“Just once.”
Oh wow. “In the face?”
“Yeah, the face.”
I want to be mad at Cash, I really do — but considering how close I was to clocking Orson myself, I get it. “Did he insult you, or something?”
“No, he insulted you.”
“Oh. Thanks, I guess? What did Orson do, you know, after you hit him?”
“Nothing,” he sighs. “There was no need. He successfully made me look like a moron, and then I was asked to leave.”
“Seems fair.”
“Yeah, it was. But that’s why I’d like to prove him wrong about you and me. So I’d like to take you out on that date I promised, if you’re still up for it.”
I try to play it cool, but now my insides are practically singing with joy. “Sure, okay,” I say, though not very nonchalantly.
“Great. See you tonight.”
—
I meet him at an upscale Italian bistro that smells like a dream of herbs and cheeses. He wears a striking, blue blazer that flatters his physique, while I flaunt an elegant, red dress that turned more than a few heads as I rode the subway.
He orders a nice Zinfandel, and I grin, getting used to the idea of eating in nice restaurants and drinking good wine. I can’t help starting to dream I’m going to be a millionaire soon, even if it is too surreal to comprehend.
As if reading my mind, Cash asks, “So, what would you do first with the money? Other than the vacation?”
This is an easy one. I’ve thought about it every time I’ve bought a lottery ticket in the last four years. “Get a guitar and start taking lessons.”
Cash smiles and sips his wine. “That’s great. Have you ever played before?”
“Nope. Always wanted to, but I couldn’t afford it.”
“Have one in particular in mind?” he asks. “One you’ve seen in a shop window somewhere…”
I nod, grinning. “Oh sure. But there’s no way I’m telling you. I’m buying it for myself someday.”
“Hopefully soon,” he says.
“What about you? What did you splurge on when you first got rich?” I ask, wondering if he can even remember that far back.
“Good question,” he says, stroking his chin in thought. “I didn’t actually go crazy right away. I was too busy building up the company to really think about shopping. I guess the first real luxury purchase was my Mercedes SL500 Roadster. I needed a new car anyway, though. I didn’t just decide to go buy a convertible.”
“I see,” I mumble, picturing the wind blowing through his hair, sunglasses on, driving down a twisty, country road. “What color?”
“Black. It’s the best car color; don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
“Old fashioned,” I say, nodding.
“It never goes out of style.”
A waiter shows up to take our order, so we flip open the long, tall pads of the menu and pick out our dinners. Cash chooses mussels and clams in marinara while I opt for pesto pasta with chicken. We pour out the last of the Zinfandel, and Cash orders a Chardonnay to be brought out with the dinner.
“So, let’s say you do get rich this week: do you change your plans for the future? Do you still think you’ll go into medicine in some form?”
This is a question I haven’t truly considered. “I think I’d still like to, yeah,” I say. “I don’t think I could just lounge about all day doing nothing. I’ve been busy either working or studying nearly every day of my life. How could I just turn that off?”
Cash nods. “It’s impossible for some people, even if they try. You might take a nice vacation, but after a few days you’ll be bored to death and wondering why.”
“Exactly. Though I would probably never wait tables, do dishes, or mop a floor ever again,” I say, smiling at the prospect of coming home after a long day and not smelling of grease and sweat.
Cash chuckles. “Just like I’ve never mowed another lawn or cleaned another gutter.” He lifts his glass for a toast. “To never doing jobs we hate.”
I raise my glass to his, and we drink.
We continue talking throughout dinner, which is so delicious there are times I have to ask Cash to repeat himself because I was too busy savoring every bite. He asks about Radha and her plans for the future, as well as the guys I’ve dated in the past, of whom there are very few to speak of. I learn more about his company and how it’s grown from a small workshop and programming outfit.
“One new idea at the right time can really change everything,” he says. “If not for that single inspiration, I don’t know where I would be right now.”
“Oh, you’d be fine,” I say. “You’d be working for someone like Cassius Swain — you might not own the company, but you’d still be making a killing.”
He grins, dipping a piece of bread into his meal’s sauce. “That wouldn’t be so bad.”
“No,” I agree. “But this is better. I mean, you’re only, what, thirty-two?”
He sighs. “Thirty-four.”
“Oh, my mistake,” I say, feigning a gasp. “You are old.”
“Ha. Ha.”
When we finish dinner, I feel a serious buzz from all the wine. I wobble for a moment as I get up, trying not to laugh too loudly in the fine restaurant. Cash takes my hand and helps me out; I’m fine, but I don’t protest. He doesn’t let go until he’s helped me into his limo.
“Where are we going?” I ask, lying back against his hard, broad chest.
“Just a nice little spot that I know,” he says, stroking my hair back. I watch the city roll by through the tinted glass of the car and feel Cash’s heart beat. His arm wraps around my stomach, holding me close, and it feels so warm and safe, I have to fight to stay awake. I could rest in his embrace like this for days, but soon we arrive.
In front of us is a massive skyscraper, one of the many found in midtown. For some reason, it actually looks quite familiar.
“Where are we?”
“My company’s headquarters,” answers Cash. “Come on.”
He buzzes his way past the security desk and takes us to a bank of elevators. He punches a five-digit code into the elevator’s call switches, and when we get inside one of the cars, it takes us all the way to the top.
The doors open up to the roof, wind blowing cool against my bare legs. Cash takes off his blazer and wraps it around me, and I inhale the musky notes of his cologne. He leads me through a small garden and to an observation platform. I look out over the side and my jaw drops in awe: the night skyline of New York is lit before us, breathtakingly beautiful. Along the avenues, we can see the lights of the cars like glowing arteries, and yet from up here it looks totally peaceful.
I’ve seen images of the city from on high throughout my life, but now I understand: nothing compares to really being there. It makes you feel like you’ve made it — like you can do anything. It defies belief, that something so big can look so small from the right perspective.
“It’s an incredible view,” I say.
“Yeah. I’ve really missed it.” There’s a hurt in his voice I’ve never heard before.
I turn to him. “What do you mean?”
“I haven’t come up here in years,” he replies. “Not since… a breakup. A really painful one.”
I rub his shoulder. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want. I understand.”
“It’s fine,” he says, smiling at me. “I was engaged many years ago, to a woman named Erin. She was the best thing in my life; I thought she really cared about me. Then she left.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “That’s awful.”
“It gets worse. She left me for Orson. He fed her lie after lie, and she believed him. That’s why he made me so angry last night.”
“Yeah, no wonder you hate him.” I can feel his pulse quickening, his muscles shifting as his anger gathers. “But wait, where is she now? She isn’t still with him?”
“No, of course not. Once Orson had his fun with her, he tossed her out. She was o
nly with him a few months. I’d like to think that if he stole her from me because he truly loved her too, then I would still hate him, but I’d let it go. But what he did… it’s truly unforgivable.”
I nod, blinking away a few tears.
“I couldn’t hurt his business. We’re in completely different fields, and he’s got so much more money than even me, so there was little I could do. Then I learned about The Virgin Exchange, and I found one way I could be a thorn in his side. So here we are.”
“I’m so sorry, Cash. That’s awful,” I say.
“And I haven’t been up here since,” he murmurs, but it’s barely an afterthought as our lips close the distance between.
It only takes a second for the hum of the city and the bluster of the wind to vanish from my perception; there’s only him and the salty taste of his lips and the mint on his breath. Eyes closed, I fall into the sensations passing through me. A current of need is emanating from my warmth to the rest of my body, and I moan as his lips and tongue electrify my senses.
In that moment I could forget about the auction and the millions of dollars. I want Cassius Swain to take me, to thrill me this night, and without thinking, my hand moves down to his belt, looking to loose the buckle.
I’ve almost got it when he grabs my wrist and pulls it back away from him. “Wait,” he mumbles. “We shouldn’t.”
Wresting my hand from his grip, I go for the zipper of his pants. This gets him to grab my hands and to force them to my sides. He’s strong, and holds them there until I stop fighting.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Slowing this down. We can’t have sex yet. We have to wait until after the auction.”
No! The way everything felt, it was too incredible. I’m tired of waiting. “Forget the auction! I want to do this now.”
“Oh, so do I, Wendy. Every instinct I’ve got is screaming to take you home and give you the night of your life. But you have your future to consider. We have to wait until the auction so you can get paid what you deserve.”
Cash lets go of me, and it’s a good thing too, because I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “You did not just say all that crap about the money,” I growl. “Are you serious?”
His face falls as his mistake becomes clear. “I just thought…”
Billionaires. Everything is always about the money with them, I think as I make for the elevator, tears already burning my cheeks. When am I going to learn?
No, not this time.
“Wendy, wait!” I shout. I am not letting her walk away from me two nights in a row.
She’s nearly at the elevator when I fly around the corner and catch up.
“Maybe that came out wrong,” I say. “About the auction.”
The elevator opens, but she doesn’t move. She nearly takes a step forward, but stops, and after a moment the doors shut.
“Do you think this is just about money?” she asks, turning back to me. I’m just relieved she’s still here.
“Of course not! I know there’s something between us. You have feelings for me, too.”
“I do!” she says, a waver in her voice. She’s holding back tears that are so close to falling. “That’s why when you stopped… because of the money…”
“Because I want you to have the life you envisioned tonight,” I explain, speaking as soothingly as possible. “Your vacation in Europe, the guitar, tuition paid for, no more doing dishes. If you want to throw all that away and come home with me, we can. But I don’t want you to give up the kind of life you deserve.”
She nods. Though a pair of drops roll down her cheeks, she smiles. “You won’t care about beating Orson at the auction?”
Oh, God, this woman…
I laugh, not believing now I could get so lucky. “Wendy, if I claim you tonight, then Orson can’t. He loses.”
Now she laughs, relief flooding through her. I pull her into a tight hug, and she shakes a little in my arms. After a minute, it’s over.
“When I’m with you, I don’t even think about the money,” she says. “So, in that moment, for you to be thinking about it…”
“Yeah.” Poor thing. After the way she took control of the situation last night, I forget she’s actually still very out of her element. “Come on,” I say, summoning the elevator. We ride it down a few floors and then walk through a short hall to a private door located next to my office. The lights come on automatically, revealing an elegant lounge, including a stocked minibar, brown leather couches and loveseats, a massive TV hanging from the wall, a billiards table, and a wide open window to the city below.
“I thought you said this was your company’s building?” she says.
“It is,” I chuckle. “Sometimes you have to entertain clients, and a drab meeting room just doesn’t suffice.”
“Yeah, this is definitely a step up,” she says before I pull her into a kiss. She yelps in surprise before melting in my arms, sighing as I grasp her ass. I can feel the fabric of my pants straining as my cock hardens, and she giggles as it presses into her soft body.
When the kiss finally ends, she’s writhing in my embrace, moving with my touch, her need rising. “I thought you said… we can’t…” she mumbles.
“We don’t have to go all the way to have some fun. Sit down,” I say, pointing to the loveseat. “Pull up your dress.”
Eyes widening in excitement, she tugs until she’s exposed her legs and plain but cute, white panties. She giggles a little as I caress her warmth through the thin undergarment, feeling how damp it is. Lowering myself to my knees, I hook my fingers under the panties’ waistband and look her in the eyes. She nods, leaning back against the seat.
So slowly Wendy moans at my deliberateness, I slide her underwear down her thighs and past her ankles until they’re off completely. She blushes from the exposure but doesn’t move to cover herself.
“Have you ever had anyone pleasure you like this?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
“Good,” I say, smirking. “I wanted to be the first.”
I place my hands on each of her thighs and gently spread her legs apart. She whimpers as my tongue makes contact with her wet entrance, and the sound and taste make my cock jerk in my pants. Beginning with a light tickle around her clit, I tease her sex, testing her response. From the way she moans and quivers from just the slightest touch, it’s clear she hasn’t any clue what kind of bliss awaits her.
As my strokes become heavier and I work circles around her clit with my tongue, her moans get louder. I smile to myself, thinking about how the lounge’s walls aren’t soundproofed, and if there was anyone else in the building right now, they’d hear us.
Wouldn’t be the first time.
Wendy throws her head back as waves of ecstasy tear through her. I keep on increasing my pace, and I grip her thighs hard to keep her steady. She fists my hair in her hands, holding on tight. Every moan, sigh, and squeal goes straight to my cock, but I keep on going, bringing her closer to her peak.
The taste of her juices mingles with her floral perfume every time I inhale, intoxicating me as pleasantly as the richest Sauvignon Blanc. I let go of her legs so I can hold her breasts through her dress. Wendy practically thrusts herself against me in response. “Oh God,” she shrieks, practically convulsing. “I’m going to come!”
That’s the invitation I need to go full-speed on her clit, and in seconds Wendy’s scream rings out. I pause just long enough to see her face, wanting to remember it always, as she orgasms in a crescendo of euphoria she’s never experienced. Tears of joy trail down her crimson cheeks, and she’s squeezing her eyes shut. Then I finish her off, working her tender folds and sensitive clit until her scream settles into a noiseless exhalation, as if her lungs were empty but her body intends to keep howling anyway.
I take her in my arms and hold her until she regains her composure. Breathing in that perfume, now mixed with her sweat, I sigh contentedly.
You’ll never do this for her, Orson.
“Wow,” she says at last. The occasional shake causes her to spasm, but otherwise her breathing is returning to normal.
“How you feeling?”
“Amazing. That was… insane.”
I laugh, grinning at the compliment. I’ve heard those exact words before, but I don’t think they’ve ever made me feel this good. “I’m glad.”
She taps my shoulder, so I let her go. I head to the minibar and grab bottled waters from the fridge. Tossing one to her, she fumbles the catch with a yelp, then picks it up. The whole thing is unbearably cute. She gulps down half the bottle right away while I sip from mine.
“Hey,” she says seductively, curling her index finger into her palm. “Come here.”
She gets up from the couch as I approach but quickly sinks to her knees. She bunches up her dress below her knees, padding them from the hard marble tiles, and looks up at me expectantly.
“You don’t have to do this,” I say, cupping her chin in my hand.
“I want to,” she replies, three words that send sparks up my spine.
“Alright. You’ve never done this before either, have you?”
“No,” she says. “Is it hard?”
As soon as the words are out, she blushes, peeking at my crotch.
“It takes some practice to be good at it,” I answer truthfully. “I can give you advice, if you want. It would be my pleasure.”
She reaches for my belt, and this time I let her unbuckle it. She never breaks eye contact with me. My pants fall into a heap as soon as the belt comes off, revealing my gray boxers. Wendy takes a moment to breathe deeply, then pulls them down.
The site of my fully hard cock makes Wendy’s eyes widen in shock. She shoots me a look of disbelief and excitement. She tests opening her jaw as wide as she can, wincing at the strain it takes, and I need to muster all my resolve to keep from laughing.
“Start slowly,” I say. “Take what you can, for now. Worry about the rest later.”
“Okay,” she replies, relieved. She takes one more second to prepare herself, then gently takes my cock in hand and seals her lips around the tip.
Moaning immediately, she works her tongue around the head while sucking hard with her lips. It feels pretty good, even though she’s only taken in a couple inches. She stays on it for a while, licking inside her mouth, but then breaks off, gasping for air.
Winning Bid: A Virgin Auction Romance Page 7
