by Jenna Rose
“You don’t know how badly I want to take you, Amory,” he whispers, fueling the fire within me. “Claim that tight little virgin pussy and make you mine. But…I don’t know if I can.”
“Why?” The question’s out of my mouth before I know it. I didn’t even process it.
“Because you’re my prisoner now, sweetie. I have to keep you now that you know my secret.”
“You’re…you’re saying you need me to want you if you’re going to take my virginity?”
“I don’t need you to,” Zander all but growls. Wow, he is nothing like I expected him to be. “But I would like it. All those women you’ve seen me with? None of them ever liked me. They liked my money, my fame, but never me.”
I feel his words in my chest. It never occurred to me that a man like Zander wouldn’t have the perfect life. All the money and toys in the world, and any woman he set his eyes on. I guess I really don’t know anything about him. But I’m dying to.
“But make no mistake, sweetie,” he purrs into my ear. “If I was to take you right now, you would love every second of it. I’d pop that sweet cherry and fuck you until you were sore and your voice was gone from screaming my name.”
My reply comes out as a moan. “Oh my God…”
What is he doing to me? Just his words seem to have a power I can’t contest with.
“You may be my captive, Amory,” he purrs, “but that doesn’t mean you won’t enjoy it.”
3
Zander
I feel strange as I hold the door for my beauty and allow her into my home.
This isn’t something I do. When I see women, it’s always at a hotel or one of my other properties. This is my home base – the place I can be myself. And now I’m willingly bringing her into it.
I always thought the whole married and kids thing was not for me. After all, how many billionaire marriages out there do you see that actually work? Some dumb nerdy guy marries an actress who takes him for half of everything he has and leaves him standing wide-eyed wondering what the fuck just happened.
Not me.
I decided that a long time ago. And then I met Amory, and now I’m rethinking everything. And if I’m being honest with myself, I’m afraid.
I thought I had my feelings under control. You have to when you’re in my position. One wrong, emotional move can cause a deal to come crashing down or topple an empire. But Amory has me beside myself, and even the thought of my life without her makes me wince inside.
I can’t let her go now…and it has nothing to do with the fact that she knows my secret.
I need those lips…those breasts…those sweet hips.
I need to feel her body pressed against mine. I need her moans in my ear, and I need to feel that sweet virgin pussy for the first time and watch her face as I claim her. God, I can’t even imagine how incredible that would be.
Men have called me cold, callous—even Vulcan-like for all the Star Trek fans out there. But I can already feel my walls beginning to fall, like tiny chips beginning to appear in the mortar.
This could be dangerous. My whole empire rests on my unshakable foundation. If that foundation crumbles, the whole thing could come down. I could take her home…make her sign an NDA and assign a group of men to watch her day and night and make sure she doesn’t talk…
But, fuck, I don’t want her out of my sight. Out of my presence. The thought of another man laying his hands on her, feeling her gorgeous lips against his, or claiming her cherry has me seeing red. No, there’s no way I can let her go.
I realize my right hand is clenched at my side as I close the door behind us. She steps ahead of me and I watch her as she looks around my home, already looking like she belongs. My eyes struggle to find her curves, but her work outfit is hiding them from me.
“I have to get you out of those coveralls,” I tell her.
She turns, her eyes bright.
“Am I not dressed right for this mansion of yours?”
“Sweetie, if I had it my way, you’d never even be dressed.”
My cock is throbbing in my pants as I imagine her body naked, dripping with arousal beneath me. What would her face look like when I first slide inside and stretch her? I dig my nails into my palm in an attempt to force my lust for her down to a tolerable level. But she hasn’t zipped her coveralls up again, and as she shifts her weight, her perky tits bounce—even underneath that sports bra of hers—and I’m going crazy for her.
“So, what’s the plan, Mr. Duke? I just live here with you forever?”
“Would that be that bad?” I ask her. “You wouldn’t have to work as a janitor anymore. Why are you doing that anyway?”
“Some of us need money.” She shrugs with a sly smile. Wow, a woman with a little spunk. “I know that might be a strange concept for someone like you.”
“So you work as a janitor at the Met because you need money?” I’m not buying it. “Why not nanny? Shit, you could model.”
Amory scoffs. “Stop. No, I couldn’t. And even if I could, I wouldn’t want to. I work at the Met because…you know how Will worked at Harvard in Good Will Hunting?”
I can’t believe the way she’s talking to me. The girls I’m used to are completely brainless, and she’s springing an analogy on me.
“Because he didn’t want to admit to himself that he wanted to do more with his life,” I reply. “So he got himself close to what he wanted.”
“Exactly,” Amory replies. “Only I fully admit to wanting to be a painter. I’m not that good…not yet—”
“I’m sure you are.” The words slide out of my mouth instantly. I’m not a bullshitter; I know better than to say something before I’ve thought it through, but saying that felt so natural. And I believe it. I don’t know how or why I know, but I know; this girl is talented.
“I want to go to art school. I’ll never be able to afford it, but maybe I could apply for a scholarship one day.”
“You can afford it now,” I tell her.
“What—what do you mean?”
“Do you seriously think I’d let you continue mopping floors to pay for art school, Amory?” I ask.
“I—I hadn’t even thought about it like that…” she says softly. The contrast between her gentle voice and my raging desire is almost painful. “I’m not looking for a sugar daddy…”
“Good,” I reply. “Because I’m not looking to be one.”
“But your money—”
“Is better spent on you,” I tell her. “I have every toy imaginable, sweetie. I’m going to pay for your tuition and you’re going to let me.”
I can see the reticence on her face slowly began to fade. “So I’m not just another toy is what you’re saying?”
She’s quick. I bet she’d be able to handle herself in a board meeting if she felt like it. I can feel myself starting to open up to her already. The thrill of being around her is beyond anything I’ve ever felt. Could she be the one to turn my life around? Rekindle the fire that once roared inside me?
“Amory, you are so not a toy,” I say, moving right in. “But I do want to play with you in so many ways.”
“Jesus…” she whispers as her face goes red. “You sure know how to talk to a girl.”
“Only you. I don’t talk like this to just anybody.”
“Yeah?” she replies. “So I’m special? Is that why you kidnapped me?”
Yes. I realize it now. Maybe this had to do with the Picasso before, but it doesn’t anymore. Now it’s all about me and her.
I feel something when I look at her – a feeling I haven’t felt in what feels like forever. Warmth. Excitement. Joy. Jesus, I can’t even remember the last time I felt actual joy. Triumphant maybe after closing a big deal, but never joy.
Have I been chasing the wrong things all this time?
“Or maybe you kidnapped me because you needed a new fix,” she says.
“A fix?”
“You’re a rich, powerful man,” she replies. “And as you said, you have
everything you could ever want. You could buy a Picasso. You could buy twenty girls who look like me, but where’s the fun in that?”
Christ, it’s like she can see right through me, and that’s no easy feat.
I’m about to respond when she looks up at me with a new confidence.
“So, what’s the plan, Mr. Duke? Were you just going to take me upstairs to your room and have your way with me? Don’t tell me a man like you has forgotten how to romance.”
Her sly smile leaves me breathless. “My private chef was going to make us dinner.”
“Tell him to go home,” she says. “I’m going to cook for you.”
I watch Amory as she moves about the kitchen. Never in my life did I think that I would find a woman cooking sexy—unless she was wearing a maid’s outfit or something. Still in her coveralls, Amory prepares a dish for us both as I try to get a handle on what’s happening to my life.
“Don’t tell me you clean too,” I say as she serves a risotto made with fresh Maine lobster I had brought in by messenger. “Because then I might just fall in love.”
“I do it all,” she says with an over-the-top wink. “My mom made a good woman out of me.”
“I like her already,” I say. “When can I meet her?”
“I wish you could, but she’s dead. So is my father.”
Jesus. My heart shatters. Something so terrible should never happen to someone so beautiful. My first instinct is to throw money at problems. There are very few problems that can’t solve. But this…a loss so painful it stays with you for a lifetime…money can’t fix that.
I want to know what happened, but I don’t want her hurting, so I table that conversation for another time and taste her dish.
“Good?” she asks.
“Perfection,” I reply. It really is. Not only could she be a model or an actress, but she could also be a chef at any of the Michelin-starred restaurants I frequent in town. “Like you.”
“Stop,” she hums. “You don’t have to try that hard.”
“I’m just being honest.”
And it feels good.
“You’re not the man I expected,” she muses, twisting her fork in her fingers. Normally, I don’t like when people analyze me. But I’m actually dying to know what she has to say.
“What were you expecting? Dan Bilzerian?”
“A dickhead.” She smiles.
“With hired girls in bikinis prancing around?” I suggest. “Maybe my own marijuana company? Some diamond chains?”
“The media portrays you as cold. Mysterious. With nobody close to you.”
“They’re right,” I admit. “I am cold. I try to be mysterious. That way no one can get a read on me. Makes it easier to make bold moves when they don’t see you coming.”
“And the last one?” she asks. “Why is there no Mrs. Duke in your life?”
Jesus, she doesn’t waste any time getting right down to it, does she? I suddenly realize I haven’t given the Picasso a second thought. I haven’t checked my phone for texts or e-mails, and I’m not thinking about the big deal I have tomorrow.
Amory’s eyes are like a window to another life. She could be the one to warm me, to save me, to pull me back from a life that was growing harder and harder to live. A life where each new thrill had to be bigger than the last. A life that was surely going to end in me going out in a blaze of glory.
But now I see that there’s another path. The only question is; am I too far gone to take it?
“There could be now.”
4
Amory
Wow. I’m falling in love with the one guy in the world you should not fall in love with.
Cold. Mysterious. A total playboy. If my mom was alive, she’d be telling me to run for the hills.
I’d tell her that there’s more to this man than meets the eye, and she’d tell me I’m crazy. “That’s what all the girls say, Amory.” But I’d ignore her. This man is more than what I’ve read online. More than his public persona. More than he even thinks he is. And I know it. This man, the billionaire thief, has stolen my heart.
He’s staring at me, making my whole body tingle. The attraction between us is undeniable. It’s electric. I can practically feel it in the air, and when he slides his stool right up beside me, I almost fall out of mine.
“Tell me more about your painting.” As he speaks, he slides a gentle finger up the inside of my thigh. The thick coverall material may still be there, but it does nothing to shield me from the intensity of his touch. I’m still unzipped up top, and my nipples have been hard since I started cooking. But now, something else is going on between my thighs. My body is readying itself for him.
“Um…” I search for the words. “I paint portraits mostly. Not realist but not quite as abstract as your buddy Picasso there…”
“I’d love to see some sometime. Do you have an Instagram you post them on?”
“No.” I shake my head. His finger moves up, closer to my center of warmth. The electricity in the air has gone right through me. “I guess…I guess I’m just nervous. What if people don’t like my work?”
“You can’t let that hold you back, Amory.”
“I know, but…”
“But nothing,” he tells me. The strength in his voice leaps from his chest to mine. “As an artist, you need to share your work with the world. Everyone will have their detractors, but you just ignore them and move on. Do what you love.”
“Maybe…maybe after I keep painting, if you like them, then I’ll start showing them to the world,” I say, thinking out loud. “Maybe I’ll even paint you—”
“Shit!” Zander’s curse shakes me. He rises quickly from his chair and turns his back on me. Holding a hand to his brow, he shakes his head. Did I just do something wrong?
“I—I’m sorry,” I stammer. It’s the only thing I can think of saying.
“No, it’s not you,” he grumbles. He turns to face me and…almost looks like he’s mad at me. “I mean, it is, but not in the way you think.”
“I…don’t understand…”
“I don’t do this, Amory,” he explains. The tone of his voice breaks my heart. This is a man who has everything, but I can see now that he’s missing the most important thing of all. Real love. “I don’t let people get close to me, especially women.”
“I’m sorry,” I reply. No. That was the wrong thing to say.
“No, don’t say that!” His voice is raised. He’s angry, but not at me. At himself. “It’s my fault. This whole thing is my fault and you—”
Suddenly, there’s a loud knock at the door. Heavy. Almost threatening. But Zander doesn’t even flinch. Instead, he takes a deep breath and slowly shakes his head. “Of all the fucking times…”
“Do you want me to go—?”
“No,” he replies firmly. “Stay here, sweetie. I will deal with this.”
Zander strides from the kitchen and I start to tidy up dinner. I hear a male’s voice from the foyer and even though I’m not trying to be a snoop, it’s impossible not to hear bits and pieces of the conversation.
“Had a little something happen over at the Met tonight, Zander.” Whoever this man is, he’s confident, goading. My guess is he’s with law enforcement.
“That right? Catch some punks doing graffiti again, Detective?”
Detective. I was right.
“Somebody tried to steal a Picasso. Lost it on the way out somehow though. Left it sitting in the hallway. A security guard found it and called it in.”
“That’s real interesting, Detective, but if you don’t mind—”
“I looked at the job – the guy came in through a skylight and went out the same way, and the whole time I’m thinking to myself, This feels like Zander Duke.”
“Detective—”
“Now it was sloppier than your jobs,” the detective continues. “Pulley broke. Found the rope beside the painting. Guy’s lucky to have not fallen and broken his neck. But I couldn’t still help but feel like I was loo
king at your work.”
I can’t help it. I inch around the kitchen island and peek through the door to see the detective, tall, with red hair, wearing a long beige trench coat, almost smiling at Zander.
“Listen, Childers,” Zander says. “I know you’ve got this fantasy in your head that I’m some billionaire-by-day, art-thief-by-night, but I’m just a businessman. I’m flattered that you have this opinion of me, but—”
“Don’t screw with me, Duke,” Childers says, continuing to smile. “You’re getting sloppy. One of these days, you’re going to take a wrong step and you’re going to fall. And when you look up, I’m going to be standing right there over you.”
Zander doesn’t respond. He stands there stony as Detective Childers holds his gaze, then turns and walks out the door. I quickly go back to what I was doing at the sink.
“Son of a bitch,” Zander mutters as he comes back into the room. “Sorry about that. Prick’s got a real hard-on for me.”
“It’s okay, I was just cleaning up—”
I’m silenced by a kiss. My first kiss.
My body blossoms like a flower coming into bloom. The electric feeling quadruples and sends shivers from my toes through my spine to my ears, which begin to burn with excitement.
Wow. So this is what it’s like to get physical with someone.
And boy, is Zander physical.
In an instant, my coveralls are down at my waist. With a single hand, he slides my sports bra up and exposes my breasts to him again. This time, there’s no hesitation. He leans right in and kisses my nipples like they’re sweet little candies. My mouth falls open and I collapse into his arms.
They’re strong. He catches me with ease and spins me like we’re dancing, then hoists me onto the kitchen island and lays me on my back before him. When I look up, the desire in his face is unmistakable. I’ve thought about losing my virginity many times before—every girl has. But none of my fantasies ever came close to this moment.
