Cherry Popper

by Victoria Quinn

  “Tell him I’ll be right there.” I finished what I was working on and then put my computer to sleep before I grabbed my coat and walked to my assistant’s desk outside in the main lobby. Since I worked in fashion, we were more laid-back around the office, wearing cute outfits rather than pantsuits and jackets. Today I wore a red dress with a jean jacket and flats. My hair was curled and pulled back into a ponytail. When I rounded the corner and saw him, perfectly filling out his suit with a face so handsome he should be a model for the company, I suddenly felt ugly in what I was wearing.

  I walked up to him, feeling the muscles tighten in my chest when I remembered how his come tasted in my mouth. I’d only caught a little bit of it because most of it went straight into my throat, but it was potent enough to leave a lingering effect. When I stopped in front of him, I felt my stomach drop into the bottom part of my body, a weight of nervousness hitting me. I forced a smile. “Where did you have in mind?”

  “Ladies’ choice.” He walked with me out of the office, keeping space between us like we were colleagues. We took the elevator down to the bottom floor and then walked out onto the sidewalk, joining the thousands of other people on the hunt for lunch.

  “Well, I could eat anything. I’m not picky. You’re the one who won’t eat carbs, so you tell me.”

  He chuckled slightly. “There’s this little café I like. It’s right over here. They’ve got great salads.”

  I stuck out my tongue. “I’m not eating a salad for lunch.” I was starving most of the time, so I wanted real food.

  “They have sandwiches and pasta too.”

  “Oh…then I’m in.”

  We walked inside, ordered our food, and then took a seat. Slate paid for me without giving me the opportunity to even grab my wallet.

  The first few times he’d paid, it didn’t seem like a big deal. But if we were going to be spending more time together, it didn’t seem right to let him pay all the time. Even if I overdrafted my account, it was better than mooching off of him. “I get the next one, alright?”

  “No.” He stabbed his fork into his kale salad with chicken and walnuts.

  “No?” I challenged. “I’m not one of your employees. I’m a person.”

  “You see the way I talk to my employees—and that’s not how. And the answer is still no.”

  “If we’re going to keep spending time together, I don’t think it’s fair that you—”

  He leaned forward as he looked me in the eye. “No means no. It’s nothing against you. It just makes me very uncomfortable when people pay for my things.”

  “Why?”

  “Does it matter why?” He took a bite of his salad.

  “I’m getting to know you, so yes. It does matter.”

  “Alright.” He finished chewing before he gave his answer. “I’m a very wealthy man who’s never had to live on a budget. Seeing someone less fortunate than I am buy my food…doesn’t sit right with me. I’m not being a gentleman. I just…don’t like it.”

  “So if I were richer than you, you wouldn’t mind?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve never met someone richer than me.”

  Both of my eyebrows shot up. “How rich are you?”

  “I just mean, I haven’t gone out to eat with someone wealthier who then offered to buy my food.” He kept eating, enjoying his low-carb, low-fat salad.

  I got a foot-long pastrami sandwich. I was used to being broke all the time, so anytime I ate, I ate as much as possible. It was a bad habit. “So if I ever become richer than you, you’d let me buy your food?”

  He grinned at the thought. “Maybe not…”

  “So you are a gentleman.”

  “No. I just like you.” His phone vibrated in his pocket, so he checked the screen before he put it back.

  I smiled at the comment. “You like me?”

  “I don’t think I would go through all this trouble to fuck you if I didn’t.”

  “What do you like about me?” I set my sandwich down and watched him, seeing the way his brown eyes darkened when he considered his answer. Now that the pressure of putting out was off the table, I felt like I could be myself, see him as a person rather than a predator.

  “Is this grade school?”

  “I’m just curious.”

  “If I answer your question, you have to answer the same.”

  “Why I like myself?” I asked blankly.

  “Why you like me. We’ve got a deal?”

  “Sure.”

  “Alright.” He took a few more bites of his salad before he spoke. “You’re beautiful, for one. That’s the first thought that popped into my head when you walked into my office, uninvited.”

  “You thought I was pretty? You looked like you wanted to murder me.”

  He pointed to his face. “That’s just how I look. I look pissed all the time.”

  “Trust me, you do not. You’re smiling right now.”

  “Well, that’s because you’re giving me a reason to. Now I have more reasons. Do you want to hear them?”

  “Yes.”

  “Alright,” he said. “I like that you’re selfless. You did the best thing for your mom regardless of the consequences. That’s pretty damn noble.”

  My smile disappeared when I thought of my mother, who’d been gone for over a year now.

  He continued. “You’re a hard worker. You worked your ass off to survive in Manhattan. Regardless of your financial situation, you’re an executive with an assistant at a big company. That’s not easy to pull off.”

  I never thought about it that way.

  “And the last reason is because you didn’t give it up to guys who didn’t deserve it. If you put out too soon, you would have regretted it. But you waited long enough to find out if the guys were worthy—which they weren’t. Also noble.”

  “You said waiting was pointless.”

  “I still believe that. But unlike everyone else in the world, you think your virginity actually means something. So you want to give it to the right person. That innocence is naïve, but also endearing. And that makes me want to take it from you…because it’s so valuable. I understand that makes me an asshole, but that’s what I’m into. I like being a woman’s first memory of sex. I like knowing she’ll never forget me.”

  It did make him a bit of an asshole, but at least he was honest about it.

  “Why do you like me?” he asked. “I suspect this list will be shorter than mine.”

  “Well, the most obvious reason…you’re gorgeous.” I could barely look him in the eye as I said it, especially when he grinned like he got his favorite toy on Christmas morning. “You’ve got those masculine features in your face…that jawline…and then everything under your clothes is nice too. And that dick…not sure how I’m gonna take that.”

  His smile dropped within the snap of a finger, and the same dark expression he’d shown in the office returned. Now he turned intense, his eyes focused on me with such concentration that he didn’t even blink. “You will take it, sweetheart.”

  I felt the steam come out of my ears, and the heat grow under the collar of my jacket. He could be playful one moment and then turn into the intense man who longed to fuck me in the next. “Anyway…I liked how sincere you seemed when I told you what happened to my parents. You have a heart under all that hostility. I know it’s there even if you try to hide it. I think you’re a good kisser. And I like that you’re honest, even if it doesn’t paint you in the best light. Honesty is so rare these days that it practically doesn’t exist. But with you…I never have to wonder how you feel about something. No matter how terrible your opinion is, you’ll say it out loud.” I grabbed my sandwich again. “That’s about it…”

  “I was hoping you would like me because I buy you food.”

  I chuckled. “It doesn’t hurt…but that’s not why I like you.”

  We ate in comfortable silence, stealing glances at each other across the table. His mind seemed to be racing behind his eyes, because he eventually sa
id, “Has a man ever gone down on you before?”

  I felt the heat creep up my neck. “Why do you ask?”

  “You seemed to enjoy it.”

  “Is there a woman in the world who doesn’t enjoy that?”

  “Answer the question.”

  I was embarrassed to comply. “No…”

  “That was your first time?”

  “Yes.”

  Most of his salad had been eaten, so he set his fork on his tray and put his entire focus on me. “I’m surprised. You have a nice pussy.”

  “Thanks…you have a nice dick.”

  “I think they’ll go well together.”

  I wasn’t so sure about that part. He was so thick and long that it probably would hurt the entire time. We would have to do it at least a dozen times before I could actually enjoy it, but since he only screwed virgins, that didn’t seem possible. “So, what can you tell me about your family?”

  “My father died about ten years ago. Heart attack.”

  “Oh…I’m sorry.”

  He didn’t seem too sad about it. “My mom is still around. She’s a socialite in the city.”

  “Socialite?” I asked, having no idea what that meant.

  “She’s a rich person who hangs with the popular crowd, basically.”

  “Is she rich because you’re rich? Or was she rich before?”

  “I come from a wealthy family,” he admitted. “My father started the company I own now. It was much smaller at the time, but my brother and I turned it into the behemoth it is today. Now we have luxury hotels all over the world with top-of-the-line service. My father was successful but small-minded. I transformed it into something better.”

  “I heard that you and your brother have bad blood.”

  “Don’t believe everything you read,” he said. “But yes, that’s true.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  He shrugged and didn’t elaborate. “We keep it professional.”

  “But you don’t have a relationship outside of work?”

  “Not at all.”

  “What about the holidays?”

  “We get together for my mom. But that’s it. Once she’s gone, we’ll stop the charade.”

  I couldn’t imagine hating a family member. “What happened?”

  He shook his head like he wasn’t going to answer. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “We’re getting to know one another. You think I’m going to judge you?”

  “No. I just don’t want to talk about it.” He held my gaze with ferocity, like he dared me to ask him again.

  I didn’t. “So you took over the family business the second you were an adult?”

  “No. I took a few years off and traveled across Europe.”

  “Ooh…that sounds fascinating.”

  “Yes, I had a good time. I returned to the States a couple years later, took over the company with Coen, and then my father dropped dead from a heart attack. Now it’s been almost a decade and so much has changed.”

  “Yeah…I can only imagine. How’s your mother?”

  “She’s good. Had a few boyfriends but I chased them off.”

  “Why would you chase them off?” I asked with a laugh.

  “They weren’t good enough for her. They only wanted her for her money. I really dig into the guys that show interest in my mom to make sure they’re being genuine.”

  “That’s sweet…”

  “I hope she meets a good guy eventually. I want her to have a companion. My father died young, but she’s got a long way to go.”

  “When the time is right, I’m sure it’ll happen.”

  “Maybe,” he said noncommittally. “So, I’m guessing you want the house, kids, and the white picket fence.”

  “You say it like it’s a bad thing.”

  “No. It was just a question.”

  “But your tone was pretty stern there.”

  He shrugged. “You know I’m not a fan of monogamy.”

  “Well, yes. I do want all those things—minus the picket fence. Those are a bit out of style.”

  He chuckled. “True.”

  “I was thinking of a townhouse in the city. Something big enough for the kids to run around in, something close to the good schools, and something reasonably close to work. But with my debt following me everywhere I go, that may never happen.”

  “A real man isn’t going to care about that.”

  “I would,” I argued. “If a guy told me he was $600,000 in debt, I’d run.”

  “But you’re a woman, so it’s different.”

  “How so?”

  “The man is supposed to take care of the woman, not the other way around. If he was stupid enough to get stuck in that situation, then he doesn’t have the qualifications to be a good partner anyway.”

  Both of my eyebrows arched as I was deeply offended by what he said.

  It took him a second to understand my reaction. “That’s not what I meant. Don’t take it out of context.”

  “Why else would he be $600,000 in debt?”

  “Gambling. Most men get into debt from gambling, not student loans. It’s a sad statistic, but true nevertheless. I don’t think getting an education should ever be a mistake. Something needs to be done about the problem because we have a lot of young people who want to better themselves, but now it’s impossible to do that. It’s a scary thought, because we need working professionals in our lives.”

  “True.”

  “I don’t think you’re stupid,” he repeated. “That came out wrong.”

  I knew he wouldn’t lie to me, so I let it be. “Since you bought me lunch, I’ll let you off the hook.”

  He smiled. “That’s a fair trade.”

  I pulled out my phone and looked at the time. “I should get back to work. I’ve got a lot of stuff to do today.”

  “Alright.” He left the booth and carried the trays to the garbage can. Then he walked with me outside. “Would you like to come to my place for dinner tonight? I’m making chicken Marsala.”

  “A home-cooked meal?” I asked, immediately enticed.

  “Is that a yes?”

  I told him I didn’t want my first time to be in that hotel room where all the other women lost their V-cards. We decided to do it at his place instead, and knowing we would be alone together over dinner made me feel the pressure.

  He must have detected my unease. “Until you explicitly tell me you’re ready, I won’t try to make it happen.”

  That was a relief. I’d thought I would have to keep my guard up the entire time. Having lunch with him was so nice because there were no expectations. We couldn’t sneak off into the bathroom and hook up. “Then I’d love to.”

  “Great. And just to clarify, even though we won’t be having sex tonight, that doesn’t mean I won’t be all over you. Because I will be all over you.”

  11

  Slate

  IT WAS the first time I’d had a woman at my apartment.

  This penthouse was my safe haven, the place I retreated to avoid people and bullshit.

  But I wanted to spend time with her, and I didn’t always want to do that in public. She didn’t want to go to the hotel, and if she was that uncomfortable, I wasn’t going to force it.

  By the time I had dinner ready, she’d ridden the elevator to my floor and stepped inside the large living room that could easily fit twenty guests comfortably. She looked around like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing and then walked up to me. “Your living room is bigger than my entire apartment.”

  I didn’t find her financial situation funny, so I didn’t respond. “I hope you’re hungry.” Sometimes when I first greeted her, I was tempted to kiss her like a lover, but I never did because it seemed inappropriate. She wasn’t my girlfriend, so I shouldn’t treat her like she was. When we started fooling around, my mouth would be all over her. But when I greeted her at the door, it felt misleading to kiss her, especially when she was just a friend.

  “Always.�
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  I put the plates on the table, along with a bottle of red wine. I poured the glasses then sat across from her. The dining table was in the corner of the space, so it had glass walls on either side, revealing a breathtaking view of the city by night. All you could see were endless white lights from the buildings and red taillights from the traffic down on the roads.

  She cut into her chicken and took a bite. “Wow, this is good.”

  “Why do you seem so surprised?”

  “I figured you had a maid cook for you.”

  “No. I have a maid take care of the house when I’m at work. But I prepare my own meals.”

  “That’s interesting.”

  “Why?”

  She shrugged. “You’re so busy that the last thing you probably want to do is cook.”

  “I’d rather cook than have someone in my apartment while I’m here. I’m not a people person.”

  “Not a people person?” She wore jeans and a blouse, her first outfit that wasn’t a dress or skirt. Her hair was curled around her shoulders, and she looked energetic, like she hadn’t been at work all day. “What does that mean?”

  “Exactly as it sounds. I don’t like people.”

  “Like, all people?” she asked, still eating. “You work in hospitality, so how is that possible?”

  “I know how people want to be treated. But that doesn’t mean I want to be the one to treat them that way.”

  Instead of calling me bitter and sad, she just accepted it. “Any particular reason why?”

  “I think people are terrible—as a species.”

  “Are you including yourself in this?”

  “Definitely.” I was one of the biggest assholes I’d ever met.

  “I think people can be evil, but I think people can be good too. You shouldn’t focus on only the evil and forget about the good entirely.”

  I lived at the top of the food chain, so I knew how the real world worked. I knew that corporations purposely misled people for financial gain, that all people cared about was making money, even at the expense of human life. I saw how the wealthy treated the middle class like they were dogs. I saw the way my own brother slept with my girlfriend behind my back and never had the balls to tell me about it. He was my own flesh and blood, my family, but pussy was more important than loyalty. “The whole reason you’re stuck in this loan nightmare is because rich people just want to make money off you. They want young people to make these mistakes, so they can profit off you the second you graduate college. Then you can’t afford to buy property, so you rent somewhere, but then the rent keeps on increasing because they know you’ll sacrifice more and more just to have a place to live. The world is full of terrible people who will trample anyone in their way on the path to the top.”