Best of Penny Wylder: Virgin Romance

by Wylder, Penny

  His smirk deepens. “No, but judging by your reaction, I’m right, and you did google me.”

  “I didn’t follow you anywhere, though. And I certainly didn’t barge into your life, Pierce Pinewood,” I snap.

  “Why are you angry?” He spreads his hands, almost like a gesture of surrender. “I wanted to see you, Bonnie. I haven’t heard from you in days. I can’t stop thinking about you. I needed to find you.”

  My heart does that jumping toward my throat thing again, and I realize that it’s because I’m glad to see him, too. As mad as I am that he followed me, that he barged into my life and found Gram and probably realizes why I’m so desperate for money now, my body has other thoughts. There’s a dizzying, rushing sensation pouring through me right now, a happy flutter in my stomach and a buzz between my eyes. I’m happy he’s here.

  Damn traitor body.

  I shake my head to clear it. “You shouldn’t have just shown up here. I was going to call you when I was ready.”

  He smirks. “You mean when you’re ready for me to fuck you? You always seem ready for that.”

  I cross my arms. “And you never do, so what’s the problem? Have you suddenly decided you want to fuck me after all?”

  He steps closer to me, and it’s suddenly harder to breathe now that we’re chest-to-chest, his ice-blue eyes locked on mine. “I always want you, Bonnie.” His breath ghosts across my cheeks. “I can’t stop thinking about how I’m going to tear up that tight little pussy of yours.” His finger trails over my hipbone, and I shiver. Then he steps away from me. “But not until you tell me what’s bothering you. Why you dodged my calls.”

  I groan aloud and stomp up the hallway. “You’re impossible.” I reach for a doorknob.

  He catches my wrist. “Tell me what’s wrong, and I’ll give you what you want. I’ll fuck you right now.”

  “Here?” I roll my eyes.

  “They have supply closets,” he points out.

  “Ugh.” I shove open the door into the gardens. There won’t be anyone outside at this hour, with the sun setting and the chilly fall evening setting in. Sure enough, it’s deserted out here, just me and him and the little gazebo where Gram and I come in the summer and watch the dragonflies hop around the pond beside it. The pond is quiet now, the fountains already shut off for the impending winter.

  We walk through them in silence for a long moment. He’s clearly waiting for me to answer, to explain. I don’t even know how to start.

  “Look. It’s not that I’m not . . .” I stammer to a halt. Damn him. He’s just waiting, watching me with that impenetrable, unreadable poker face of his. “I’m happy to see you,” I snarl, and he actually cracks a small smile, probably because I look mad as hell. I am, I remind myself. “I just . . . I can’t believe you would invade my privacy like this. There’s a reason I never told you about my life, and it’s because—”

  Suddenly, he’s right next to me. He lifts a hand to rest his finger on my lips, gently. I’d be even madder, but there’s something serious and quiet in his eyes. An understanding. “Is that all?” He looks almost . . . relieved, somehow.

  “All?” I fling my arms wide. “Yeah, I should think this is enough, don’t you?”

  “I understand your situation, Bonnie,” he says, and his voice is deep and sincere. “I connected the dots. I know why you went on that website. Why you need the money. Or,

  well . . .” He shrugs. “Why you needed it, anyway.”

  I blink in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

  “I spoke to the front desk before I came to meet you,” he says. “I paid off your grandmother’s balance in full. I also paid upfront for her care for the next twenty years, should she need it for that long. Hopefully, of course, she will recover enough to move home, though. I also added a clause for a home nurse, if that turns out to be the case.”

  I gape up at him. My ears ring. I know he’s speaking English, but the words won’t make sense in my brain. “You what?”

  “It’s done, Bonnie. You have what you need.”

  I’m still gaping at him when he turns to walk out of the garden. Oh hell no. I chase after him and grab his arm, spinning him around to face me. “Why?” I demand. My eyes sting again, not from nostalgia this time, but from a whole rush of other emotions. Relief that Gram is cared for, confusion about how this happened, anger at him for barging in, but a rush of gratitude that he did, that he forced his way past my stupid walls. “Why did you do this?” I blink hard to stave off the tears. “Why help me, why do all of this for me, give up so much for nothing?”

  He pulls his arm from my grasp and grabs my shoulders instead. Before I can breathe, he spins me around, pushes my back against the wall beside the door and kisses me, hard. His hand slides between my legs to cup my pussy through my jeans, his other hand grabbing my ass to lift my hips into his. My eyes still sting, my heart is still racing, but I part my mouth and kiss him back with everything I have. It’s hard and soft at once, his soft lips and the hard wall behind us, and we’re both hungry, desperate. My hands claw at his back, his shoulders, his hips. He pins me against the wall by my shoulders and claims my mouth mercilessly.

  We barely come up for air between kisses, until my head swims with the taste of him, and all I want is more. I lift my leg, and he grabs it roughly, pulls my leg around his waist to press his hips into mine. I feel his hard length against my crotch, and I grind against him, our lips still locked.

  He draws back slightly to look down at me, his eyes brighter than ever in the blaze of pink sunset in the sky above. “My lovely little Bonnie,” he breathes. Then he smiles, sharply. “What on earth makes you think I’m not still going to take what belongs to me?” His hands wrap around my waist, slide past my hips to grab my ass, hard.

  I gasp and arch up against him, groaning with desire. And something else. Relief. He still wants me.

  “You’re bought and paid for, my gorgeous slut.” He leans in to kiss my neck, trailing his tongue up to my ear, then nipping at that soft, sensitive spot just under my ear. My legs stop working, and I sag against him, caught between him and the wall. “Now I get to decide when I stretch out that tight, fresh pussy of yours.”

  I arch my hips to grind against him, harder, and I feel his thick cock twitch against my clit. It makes us both gasp, and when I open my mouth to respond, he catches me in another deep kiss. Our tongues intertwine, and I wrap my arms around him, one hand dipping down to slide under his shirt. I trace his ab muscles, his pecs, all the way up to his shoulders, and then back down to toy with the faint line of fuzz along his stomach, his happy trail. I follow it down to the hem of his pants, and flatten my palm against his stomach to slide my fingers beneath. He gasps and rocks against my hand, and I grin up at him as my fingers inch closer to that glorious cock of his.

  “You are so damn perfect,” he murmurs, gazing down at me, our eyes locked.

  “Thank you, sir,” I whisper, my lips curved in a confident smile. Then I close my fingers around his solid length, and slide them up to finger the tip of his cock. There’s a single dewy drop of precum there, and I smile wider at how hard he is for me. “One request, though, sir.”

  His eyes flash dangerously, but he’s grinning. “I may or may not be open to negotiations, Ms. Taylor.”

  I tighten my grip on his cock, and he twitches again, harder. “Don’t worry, Mr. Pinewood. I’ll make it worth your while.” I tilt my head to the side, and enjoy the way his gaze drops straight to my neck, then trails down to my breasts below, my cleavage only a little on display in the casual shirt I wore today. I love that he doesn’t seem to care what I’m wearing, though. I could be dressed in a bag for all he cares—he has eyes only for my body beneath the fabric. “If—no, when we fuck,” I say, drawing out the word fuck. His eyes flash back to mine, hot as ever. “I want to do it where you live. I want to see your home first.”

  He pauses. He clearly wasn’t expecting that. But I slide my fist along his length, starting to stroke h
im slowly, and from the tension line that appears between his eyes, creasing his handsome forehead, I can tell he’s mine. The same way that I’m his already. “All right,” he breathes, and I lean up to kiss him again, softer this time.

  10

  Of course he has a penthouse. And of course it’s in the Financial District.

  As we wait side-by-side in the elevator taking us up to his private floor, all I can think is that I’m going to start getting used to this kind of treatment.

  That’s a dangerous thought.

  The elevator doors open on a tastefully decorated bachelor pad. It’s got big windows, similar to the penthouse we stayed in at his hotel, though at least there are gauzy white curtains on these, so we can block out the sunlight if need be. The view overlooks San Francisco Bay on one side and the city on the other, and it’s all lights and the chilly fog rolling across the bay. But closer at hand, his place looks way too similar to the hotel. It’s gray, rather than white, with stainless steel appliances in his kitchen, matching gray marble countertops, and an open plan loft up above. Down a low set of steps beside the living room, I can just glimpse the bed, which of course, is also upholstered in gray.

  It’s lovely, don’t get me wrong. It just doesn’t look like a place that anyone lives, not long-term. It doesn’t feel like a home.

  “You don’t spend a lot of time here, do you?” I ask as I step into the apartment. Behind me, he follows me out of the elevator, but remains quiet. I trail my hand along the kitchen counters, and glance across at the living room. There’s a fireplace, modern like the rest of the place, but it could be cozy. Add a throw-rug, and some blankets and pillows to that deep leather sofa, and move the way-too-big TV a little farther back from the couch . . . Add some paintings on the bare walls between the windows, maybe some thicker curtains, something patterned and homey, and this place could work nicely to live in.

  It could definitely be turned into not-a-hotel-room easily.

  I glance over my shoulder. Pierce’s eyes never leave mine—he’s studying me, waiting for my reaction. I smile at him, but he remains serious, almost . . . Anxious? No way. Not him.

  “You seem like a very busy man,” I point out, stating the obvious. But even then, he doesn’t agree. Just watches me like he’s waiting for something. “Don’t you ever relax? Take time off to enjoy your home?”

  He shrugs. “I enjoy living here.”

  “Do you? Or do you just enjoy that it’s probably close to work?” I glance out the window, and sure enough, there’s the now-familiar logo of Woodland Marquis glowing across the street.

  “I like the apartment, too,” he protests.

  I laugh. “For all ten minutes I’ll bet you spend in it every day.” I step closer to him and prod at his side gently. He catches my hand in his, then twines his fingers through mine. “Do you even take time to enjoy meals? Go on walks, take breaks, maybe . . . date people?” I raise an eyebrow, challenging.

  He scowls. “No comment.”

  I laugh harder. “That’s why you were on that Sugar Babies site, isn’t it?” I smirk. “You don’t even have time to pick up all the hot ladies who would fawn all over you, huh? You had to find them digitally, browsing at lunch in between checking work emails?

  “That’s not why.” He grabs my waist, pulls me against him. He lifts me up so his feet slide under mine, and next thing I know we’re walking backwards, me balanced on tiptoe on top of his feet. I wrap my arms around his neck for balance.

  “Bullshit.” I lift my eyebrows. “I’ll bet you found me in between working on accounts, or in the one half an hour you allowed yourself between day-long meetings.”

  “Wrong.” He pushes me backwards and I gasp in surprise. But I hit the bed a second later—I didn’t even notice him carrying me down the stairs. Damn, he’s good. He’s strong enough to throw me around, position me however he wants. It makes me hot as hell.

  I spread my legs in a dare and raise my eyebrows at him. “Right.” I lift my chin higher as he crawls on top of me onto the bed. I stare up at him, defiant. “Admit it, I’m at least warm.”

  His hands trace my sides, slipping under my shirt to reach for my breasts. “I’ll say.”

  I laugh and lean up to kiss him, wrapping one hand around his neck. He kisses me back, slow, deep. Nothing like the frenzied, angry kisses when we first met. This is a real kiss. When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing faster, our eyes glazed.

  “Fine,” he whispers against my lips. “You might be close to the truth. But only close.”

  “Oh really?” I nip at his lip gently, then kiss him again. “Only warm?”

  “Maybe smoking hot.” He pushes me backwards into the comforter. I arch my hips and he takes the signal, undoing my jeans and yanking them off in one swift motion. He leaves my panties on, though, and I wonder if he recognizes them as the first pair he bought for me, at the salon.

  “So you are a workaholic.” I run my hand over his fresh stubble, and savor the rough sensation across my palm.

  “I’m busy, yes.” He leans in and kisses my neck, and I fall against the sheets, surrendering. “But have you considered that maybe I bought you just for the glory of fucking a virgin?” His breath is hot against my ear, and his tongue toys with my earrings. “I fantasized about you from the moment I first saw you.” He bites down, his teeth digging into my earlobe, and I gasp softly. “I imagined taking you before anyone else could. Tasting every inch of you.” He licks his way down my neck, and I run my hands through his hair, desperate to feel his bare skin on mine. But he’s clearly going to take his time, and for once, I don’t mind. Because I know this is it. He’s finally going to give me what I want.

  “Have you considered why I didn’t get this over with quickly?” His tongue, his fucking tongue, god, he’s driving me wild. He pulls my shirt off, tosses it aside, and my bra follows soon after, so that he can envelop my breast in his mouth, kiss and suck at me until it’s hard to breathe.

  “Why?” I whisper, because I can’t control my voice any louder than that.

  “At first I wanted to savor you. Corrupt you, slowly.” His hand drops to my panties. Slips beneath the hem, and his fingers dance around my clit in slow, teasing circles. “I wanted to make you scream with pleasure, and know I was the first man ever to do it.”

  I shiver, unable to help myself. “No one has ever touched me like you do, Pierce,” I murmur.

  “I wanted you to be desperate.” His fingers spread my pussy lips, and my head falls against the sheets as I arch my back. “I wanted you to beg for me to fuck you.”

  “You . . . tease,” I manage to gasp, in between jolts of pleasure, as his thumb zeroes in on my sweet spot. I can feel my clit, swollen and heavy with need. He brushes against it, and my whole body jumps, electrified.

  “Yes.” He grins. “But not nearly as bad a tease as you.”

  I wrap a hand around his neck, try to pull him down to kiss me, but he holds back. His eyes find mine, serious again, and there’s something else. Something more he’s not telling me. I think back to what he just said. At first. “Then what happened?” I murmur, my body tense, waiting for the blow. What happened? Did something change? He still wants me, of that much I’m sure, but . . .

  Oh.

  Oh.

  My lips part in surprise, as he continues to watch me, his smile twisting into something almost bitter. He moves to slide his hand out of my panties, but I catch his wrist, hold him there.

  “You’ve figured it out,” he says, his voice low and constricted. Because that’s real emotion in his eyes, in his tone.

  I almost missed it, because I was so distracted by fighting my own feelings. But he’s feeling the same thing. “You didn’t want it to end,” I murmur, and I know before I even say it that that’s why. Why he kept stalling and delaying, why he wouldn’t fuck me that night in the penthouse. Why he threw me out to throw himself into work instead. Why he followed me to my grandmother’s, and paid for everything, before we’d
finished our deal, before he’d taken what he wanted.

  He leans in to kiss me again, roughly this time. Before I can kiss him back, he pulls away again, and this time he withdraws his hand from my pussy, his other hand from my breast, and leans back on the bed. I feel cold in all the spots where he was just touching me. My whole body burns for him.

  I sit upright and reach for him, but he cringes away.

  “I’m a complete idiot. This was a business deal; I don’t get in over my head in business. I stick to what works. I stay logical, focused. But you . . .” He glances over his shoulder at me, desperation written all over his face. “You make me lose focus. Lose my damn mind.”

  I reach for him, touch his shoulders gently. When he doesn’t pull away anymore, I slowly sit up and wrap my body around his. “Pierce . . .”

  “I’m falling in love with you, Bonnie. And I know, I know how insane that sounds—we’ve only known each other for a week, and this was only supposed to be about sex, but I can’t stop thinking about you, all the time, even in meetings, and I normally don’t . . .” He shakes his head. “But there it is. I’ve fallen for you so damn hard.”

  “Pierce.” I say his name sternly this time, and he meets my eye. I cup his cheek in one hand and kiss him, slow, soft, deep. I don’t break that kiss for a long time, not until I know exactly what to say in return.

  The truth. A truth I had barely begun to realize, a truth I didn’t want to look at too deeply, because I knew how dangerous it was to admit.

  “I’m falling for you, too,” I whisper against his lips.

  At that, his body relaxes. Mine does, too, all this tension I never even realized I was carrying falling out of me at once. I think about what Gram said, about the right partner helping you toward your goals. Pierce and I were both feeling out-of-focus, lost. But not because we were a bad fit. We were unfocused because we weren’t able to see the obvious truth right in front of us.