Can't Buy My Love: Billionaire and Virgin Romance Collection

by Jamie Knight

  After the part of the dream where he’s going to town on them in court like a regal lion going after his kill and ruling his jungle with an iron fist, we are in a room in a lavish castle. It’s a bedchamber with a huge king-sized bed.

  It is concealed by curtains and stuffed full of pillows. There are chairs and other pieces of furniture all around, set before big, open windows. Those windows look out over sprawling vineyards and countryside.

  But it’s here, on the bed, that Tommy makes me his totally and completely. He ties me to the posts. But he does so with me kneeling, not lying on my back.

  He’s got silken ropes around my wrists and ankles, and pillows under me, just in case I fall over. He’s got so many, that even if I don’t stay kneeling, my ass is going to be straight up in the air.

  After piling the pillows underneath me, he spreads my legs a bit, dribbles some lube he’s warmed up over my pussy and down my folds, fingering it into my hole, and massaging it along my clit.

  I grind against him as he does, moaning as he spreads my ass cheeks apart, and presses a finger inside of me. Then two. Then three.

  I rock against each finger with growing vigor giving growing pleas for more. I don’t remember exactly what I said to him at this moment, but it was something like, “More, sir. Please, sir.”

  I push myself into him in this dream, even when he gets up to a whole hand, trying to go into my pussy. I allow him to try to fill me that way. We don’t get too far in this, but he’s happy with me.

  Tommy is satisfied enough to stroke my clit while he thumbs and fingers my aching, wet pussy. I don’t remember what he says about it, other than it’s nice and pink.

  But in the dream, as it is right here and now, it’s enough to make me tremble. I strain against his touch. Except now that “touch” is the confines of my panties.

  I shift in my seat, wishing for nothing more than for Tommy to come here right now, take me into the bathroom, and take me from behind. Stuffed me full of every inch of him. To go balls deep in me, even if all we have is a bit of spit for lube.

  In my head, he’s doing exactly that.

  We’ve left the French Castle behind and settled for the bathroom. The private one made for the secretaries so that we don’t have to go far.

  Coincidentally, it’s the same one I dragged Tommy to on the very first day we met. Now we’re not fixing up his clothes. We’re fixing our naughty little problems. Tommy has a raging erection, and I have a wet, quivering pussy in need of stuffing. I also have ass cheeks in need of a hand to spank them to get me back in line.

  I sigh longingly, imagining Tommy reprimanding me in the bathroom. He’s telling me how bad I’m being by not having my mind on work and giving me a rough fuck for it.

  In my head, I imagine that I scream out, “Yes, sir! I’m such a bad, bad pet! Punish me!” but outwardly, I can do nothing but fidget.

  I fuss in my seat and notice Isabella raising her eyebrows at me.

  “You all right there, Melissa?”

  I blush and smile nervously.

  “Just great,” I say, scolding myself for being so brainless and fantasizing like that at my desk.

  “Ooookaaay,” she says, obviously not believing me.

  She gestures at my headset.

  “You’re getting a call. It’s blinking. Has been for a good thirty seconds.”

  That’s all I need to hear her say. I press the “answer” button on my earphone and do my usual spiel, though part of it is edged with my dream and my fantasy.

  The voice I hear is one I’m glad to hear, but that I wasn’t expecting to: Tommy.

  “Just seeing if I can reach you this way,” he says. “Since you’ve reached me this way before.”

  By the way he’s talking, I can tell he’s trying to go under the radar and not be noticed. Which means Vanacore must be nearby. “I wanted to make sure I could do the same.”

  He pauses. Then I hear Vanacore rattling on to a client about some business or other. She sounds just as arrogant and self-important as I imagined she would.

  “I made some progress with her. Tell you about it over lunch. Meet me downtown, at Grinelli’s Deli. I’ll be there in about an hour.”

  With that, he hangs up.

  I hang up too.

  I turn my chair and see Isabella looking curiously at me.

  “Someone thought this was a pizza place,” I say to her unspoken question.

  Isabella just shakes her head, clicks her tongue, and goes to answer her phone.

  I do the same in the next second, though this caller isn’t Tommy. The man on the line is calling for Christian, another one of our new additions. I forward the call and count down the next hour.

  Whatever progress Tommy made, it must be noteworthy. It’s enough to pull me away from the office. But it’s not the news that I’m looking forward to the most. No, it’s getting to see him with my own eyes and be near him for the first time since we parted on Friday night.

  ****

  At just a few minutes after noon, I arrive at Grinelli’s.

  I spot Tommy immediately.

  He’s sitting at one of the tables in a corner. It’s not a completely dark corner, not a completely lit one either. Menus and ice waters have already been laid out on the table, as well as silverware.

  As I take my seat next to him, I immediately feel better than I have all day. I’m more at peace than I have been all morning, though I’m still feeling a little bit horny from my fantasies. I’m a little bit hungry in that way, though I know I can’t and won’t act on them here. We made a vow of celibacy until the weekend, and I’m assuming that will hold true even here.

  “I thought we would order before I told you the good news,” says Tommy.

  He smiles, and I see confidence there. There is calculating cruelty as well, though not toward me. Though some people might see this expression as “dark” and undesirable, it’s delicious to me. It makes me shiver and turn to goo in a way that Dennis’s model-worthy poise could never invoke.

  “Sure, sir,” I say, aligning my voice and posture to flirt with him a bit.

  While he may have said we couldn’t get physical with each other, he didn’t say anything about flirting.

  “Whatever you’d like to do, we can do.”

  Covertly, I put a finger on the inside of his arm and start to trace upward.

  “I’m very good at being…accommodating,” I whisper this word, using it as an excuse to get close to his ear so I can nibble it and kiss it, just as our waitress looms near our table.

  “Good afternoon,” she says, forcing me to move away from Tommy and to put on a posture and a mask that says I’m behaving. “Have you had time to look at the menus, or do you need a few moments?”

  In all honesty, I would love nothing more than a few more moments alone with Tommy.

  But Tommy’s not going to give me what I want.

  Even if we did have alone time, he’d tease me with the fact that we already vowed to save anything like that for the weekend.

  “I think we’re ready to order,” says Tommy.

  I’m ready for you to order me around. I’m ready for you to have me as your appetizer, I think, but force those thoughts from my mind. But you’ve already told me I’ve got to be patient, so I’ve got to be a good pet for you.

  God, I love the idea of being his good pet.

  Even if it won’t get me as much punishment as I want.

  As the waitress takes Tommy’s order of spicy, Caribbean flavored chicken wings and a side salad, I want nothing more than to be able to tell him what I am fantasizing about. How badly I wanted him this morning after my dream, but I don’t know how he’ll react to it. I don’t know if he’ll want to hear about it here.

  The waitress asks me for my order before I can make a decision about whether to tell Tommy about my sexy dream and fantasies involving him or not. I give her the same order as I got last time: nachos. For a drink,
I order a rum and Coke, knowing I’m not going to get as drunk off those.

  When she’s gone, Tommy settles into his seat and says to me, “So, that good progress I was telling you about.”

  I nod.

  “I put on this big show of apologizing to Vanacore. Of apologizing for being so distant and hard to get. I told her that it was because of the mistreatment at the hands of my father and a fat camp.”

  As he says this, my stomach sours.

  “That wasn’t entirely untrue,” he says, when he sees the look on my face, “but it also wasn’t as bad as I made it sound.”

  I nod, not sure what my feelings are about any of the things I’ve just heard, but not giving myself a moment to figure it out either.

  “I gave her a big speech about how I can’t stand to get in trouble. I begged for her to give me a chance. To be gentle and slow, and she is right where I want her. Feeling sympathetic and all that.”

  I clear my throat.

  “Sounds like you really are committed to selling this then,” I say, not sure why I sound so surprised.

  It was I who gave him the idea to make it believable, after all. I just didn’t know he was going to be that good or that quick about it.

  Tommy loses a bit of his mirth as if he’s not as happy about it as he’s just appeared to be.

  “Yeah. Had to kiss her to make her believe all that stuff,” he says, looking guilty. “But my mind was on you. On doing this for you. For the company and us, so that she’s shown for what she really is, not just what she portrays.”

  He fidgets with his napkin.

  “At least I kissed you of my own volition before I kissed her out of necessity, right?”

  I put my hand in his under the table.

  “Yes.” I lean in close to him, nibbling his ear again. “Remember what I told you about things your heart is not in, honey.”

  I pause, blowing lightly into that same ear.

  “You can’t expect someone to buy something you don’t sell.”

  He moves away a bit, but only so he can look me in the eyes.

  “I know. Lawyers sell innocence and guilt all the time to judges and juries. But I don’t want to feel like I’m just giving myself away to every other girl but you.”

  “Think about it like you’re giving yourself away for me. For these other guys who are not strong enough, Tommy,” I say, kissing him in the bit of shadow and light by our table as people move in and around us, but don’t really see us.

  For a moment, we are quiet.

  Just sitting with each other.

  “So, where does it go now?” I ask.

  “Now? I keep reeling her in. I keep acting like the willing, moldable protégé she thinks I am,” answers Tommy without pause. “I keep giving her little bits and pieces of the intimacy she’s looking for, but not the whole thing. Enough to satisfy. Enough to look and act like obedience, but not enough to truly give her anything of value. At least, not until after the weekend.”

  Our drinks come by and the waitress takes them off her tray and sets them down in front of us, before she leaves to go grab our food.

  “What about getting any of it on audio or video?” I ask, slightly disturbed at how methodical I am about this — about getting dirt on a dirty, unscrupulous lawyer.

  If I hadn’t been a secretary, I might’ve made a good career out of being an undercover cop.

  Tommy smiles grimly.

  “That comes after the weekend when I give her a good and filthy reason as to why my phone’s out.” He pauses. “Promise me you won’t think any less of me, Melissa. It’s the best I could come up with, and even then, I’m afraid she might see right through it.”

  I squeeze Tommy’s hand.

  “Worry about that when you get there, honey.”

  I lower my voice and cuddle close to him.

  “For now, just get through the week. Give her your little bits and pieces, and then we’ll figure out what to do from there.”

  Tommy picks up his drink and sips from it. I’m not sure what it is, but it looks like whiskey or bourbon on ice, with nothing more.

  “I tested the link between our phones for a reason,” he says.

  My stomach drops under these words.

  “If something goes really wrong in all this, I’ll call you, but there may not be an answer. You’ll just have to listen and take down what you hear. And then go to Kane.”

  I’m about to tell him to quit scaring me. Quit talking like that, but I can’t. I don’t.

  Our food arrives in the next second, and I’m not allowed to question.

  All I can do is say, “Yes, sir,” and obey.

  So, I do, and try to eat my lunch without any thought to when or if I’ll have to go to Kane with nothing more than what I hear on the other line.

  Chapter Thirty-Five - Melissa

  After our lunch — something I’m wishing felt more like a date than it did — I’m back at the office preparing to put in another three or four hours of work before going home.

  Though it’s only Monday, I’m finding myself jumping ahead to Friday. Then Saturday, when our date is scheduled for.

  Not since I was a teenager have I felt so impatient, so ready to escape the confines of work and responsibility to enjoy a little time away. With someone special, of course.

  Isabella asks, “How was lunch?”, her words bring me out of my thoughts.

  I want to answer her, but I am not sure how. Tommy and I are trying to be covert. My mind gets caught on Tommy again. His sweet smile, his loving eyes.

  “Loving,” I breathe before I realize what I am saying.

  Isabella turns to me. “Huh?”

  I freeze, realizing I’ve just let slip something I promised I wouldn’t. Quickly, I turn to her and turn the tables on my admission.

  “Oh, nothing.” The way Isabella looks at me, I’m not sure whether she heard or not. “It’s nothing.”

  Isabella frowns. She lets her expression darken with worry and frustration.

  “Okay.”

  I just nod, turning back to my work. Back to the calendar I have opened. Next week, Kane, Ashton, and a few others are marked as being “out of the office” for a day.

  Some are marked off for two days, and I know that’s for a conference coming up where they are hoping to expand and incorporate new companies. I don’t know which companies very well, apart from the fact that they are more technology-based.

  I don’t have much time to look at the calendar after that.

  My phone pretty much rings off the hook for the next few hours.

  Each call seems to be punctuated by some kind of appearance from one of the heads of the company. Either on their way to or from the conference room, and I can’t help myself: I end up counting them. Noting a time for each, just in case Kane asks.

  The end of the day comes slowly but inevitably. Finally, it’s time for me to pack up and go home, but by the time I step out into the parking lot, it hits me that I have nothing to look forward to. No Tommy.

  While I had been maybe hoping that he’d be off work at the same time as me this afternoon, and maybe be interested in having an early dinner, he isn’t anywhere to be seen.

  Immediately, I know that Vanacore’s probably asked him to stay longer and “put in more hours” so she can get him busy with something outside of work, so, as I’m getting in my car, I decide to send him a text.

  It reads simply:

  Heading home. Call or text me if you get into trouble. Otherwise, let’s make a plan for tomorrow. Meeting for lunch or something.

  I send the text.

  I’m not expecting to get a reply, but I do get one. Not right away, but as I’m pulling into the parking lot of my condo community.

  It reads:

  I’m fine, Melissa. I’ve got this. I’ll call you when I get home. As far as lunch plans, I better not. Tell you more later. Love, Tommy.

  While I don’t li
ke hearing that my idea for lunch plans might be already out the window, I love the fact that this text is signed with “love, Tommy.”

  I don’t think even Dennis did that.

  That little thing is enough to warm my heart and take the edge of fear away from me as I leave the car and head inside.

  While I tell myself logically that I’m going to use the next few hours to get caught up on laundry and other chores, I know the truth.

  I’m going to be thinking and worrying about Tommy until he calls me and lets me know he’s truly safe.

  And that I hear from him soon.

  ****

  However “late” I thought he would stay at work, it’s early compared to when he actually calls me that night. Around ten o’clock.

  When he does call, Tommy sounds tired but pleased with himself.

  When I ask him what he and Vanacore were doing at the office so late, he says, “She was telling me her life story. Where she started out, how she got into law. Turns out she comes from a long line of professional abusers.”

  I scrunch my eyebrows together.

  “Professional…abusers?”

  I’ve never heard the term before, and I have a great dislike for it already.

  Tommy chuckles, but I don’t see anything funny.

  “That’s a bad term. I mean people who abuse their professional status,” he clarifies. “People who know how to skirt the lines of the law and get away with sustained, calculated abuse of the people under them, as well as the company they work for.”

  “You would know that, studying law so long,” I say, wandering into my kitchen and finding my favorite wine glass.

  Next, I pull out the wine bottle from the fridge I didn’t finish and pour some of it into my wine glass. The rest of it.

  “Yes, well, it gave me a lot of insight into her. She truly fits the case of the abused becomes the abuser.”

  Tommy sighs here, and I can tell he doesn’t like the reality he’s been faced with. That Vanacore is a result of what was done to her.