She nibbled her lip. "I don't have any clean clothes up here, Nyall. They're in the van."
"I'll get them. Keys?"
"In my purse in one of the totes."
"What do I bring up?"
"Two more silver totes, plus a little suitcase."
"Right. Oh, before I forget, Janey." He got up and went over to a chair and dug through his pants pocket. "Here. Front door, lobby door, building card for after hours. The code is here."
Janey stared at the key ring. "Thanks."
"Don't lose them."
The shower felt good and she tried his subtly fragrant shampoo. Janey ran her hands over her skin with a strange awareness that for the first time in her life, she did not feel like her body was entirely hers. A man had rights to it. Rights she had admittedly granted, but still rights. If he touched her, she wasn't going to object.
This must be what it was like to be not a virgin.
When she came out of the bathroom wearing a towel, her suitcase was in the bedroom. She laid it down and rummaged through it, taking out toiletries and one change of clothes. After some consideration, she zipped up the suitcase and shoved it against a wall. She guessed she wouldn't be needing it for a while.
She smelled eggs cooking when she walked out of the bedroom wearing a t-shirt and skinny jeans. "I was going to do bacon," she said, walking into the kitchen.
Nyall was spooning eggs onto two glossy black plates. He was dressed pretty much like her, in jeans, a flannel, sneakers, and a t-shirt. Still, something about the fit of his clothes said they were from an entirely different rack in the store.
An entirely different store. Different class of stores.
A different universe in fact.
He glanced at her, gave her a once-over. "Shit, you almost tempt me to let you wear clothes."
Janey snapped her teeth at him. He chuckled.
"Well?" he said, as he handed her a plate. "What do you think?" His muscular arm gestured to indicate the kitchen as a whole.
She looked around her. With spacious marble countertops and modern appliances, the kitchen was luxurious and well-equipped. She shrugged. "It's a nice kitchen."
"Nice? You're supposed to fall all over yourself with admiration."
She wrinkled her nose. "Sorry, Nyall. Rich people always have kitchens like this. Big stone counters, parquetry floors, fancy islands, copper pots. It's how you know they're rich and never cook. They're inefficient."
He laughed.
"You're not offended?" she said in sudden remorse.
He shook his head. "One of my—" he changed course. "Celia—you remember Celia? Toward the bottom of the list."
Her eyes widened. "Celia. Yes. She was the one who said you were disease-free and disliked pet snakes."
His eyes narrowed. "Right. Well, she had it done. Her brother's an interior decorator. He and one of my cousins did this place. I just live here."
"I see. I think it's pretty nice, aesthetically. It suits you, this place."
"Why do you say that?" He handed her a steaming cup.
She smelled Earl Grey and grinned. "Elegant. Masculine. Comfortable. Pampered. Sophisticated but earthy."
"I see." His tone said he wasn't flattered. "What about 'out of my league?' Or was that next?"
She chewed the inside of her lip. "You're definitely out of my league, even more now that I've seen how you live. But maybe by the end of this week, I'll be in your sexual league. You're kind of mentoring me, in a crash course sort of way." She beamed at him. "Do you have any special requests for the grocery store?"
He frowned at her, then shook his head. "I'll leave the food to you. What do you mean, even more now that you've seen how I live? You think this place is exorbitant?"
She shrugged and sat down. "Not exactly. This is your slumming home, isn't it? The place you really unwind. You obviously use a maid service, because it's immaculate. It's got more square footage than most people's houses." She tasted the eggs and grimaced.
"That's it?" he said. "That what puts me out of the ballpark?"
She ticked off her fingers. "I'm guessing your apartment by the airport is small but comes prefurnished and you keep it all year round even though you hardly stay there. Your place on the beach is probably some kind of resort and I'll bet it's not a time share but that you own it all by yourself. And then of course most people don't own French chalets, do they? As for your house in Sacramento…I have no idea, but just the fact that it's there…" She leaned forward earnestly. "I mean, come on, Nyall. I live in a garden level studio not too far from here in Fremont, and it's pretty run-down. I drive a secondhand van that I use for work. I don't even have an accountant to do my books, or a rule-the-world phone. I shop at Walmart." She rolled her eyes. "So yes, your league is major and mine is little."
He regarded her impassively for a few moments, his arms crossed over his chest.
"I hope that didn't offend you," she said hastily. "I don't mean it in a bad way. I think it's great that you did this all yourself. You're a real success and you're obviously not obnoxious about it. I know one day when I'm old and gray and tell my friends about this week, they'll be impressed when they find out I'm the one that taught the great Nyall Anderson how to make cheesecake." She meant to tease him out of his funk, but somehow it fell flat. She bit her lip. "You're not offended, are you?"
"Finish your breakfast," he said finally. "Then go to the store. Don't linger, just come back here, take off your clothes, put on an apron, and show me how to cook something. And then, little girl, I'm going to teach you to beg for cock."
It was like he'd opened up her arteries and let something hot flood them. Her eyes widened. "Are you angry with me?"
"I'm not sure. Mostly I want to fuck you violently," he said conversationally, "in all your holes, until you're screaming because you want to come so bad." He smiled wolfishly. "That's all, Janey."
Chapter 6
The trip to the supermarket didn't take long.
It would have taken much longer, because contrary to his order not to linger, she very much tried to. Only walking up and down every aisle was proving to be too athletic an activity for Janey's current condition. Her knees felt weak and her oxygen supply lacked something.
It was all Nyall's fault. His last words to her in the kitchen had left her anxious, not to mention apprehensive. And no little bit aroused.
Beg for cock. Screaming because you want to come so bad.
She wondered what his problem was. Maybe he was frustrated. He had to be at least a little bit frustrated, she reasoned. Maybe he had sex ten times a day. A guy like him would be used to doing everything he wanted to with a woman, not holding back because of her virginity. It must be very inconvenient.
In any case, by the time she drove off the lot of the supermarket, she was in doubt that going straight back to his condo was the smart thing to do. Nibbling on her lip, she made a spontaneous turn and in a couple of minutes was pulling up to a library branch.
Inside, she flashed her library card and then sat down at one of the computing stations. In short order, she'd pulled up the long list of Nyall's emails, opened the attachment, and was scrolling through his list of mistresses.
Five minutes later, she was sitting in her van on her mobile.
"Amy Winch," a voice said.
"Amy? This is Janey Pankowski. I don't know if you remember me. I called you a few weeks ago about—"
"Nyall. Yeah, I got it. You're the one who wanted a reference. Can you hold on? Paul, I need you to test this code without going into the database. That possible or should we wait till Monday? Great. Sorry. It's crazy here since the server went down yesterday."
"You're working on Saturday?"
"What's that?"
"You work every day of the week?'
"Oh, yeah. There's my regular job and then there's my own projects."
"Um, so I wondered if you might be available to talk for a few minutes."
"About Ny? Sure."
&n
bsp; "So I'm having one or two problems. You gave me some great advice before."
"Oh, yeah?"
"'Don't get possessive or sappy or bossy or lie.' I can't say I've followed all of that to the letter, but most of it. And you're right, he is a great guy." She could sense Amy was getting bored, so she rushed on. "I know you said he's not into pain and the other girls he goes out with all say he's safe and everything, but…do you think there's a chance that if he gets really angry, he might, um, hurt a girl?"
There was a pause. "Pardon. Angry?"
"Yeah, you know. Frustrated and angry."
"Nyall?" Amy laughed. "Nyall doesn't do frustrated or angry. You don't need to worry."
"Well, maybe I'm just imagining it," Janey said doubtfully.
"What did he say, out of curiosity?"
Janey blushed. "I'd rather not tell you because it's kind of crude. But when I asked him if he was angry, he said he wasn't sure."
"No kidding." Amy paused, then raised her voice. "It's out of paper. If Svenna's not around, just look in the cabinet. You there? I wouldn't worry about it, Janey. He likes you a lot. He wouldn't hurt you physically."
Janey's jaw dropped. "What do you mean?"
"He's just not the mean sort. He actually got a colleague of mine out of a bad situation. She was taking crap from a dick who—"
"No, I mean—that's great, but—what you said about him liking me."
"Yeah, he thinks you're funny."
Janey stared at the phone as if it had grown legs.
"Janey, I'm sorry, but I've got to go pretty soon. Look, if you want to meet for coffee later—"
"No! I mean, um, I'm busy today, too. But can you just answer—how do you know he thinks I'm, um, funny? Did he tell you?"
"Yeah."
"But when?'
"Oh, last week sometime. I don't remember."
"Oh. You saw him last week?"
"Yeah. Janey, honestly. I've known the dude for years. Of course you never know, but we move in the same circles and I'd have heard a whisper of something if he ever got rough. He's cool."
"Oh."
"Also, we've been fucking since, when, March? No, Brian, I'm not talking about you. Go stick your head in a coffee grinder. Yeah, so—you've banged him by now, right?"
"Nyall? Uh—no."
"What? No?" Amy paused. "Huh. Well, when you do you'll see what I mean. He's easygoing. No pressure. He's into casual sex and great orgasms. Staggering orgasms. He'll never lose his cool."
"I see."
"Is that everything? You need anything else right now?"
Janey's mind raced frantically. "Um…why do you think he'd mind me talking about his real estate holdings and how successful he is?"
"Oh, well, I guess that could do it. Ask him about his wife sometime."
"His—oh, his ex-wife."
"Yeah. Kind of a greedy bitch. Stereotype, right? But true. She told him he was a selfish bastard. So if you called him selfish or anything like that…"
"I didn't!" Janey said. "I just said he was out of my league."
"Well, then, I wouldn't worry about it."
"I wish I knew why he's taken me on," Janey muttered.
"You want me to ask him next time I see him? I think we're having coffee the week after next."
"No!" Janey said. "That's, uh, that's okay. I know I'm kind of a charity case. I guess I should just thank my lucky stars for this chance."
"Definitely. He's hot. Okay, talk to you later."
"Later, Amy."
Janey leaned on the steering wheel glumly. Then she sighed and put the car in gear and drove to Nyall's place.
***
"Sorry that took so long," she called out as she walked in the door, arms straining with the weight of eight bulging shopping bags.
There was no answer. She walked quickly to the kitchen and set down the bags. Hesitantly she wandered around peering into doorways until she heard him.
Nyall was standing in his office talking on his phone. His eyes gleamed and he waved her in. He continued to talk, walking toward her.
Janey was a little surprised. She made an "I-have-groceries-to-put-away" gesture, but he didn't seem to understand or even pay attention. He dug into his pocket and took out a headset, then attached it to his phone, which he shoved in his pocket. Now with his hands free, he stood in front of Janey and grasped the bottom of her t-shirt.
It hit her what he was about to do barely a moment before her arms went up and the t-shirt was pried over her head.
Her bra came loose with a quick snap of the front clasp, making her breasts fall. Nyall slid the straps of her bra down her shoulders and let the garment drop to the floor. He cupped her breasts briefly before he started to unbutton her jeans.
"Fine," he said, and for a disconcerting moment she forgot he was speaking into the headset. "If they don't show up, call their Toronto office. They'll track 'em down." He crouched down, sliding the jeans down her hips, taking her panties with them. He tapped her leg until she stepped out of them, prying off her shoes as he went.
That quickly, without interrupting his phone conversation, he'd undressed her completely, she realized. She was standing in front of him completely naked.
"No, I don't think so. Only if they're bluffing, and I frankly doubt it. We went through all of that back in July way before the fiscal year ended and the books were still on the table. My sense was they can't afford false posturing."
Nyall's hand slid up her legs as he rose, trailing into the curly damp hairs between Janey's legs. His finger probed her cleft, found her clit, and rubbed slickly. Janey clung wildly to him, searching his face, but he just smiled and shook his head, his attention on his conversation.
"They want it. What they don't want is Steppecourt Industries butting in. Right. You're getting it now. So we just play to that."
Janey arched, because he'd just stuck a finger deep inside her pussy. She stood there trembling and bewildered.
"Okay. Three. Thanks. Remember, Alfred's your man. Yes, even now." He was walking Janey backwards the whole time and she felt herself come up short against the wall.
The phone beeped and Janey watched him tuck the headset away in his pocket with his free hand. "Nyall?" she said nervously. "What are you—"
Nyall's eyes targeted her face as his finger thrust deep. She felt his knuckles press in and then his fist shoved upward, moving Janey straight up the wall. Basically raising her by her pussy several inches till her feet didn't even touch the floor.
"Uh," she cried, clueless as to what one was supposed to say when one was perched solely on a man's penetrating finger.
"Shopping done?" he said affably.
Through her arousal came one bizarre thought. He must be in seriously good shape to hold her up this way with one hand. His biceps were bulging but his arm wasn't even shaking.
"Um-mm. Yes. I still have to—um—put the groceries away."
"Soon. You've stretched out nicely, Janey. When I finally pop your cherry, I don't think it should hurt one bit."
"Nyall—"
"But I'd better get another finger in there to be sure. Ready?"
"Oh, gosh, oh, my God," she panted.
"I have long fingers, but you're taking it all. Maybe my cock will even fit all the way."
He pressed her against the wall with his hips while the finger filling her withdrew a bit and then she felt even more pressure squeezing into her and her eyes almost bugged out.
It was on the verge of painful, but then it felt unbelievably good.
With the fingers he'd inserted stretching her to capacity, he brushed his lips over her mouth and at the same time his thumb passed over her clit.
"Come now," he said against her lips. "Hard as you can."
Janey screamed as a pleasure rocket exploded inside her. Those fingers pumped upward, tossed her on his hand. She twisted helplessly on them, biting her lip, and suddenly there was a pinching on her right nipple and everything became more intense. "N-n-n-yall!"<
br />
"Well, fuck, Janey." His whole body was up against her now, one hand kneading her breast, the other pounding into her at the juncture of her thighs, his teeth nipping her shoulder.
He swung her around and she was all but falling, her head cushioned by his arm as they landed. She heard the bump of his elbow on the hardwood floor as they slid a foot or so over the gleaming surface. Then he was all over her, kissing her mouth and finger-fucking her pussy and rubbing himself on her leg. And the orgasm drew out.
When she finally calmed down, he was still thrusting, still kissing her, and that kept on for a while. Janey was dazed by the time Nyall finally managed to gather himself together, limbs pulling away. With obvious effort he succeeded in rolling off her completely, clutching his groin and cursing.
"I want you," he bit out. "I fucking want you."
"Um," she said. "You can have me."
"Not like this. You need—you need gentle and slow. Dammit, Janey, why were you gone so long?" His breathing was harsh.
"I called your girlfriend. Your mistress. Amy."
"What?" He froze, staring incredulously. "You called Amy?"
"Yes, I needed advice."
"Advice." He shook his head as though to clear it. "What kind of advice do you need from Amy of all people?"
"I was scared of you a little bit. What you said. I didn't know if it was safe. So I called her."
"Oh, Christ." He laughed shakily. "What did she say?"
"That you had sex with her recently, last week in fact. I think you lied about that. You don't have to lie to me. I don't know why you would."
"What the fuck? We had scones, not sex."
"Oh. Then I misunderstood. She also said that you were nonviolent. Always cool. Never frustrated or angry."
He threw his head back and laughed. "Thanks, Amy. I owe you one."
"Did she lie?" Janey was surprised. She scrambled up to a sitting position.
"No, she didn't. Amy's too ingenuous to lie. Kind of like you. But she reassured you enough for you to come back here. I wonder what you'd have done if she hadn't."
"I don't know." She worried her upper lip with her teeth. "Maybe called you before I came back. Maybe just come back and taken a chance."
Heat Exchange (The Alpha Billionaire's Virgin Book 1) Page 7
