better, when I don't have to use a loud voice or harsh words to get you to do the things you're supposed to do anyway?”
I glare at him for a split second, forgetting that I’m potentially risking $5,000 by getting drawn into an argument with him.
Get a grip. Keep your cool and you’ll go home with almost enough money to pay off Chad Murray, I tell myself.
“I don't know about that, Sir.” I wish I could lie and tell him what he wants to hear, but something tells me that would be a risky move.
“Interesting answer,” he says.
Caine takes another step closer, bursting my bubble of personal space. He doesn’t say anything, which only makes it feel more intrusive. It's like he feels entitled to my person, like he believes he has the right to get closer without even asking.
Before I can even think about it, I lean back and, thanks to my high heels, lose my balance. A steady hand lands on the small of my back, keeping me on my feet. Electricity spreads from the warm spot where Caine's hand touches my bare back and crackles throughout my body, making me tingle all over.
Suddenly, I find myself in his arms, my chest pressed up against his body, the fine fabric of his suit soft on my skin. When I look up, Caine has a cocky smirk on his face. He's balancing the tray with his free hand.
“Careful, Daisy. Considering how much more friendly the other girls are, you don't want to drop your tray. That could get you fired.”
I look up at him, heat spreading across my cheeks. He's so close, and the way he says my name feels overly familiar. He's just as rude and condescending as he was last week at the hospital.
I should be angry. I should shout at him and tell him to leave me alone. I was doing my job just fine before he came and got me all flustered.
But all I can think about is how good it feels being held by him. His body is firm, hard. I get the urge to run my hands down his chest to trace the contours of his body, the ridges and valleys of his chest and abs. He smells like expensive whiskey and musky perfume.
His very closeness is intoxicating. The way I get overwhelmed by my own body's reactions to him, it's like I’m drunk on his presence.
I shiver as Caine lightly drags his long, graceful fingers down my spine. It becomes hard just to breathe, let alone think. He leans in, his stubble grazing my cheek as he does. I can feel the warmth emanating from his body, and it makes me want to just melt into his touch.
“Want to take this somewhere more private?” Caine whispers in my ear, his breath hot on my neck, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to the juncture of my thighs.
His words jolt me awake. As tempting as it is, I don't want to lose my virginity to a stranger at a party where I’m working...or do I?
Hard as it is, I tear myself away from Caine. I put one hand against his chest, feeling his heartbeats on my palm. His deep blue eyes invite me to dive in deeper, but I push away from him.
“I should go.” My voice comes out shaky, but I don't care anymore if he realizes how affected I am. He was so close he could probably tell by my goosebumps and shivers.
“Not so fast.” He grabs my wrist, making me gasp. How can such a light touch knock the wind out of me?
I eye him suspiciously.
“As far as I know, Dr. Pratt doesn't look too kindly upon moonlighting.” He stares intensely into my eyes. He looks like he has a
devious plot in his mind, the way he's baring his teeth like the Cheshire cat.
“What's your point?” I snap. I don't care anymore about politeness, even though earlier tonight the manager emphasized again and again that we need to be the perfect maids, obedient and eager to please.
All I know is I need to get away before this man devours me. If I stay too long, I might offer myself to him voluntarily, and I’m not sure that would be wise.
“There she is,” he says, again with that lopsided smirk. He chuckles. “Is a nurse’s salary not enough for you, my wild flower?”
“That's none of your business.”
“Careful. Dr. Pratt is a good friend of mine. I’m sure he'd appreciate me telling him about a young member of his staff who's breaking the rules,” he threatens in a low voice as smooth as the whiskey on his breath.
I glare at him and pull my hand away. He lets go of my wrist and smiles, knowing he's already gotten me into his trap without having to physically restrain me.
“What do you want from me?” I honestly don't understand why he has zeroed in on me. With the many other waitresses milling around the mansion, I really don’t stand out.
I wonder if maybe he's attracted to my youth, but the mansion is literally littered with young, attractive girls, many of whom would be excited to get an opportunity to spend the night with this hot shot.
A wealthy man typically has his pick of girls, especially when the man in question looks like Caine Foster. With his full head of golden hair and deep blue eyes, he's the epitome of an all-American hunk. And with his reputation as a good lover, he must be a babe magnet.
So, why me?
“It's not just about what I want from you, Daisy. I'm sure I have something you want as well. We can reach a...mutually beneficial agreement,” he says with one eyebrow cocked.
I stay quiet and look at him, waiting for him to continue. It's not like I have a choice but to listen. The man has threatened to get me fired from both my jobs, neither one of which I can afford to lose.
“Be my pet for one month,” he says casually, as if this is just another business deal.
My eyes widen in shock. Of course I feel our interaction taking on a sexual turn, but to be his “pet”? What the hell does that even mean?
“Come live with me for one month, and I’ll make it worth your while,” he explains, probably sensing my bewilderment.
“Sorry, I'm not for sale.” I glower at him, anger simmering within me. I want to drop all the stupid little pieces of shrimp appetizers on the beige carpet and hit Caine in the head with my canapé tray, but that might get me fired for real.
I'm fine with being poor and unemployed on my own, but I have Jack to think of. For his sake, I need to keep a cool head.
Before I say or do something I’ll regret, I turn around on my heels and start to walk away.
“There’s $100,000 in it for you.”
I stop in my tracks. Did he just say what I think he said? $100,000? That can't be right. I want to look back, but I don't want to ruin the cool exit I’m supposed to be making.
“You heard right. $100,000.” Caine’s footfalls are muted by the thick carpet, but I can feel him getting closer and closer.
He puts one hand on the back of my neck and slides it down to my shoulder. A thrill runs down my spine at his touch. I can't deny it. This man makes the hairs on my skin stand on end. My body becomes hypersensitive when our bodies make contact. I gasp audibly when his lips land on my back.
God, I want more of him. But, I shouldn't...right?
“You don't have to answer right now,” he whispers.
His hand snakes around my body and slides down my stomach, so tantalizingly close to the place where I’m aching for him, literally throbbing for him. He pulls me close until my bare back rests on his broad, hard chest. He slips something into the waist of my black lacy panties, just below my belly button.
“Think about it, my little flower.” Caine plants another kiss, on the back of my neck this time. To my surprise and embarrassment, a small, breathy moan escapes my lips. I freeze, but it's too late. He's obviously heard it. He says, “I guarantee you’ll have a good time, too.”
As if to stress his point, he grabs my ponytail and pulls my head to the side, exposing my neck to him. He trails light, teasing kisses from my shoulder up to the side of my neck. I sigh, momentarily forgetting my outrage as my nerve endings deliver a big dose of pure pleasure to my entire system.
“Call me,” Caine whispers in my ear. When he pulls away, immediately I feel like something's missing. I want his hands and lips back on my body.
Without saying another word, Caine leaves. I just stand there, dumbfounded and unsure what to do. I stare at his broad back as he walks further and further away down the long hallway.
This whole situation is so foreign to me. No other man has ever had that kind of effect on me before.
I look down at my abdomen. Caine has slipped a business card under the elastic waist of my skimpy panties. He's already treating me like a stripper, I realize. Although, to be fair, I am already halfway stripped. All that's missing is a pole.
My heart is thumping in my chest. I still can't quite believe what just happened.
Of course I’m offended that a man has just put a price tag on sex with me. He thinks he can buy me, and that's not right.
Still, as far as price tags go, $100,000 is really good. It could make all my problems disappear.
Caine
“Honey, you home?” I yelled out as the elevator door slid open to reveal our penthouse apartment.
As a realtor, Trish had flexible work hours. I never knew when she'd be working and when she'd be home.
I pulled my suitcase inside, the little wheels rolling on the vintage hardwood flooring, making a hollow sound. The elevator door closed on its own behind me.
I heard some noises from upstairs. A woman's voice. Maybe Trish was home after all. Maybe she was watching something on the TV in our bedroom.
I unzipped the suitcase to quickly grab the Hermés bag, the souvenir Trish had requested from my business trip to Paris. I left the open suitcase by the fireplace in the living room. I could take care of that later. For now, I just wanted to see Trish.
I’d always had to travel a lot for work. With Pop getting older and Cole wanting to do his own stuff, the responsibility of meeting out-of-state and international business associates fell on my shoulders.
I didn't really mind the constant motion, the many hours I was spending at airports all over the world, or even the bad airplane food.
(Even on a private plane, the food tasted bland no matter what. I’d been told it was due to the atmosphere inside the pressurized cabin. Whatever the cause, it was bullshit.)
None of those things bothered me as much as being away from Trish. She was the only person who really knew me, the only person I could really talk to. When she wasn’t around, I felt alone. Which, thinking back now, was completely stupid.
I walked up the stairs with a big, dumb smile on my face. I thought about how Trish would react to seeing the handbag she’d wanted for months.
I was in a good mood, having closed the deal much more easily than I’d expected and having flown home early. Now I had a few days free so I could spend some time with Trish and maybe relax at home for once. I was paying good money for the apartment, and I was never around to enjoy it.
As soon as I stepped onto the stairs landing on the second floor of our apartment, I realized something wasn’t right.
The door to our bedroom had been left ajar. A sliver of sunlight escaped from the bedroom. I couldn’t see inside, but I could clearly make out the woman’s voice now.
It was clearly Trish’s voice, and she was clearly moaning—a sound I had always found sexy, right up until this point in time.
I tried to tell myself that she might’ve been playing one of our sexy videos, or she was having a little solo fun with the vibrator I’d gotten her for Valentine’s Day, but
even then, I knew that was wishful thinking. I could almost hear two sets of heavy breathing.
My heart was pounding against my rib cage when I reached the bedroom door. My whole body felt cold. I wasn’t ready to see what I knew I was going to see behind the door, but I couldn’t walk away either.
I pushed the door open.
The hinges creaked softly, and Trish snapped her head around so fast I thought she was going to sprain her neck. Her eyes widened. She was as naked as the day she was born, straddling some guy on the bed. On our bed. My fucking bed.
Heat spread from the center of my chest throughout my body. Anger coursed through my veins. Blood rushed in my ears, and I couldn’t hear a word Trish was saying.
Maybe she wasn’t saying anything. Maybe her mouth was just hanging open from the shock, as wide open as her legs.
I don’t know. All I could hear was a million furious thoughts that were running through my mind.
The guy she was riding grabbed Trish’s shoulders and pushed her off him, his face contorted by fear. My tall stature and lean body, moderately muscular from regular swimming, often intimidate people. But I was also shooting daggers with my eyes, and my hands had balled into fists without me even realizing it.
“Don’t stop on account of me,” I said as calmly as I could. “I was just leaving.” I looked Trish in the eye. “Sasha will call you to help you move out. Get your things out by the end of the week.”
Just before I turned around, I saw Trish jump out of bed and fumble around to find her clothes. I was already making my way downstairs.
I zipped up my suitcase, still full of all the essentials I needed to live out of a hotel room for at least a few days. As I pulled it toward the elevator, I realized I was still holding the fucking Hermes handbag. I threw it into the fireplace. The flame was low, but it was probably going to do sufficient damage.
Trish wouldn’t be seen dead with a half-burned handbag. Hell, she wouldn’t even take last year’s accessories out to dinner.
As I waited for the elevator to arrive, I imagined Trish walking around with the handbag, the expensive leather all curled, peeled, and blackened. The mental picture made the corners of my lips curl up, even as my heart was breaking into a thousand little shards inside me, the sharp edges cutting into my flesh.
