Taking The Virgin (The Virgin Auctions, Book Three)

by Paige North

  We pass a clump of kelp that’s stranded on the beach, and he rests a hand on my elbow, guiding me around it. I didn’t need his help to navigate, of course, but I shiver because he did it.

  Maybe he does care a little, I think.

  His voice takes on an earnest tone. “The truth is that I became obsessed with eliminating the causes and risks of infections in patients from bacteria in their environments. It’s important that I find ways to keep people safe from all the harmful things in the world.”

  “Like bacteria.” I don’t want to think it, but does this have to do with how he acted last night and how he keeps himself and his house in such strict order?

  Is he really that obsessed?

  “Yes,” he says, “like bacteria. The devices my company makes keep these agents from attacking all the vulnerable patients I’m trying to save. That’s why I also travel around the world consulting.”

  Then he presses his lips together, his shoulders going taut once again.

  As everything sinks in, I realize that there’s truly much more to his preoccupation with health and cleanliness than meets the eye, but I’m not going to press him for more answers. He’s already shut down anyway, as if he senses that he said too much to a girl he hired only for sex.

  We’re back at the spot where our limo dropped us off for the walk, but I notice that another town car has pulled up behind it. A driver and a man who looks as if he’s on a security detail wait near the second car, whereas there’s only a driver for the vehicle we took here.

  He’s going his own way now, I think. I’m to be dropped off, and I doubt Owen wants to know where I live, much less how I’m living with a childhood friend while my family’s storm-damaged house waits for repairs.

  Something in my chest contracts. This adventure is over.

  Trying not to get emotional, even though he took my virginity and that’s at least something, I turn to him, sticking out my hand.

  “It was very nice to meet you,” I say.

  He doesn’t shake my hand, and at first I think it’s because of germs. That’s ridiculous though, seeing as we exchanged plenty of those last night. But what comes next is even more stunning.

  “I’ve been pondering something.” He folds his hands behind his back, so proper and above it all.

  I drop my hand because I sense that something very big is coming. But knowing how predictably unpredictable Owen is, who knows if it’ll be good or bad…

  “I’d like you to come back with me to New York for a period of one month,” he says, “and I’m willing to pay you two hundred and fifty-thousand more dollars if you accept.”

  Chapter 7

  What did he just say?

  My mind whirls. Did he just offer me two hundred and fifty-thousand more dollars to go back to New York with him. For a month?

  The sum is astronomical to me. Miraculous. Surely I’m back on his jet dreaming and I need to wake up.

  Shock makes me say something utterly stupid. “Why not just get another escort, or better than that, a real girlfriend?”

  He gives me a look that I can read well by now: He has no interest in sharing his reasons with me.

  “These are the terms,” he says. “You can take the offer or leave it, but I need to know your answer now before I fly back to Manhattan.”

  “But…” I shake my head. “This seems so impulsive. On your part. And it’d be the same on my part if I were to say yes…”

  “You’re testing my patience, Red.”

  It’s the nickname that brings me to my senses. It’s as if he’s tugged at a string that’s linked directly to my chest and has activated an emotion I can’t deny. Talk about impulsive—there’s no way I should be feeling anything for him, much less what I’m feeling right now. But there’s just something about him that makes me think that if I said no, I’d regret it for the rest of my life. And he’s offering two hundred and fifty-thousand dollars besides what I’ve already gotten.

  How can I say no? The amount will be enough to pay off my family house and the repairs it needs, and most important, it’ll hopefully help me to get my brothers and sisters out of foster care and back under one roof.

  He must think I’m being difficult because he’s clenching his jaw. But he manages to say, “Most people would jump at that kind of money.”

  “I would too,” I reply.

  His brow creases. “Then why aren’t you?”

  Flustered, I correct myself before he changes his mind. “I mean, I will. So yes. Of course, yes.”

  It feels as if I’ve just been plunged down the steep hill of a roller coaster, and a wild laugh comes out of me. He raises an eyebrow, and I don’t know whether he’s entertained or completely miffed at my behavior. At any rate, he signals to both drivers who are still waiting for us by the fancy cars, and all at once, they move to open the doors.

  “I have business to attend to since I’m in town,” Owen says as if nothing monumental has just occurred. “It’s an in-person follow up to a recent consultation by my company. You’ll want to take care of any of your own business before the jet takes off in two hours.”

  It seems he already has everything timed down to the minute.

  Without any other acknowledgement that we’ve just agreed on a quarter-of-a-million-dollar deal, he saunters toward his town car. I watch him, swallowing, gaping once again.

  My god. Little does he know that he’s just taken care of my business.

  After he gets into the back of his luxury car and it drives away, the thought of all that money finally wears off of me, leaving me with the other part of his offer.

  He’s hired me for a whole month, and I don’t even have my virginity to give up anymore. So what exactly does he want from me now?

  I’m so very willing to find out as heat flushes through me, banging and blasting, voraciously anticipating whatever he has in mind.

  After graduating from college shortly after my parents’ deaths and the destruction of my home, I moved into my friend Donna’s house. Luckily, I already had the grades and academic credits to complete college, but she was there to see that I picked up my diploma, even though she’s hardly around because she travels so much for her marketing job.

  Donna was also there when my brothers and sisters were put into foster homes.

  Needless to say, she’s been there for everything that’s mattered lately.

  But she isn’t home when I drop by, so I write her a note explaining that I’ll be spending even more time at a “college friend’s place” in Manhattan. That’s what I’d told her I was doing during this Highest Bidder trip. Not even she knows what I’ve been up to.

  I also exchange the clothes in my duffel bag for a few fresh ones I have stored in her closet, then I’m off once again, wishing I could see my siblings before I go. My heart aches, knowing that I can’t.

  But I will soon, thanks to Owen.

  When I arrive at the massive jet, he isn’t there yet, so I take a look around at the galley near the front of the plane. Then I wander toward the back where there’s a bedroom with naval-blue trimming and dark-wooded shelving. It’s connected to an office with a massive chrome desk and lots of communications devices, the walls lined with books. Nearby, there’s also a resting area with a massage table along with what looks to be a small conference room where Owen probably holds meetings when using this jet for business.

  I know when he boards the plane because there’s a lot of activity. The engine begins to warm up, and the flight attendant comes to fetch me.

  Owen is standing there like the captain, talking on his phone. He gestures toward the couch where I sat on the trip here, and I don’t give him any resistance this time before I settle onto it.

  He ends the call and slides his phone into a pocket inside his jacket. “My attorneys assure me that they will draw up a contract for our new arrangement. We’ll both sign it in the morning after they send it.”

  So I won’t even need to leave his fantastic mansion, and I’
m cool with that. Then something occurs to me. “So I’m not under contract tonight, huh?”

  “Correct. Until the document is signed, you’re free to do as you please.” He takes a seat across from the couch and buckles in, as cool as a flow of winter air.

  I measure the distance between us. So now that he has me again, he’s just going to go back to being Dr. Icicles?

  The distance only seems to grow after we take off, then fly through the night skies. I keep looking over at Owen, but he’s immersed in something he’s reading on his tablet. I’m excited by the combination of his hard-to-get silence and the fact that he wanted me enough to extend our agreement, and I run my gaze over him. I revel in that thick, dark hair, that face with such strong features, that tall, amazing body that’s covered by his debonair suit.

  Yearning brushes through me, light and soft and dangerously hot. It swirls in my belly, melts down to my pussy, pierces my clit until I press my thighs together, which makes things worse, not better.

  He said I was free to do as I liked tonight, but what I like is him. My primal instincts want me to be fucked, defiled, and taken by him again and again…

  As I continue watching him, I see a change in his expression as he keeps reading his tablet. He’s getting angry about something. I can see it in his eyes. And it’s the same kind of angry I saw in him last night just before he moodily left my room.

  He abruptly stands, and I can tell he’s trying to keep himself from losing that control of his.

  I pull out an earbud. “Is something wrong?”

  “Nothing that a good shower won’t handle,” he says tightly. Then he calms himself. “Personal matters. All I need is a little stress relief. Are you in need of anything at the moment?”

  “I’m fine.”

  He gives me a brusque nod, then stalks away soundlessly toward the back of the jet.

  I watch him go, baffled. Then I get up and look at the tablet’s screen but it’s blank.

  Personal matters?

  My heart seems to ache in my chest. I don’t like the thought of him being so stressed.

  I smile to myself. Admit it, Juliet, you’re craving the opportunity to do something about it.

  I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and blow out a breath, but it does nothing to still my pulsating heart. Eventually, I muster the courage to give it a shot, hoping I won’t be rejected yet again, reminding myself that he has paid an awful lot of money for my company this next month.

  Getting out of my seat, I walk down the passageway that leads to a more private part of the jet, the whining, speeding engine mocking the stream of hot blood through my veins.

  I move through his office with its huge chrome desk. The room is lit only by the faint light from the bedroom, and I stop my music, then take another deep, shuddering inhalation before I walk inside, close the door behind me, take out my earbud, and put my phone on his bed.

  He hasn’t closed the door to the bathroom, and as I peer into it, I can see a hint of him through the filmy glass of the shower stall.

  At the sight of his barely hidden form—his magnificently tall, rocked body—I rest my hand against the wall. My knees shake as I strain to breathe through the steam.

  Fucked, defiled, and taken by him again and again…

  My pulse batters me as I slip off my shoes. My fingers tremble while unbuttoning my simple dress. The flowered fabric falls to the floor in a pool around my bare feet, and all that’s left is my thin cotton bra and panties.

  This feels insane, risky…and amazing.

  He’s seen you naked before, I think. So why are you hesitating?

  Because even though I’m not a virgin now, I still don’t know what I’m doing.

  He’s gone still in the shower. It’s as if he’s sensed me, then spotted me, a predator who’s not as hidden as he wanted to be.

  The hiss of the water marks the seconds that pass—one strangled heartbeat…two…

  When the shower door crashes open, I startle, my hands fisted at my sides as I come face to face with Owen.

  In his eyes, I see a reflection of the dirty girl he called me last night. He’s got to see what I want in my gaze, what I feel in every breath I struggle to take.

  Before my next booming heartbeat, he reaches for me, pulling me inside the running shower, capturing me in a spiral of wet heat.

  Chapter 8

  He sweeps me into a fierce kiss that I respond to with every pulse raging through me. I pull at his hair, so lost in him, so lost in the pounding of the water on our bodies as his mouth plunders mine.

  I’m nothing but a curl of steam that’s dissipating moment by carnal moment, formless and desperate. He parts my lips with his tongue, entering me so slowly and seductively that I go weak, clutching at him. My blood is hot, crashing through me, destroying me.

  Dizzy for him, helpless for him…

  He fists a bunch of my hair, then pulls me back from his lips. My mouth is burning, throbbing for more.

  “Tell me why you followed me here, Red,” he whispers roughly.

  “You already know.”

  “I want to hear you say it.”

  At his demanding tone, I feel my pussy go humid. My clit beats for his touch. Water drenches my bra and panties, leaving next to nothing between him and me.

  I look into his deep, dark eyes. “I came back here because I want…”

  The words burn away in my throat. Even now, I’m shy, not used to asking for something I want so badly.

  He slowly runs his fingertips up my waist, and I squirm as my pussy begs for him to move downward instead, to touch me there, then fuck me senseless.

  “What do you want?” he asks.

  I bite my lip when he gets to my bra. His hungry gaze is on my full breasts, and I look down to see the thin, white cotton plastered to my pink, peaked nipples. Nothing is left to the imagination, and the sight arouses me even more.

  “I want,” I finally say, “you to fuck me.”

  “When?”

  He’s teasing me.

  “Now,” I say. “Fuck me now.”

  His smirk is arrogant. “I’m inclined to make you wait a little. To make you beg for it.”

  He drags his thumb around my nipple, and I press my nails into his brawny arms.

  Then out of nowhere he swings me until my back is to the wall, and I vaguely see water from the open shower door spraying over my clothes that litter the floor. Owen hasn’t noticed the mess. Or maybe he’s too damned busy to care.

  Maybe he likes the disorganization I constantly bring into his perfectly orderly world…

  He expertly undoes the back clasp of my bra, then throws it in back of him, out of the shower. He’s adding to the damp clutter on the floor. As he slides his palms over my heavy breasts, I moan. He kneads them, and I raise my arms over my head, luxuriating in the thrills that are electrifying every part of me.

  “Shit,” he murmurs. “Do you know how fucking hot you are with these tits? I think my dirty little girl really does know, and she came back here because she knew I can’t get my mind off them. She knew I wanted to fuck her.”

  “Yes.”

  His fondling is making me insane. I want him to play with me like this—almost rough, definitely ready, slow and steady—but there’s a sharp need that’s growing in my core, and it’s not going to stay quiet for long. It’s building into a low inner cry, threatening to become a scream if he doesn’t fill me up with his cock soon.

  As the breadth of his body shields me, water pelts off of his skin. He coasts a hand down my stomach, over my belly. When he dips his fingers into my soaked panties, I rise to my tiptoes on a wave of passion. At the same time he presses his mouth to mine, then strokes his tongue inside. I kiss him back, long and slow as he glides his finger between my slick folds. I move my legs apart, silently asking him to keep rubbing me like this.

  And he does, lazily ravishing my mouth with his tongue, maddeningly stroking my pussy with his expert finger. I start to slide down the w
all, but his muscular arm catches me.

  He breaks the kiss, his breathing strained as he looks down at me. His gaze is on fire as he begins to work my clit, drawing his finger around it, then pressing just above it to a sensitive spot I never knew I had. The pressure brings a languid, fervent moan out of me.

  A plea.

  A needful invitation to hurry up before I explode.

  Desire is fluttering around inside of me now like static—a hint of a coming orgasm, a waning, then a surge that almost gets me over the top once again but not quite…

  “What do you want now?” he asks while still rubbing me with his fingers.

  “Anything.”

  “There’s something you came back here for, and it isn’t just anything. Tell me again.”

  He reminds me by easing the tip of his finger into my opening, and I suck in a breath.

  “Is that what you want?” he asks. “Tell me if I’m right.”

  “Almost right. But more. I want more than that.” Shivers are starting to consume me. The static gathers in my belly, erotic energy that’s growing into something that’ll be huge, wet, rapturous.

  I think he likes hearing me nearly plead for him to fuck me. Through my half-closed eyes, I see the volatile heat in his gaze. He wants me as much as I want him, and in this moment, I know he’d do anything to have me.

  But he’s in no hurry. Net yet.

  He pulls off my panties, then throws them out of the shower. I think he also likes creating that mess outside, almost as if getting everything dirty is foreplay in itself: rules being broken, a rebellion that only he understands.

  Now I’m absolutely bared to him, and he presses his naked, wet, glistening hard body to mine. I bite my lip, feeling every muscle in his chest against me, his belly, his thighs. His semi-erect cock prods my pussy, and I groan for him as he pushes his length up against me but not into me.

  With painful slowness, he kisses my lips, lingering until a swarm of lust buzzes through me. He kisses me behind my ear, and I hold back another turned-on squeal. He trails more kisses down my neck, my collarbone, my chest, and by the time he gets to my breast, I’m a mass of whirring turmoil, my hands in his hair again, imploring him to keep going.