And then Nathaniel starts to pound into me harder, and it falls away, buried under my need for him.
“Oh God oh God oh God” is all I can manage as he slowly pulls out and then slips back into me, and I scream. “Again. Please do it again,” I beg, and he does, thrusting into me over and over again, giving me exactly what I’ve needed since the moment I first laid eyes on him. He’s holding my hips so firmly I wonder if he’ll leave bruises, and deflowering my sensitive, aching pussy as if he’s lost his mind, grunting with exertion and desire.
And then he starts taking me faster still, hammering into me, and he puts his hands on my shoulders and presses me down firmer, holding me in place as he takes me. This sense of being dominated, of being used, has me coming so hard I can feel my own juices wetting my thighs.
“That’s it, my little virgin. Come all over my cock,” he growls, and then I’m coming again, as if all he had to do is command it and it would be so. When I come down again, he turns me over and reenters me. Now I’m looking up at him, my hips tilted up toward him, and he’s so deep in me that I know no man—definitely no man my own age—will ever be able to satisfy me this way again.
He’s ruined me. One good, dirty, naughty, cherry-popping fuck and I know no one will ever compare to him.
His eyes are on mine, and he starts thrusting harder, faster, his hands gripping my breasts. He’s pounding into me mercilessly, and all I can do is hold on and take every mind-blowing second.
When he comes, he comes shouting my name, his voice hoarse with need and exertion.
When he’s finally spent, he pulls out of me, steps away, and takes off the condom, wrapping it in tissue and throwing it away. I stand up, feeling like I’ve just woken from a dream. I glance at him, and he’s looking at me, his gaze still hot, still possessive and hungry.
“You’re gorgeous,” he murmurs.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” I say shakily, glancing away. I start pulling my clothes on, wondering how the hell I’m supposed to work with him now. Smart girl. Not only did you fuck your boss but you also lost your V-card to him. That’ll gain you all kinds of respect.
And yet, I also know that I don’t regret it. If anything, Nathaniel has lifted the lid on a sexual power I never even knew I had. Plus, he’s given me masturbatory memories for the next several years, at least.
I finish buttoning my top, and then I force myself to look up at him. He’s watching me, a serious look on his face.
“So, we did it. I’ve wanted to do that since we met. I thought, maybe, this would get that out of my system—that a good fuck would solve everything. And it was a very, very good fuck,” he says, and I blush.
“It was.”
“The thing is, I’m not done with you, Poppy. And you telling me that you were a virgin only made my desire for you more desperate. I want you even more now than I did before I knew how good you tasted, how responsive you are, how fucking good it feels to be inside you.”
“Nathaniel,” I murmur. I press my thighs together. How does he do that? Make me so ready with nothing more than a word?
“I have a proposition for you,” he says quietly, and I look up at him.
“What is it?”
“Unpaid internships suck. You’re talented and quick. I think I should pay you. And I think I should pay you what an entry-level curator would make here, which is a significant amount.”
He says a number that has my head spinning.
“Um… thank you?” I did not know sleeping one’s way to the top was this easy. If I had, I would have tried it before now, maybe.
“Yes. With one condition.”
I pause and take a deep breath. “What is that?”
“You will be my lover. You’ll come to me when I want, how I want.”
My mouth drops. “There’s a word for paying someone to fuck you.”
“Yes, there is. But I’m paying you to help run the gallery and organize shows. A side requirement of your employment, which we shall keep between the two of us, by the way, is that I have access to that sweet little body of yours whenever I want it. That when I tell you to bend over, you do it happily, and when I call you and tell you to come to me, you come willingly and punctually. I’m not satisfied. It’ll be a long time spent between your thighs before I’ve had enough.”
“I…” I glance away. He’s offering me a hell of a lot of money. And I know I’d open my legs for him in a second if he asked me to. But this combination of commerce and sex… my stomach twists. Despite what he’s trying to say, there is a word for that, and it’s not “curator.”
“I need to think about it,” I say, my voice going quieter. I glance up at him, and he’s still watching me.
He nods. “Okay. That’s fine. Monday, then.”
“All right. Um. I should get going.”
Before I can even get my jacket back on and hunt down my bag, Nathaniel has called me a cab, and we wait together in awkward, post-multi-orgasm silence for it to arrive. When it does, he walks me out, opens the door, and pays the cabbie to take me home. He gives me a quick nod, a hint of a smile, and then he closes the taxi door behind me and walks back into the gallery.
I give the cabbie my address and settle back into the seat.
What the hell am I doing? My body still aches from the way he used me, reminding me how good it felt and how out of control he made me feel. And now he wants to pay me a huge salary for the next month and a half, as long as I’m his lover, too. I know this is shady as hell. I know it’s wrong. After all, I was still a virgin up until a few minutes ago.
But I still want it. And I need to figure out exactly what I’m going to do about that.
Chapter Eight
Nathaniel
I spent all weekend either reliving every second I’d spent with Poppy in my gallery or glaring at my phone, making sure I hadn’t missed a message or a text from her. The fact that the little doe was a virgin only has me more eager to claim her again. And again.
At my age, I’d definitely thought my deflowering days were over, and that I would never have the good fortune of being with a woman so young and beautiful… but then fate blew Poppy into my life. Before our erotic moment at the gallery, there was only one other person I’d told about my rough childhood. And that was Danneel.
My parents were poor and from the wrong side of the tracks. My father was a laborer by day and a drunk by night. My mother had a string of jobs that came and went, but nothing that stuck. She couldn’t handle authority—people telling her what to do, especially if they were male. I suppose, she got enough flack of my father, and there isn’t a day that I don’t remember the bruises on her face most mornings. The strange this was, even with such imperfections, she was still so beautiful. As beautiful as the canvas that I showed Poppy at the gallery.
Poppy—my mind wanders back to her and my proposition. I know I told her Monday was fine. Part of me, maybe a cocky part, assumed she’d come back with an enthusiastic yes before that.
I mean, she’d be making more money over the next few weeks than most people her age. And despite me being her first lover, based on how she’d responded to me, I didn’t think that spending those weeks as my lover would be a hardship.
I glance at the time on my phone. She’s ten minutes late.
Roberto comes out of his office, holding his own phone. “The intern called in sick,” he tells me, shoving his phone back in his pocket.
“She did?”
He nods.
“You talked to her?”
He glances at me. “Obviously, man. She said she has food poisoning and she can’t come in. She’s hoping to be in tomorrow, and she apologizes for being out.”
He walks off, and I find myself staring off into space. My gut twists.
She’s avoiding me.
If she doesn’t want to accept my deal, all she has to do is tell me so.
“I’ll be back in a bit,” I call out to Roberto, and then I make my way out to the parking lot. I double
-check her address on my phone, and then I’m doing something I’ve never done in my life.
I can’t believe I’m doing this.
I must be out of my goddamn mind.
But lying and avoiding me is not okay, and if she wants to turn me down, I want to get that over with now, not later—whenever she decides to come back to work.
Fuck. If that’s the case, I can avoid her for the next few weeks. Roberto can work with her.
As much as I want to believe that it was a mistake to have sex with her, and offer her what I did, I can’t regret it.
A while later, I pull into a parking spot in front of a big, nondescript brick apartment building. This neighborhood is not the greatest—definitely not the kind of area where you want to be walking alone at night. I glance around, then go inside and take the elevator up to the sixth floor. Poppy’s apartment is at the end of the hall, and I take a deep, steadying breath before I knock.
A moment later, the door opens, and I’m face-to-face with Bruce. My driver. Her father.
“Fancy seeing you here, boss!” Bruce says heartily, and I give him what I hope is a relaxed smile. “I was just checking on my girl. Poor kid. Never, ever get seafood pizza,” he says, shaking his head, and I feel the knot in my stomach unwind, just a little.
“How’s she feeling?” I ask.
“Pretty rough,” Bruce says. “You here to check on her too?”
“Roberto told me she called in sick, and she seems like the type who’d try to come to work even if she was in a full body cast, so I figured it had to be bad,” I say, managing to get the half-truth out smoothly, but unable to meet Bruce’s eyes. This man has worked for me for a few years now. He’s a good man.
And I’ve fucked his virgin daughter, and I’m determined to fuck her many, many more times in the future.
Awkward doesn’t begin to describe it.
Bruce laughs. “Right you are, boss,” he says. “If she weren’t weak as a kitten, she would have dragged her sorry self in today.” He glances at his watch. “I better go, or I’ll be late. Don’t want the bossman reaming me out,” he says with a cheerful wink, and then he’s gone.
I take another breath and walk into Poppy’s apartment. Just as I go in, she’s walking into the living room, pulling a big pink robe tightly around her body. Her hair is tousled, and she’s pale. Dark circles under her eyes. When she sees me, her eyes widen.
“What are you doing here?” she asks. She quickly runs her hands through her hair as if trying to straighten it out a bit.
“Hi,” I say with a smile.
“Oh, sorry, hi. But really, what are you doing here?”
I laugh. “Roberto said you were sick, and I wanted to check on you.”
She tilts her head, studying me. “Pretty sexy, huh?” she asks with an eye roll. She pulls her robe tighter again.
“You always look sexy,” I tell her.
“Hm. You wanted to check on me. Or you maybe thought I was avoiding you after what happened the other night.” I can tell she’s feeling awkward and self-conscious. Even being sick as a dog, she sees straight through me.
“Little bit of both,” I admit.
She crosses her arms over her chest and gives me a weak smile. “I have no intention of avoiding you. But if it’s okay with you, can we start our little secret agreement tomorrow? I have the feeling the sex will be much hotter if I don’t feel like death warmed over.”
I grin and start walking toward her. “So that’s a yes to my proposal, then?”
Her weak smile evolves to a full-blown one. “Isn’t that I what inferred just now?”
The second I’m close enough, I reach out and gently pull her against me. “I’m afraid your new position starts immediately, Ms. McAdams.” Her eyes widen, and in the next instant, I’m swinging her up into my arms and carrying her toward the door.
“Wh-hat are you doing?” she asks with a nervous little laugh.
“Taking you home with me. Looks like I’ll be playing doctor today.”
Despite Poppy’s protests, I spend the whole day taking care of her most personal needs. I even surprise myself with my culinary skills at making chicken noodle soup, which she says is just as tasty as the one her mom used to make. Now, that’s a compliment because generally, men can’t outdo the generational magic of a mother’s or grandmother’s recipe.
After lunch, I advise her to lie down on my king-size bed, naked, so I can really play doctor. I start with a back massage, rolling out the knots in her shoulders, all the way down to the curves of her supple ass. When I then instruct her to turn over, the tent pole growing in my pants threatens to burst free. Poppy moans as I give her breasts a thorough examination, teasing them with my fingers before taking my time with each of them in my mouth, sucking and softly biting down on the taut, cherry-like nibs. After I finally release them, my lips traverse down her body, trailing over the smooth skin of her abdomen, her navel, the inside of her thighs, and straight to her sweet spot.
The moment my mouth finds her dripping wet folds, Poppy writhes, her hips momentarily rising off the bed. I swirl my tongue around her engorged clit, all the while looking up at her, relishing the pure ecstasy on her face as she gets nearer and nearer to her undoing.
“Oh, Nathaniel. I’m so close,” she pants, her beautiful face flushed. All it takes is another few seconds of me alternating the rhythm, and she’s bucking again, crying out my name as her orgasm crashes down on her.
What had only meant to be an hour of pleasure for her soon turns into a semi-marathon, with me seeming to fuck the food poisoning right out of her. I take her on the bed, on the sofa, on the kitchen island, even on the floor in the hallway. It’s like she’s a hit of heroin and I have to keep having more.
Finally, the light begins to fade outside, and we mutually decide to take a break… until, at least, tomorrow. Poppy sits on the rug by the fire I’ve just re-stoked, and as I make us some hot chocolate, I watch her from the kitchen. She’s a vision in the firelight.
“How are you feeling?” I ask, carrying the two steaming mugs over to Poppy. I sit down on the rug, barely an inch away from her. It feels as if any amount of distance between us is too much, and that both excites and scares the hell out of me. I’m like a teenage boy who’s just had sex for the first time with a girl he’s been crushing on, and I don’t want to break the fuck bubble we’ve created.
She turns to me and chisels a cheeky smile. “How do you think?”
“I’d hazard a guess that you’re feeling pretty damn good for a girl who felt like ‘death warmed over’ this morning.”
Poppy bites her lower lip and leans over to press a brief kiss on my lips. “Good guess, Mr. Stone.”
For the rest of the night, we just hang out. I warm up the soup, and we settle on the sofa, watching a rerun of Seinfeld.
I could get used to this, I dare to think. I’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be with a woman. Really be with a woman. As in when it’s more than just sex. When it’s deeper yet more casual all at the same time.
When Poppy curls up against me, and eventually drifts off to sleep on my shoulder, I do something I haven’t done since Danneel. I lean down and kiss her forehead—an intimate gesture that I know is probably a mistake. Not only is this girl half my age, an employee, and the daughter of a man I’ve come to respect, but there’s also something she doesn’t know about me—the reason why I hid all the photo frames earlier so she wouldn’t find out yet.
I can’t be irresponsible here. I can’t jump the gun and start a relationship without knowing if it’s going to be worth it. There’s so much at stake, for the both of us, and I don’t know if this, the arrangement we’ve started, is going to work out.
But I will tell Poppy; when the time is right. And if she decides she can’t sleep with a man who has the kind of baggage that can’t be stripped away, then fair enough. I’ll respect her wishes, and let her walk out of my life as quickly as she had walked in.
Pushing away th
e thought, I take care in moving her head off my shoulder and then shimmy her up into my arms. I carry her down the hallway and back into my bedroom. As I lay her down on the sheets and tuck her in, a fresh memory burns in my mind. So many times, I had done this for Danneel—after she’d stayed up late watching an old, classic movie, or had one too many wines after a gala we’d attended. Although my heart has healed, and I’ve moved on, the ghost of her will always be with me. And that’s something else Poppy will have to know… if things were ever to—
No. No more what-ifs, Nathaniel. Leave it be, I tell myself, and for now, that’s exactly what I’ll do.
Chapter Nine
Poppy
I wake up, and the first thing I feel is Nathaniel’s warm, big body next to mine. We’re in his penthouse, again, and my body still aches from the things he did to me last night. We’re two weeks into our arrangement, and I’m starting to think he’s addictive. When we’re working, we’re professional. Just a boss and his intern. Yeah, there’s this smoldering undercurrent happening, but that’s only because we both know that the second we’re alone, we’re going to be fucking like hormonal bunnies.
And we have. He’s had me in every room of the gallery, including his office. Multiple times. We’ve also done the deed in every room of his lavish penthouse, and once, in my apartment when he came home with me so I could grab a few changes of clothes. He’s just as dominant as he was that first night, and every time, I’m shocked by how much that turns me on. Being a former virgin, I’ve never seen the allure of being controlled and used the way he uses me. But the thing is… the thing I didn’t understand before, is that there’s an element of protectiveness there, too. He pushes me to my limits, and I trust him not to cross those limits. He takes care of me. He brings me ridiculous amounts of pleasure.
He’s ruined me, I think with a smile as I look over at him.
Damn, this man.
He’s on his back, the sheet covering his naked body up to his waist. His dark hair is tousled, both from sleep and from the way I tangled my fingers in it last night as he went down on me. There’s a dark shadow of stubble over his jaw. His body, which I know almost as well as I know my own, is just as gorgeous as I suspected it would be—all lean, taut muscle. He’s got a little bit of dark hair on his chest, and I know now that the feeling of that hair rubbing against my breasts, while he’s inside of me, is one of the most erotic things I’ve ever felt.
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