by Ella Brooke
Oh no, things just got ten times more awkward. He thinks I want to play a sex game.
“No, Nathaniel. This isn’t a game—I really am a virgin.”
He backs away from me a little but doesn’t break my gaze. “Wow, you are serious?”
I nod and swallow the lump that’s risen in my throat. “But I want to do this. It’s definitely time I… matured… in that way.”
His jaw flexes as he lets out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know, Poppy. This might cause a lot of—”
I cut him off and reach over to cup his face in my hands. “Please. I want you to be the one who does it—someone mature, intelligent, and artistic. Please?”
After what feels like an eternity, but could’ve only been a minute at most, Nathaniel finally speaks again. “Leave your shoes on,” he says, with a devilish grin. “I’ve been picturing myself fucking you while you wore nothing but those all day.”
I freeze. “Y-you have?” I manage.
“Just one of many fantasies, Poppy.”
I try to think of something to say, but totally lose my train of thought when he pushes me back onto the lounge and bends his head down to resume touching me. He slides my panties down to where my skirt is pooled around my feet, and I quickly kick both garments aside. He claims one tender, aching nipple with his mouth. He gives it one long, hard suck, and I cry out again, thrashing my head, almost unable to take how intense the sensation is; the perfect mix of pleasure and pain.
And then he does it again, and again, and then his teeth gently clamp down onto my nipple, and when he starts nibbling me, all I can do is plead for more.
His hands are on my hips, holding me where he wants me as he tortures my breasts with his mouth. All too soon, my breasts are swollen and tender, aching and heavy from the things he’s done to them, and he’s still not done. He’s savoring one nipple, and my head is back, taking in every bit of the pleasure he’s giving me, when I feel him cup my pussy in one big, warm hand. I buck against his hand, and he hums in appreciation.
“So fucking wet for me, Poppy,” he murmurs. “Soaking wet, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I manage, just as his fingers find my clit. He presses a finger to it, and I gasp. He rubs circles over and around it, and I swear I’m going to lose my mind. I’m so close to coming, the need to come so intense that I’m practically on the verge of tears.
I’m thrusting my hips toward his hand, and he lowers his mouth to my breast again. One thick, long finger slides into me, and I scream as my first orgasm hits. It seems to go on forever, and Nathaniel is clearly not done. He starts pumping his finger into me, hard and fast, and I’m almost ashamed to find myself riding his hand, chasing another orgasm.
Just as I’m about to come, Nathaniel stops. He straightens, then gently pushes me back on the chaise lounge. We’re at the end where there’s an arm, which slopes down to the seat with a plush gray velvet cushion. He settles me the way he wants me, my pussy up in the air, exposed to the cool air of the gallery, my thighs spread open, one thrown over the back of the chaise, the other foot resting on the floor. He steps back, looking at me. I’m blushing. I've never, ever had a man look at me like this. It feels dirty, naughty to be doing this in this place, with him looking at me like he’s about to fuck me so hard I’ll forget my own name.
“Please,” I beg.
“Please what, Poppy? Please fuck you?”
I nod, and he smiles.
“Soon. There’s something else I need to do first.”
I’m about to ask what that is, when he lowers himself to his knees between my thighs.
“Oh my God,” I whimper, and then I feel his tongue tracing my slit. I moan and then scream as he slowly, firmly licks my clit. He does it again and again, and I feel that orgasm building again. My hands find my breasts, and I can’t help pulling and tweaking my nipples as he devours me. So close. So close… and when he slides two fingers into me as he uses his tongue on me, I fall apart, screaming his name, my orgasm so strong I swear I can’t see for a moment. My orgasm ends, but he’s still there, doing evil, delicious things with his tongue, and when he sucks my clit into his mouth, I can’t take it anymore. I try to push at his head.
“It’s too much. I can’t… please,” I beg. He gives my clit another couple of long, slow, intense sucks, then pulls back. He gets to his feet and looks down at me, spread open for him.
“You taste so damn good, Poppy,” he says. And then he pulls me up and lowers his lips to mine. I can taste myself on his lips, on his tongue, and it’s the sexiest, most erotic thing I’ve ever experienced. “I could spend all night with my face between your thighs, making you scream for me,” he murmurs against my lips. I whimper, and he deepens our kiss as his hands trail down my body, over my back, to my ass. He grips my ass in his hands, pulling me toward him. I can feel his erection pressing into my belly, and I moan. He’s massaging my ass cheeks, his fingers getting dangerously close to touching me where no one else ever has.
I press myself closer to him, and he groans. He pulls back, then pulls something out of his pocket. I recognize the foil packet immediately, and my pussy throbs in response. He’s not done with me yet. My body is so sensitized, so tender from what he’s already done to me, but I’ve never wanted anything so badly in my life.
He unbuttons his pants and unzips his fly, and I realize he’s going to fuck me while he’s still fully dressed, suit, tie, and all, and somehow that makes this all the more erotic. His cock springs free, and I moan. It’s long, thick, and I know he’s going to fill me completely. I watch as he rolls the condom onto his cock, and then he turns me around and bends me over the arm of the chaise. I grip the cushion and wait.
“So wet again, Poppy,” he murmurs. “Are you never satisfied?” he asks, and there’s a hint of humor in his dark voice. “Look at you. You’re dripping for me.”
I bury my face in the cushion of the chaise lounge, mortified, and more turned on than I’ve ever been in my life. No one has ever talked to me this way.
“So needy,” he murmurs. “So ready to please me. Aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I whisper. His hands are on my ass again, massaging, spreading me, and the thought that he’s looking at me, that he’s seen every part of my body this intimately, briefly has me wondering how I’ll face him when this is over.
He gives my ass a not-so-gentle pat, and I moan for what seems like the fiftieth time.
“Now, just relax,” he murmurs. And then his hands are on my hips, and before I can think of anything else, he enters pushes himself into me. I cry out as he stretches me, fills me so full I swear I’m about to split. The pain is sharp at first but then starts to recede.
“That’s it. Take it all, darling,” he purrs, and a moment later, I feel his balls pressing against my clit as my body tries to accommodate him.
I have a momentary flash, a twisted memory, of seeing my father fucking his secretary just like this, her bent over his desk, and it hits me, that it’s happening all over again—the older, more powerful man rutting the younger woman like an animal.
And then Nathaniel starts to pound into me harder, and it falls away, buried under my need for him.
“Oh God oh God oh God” is all I can manage as he slowly pulls out and then slips back into me, and I scream. “Again. Please do it again,” I beg, and he does, thrusting into me over and over again, giving me exactly what I’ve needed since the moment I first laid eyes on him. He’s holding my hips so firmly I wonder if he’ll leave bruises, and deflowering my sensitive, aching pussy as if he’s lost his mind, grunting with exertion and desire.
And then he starts taking me faster still, hammering into me, and he puts his hands on my shoulders and presses me down firmer, holding me in place as he takes me. This sense of being dominated, of being used, has me coming so hard I can feel my own juices wetting my thighs.
“That’s it, my little virgin. Come all over my cock,” he growls, and then I’m coming again, as if all he had to do is command
it and it would be so. When I come down again, he turns me over and reenters me. Now I’m looking up at him, my hips tilted up toward him, and he’s so deep in me that I know no man—definitely no man my own age—will ever be able to satisfy me this way again.
He’s ruined me. One good, dirty, naughty, cherry-popping fuck and I know no one will ever compare to him.
His eyes are on mine, and he starts thrusting harder, faster, his hands gripping my breasts. He’s pounding into me mercilessly, and all I can do is hold on and take every mind-blowing second.
When he comes, he comes shouting my name, his voice hoarse with need and exertion.
When he’s finally spent, he pulls out of me, steps away, and takes off the condom, wrapping it in tissue and throwing it away. I stand up, feeling like I’ve just woken from a dream. I glance at him, and he’s looking at me, his gaze still hot, still possessive and hungry.
“You’re gorgeous,” he murmurs.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” I say shakily, glancing away. I start pulling my clothes on, wondering how the hell I’m supposed to work with him now. Smart girl. Not only did you fuck your boss but you also lost your V-card to him. That’ll gain you all kinds of respect.
And yet, I also know that I don’t regret it. If anything, Nathaniel has lifted the lid on a sexual power I never even knew I had. Plus, he’s given me masturbatory memories for the next several years, at least.
I finish buttoning my top, and then I force myself to look up at him. He’s watching me, a serious look on his face.
“So, we did it. I’ve wanted to do that since we met. I thought, maybe, this would get that out of my system—that a good fuck would solve everything. And it was a very, very good fuck,” he says, and I blush.
“It was.”
“The thing is, I’m not done with you, Poppy. And you telling me that you were a virgin only made my desire for you more desperate. I want you even more now than I did before I knew how good you tasted, how responsive you are, how fucking good it feels to be inside you.”
“Nathaniel,” I murmur. I press my thighs together. How does he do that? Make me so ready with nothing more than a word?
“I have a proposition for you,” he says quietly, and I look up at him.
“What is it?”
“Unpaid internships suck. You’re talented and quick. I think I should pay you. And I think I should pay you what an entry-level curator would make here, which is a significant amount.”
He says a number that has my head spinning.
“Um… thank you?” I did not know sleeping one’s way to the top was this easy. If I had, I would have tried it before now, maybe.
“Yes. With one condition.”
I pause and take a deep breath. “What is that?”
“You will be my lover. You’ll come to me when I want, how I want.”
My mouth drops. “There’s a word for paying someone to fuck you.”
“Yes, there is. But I’m paying you to help run the gallery and organize shows. A side requirement of your employment, which we shall keep between the two of us, by the way, is that I have access to that sweet little body of yours whenever I want it. That when I tell you to bend over, you do it happily, and when I call you and tell you to come to me, you come willingly and punctually. I’m not satisfied. It’ll be a long time spent between your thighs before I’ve had enough.”
“I…” I glance away. He’s offering me a hell of a lot of money. And I know I’d open my legs for him in a second if he asked me to. But this combination of commerce and sex… my stomach twists. Despite what he’s trying to say, there is a word for that, and it’s not “curator.”
“I need to think about it,” I say, my voice going quieter. I glance up at him, and he’s still watching me.
He nods. “Okay. That’s fine. Monday, then.”
“All right. Um. I should get going.”
Before I can even get my jacket back on and hunt down my bag, Nathaniel has called me a cab, and we wait together in awkward, post-multi-orgasm silence for it to arrive. When it does, he walks me out, opens the door, and pays the cabbie to take me home. He gives me a quick nod, a hint of a smile, and then he closes the taxi door behind me and walks back into the gallery.
I give the cabbie my address and settle back into the seat.
What the hell am I doing? My body still aches from the way he used me, reminding me how good it felt and how out of control he made me feel. And now he wants to pay me a huge salary for the next month and a half, as long as I’m his lover, too. I know this is shady as hell. I know it’s wrong. After all, I was still a virgin up until a few minutes ago.
But I still want it. And I need to figure out exactly what I’m going to do about that.
Chapter Eight
Nathaniel
I spent all weekend either reliving every second I’d spent with Poppy in my gallery or glaring at my phone, making sure I hadn’t missed a message or a text from her. The fact that the little doe was a virgin only has me more eager to claim her again. And again.
At my age, I’d definitely thought my deflowering days were over, and that I would never have the good fortune of being with a woman so young and beautiful… but then fate blew Poppy into my life. Before our erotic moment at the gallery, there was only one other person I’d told about my rough childhood. And that was Danneel.
My parents were poor and from the wrong side of the tracks. My father was a laborer by day and a drunk by night. My mother had a string of jobs that came and went, but nothing that stuck. She couldn’t handle authority—people telling her what to do, especially if they were male. I suppose, she got enough flack of my father, and there isn’t a day that I don’t remember the bruises on her face most mornings. The strange this was, even with such imperfections, she was still so beautiful. As beautiful as the canvas that I showed Poppy at the gallery.
Poppy—my mind wanders back to her and my proposition. I know I told her Monday was fine. Part of me, maybe a cocky part, assumed she’d come back with an enthusiastic yes before that.
I mean, she’d be making more money over the next few weeks than most people her age. And despite me being her first lover, based on how she’d responded to me, I didn’t think that spending those weeks as my lover would be a hardship.
I glance at the time on my phone. She’s ten minutes late.
Roberto comes out of his office, holding his own phone. “The intern called in sick,” he tells me, shoving his phone back in his pocket.
“She did?”
He nods.
“You talked to her?”
He glances at me. “Obviously, man. She said she has food poisoning and she can’t come in. She’s hoping to be in tomorrow, and she apologizes for being out.”
He walks off, and I find myself staring off into space. My gut twists.
She’s avoiding me.
If she doesn’t want to accept my deal, all she has to do is tell me so.
“I’ll be back in a bit,” I call out to Roberto, and then I make my way out to the parking lot. I double-check her address on my phone, and then I’m doing something I’ve never done in my life.
I can’t believe I’m doing this.
I must be out of my goddamn mind.
But lying and avoiding me is not okay, and if she wants to turn me down, I want to get that over with now, not later—whenever she decides to come back to work.
Fuck. If that’s the case, I can avoid her for the next few weeks. Roberto can work with her.
As much as I want to believe that it was a mistake to have sex with her, and offer her what I did, I can’t regret it.
A while later, I pull into a parking spot in front of a big, nondescript brick apartment building. This neighborhood is not the greatest—definitely not the kind of area where you want to be walking alone at night. I glance around, then go inside and take the elevator up to the sixth floor. Poppy’s apartment is at the end of the hall, and I take a deep, steadying breath before I knock.<
br />
A moment later, the door opens, and I’m face-to-face with Bruce. My driver. Her father.
“Fancy seeing you here, boss!” Bruce says heartily, and I give him what I hope is a relaxed smile. “I was just checking on my girl. Poor kid. Never, ever get seafood pizza,” he says, shaking his head, and I feel the knot in my stomach unwind, just a little.
“How’s she feeling?” I ask.
“Pretty rough,” Bruce says. “You here to check on her too?”
“Roberto told me she called in sick, and she seems like the type who’d try to come to work even if she was in a full body cast, so I figured it had to be bad,” I say, managing to get the half-truth out smoothly, but unable to meet Bruce’s eyes. This man has worked for me for a few years now. He’s a good man.
And I’ve fucked his virgin daughter, and I’m determined to fuck her many, many more times in the future.
Awkward doesn’t begin to describe it.
Bruce laughs. “Right you are, boss,” he says. “If she weren’t weak as a kitten, she would have dragged her sorry self in today.” He glances at his watch. “I better go, or I’ll be late. Don’t want the bossman reaming me out,” he says with a cheerful wink, and then he’s gone.
I take another breath and walk into Poppy’s apartment. Just as I go in, she’s walking into the living room, pulling a big pink robe tightly around her body. Her hair is tousled, and she’s pale. Dark circles under her eyes. When she sees me, her eyes widen.
“What are you doing here?” she asks. She quickly runs her hands through her hair as if trying to straighten it out a bit.
“Hi,” I say with a smile.
“Oh, sorry, hi. But really, what are you doing here?”
I laugh. “Roberto said you were sick, and I wanted to check on you.”
She tilts her head, studying me. “Pretty sexy, huh?” she asks with an eye roll. She pulls her robe tighter again.
“You always look sexy,” I tell her.
“Hm. You wanted to check on me. Or you maybe thought I was avoiding you after what happened the other night.” I can tell she’s feeling awkward and self-conscious. Even being sick as a dog, she sees straight through me.