by Kira Bloom
It’s a clear order, not a question, but she bobs her head compliantly. I stride around the desk to her side and rest against the edge. Our eyes lock for several seconds, then she rips hers to the black rubber band on her wrist.
“Look, I really do appreciate you seeing me. I know my dad talked to you before.” She snaps the hairband against her skin and clears her throat. “And I know you said you couldn’t give us an extension.” Another tug that makes me want to pull the thing off her body so she’ll be forced to look me in the eye. “I figured it wouldn’t hurt if I came to ask.”
“Why didn’t you ask before?”
She lifts one shoulder helplessly. There’s no way in hell she doesn’t know how sexy she is, how her coming in here looking like a tempting mixture of virtue and sin is enough to fuck up my plan. “I didn’t realize what was going on until yesterday.”
“The answer is still no.”
She glances up, catching me with a pitiful look. “You’re not even going to consider it?”
“If I do it for you, I’ll have to do it for everyone else who owes us. That’s not good business, wouldn’t you agree?”
“I wouldn’t say a word. We have employees, Mr. Cade. People with kids and families that depend on us.” Studying the lack of emotion on my face, her beautiful expression falls, but she squares her shoulders, and I feel another wave of admiration at her determination. “I can’t let them down.”
“All right, let’s say I do help you.” Her lips part in surprise and my dick goes crazy when she slides to the edge of her seat to listen to me intently. It shouldn’t be like this—I shouldn’t give a shit if this woman is upset, but I have a sudden desire to protect her. To possess her. “What will you do for me, Miss York?”
“My car. I can put my car up as collateral.”
“The same car that wouldn’t start for you this morning?”
Her lips move like they’re trying to find the right thing to say, and I fist my hands to stop myself from reaching out to touch them. They’re as perfect as the rest of her—soft, ripe, and begging to be fucked. “You have so much, Mr. Cade. Surely waiting another six months won’t hurt you or your business. Your father worked with us.”
“I’m not my father. You want more time? Give me something worth mine.”
“I’m sorry, but what—”
“Your pussy, Miss York. That’s what I want as collateral.” Giving in, I caress the pad of my thumb over the center of her lips. She loses her breath, and when she finds it again, the tip of her tongue grazes me. “This mouth. Every hole in that delectable body of yours. That’s what I want.”
Felicity jerks away, pinching her lip between her teeth, tasting my touch. She has no words—I didn’t expect her to—but it’s all there in her expression. Are you kidding me?
“Not at all.” Her nostrils flare. Until this morning, I’ve never met a woman who seemed outraged at the thought of me fucking her until her cunt can’t take another inch. The fact this one is sneering at my proposition wounds my ego. “I’d say a promissory note in the form of you dripping wet around my cock is more beneficial to me than a car that’ll give out. You’ll give out, Flick, but not until we’re both well-fucked and satisfied.”
“Thanks, but no thanks,” she blurts out, jumping to her feet, her firm tits bouncing in her tight pink shirt. “I’ll figure out another way.”
“You want something for nothing, Miss York. I don’t think you’ll figure out much.”
Just as I stand, she whirls toward me. Her delectable body collides into mine, and I steady her with my hands. For someone who just shot me down without a second thought, she’s sure as hell taking her time crawling out of my arms, so I take advantage of our position. My fingers slip down her back to her ass.
Personally, I’m a breast man, but Little Flick’s ass… I can picture my face buried there, too.
She sways slightly, a little cry escaping her throat. “Mr. Cade … please?”
“I want you.”
“You can’t want someone you don’t even know,” she argues. “And you can’t expect me to want you when I don’t know a damn thing about you.”
“But you’re already wet for me, aren’t you?” Cheeks on fire, she shifts her eyes from mine but doesn’t pull out of my arms. I grind our hips together. I’m blessed—no, fuck being modest, I have a big dick that’s never failed to conquer and please—and a shiver ripples through her.
“I’ll give you more than any man who’s ever touched that sweet pussy,” I promise. She closes her eyes. Parts her lips. Moans. “I’ll fuck you so good, so hard, so right, you’ll forget there’s life outside my bedroom.”
Her eyes fly open. She slices me with an angry stare then snaps, “And let me guess? You always get what you want?”
“Always.”
Small hands shove my chest and she backs away from me. “Sorry to disappoint, Mr. Cade, but I’m not for sale.”
“Everything is for sale,” I counter. She grabs her purse from her chair and stalks to the door. “Especially if it’s something I desire.”
Flames dance behind her green eyes when she whips around one last time to look at me. “You won’t get our place.”
Returning to my desk, I pick up the phone to call Nate, my head of security. I want to know everything there is about Felicity York and I want it today.
Nate barges into my office a half an hour later, toting a manila folder and grinning like he’s just had his dick sucked. “Either you just settled the score with Taryn in accounting or you’ve got what I asked for.”
“I’ve been fucking Taryn for the last two weeks.” He arches an eyebrow and nods his shiny bald head to his folder. “This? This is all about your girl.”
I’ve known Nathan Boyer for twenty years when I met him at boarding school in Connecticut. He was small then, a punching bag for the older shits, but I had no problem fucking up a few faces defending him. He’s the smartest son-of-a-bitch I know and, thanks to a strict workout regimen, looks like he ate his old self four or five times. He’s a jack of all trades, so when I took over Cade Enterprises, he was the first person I called to work for me.
I’ve never regretted that decision, and days like this remind me I probably never will.
“That was quick,” I say.
“I’m the best.” He drops the folder in front of me. “Don’t ever forget that shit.”
“Couldn’t if I tried,” I mutter, opening the folder. “Anything good?”
“Straight A student but she took a year off after high school because of her mother. She just finished her sophomore year at the University of Chicago where she’s majoring in—you’ll never guess.”
“Business,” I say dryly.
He nods. “Looks like Flick wants to take over Daddy’s restaurant one day. She loves buying cheap floral art from Etsy, chocolate, and Netflix. She hates the gym but goes anyway because hers has a sauna, and I’m pretty sure I’d give my left nut to bang her.”
“And then I’d help you dispose of your right one,” I say in a dangerous voice without glancing up at him. I don’t give a fuck how long I’ve known him—if he touched this girl, we’d have issues. “She seeing anyone?”
He chuckles suggestively. “Not yet but she’s got a lot of interest.”
I meet his grin with a sharp glare. “What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”
“Last page, my friend.” I don’t know why he can’t just tell me, but I leaf to the final sheet in the folder. It’s a grainy printout from a website called V-Bay, and the hot photo of the soaking wet brunette in a bikini is none other than the girl I met a little while ago.
Grinding my teeth, I toss the page back to my desk. “She’s an escort?”
“Nope. A virgin. And she’s selling it.” Nate over-enunciates every syllable, giving the shock plenty of time to work through me. A virgin. No wonder Little Flick had quivered and blushed in my arms. She had shot down my offer just to put herself on display for every man with deep p
ockets. Fury boils my blood as Nate continues, “I ran her picture through facial recognition and this site came up. That pussy just went up for sale and she’s already got bids. Her Bed Her Now price is two hundred grand.”
I drop my attention to the countdown timer on the page—only forty-four hours left at the time Nate printed this out—and the comments below it.
StrangeDragon69: Anal or no?
mR_LT: Would you be interested in making this a permanent situation?
“That’s not going to happen,” I hiss under my breath. StrangeDragon69 and Mr. LT can both eat a dick because neither of them will ever find out how glorious Felicity’s ass is or whether she’ll fuck them for breakfast, lunch, and dinner on every day ending in Y.
“So, what’s your plan?” Nate settles his giant frame in the chair in front of my desk. When I open my laptop to look up the site and my … virgin, he laughs. “Ah shit, Jax, don’t tell me you’re going to bid on this bitch.”
But I am.
I’ve never paid to get my dick wet—and I sure as fuck would’ve never considered tossing money at someone who owes me—but now that I know she’s untouched, her pussy’s as good as sold. Because Little Flick? She just became mine.
3
Felicity
I’m still flustered, my stomach tangled in knots when I push through the front door of York’s twenty minutes later to check the schedule. Even though I’d already acknowledged yesterday that Jackson Cade’s voice was quite possibly the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard, I expected him to look like his dad—pudgy from excessive drinking and partying with a receding hairline. The man I faced in the high-rise office, though, was the epitome of tall, dark, and wickedly handsome.
As soon as he turned to cast that devilish grin on me, my nerves faltered. And when he strode around to my side of the desk to lean his long, muscular body inches from mine—that’s when the rest of my cool flew out the window. With his messy raven hair, golden skin, and a gleam in his turquoise eyes that pinged between scalding and frigid, Jackson Cade wasn’t like any other suit I’ve ever met. He was GQ sexy.
And filthy. Oh, god, he was filthy.
Unable to focus on the schedule on the dry-erase board, I release a curse as his words stream through my head. His proposition had knocked the air right out of my lungs, but it wasn’t nearly as startling my body’s reaction to him. While my head and mouth rebelled against him, my nipples pebbled when we touched. My pussy clenched as he spoke. And my panties clung to me like a fucking swimsuit even though my brain swore up and down he was wrong about making me wet.
Even now, I can still feel his effect on my sex.
“Fuck you, Jackson Cade,” I snap as I text myself my work schedule for the rest of the week. Spinning around, I almost run directly into our kitchen manager. Ziggy backs up against the swinging door and blows a low whistle.
“Damn, what’s got you so pissed off?”
“Work stuff.” I cross my arms over my chest to hide my body’s reaction to the mere thought of that rich prick. Nodding toward Dad’s closed office door, I ask, “Is he in yet?”
“He was earlier but I think he left.” Ziggy starts into the kitchen but pivots around and frowns. “You’re not here because Sabrina called in, are you? Because Brooke said she could handle it.”
I groan. “No, I just wanted to check the schedule since Dad didn’t pick up when I called.” Stuffing my phone into my purse, I sigh. “She’s not coming in again?”
He shakes his head. “She has an appointment with her divorce attorney. Think she’s screwing him?”
“I don’t care if she’s screwing him, just so she’s not screwing us.” Over the last several weeks, Sabrina’s called in more times than she’s made it to work, but my father hasn’t had much to say to her about it. I guess his mind has been preoccupied with the douche in the immaculate office suite. As soon as I picture Jackson again, my mouth goes dry and my panties—my panties are going to need their own Slippery When Wet sign if I don’t get myself in check.
Shifting uncomfortably, I clear my throat. “Did my dad call anyone to fill in for her?”
“No, but—” Ziggy pauses as I reach around him to snatch my apron from the rack. “What the hell are you doing, Flick?”
“What’s it look like I’m doing?” I grab my timecard from the slot by the schedule board. “I’m clocking in.”
“You were here until eight last night.”
Securing the strings around my waist, I lift my shoulders. “I have nothing else to do,” I lie. I’d planned on spending the day visiting every bank in Chicago for a loan. “Brooke shouldn’t have to handle the shift on her own. I’m working.”
“Your dad’s not going to like it. He says you’re here too much.”
“Good thing he’s not here.” Bumping Ziggy’s shoulder lightly with my fist, I force a grin. “But if he bitches about it, I’ll tell him it was your idea.”
When Dad finally makes his way into the restaurant a few hours later, we’re in the middle of lunch and I’m behind the counter printing a receipt. He doesn’t give me the third degree like Ziggy predicted. Instead, he dips his head, the defeat from yesterday twice as prominent. Before he reaches the counter, I pour him a Coke, leaving it on a placemat spot near the register.
“What happened now?” I ask just loud enough for him to hear.
Sighing, he scoots onto the barstool. “I’ve been out at banks. It’s not going to happen. My personal credit’s not good enough and I don’t have collateral. Like I told you, I’m fucked.”
When one of our regular customers three stools down swivels around to cast a curious look at us, I lean close to Dad. “Do you think they’d consider my credit?” Other than my student loans, I’ve had one credit card and my car loan that I paid off.
“It wouldn’t work.”
“You don’t know that.” And suddenly, Jackson’s voice is back in my thoughts. Taunting and commanding. Promising to fuck me better than any man before him in exchange for another extension. If he only knew just how many men have touched me, he would have choked on his words. “Look, Dad, I—” My phone vibrates in my apron pocket, and I pause. Holding up a finger, I grab my phone, frowning at the Unknown Caller.
“Everything okay?”
I hover my finger over the ignore button but then think better of it. It could be Jackson telling me he reconsidered my request. “Do you mind watching the register for a few minutes? I need to take this.”
Dad says that he will, so I accept the call, hurrying from behind the counter and out the front door as I answer. I pray the voice that greets me is the same that sent ripples down my spine, but it belongs to a woman. Slightly accented. Disappointing.
“Yes, this is Nadia with Green Light Group. I’m trying to reach a Miss—” She pauses, and I hear fingers dancing across computer keys, “Miss Felicity York.”
My eyebrows shoot straight up. “Yes, this is Felicity.”
“Ah, perfect. Let me be the first to offer my congratulations on the success of your listing. You haven’t been live a full day and already you’re trending.”
“Wait, what?” Thanks to the Versa’s lack of cooperation, I hadn’t had time to check the status of my eBay auctions this morning. Of course, I didn’t see the point because I never thought a few bags of old H&M and Express clothes would amount to a success. “My clothes are trending?”
Nadia laughs, instantly making me feel like a child with a cutesy lisp. I scowl. “I see you must be in a public place, Miss York. Perhaps I should—”
“No, I’m alone. Can you tell me what’s going on?”
“I’m calling in regards to your auction on V-Bay,” she chirps, and the blood drains from my face. My auction. On V-Bay. “I just wanted to make sure you’ve been in touch with your physician about the…”
And this is where the rest of the numbness sets in. They need proof of virginity from my doctor. A copy of my driver’s license, birth certificate, and social security card along with ph
otos of me holding all three to confirm my identity. They want a letter from my bank with my account numbers for my deposit, which will be wired one week from Friday—the end of the auction if none of the bidders choose the Bed Her Now option.
Bed Her Now.
Bed-Her-Fucking-Now.
It’s an auction I never signed up for, and as I stand outside my dad’s restaurant, I realize my day will end with me getting arrested. Because I’m going to murder Wendy.
“Where the hell are you?” I shout, stalking into our apartment several hours later. All day long she’s either ignored my messages or sent me straight to voicemail. Which infuriated me even more. “Wendy, if you don’t answer me, I will—”
“Flick,” she says in a dazed voice as I turn the corner. She’s on the couch, with her brown eyes transfixed on her computer screen. Lifting her head, a slow grin widens her traitorous face. “This is insane.”
“The fact I’m about to shove my car keys down your throat?”
Eyeballing the keys in my hand, she scrambles off the couch. “I know you’re mad,” she rushes, putting a safe amount of space between us, “but you did say to do whatever I wanted.”
I toss my keys on the coffee table and drag my hands through my hair. “What are you talking about?”
“When you went into the bathroom last night. You said, and I quote, ‘whatever you say.’ And have you even looked at your page yet?”
I hadn’t, but only because I knew I would skip out on work to track down my friend. “One, when someone says ‘whatever you say’ it’s blatant sarcasm and not an invitation to literally fuck them and two—”
“You’re up to 77 thousand, Flick,” she interrupts. When I only stare at her, wide-eyed and unmoving, she leans over the back of the couch and turns her laptop to face me. “It was at seventy when I got home an hour ago.”
Lifting the computer close to my face, I get my first glimpse of my V-Bay listing. Wendy had taken the bikini picture of me at the beach last summer right off my Facebook page. When I see the dollar amount just above my photo, a strangled cry leaps from the back of my throat. Seventy-seven with a few zeroes in front of it.
