Cherry Popper

by Victoria Quinn

  The fork and knife were in her hands, but she stopped eating so she could stare at me. She slowly lowered her utensils, giving me a focused expression. “That’s a bleak outlook.”

  “It’s the truth. Sadly. The American dream died almost a hundred years ago.”

  “What about your family? Your dad must have had nothing when he started.”

  “No. My grandfather was the president of a banking company. He loaned my father the money to start his own hotel chain. They say the rich get richer…which is entirely true.”

  “If you’re in this elite club, why do you sound so bitter about it?”

  Everything traced back to my brother, the real source of my anger. Simone meant something to me when we were together. She stayed at my place the entire time, and it was the only relationship I’d ever had. When she screwed me over, I immediately forgot about her. I didn’t let her hurt me more than she already had. But seeing my brother still stand by her after all these years…just reminded me how he’d betrayed me in the first place. Maybe I would never get over it. “I have my reasons.”

  “Care to share?” She went back to eating.

  “Not really. I don’t want to spoil the evening.”

  “Because you haven’t already?” she asked with a laugh. “I’m the one stuck in the situation, but I’m not nearly as bitter about it as you are. You can let the weight of your grief pull you down, or you can keep going and hope things get better.”

  For most people, it never got better. “How was your day?”

  “Trying to change the subject?”

  “Unless you want me to keep ruining the evening.”

  “Even when you’re saying depressing things, you look sexy while you talk, so it’s not that bad.” She wore a playful smile as she looked down at her plate and cut into her asparagus.

  Even when I was in my worst mood, she managed to pick me up. “So, how was your day?”

  “Good. The office was crazy busy. We’re getting ready for the winter selection.”

  “Isn’t fall next?”

  “Yes, but we finished fall in spring.”

  “So you do opposite seasons?” I asked.

  “Exactly. Always ahead of the game. How was your day?”

  I had to deal with that leech Simone. My brother didn’t recognize she was a gold digger because he was balls deep in her pussy. She probably didn’t love my brother at all. She tried to pressure me into marriage, and when I wasn’t stupid enough to fall for her act, she went after my gullible brother instead.

  As if a woman like that would really love him.

  The second she owned a part of our company, she would leave him.

  Coen was a pussy and wouldn’t be able to face her in the office.

  So I would be stuck with her, dealing with a tramp while running the company.

  If he didn’t sign that prenup, I would beat him until he was at the pearly gates.

  I finally answered her. “Busy.”

  “How do you manage so many hotels all over the world?”

  “With managers,” I said. “I do administrative stuff. My brother controls the east side of the world, and I control the west. We compare numbers every quarter. We basically just count the money and make sure there are no issues going on.”

  “Do you visit your hotels often?”

  “Sometimes. I don’t travel as much as I should.”

  “Then maybe you need to start.” She ate everything on her plate, not even leaving the greens behind.

  If she really ate like this at every meal, she wouldn’t be so thin. That made me wonder if she could even afford to eat. Maybe the only meals she was eating were the ones she had with me.

  The thought made me sick.

  When we finished dinner, I left the dishes in the sink. They’d be washed the next day when the maid came, so I didn’t bother. But I brought the bottle and glasses to the table in the living room so we could keep drinking.

  “I didn’t realize you liked wine.” She sat beside me and crossed her legs. “It seems like you’re always drinking liquor.”

  “I have wine with dinner sometimes.” I took a long sip to cleanse my palate before I set the glass on the table. Now that the lights were low and her belly was full, all I could think about was my deep attraction to her, the way I longed to drag my bottom lip up her neck before I gave her a deep kiss. I wanted to press my face between those plump tits and lick the valley created by them. I wanted to smell her perfume, smell her cunt.

  She took a drink as she kept her eyes on me, becoming noticeably quiet as she waited for me to make good on my threat.

  “Put the glass down.” I wished she’d worn a dress so I could get to her pussy faster. Actually, I wished she’d arrived in nothing but a trench coat so I could enjoy her the second she walked into the room.

  She set it on the table then turned back to me.

  “Now strip.” I preferred to take this into the bedroom, but if we were on a bed, she might think I was trying to fuck her. The couch would work perfectly well for what I had in mind.

  She stilled like she might not obey. Then she slowly pulled her blouse over her head, unclasped her bra, and then stood up to unfasten her jeans.

  I wouldn’t be coming in her pussy tonight, but I’d be coming somewhere—maybe on her tits.

  She pushed her jeans to her ankles then stepped out of them. Then she worked the sexy white thong, pulling it over her hips and down her long legs. She stepped out of it and left her clothes in a pile on the floor. Beautiful from head to toe, she had the most amazing proportions. She had long legs, big tits, and a petite frame. Instead of being a marketing executive, she should be one of the models for her company.

  “I can’t wait to pop your cherry, sweetheart.” I undid the front of my jeans because now they were too snug with my thick cock. He needed more room to come alive, more room to throb with desire.

  She eyed my cock with the same longing look I gave her.

  I lifted my hips and pushed my jeans and boxers down to my thighs. Then I pulled my shirt over my head, revealing my muscled chest for her to enjoy. “Come here. I want to show you something.” I patted my thigh.

  She came toward me, her leg touching my knee.

  I grabbed her hand and yanked her on top of me, forcing her knees to separate and hug my hips. I pulled her close to me, positioning her pussy to sit right on top of my shaft.

  Her hands pressed against my chest as she breathed hard while she waited for whatever I had planned next.

  “I want to show you how good it’s going to feel.” I pulled her face to mine and kissed her as my hips started to move. I gripped her hips and guided her body in the right way, making her clit grind against my rock-hard dick. Our movements were slow because she didn’t understand what we were doing at first, but once she felt the stimulation in the right spot, she inhaled a deep breath and dug her nails into my chest. I watched her eyes light up with pleasure, watched her feel something she’d never felt before.

  She started to move with me, began to guide her body down my shaft then up again. Her breathing quickened, and she moved her lips with mine, slowly kissing me as she felt the wonderful pleasure down below.

  Her juice smeared my length, made it wet, slippery, and sticky.

  Man, I couldn’t wait to fuck her.

  Knowing she was so wet in that moment aroused me beyond belief.

  She moved a little quicker, keeping up our embrace as her clit throbbed against my big dick. Her nails expressed her enthusiasm when her kiss didn’t, and soon she was breathing hard against my mouth, like a climax was just over the horizon.

  “There you go, sweetheart.” I pushed against her and ground hard, giving her an epic push to set off an orgasm she would never forget. We’d just scratched the surface of pleasure, and it would be so much better once I was inside her. I wanted to give her something to look forward to, something to chase away her doubt. Because she and I would be incredible together.

  She locked
her arms around my neck and bucked her hips uncontrollably, her body spasming as she enjoyed the climax that made her toes curl against my thighs. A scream left her lips and washed across my face, her pleasure as audible as a ringing bell. Her nails nearly drew blood in her excitement, and her hips didn’t stop bucking until the hurricane had passed.

  Now she was just a crumpled mess in front of me, satisfied and exhausted. My dick was still hard underneath her, warm and throbbing. Her arms dropped from around my neck and she explored my chest, feeling the hard muscle underneath. A slight redness from embarrassment came into her cheeks, as if she couldn’t believe what had just happened. She lowered her gaze, the sweat gleaming on her beautiful collarbone and chest. Her fingertips continued to caress me as she sat there and recovered from the aftershocks.

  The last time I dry-humped was in high school, and I hadn’t realized how sexy it could be—with the right person. Everything was new for Monroe, including the moment I went down on her. If I’d known, I would have finished the job to make her come so hard.

  When she regained her confidence, she looked me in the eyes once more.

  That was the first climax I’d ever given her. I’d been saving it until we fucked, but since that might not happen for another month, I’d had to improvise. Training a virgin was something I’d never been interested in, but now that I was doing it, I actually liked it. It wasn’t just about popping her cherry and walking away.

  Now it was about earning it.

  She finally said something. “That was nice…”

  My hand moved into her hair and pulled it out of her face. “Something to look forward to. The real thing will be much better.”

  “I have a hard time believing that…”

  “Then take my word for it.” My hands moved to her ass, and I gripped her cheeks with my massive fingers. “Here’s another lesson for you. Never leave your partner hanging. And right now, I’m so hard I could explode—especially after watching you come like that.”

  Her fingers played with my hair, and she smiled at me. “What did you have in mind?”

  “You give damn good head…I’ll say that much.”

  She lowered her hands from my body and slowly slid to the floor, getting on her knees in between my thighs.

  It was the first blow job I’d ever received in my penthouse, right in the living room in front of the TV.

  “That act will be hard to follow.” She grabbed my shaft and pointed my dick toward the ceiling. “But I can try.”

  12

  Monroe

  IT WAS the first time I checked the mail and received something besides bills and spam.

  I received a letter from the bank. It said that my two student loans had been closed.

  Closed?

  The new balance reflected zero dollars.

  Zero dollars?

  My loans had been paid off?

  Well, I didn’t do that. So who did?

  One name came to mind—Slate.

  I sat on the couch and called him. Now that I had his number, I didn’t have to stop by his office every time I wanted to talk to him. And I didn’t have to show up on his doorstep either. It rang a few times before he answered.

  “Hey, sweetheart.” His voice sounded deeper on the phone. Masculine and authoritative, he could be intimidating with just simple words. Without his beautiful package visible, he was just a powerful voice over the line. “Just finished my workout. What are you doing?”

  “Just finished working out?” I asked. “Are you sure you didn’t drop by the bank today?”

  After a long pause of silence, he chuckled. “Got the letter in the mail, huh?”

  “Yes. Which means you paid it off a week ago.”

  “More like four days ago…but pretty close.”

  I gripped the letter in my hand, feeling furious rather than relieved. “Why would you do that?”

  “You can’t figure it out?”

  “Uh, no. I know you wouldn’t just give me the money, so what’s your angle?”

  “It’s simple. I’ve paid off your student loans so you can see how nice it is to keep more of your check. That way you’ll be more motivated to keep your promise. You have the money…now you have to pay for it.”

  “Wow, that was a dick move.”

  “Really?” he asked. “I thought it was generous.”

  “Not generous at all. Look, I told you I’m not ready—”

  “And I will wait until you are,” he said calmly. “But I’m not going to let you keep teasing me. You’ve done it twice now—not gonna happen again. Now you have to uphold your end of the bargain. When you choose to do that is up to you.”

  I squeezed the letter in my hand, my rage slowly slipping away. I wanted to stay mad at him, but since the financial burden had officially been lifted off my shoulders, it was difficult not to feel a sense of hope. Knowing I wouldn’t have to make those payments that month drastically changed my life. I could actually afford food now. I could actually save a little bit of money every month. “Why do you want to fuck me so bad?”

  “My reasons don’t matter.”

  “Is it because of the chase? Is it because I’m the one thing you can’t have?”

  He took his time before he answered. “Your guess is as good as mine. Now, I’m surprised I still haven’t heard a thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “Making your life a million times easier.”

  “You did it to trap me.”

  “Maybe. But I’ve still given you all the control. You tell me when and where. I just have to sit and wait. Now that the financial stress is gone, perhaps you’ll warm up to me. Perhaps you’ll feel gratitude. As your money piles up in your bank account, you’ll thank me for those numbers. And maybe your legs will open a little more…”

  MY FAVORITE MOMENTS with him were the times we went to lunch.

  There was no pressure at all. We were in public in broad daylight, so there was no affection of any kind, no expectations. To any onlooker, we seemed like two friends or colleagues getting lunch together—and nothing more.

  We went to a pizzeria, and Slate ordered a salad and only ate one slice of pizza.

  Now that I wouldn’t be paying an extra fifteen hundred bucks a month in student loans, I didn’t have to stuff myself every time we went out together. I could afford groceries, so I could pack a lunch every single day. Crackers would no longer be a part of my diet.

  He wore a midnight black suit with a stunning blue tie. Anytime he wore dark colors, it always complemented his dark hair and eyes. He was the kind of man that constantly combated facial hair. It seemed like every time I saw him, he had a shadow along his jawline. He didn’t have hair on his chest, and it didn’t seem like he shaved it. His shiny watch on his wrist was never the same as the one he wore before. He changed it every day, so he must have had two dozen watches hidden in his closet somewhere.

  Anytime a woman saw me with him, she probably hated me. A woman who could win over a man like him was naturally the most hated woman on the planet. I would probably feel the same way if I spotted him with someone else across the room. I would fantasize about the incredible sex they had on a nightly basis. I would imagine what it would be like to come home to him every day.

  Too bad he wasn’t the romantic type. All he cared about was fucking virgins—like it was a game.

  I had no idea why he was like that.

  “Does your brother do the same thing?”

  He watched me as he finished chewing his bite. He took his time, as if he didn’t care how long he made me wait. “Yes, he manages the hotels on the east—”

  “I meant screwing virgins. Is he into that too?”

  He stilled at the question, clearly not expecting it. “No. He has a fiancée.”

  “Does he know you do this?”

  “I don’t care what he does in the privacy of his bedroom, and I imagine that feeling is mutual.”

  “Does anyone know you do this?” I scarfed down three pieces
of pizza and slurped my soda.

  “Other than Max and the women, no.”

  “You’ve kept it a secret for five years?” I asked in surprise.

  “Yes. There are some people who suspect what I do, but they don’t have any evidence. Most women don’t want the world to know I paid them to pop their cherry—or they just asked me to do it.”

  “So…how many women have you been with?”

  “Virgins?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  His eyes shifted back and forth as he counted in his head. “Three a week times fifty-two weeks…times five…a lot.”

  I couldn’t do that math in my head, but it was definitely a lot. “And you don’t get tired of it?”

  “No.” He grabbed his fork and took another bite of his salad. “There are brothels all over the world that still offer these services. In ancient times, rich men paid a great deal for the experience. It’s not that rare. And trust me, more men would do it if they could afford it. We’re all dogs—some just do a better job of hiding it.”

  “I don’t think all men are like that.”

  “Not all—but most. Good men are the ones who are honest about it.”

  “You can be honest about killing someone, but that doesn’t make you a good person.”

  “Not the same thing, sweetheart.” He finished his lunch then drank his water. “You must have fantasies too. Maybe you’re not experienced enough to have them, but you do.”

  “But they’re normal fantasies, like finding a good man who will treat me right, be faithful to me, and have a family with me. That’s my fantasy—someone to grow old with. I don’t want just a relationship or to be in love. I want loyalty—real loyalty.”