by Kira Bloom
“Holy shit.” I sink down on the couch, and Wendy tentatively creeps around from behind it, her eyes occasionally darting to my car keys. “Who in his right mind…”
“Quite a few. No matter how pissed you are, you’ve got to admit this is amazing.”
“You put this up without my permission.” But my tone isn’t angry. It’s just … shocked. Someone is willing to give me over seventy grand. And what he wants in exchange is my virginity.
“Yes, and look what happened.” She reaches behind me for her purse. For the first time since I walked through the door, I notice she’s styled her short, reddish-blonde hair in loose waves and she’s dressed to the nines in a green mini dress and her favorite floral heels. “Wait, where the hell are you going?”
She shoots me an apologetic look. “I’ve got a date with Erik.”
Erik’s a dick, but I simply jab my tongue in my cheek as I nod to the computer screen. “So you do this and then take off. Nice, Wendy.”
“At least consider it.” Sighing, she kneels in front of me, plants her elbows on my bare knees and gives me a pleading look. “And if you don’t want to do it, don’t accept the contract.”
“I…” I can’t find the words thanks to the dollar amount on the screen, though. It’s a lot of money—enough to satisfy Dad’s obligation to the Cades and for me to go to school without student loans for the next two years. I would be crazy not to think twice about going through with this. “You’re not off the hook,” I say huskily.
“I’m kind of hoping you’ll cool down by the time I get home.” Scrambling to her feet, she winks down at me. “While I’m out you should, ah, look at your inbox. It’s fun.”
Fun, huh? Before I can ask her if she’s spent all day sending candid photos of me to wealthy men with a virgin fetish, she hurries off, singing that she’ll be back in a few hours. I smell like a grease trap and the shower is calling my name, but I can’t pull myself away from the auction and the messages waiting for me. When I’m finally done reading them, the bidding is at eighty-two thousand.
Setting Wendy’s computer on the coffee table, I press my palm to my mouth and breathe into it. I can’t believe I’m considering this and that I haven’t contacted Nadia to get my profile taken off the site STAT. One night. All it will take is one night and I’ll save my father and set myself up. Wendy’s right about one thing: the idea of financial security is tempting.
A new message alert stops me just before I start for the shower. It’s from Conquer&Please with the subject line: Bed Her Now? How About Another Proposition? My fingers shake as I open the message, but I’m quickly disappointed to find there’s no message. Unable to stop myself, I fire off a quick note. Did you forget to attach the dick pic?
I’ve already seen at least five, and it’s the only reason I can think of for him to forward me an empty message. I hit send, then hold my breath because he’s already typing a response.
Conquer&Please: I don’t need to send you a dick pic to make myself feel better, sweet. I wanted to make sure you messaged back. Obviously, it worked.
Snorting, I answer: Do you always get what you want?
Conquer&Please: If I tell you yes, will you be disappointed?
Something about his words launches a shot of adrenaline to my heart, but I brush off the strange feeling once he replies.
Conquer&Please: I want to push that button so I can have you now because I don’t like knowing there are other men just as eager to fuck your sweet little pussy. I want that privilege, and I intend to have it. You want to give up your virginity, but I want to teach you how to fuck the right way. I want to make sure you come—on my cock, my tongue, and anywhere else I see fit. I want more than one night, though.
Thirty days.
I want you to agree to spend the next thirty days with me, and I’ll end this now.
Dizzy from a handful of sexy sentences, I leave the laptop. Several times during my long shower, though, I have to grip the wall to keep myself upright because Conquer&Please’s words are wedged beneath my skin. There’s a chance the auction might reach the Bed Her Now amount on its own, but I’m intrigued. No, I’m dripping wet with my sex throbbing. It’s the second time that’s happened today—only this time, it’s thanks to a man I’ve never seen.
As I dry off and get dressed, my brain sorts through all the things that might go wrong if I accept his terms, but I always come back to one thought: I’m running out of time and this is a fix that will take care of everything.
I’m flushed and a little breathless when I return to the computer half an hour later to answer him with only one word. Yes.
His response comes through so quickly; I almost get the feeling he already had it written.
Conquer&Please: Good. I want to see you tomorrow night. The representative from V-Bay will be in touch to give you the details.
My breath hitches. So soon? My fingers quiver as I ask him if he’ll be able to make it to me—or if I’ll have time to get to him—but I receive two notifications. The first is that username Conquer&Please has logged off the V-Bay server, and the second alert speeds my pulse:
BIDDING IS NOW CLOSED AT $200,000
By the next afternoon, I’ve sent all my documents to V-Bay and they get back to me lightning fast with instructions for my first evening with Conquer&Please. I’m to meet him here in Chicago at The Brighton, a swanky hotel close to the business and financial district. He’ll send a car to pick me up at the location of my choice. I’m to wear white.
When I show Wendy my outfit—a pair of strappy white wedges and the only white dress I own—she gives me two thumbs up and a look that borders admiration.
“You’re looking very … virginal,” she says. I cover my face with both hands and breathe a dry moan into my palms. My best friend is by my side instantly, dragging my hands off my face and giving me a stern look.
“I shouldn’t have said that. You look beautiful. You’ve saved your family’s business, Flick. You’ve just put yourself through the rest of school and paid off your student loans. You look like a woman who’s making shit happen. Relax and breathe.”
Since the driver who picks me up from the coffee shop six blocks over doesn’t say a word on the way to The Brighton, I mentally repeat Wendy’s words like a mantra.
When we arrive, the driver opens my door, hands me a keycard, and tells me which floor to go to. Nothing else—not even when I ask the room number. “Thanks, I guess,” I mutter. He smiles and tips his head.
A few minutes later, I stand outside a door with a Do Not Disturb hanger already in place. It didn’t take me long to figure out there’s only one unit on the ninety-second floor—The Royale Penthouse—and part of me is desperate to run in the other direction. I’m seconds away from entering a room that easily costs several thousand dollars a night to meet a man who’s just bought me for 200 grand, and it’s all too much.
I take a step backward, but then I ball my fists by my side and shake my head.
“I’ve just saved my dad’s business. I’ve just paid off my student loans. I’m making shit happen,” I say, even though I don’t recognize my voice.
I take a deep breath, shove the card in the door, and step into a luxurious, dimly lit foyer. It opens up to a spacious living room with plush white linen couches and an adjoining dining room. Letting the scent of masculine cologne filter through my senses, I tell myself to relax and breathe. That it will be fine. That I can do this.
And then I realize that I can’t. Can’t relax. Can’t breathe. Can’t do a damn thing because my eyes lock with the ones behind the tiny bar a few feet from the dining table. The blue-green eyes are excruciatingly familiar being that I’ve glared into them before.
“You,” I hiss, and he nods his gorgeous head.
“Yes, Little Flick,” Jackson Cade says, and desire and fury pool in my core. “Me.”
4
Jackson
With her back against my front door and her big green eyes unblinking, Flick look
s like a lost little lamb. My lamb. After all, I’ve fucked myself ten times over to be the first to get a taste of her. Gazing at her now—in a white sleeveless dress that skims those golden thighs I want clenched around my ears and her dark brown hair hanging in a loose braid over one tan shoulder—I don’t feel an ounce of regret.
“You’re Conquer&Please,” she whispers, shaking her head in disbelief. “Please tell me this is a joke.”
“My bank statement doesn’t seem to be laughing.” In fact, I’d gotten a call from the bank this morning about my “unusual” transaction. I finish pouring my whisky, then walk from behind the bar, approaching her slowly. “Why are you trembling?”
“Because it’s … you.” She curls her lips in a sneer. If she weren’t so beautiful, I might be offended, but nothing can bring my kingdom tumbling down tonight. Tonight, I’m at the very top of the castle and very soon I’ll be on top of her. Her hand flies to her wrist, but since her hairband isn’t there, she scrapes at bare skin. “Look, Mr. Cade, we can ask them to refund you. We can—”
“Follow through with our original arrangement,” I say firmly. Using my free hand, I wrap the hair at the nape of her neck around my fingers, carelessly unraveling her demure braid. She moans. Sweet fucking Jesus, I need more of that, not her looking at me like I’m the antichrist.
“Don’t you think that’s a bad idea?” she whispers.
“And what would be the alternative for you? Some eighty-year-old Viagra-popper with balls down to his knees? Or maybe that the tongue between your legs belong to a man whose only conquest is a video game empire and a fuck doll?”
Arching that sinful body I’ve ached to claim since the second I laid eyes on her, she shakes her head. “I … no. No, I don’t want that.”
I bend my head to brush my lips to the top of her ear and breathe her in. Her scent is like a fucking drug. Peachy vanilla wholesomeness. My cock twitches eagerly because I know her pussy will be just as mind-blowingly addictive.
“I can promise you my balls are right where they belong.” I blow softly on her ear, ruffling her hair. She grips my upper arms and rakes her short fingernails into the starched fabric of my shirt. I was held up at the office longer than I intended, so I hadn’t had time to change. Not that it matters. I don’t plan on staying in the shirt much longer. “I swear, when I eat your pussy, you won’t wonder how soon it’ll be over or where you’re going to spend all the money. You won’t even think about V-Bay after I’m done with you.”
Her petite body trembles all over, but she stops herself at the sound of my chuckle. Jerking her head back, she grinds out, “And just how did you find me on that site? Do you regularly troll the internet looking for cherries to pop?” Her sarcastic tone and the defiant tilt of her chin make me want to put her across my knee and paddle that perky little ass until it’s sore and red.
“Do I look like that’s my M.O.?” Slipping my hand out of her hair, I give her the honest truth about how I discovered her secret. She lets out another soft moan and drops her hands from my arms to splay them on the door behind her. “Don’t look so shocked. I knew I was going to fuck you from the moment you opened your mouth. Then Nate found you on that goddamn site and I couldn’t let you go to another man.”
“Why would you pay so much?”
“I want to be your first. I’m going to be your first. You needed twenty grand, I offered you two hundred. You accepted the terms of the agreement.”
Angrily, she puffs out her chest. “Before I knew who you were!”
“Now you do, and there are no refunds. Like I said, you could have done far worse.” Tossing back my drink, I leave her at the door, but I never drop my gaze from hers. Call me a monster, but I enjoy seeing her squirm. What I say next accomplishes that faster than I can snap my fingers.
“You might want to sit down, Flick. You’re going to need your rest.”
Her green eyes go round, but she eventually stumbles across the living room and slides down on the white couch. Linking her fingers together over one of her knees, she watches me prepare another drink. “Why didn’t you tell me who you were when you messaged me last night?”
“Because your pride would have fucked you over. I didn’t want you to fuck yourself—not without me watching, that is.” Taking the two glasses of whisky I’ve prepared from the bar, I walk toward her with a questioning look. “Have you eaten?”
“No … I was too nervous,” she admits in a raw whisper. I reach a glass out to her in hopes that the whisky will calm her down. Her spine stiffens and she glares at it suspiciously. Snorting, I set it in front of her on the coffee table and take a drink of my own.
“I don’t want you drugged, sweet. I want you willing. Happy. Pleased out of your goddamn mind. We both get what we want out of this—you get to save your father’s business and I get your cunt.”
She inhales sharply through her teeth. She snatches the whisky off the table, choking on it because I sit right beside her, close enough for the back of my hand to brush her smooth thigh. Swiping her tongue over her lips, she rubs her fingers across her chest and I’m lost in the sight of her breasts straining together.
“Do you have to be so filthy, Mr. Cade?” she asks at last.
Fuck, she’s irresistible. I’m tempted to hike up her dress right here, right now, and teach her how filthy I can be when she’s riding my dick and I’ve got my face buried between those tits.
But I’ve told myself I’m going to take it slow with Flick.
No matter how enticing she is, how badly I want to possess every inch of her body immediately, I’m going to hold out until she’s on her knees and begging me for it.
“Does your father even know you’re doing this?” she asks.
My smile hardens as I snap my blue eyes from her breasts. Fuck my father. Compared to his spending, my investment in a month of untouched trim is tame. “I’m not doing this.” Slamming my glass on the table next to hers, I climb across the couch until I have one hand on either side of her hips and I can almost taste the whisky on her sweet tongue. Her lips part slightly, giving my dick a jolt. “I’ve already done it. And there’s not a goddamn thing my father or anyone else can do about it.”
Her lips quiver. “I can’t believe you—”
I cover her mouth with my thumb and smear her pink lip gloss at the corners. “God, I’ve had it with that mouth of yours.” She whimpers against the pad of my finger. “I’m not going to fuck you tonight. I’m not going to fuck you until I’ve made you come in every way imaginable. Until you’ve learned everything I like. Until the mention of my name is enough to make your pussy drip.”
Felicity gasps, so I take advantage of her shock, spreading my fingers across her delicate throat. Her pulse jumps beneath my fingertips, thumping unevenly. I hate admitting it, and I’ll never say it aloud to her, but every nerve in my own body is working overtime. Being near this woman drives me so wild I can’t touch her without picturing the many ways I need to own her.
She reaches up to remove my hand from her throat, but doesn’t count on me linking our fingers together. Her muscles tense as she stares at the contrast of our bodies. She’s tanned to perfection but my skin is darker. We look good together now, but I can imagine how right this will be when we’re covered in sweat and tangled up in some position that would make a porn star envious.
“For a second there, you sounded so sure of yourself,” she rasps, ripping her hand from mine. “Like you know exactly what I’m thinking.”
“I’m not just sure, I’m positive, sweet,” I say with a grin. I lick one corner of her mouth then the other. “I don’t even give you a full seven days.”
She starts to argue, but I won’t let her. I trace my tongue across her lips, chuckling because she clenches her teeth. She’s so goddamn feisty, but if she thinks I’ll give up, she’s got another thing coming. I meant it when I said I’d have her begging for me in less than a week, and after two more tries, she opens her mouth, granting me entry.
&nbs
p; I kiss her furiously, not the least bit surprised when her tongue goes to war with mine or that she tastes as good as she smells. My cock throbs when her small fingers grasp at my collar and my neck, and her breath quickens to little purrs.
I’m going to make her purr alright, and she’ll thank me for it.
Drawing away from her, I demand, “Did your ex lick that tight virgin cunt?” Looking dazed and out of this world, she rests her head against the couch cushions behind her. She blinks at me, so I thumb her smooth thigh, my strokes slow and deliberate. “Don’t look at me like you’re confused, sweet. Did your ex-boyfriend tongue fuck your pussy?”
“I—” she starts, but I work my fingers beneath her white dress, and she releases a strangled cry instead. Suddenly speechless, her eyelids flutter shut when I skim the center of her soft cotton panties. They’re damp, exquisitely molded to her pussy. Massaging the fabric against her, I groan. She does too. And spasms. Christ, she’s already convulsing and I haven’t even started.
I push my thumb to her clit, circling it through her panties until she’s sucking on her bottom lip and releasing tiny breaths. “Did he?” I repeat.
“No,” she finally admits.
How does a girl like Felicity—all curves and sex and innocence begging to be ruined—go twenty-one years without letting a man taste her? What kind of man dates a woman like her for months without touching her and losing his mind?
A fool.
I slip my other hand beneath her skirt and skim my fingers along the lace-trimmed band of her panties and look her directly in the eyes. “Did he fuck your ass, Flick?” Again, she doesn’t answer me. I yank at the top of her panties, letting the elastic snap back in place on her skin.
