Nicholas took a deep breath of fresh air before taking a seat at the table nestled in the corner of his outdoor terrace. On cue, his buttered bagel appeared before him.
“Coffee this morning, sir?”
“No, thanks Carl. Just some juice.” Nick slipped on his sunglasses to cut the glare from his white adobe home. Vegas summers were lethal. The best time to enjoy the clear skies was in the early morning such as this. His newspaper had been laid out on the table in front of the empty chair to his right. His eyes lingered on that chair for only a moment.
It was getting easier. When Diana first passed away almost two years ago, he would find himself staring at that chair until his eyes dried out. He’d never forget her. He’d always love her. Finally though, he made it through a day without feeling like her loss would kill him as well.
It was this house. Diana wanted this house.
He glanced around the terrace, as if seeing it for the first time. The entire living space was built for entertainment. Spacious rooms, clean lines. It had an impersonal feel. Diana had been born with a silver spoon in her mouth, and couldn’t stomach the thought of a white picket fenced suburban home. Glamour, prestige and excess. It didn’t bother him, he was raised in a similar fashion, but he could easily find something else. Something smaller. What did he need all this space for anyway? It’s just more for his staff to take care of.
What the hell did he need a staff for anyway?
He laughed self-derisively. Because he enjoyed having attendants. He was used to it. No matter where he lived, he’d be sure to have at least one in his employ. There was no way in hell he’d eat his own cooking night after night.
As if proving his indispensability, Carl had arranged the paper in the order in which Nicholas preferred: business section first. He scanned the headlines, then read an article about the new business park under construction near the Stewart Reservoir.
When he flipped the last page of the regional news section, Nick Webster froze.
The last section of the paper—the personals—he usually folded away without a glance. Today was different. The front page showed a picture of a young woman from the back, her head turned to the side. She wore a form-fitting black dress, cut away to bare the smooth expanse of her back, and hinting at the cleavage of her ass. The photo only showed the woman’s face in profile, but it didn’t diminish her beauty.
Her long dark hair had been pulled over her far shoulder, exposing the smooth skin of her back. Nick’s body stirred. When he’d all but memorized the picture, his eyes dropped to read the article below.
Virginity For Sale.
What?
He read it again. The newspaper had put opposing sides of the controversial auction into the article. The outspoken Reverend Mason, who seemed to be more in the news than behind the pulpit, had declared Reenie O’Hara’s intentions as an abomination against the Lord, and the sanctity of marriage.
“Although Nevada law allows the prostitution of young ladies, I can only assure you that Miss O’Hara will be judged for her actions, along with each and every bidder in this travesty. I pity her, but offer her a place with the Lord. Salvation will be hers, and I pray that she comes to her senses before following through with this sinful transaction.”
Lottie Davis, owner and operator of Lottie’s Place, Vegas’ famous upscale brothel spoke for Miss O’Hara.
“Reenie O’Hara is a grown woman, well past the age of consent. Girls have been giving away their virginity since the dawn of time. Most commonly in the back seat of a boyfriend’s car. In this day and age, when a woman’s virginity is devalued, I applaud Miss O’Hara her ability to remain intact, and her business acumen to see her virginity for what it is. A rare and valuable commodity.”
Nicholas set the paper aside. The woman was beautiful. It probably wasn’t the same woman that the winner would be saddled with. There was always a catch.
But who was she? Another one of Lottie Davis’ girls? He hadn’t visited Lottie’s Place in years. He was lucky enough to have enough women at his disposal, and hadn’t found it necessary to pay for his pleasure.
He finished his bagel, and dusted off his fingers. His gaze kept drifting to the photo of the young woman. Those green eyes seemed to be looking right at him. He laughed. A good photographer, that’s what that was. He tossed his napkin on the table and stood. He almost made it to the sliding glass doors before he turned around and snatched the newspaper off the table.
* * * * *
Maureen looked through the slit in the curtains. The crowd of reporters had been camped out on the front sidewalk since the day after her internet campaign began almost two weeks ago.
Lottie had received numerous calls and letters, asking for an interview with the famous virgin. Maureen had declined each one. She didn’t want to stick out in the public’s mind any more than she really had to. She was in front of the camera enough. The sharks would just have to live with what they had. She still planned to quietly disappear once this was all over with.
Maureen had secluded herself in Lottie’s house, only leaving on rare occasions, and never through the front door. Lottie had a beautiful private garden, where Maureen spent hours among the foliage. She found a perfect little cove where she could relax with a book, and breathe in the perfume of pansies and clover. If she wore her hair up and went without makeup, she could even go to a movie or wander through the shopping mall for a while before being recognized.
It wasn’t so bad. Her deadline was in two weeks, she could stand it until then. She only hoped that the press would leave her alone afterwards.
She wandered back through the quiet room and sank onto the couch. The press had grabbed the story and run. In her wildest dreams Maureen hadn’t imagined such a fuss over her decision.
One hundred and six thousand dollars. At least that’s where the bidding was the last time she checked. Who in God’s name had that kind of money to buy one night of sex with a complete stranger? Just yesterday it was fifteen thousand. If the press only knew how they were helping her cause by the free publicity.
A hundred grand would almost be enough to pay the tax lien and note of foreclosure on her mother’s home.
Almost. And it wasn’t hers quite yet.
“Reenie, let’s go.” Lottie’s voice came through the door like a barking Pomeranian.
“Go where?” Maureen barked back through a smile.
“Dinner. Dress up.”
Maureen cast another disparaging glance at the curtain, which blocked her view of the press, then crossed the room to open the door to find Lottie dressed in a conservative black dress, and draped with a shimmering scarf. “Come on, honey. Let’s go somewhere nice.”
“I’d love to get out. I’ll do my hair if you pick a dress for me.”
Half an hour later, dressed to kill, but hiding behind a pair of eyeglasses, Lottie had smuggled Maureen into a dark limousine and past the flashing cameras. Maureen surreptitiously checked over her shoulder to ensure they weren’t being followed.
“I made a reservation at Tito’s. No one will bother us there.”
Tito’s was one of the better restaurants in town. Reservations were required at least a month in advance. All of Vegas’ celebrities, both local and world renowned, were comfortable in the unassuming luxury of the five star establishment. Lottie was one of the celebrities that could wheedle a reservation at the last minute from Tito’s management. Maureen discovered it was always best not to ask about Lottie’s clientele, but she assumed Tito himself probably made frequent visits to Lottie’s Place.
The maître d’ barely swept his eyes over the two women, and if he knew who they were, he didn’t acknowledge the fact. They were seated in a secluded corner, with a window overlooking the bright lights of the strip. A clear vase with two pink roses and baby’s breath sat in the center of the table, and she leaned over them to enjoy their scent. Roses always reminded her of her grandmother, who used tiny rose-shaped soap in little rose-shaped dishes. She couldn’t resist arranging the baby’s breath to look more appealing among the blooms.
“Will you relax? Anyone in here who knows who you are and what you’re doing with me isn’t going to approach you here.” Lottie whispered.
She must have taken too long to fidget with the flowers before sitting still in her seat. She folded her hands in her lap. “I know. I just keep waiting for the flash of a camera.” It had been only two weeks into her notoriety, and already Maureen could see how the A-list could go completely batty out in public.
Lottie ordered an expensive vintage to start off their meal. They’d each drained two glasses before their order was even taken. When a basket of bread appeared on the table before them, they’d both already mellowed from the effect of the smooth wine, and laughed easily.
“You should have seen the look on Jeannette’s face when she saw that scorpion. I’ve never seen anyone jump that high off the ground.”
“She’s from the Rocky Mountains isn’t she? There aren’t many scorpions up there I gather.” Maureen blotted her mouth with the linen napkin.
“No I suppose not. I think she might have peed her—”
“Miss Davis, you look ravishing tonight, as usual.”
Lottie’s pink mouth snapped shut when the deep voice interrupted her. Maureen shifted in her chair, still smiling from Lottie’s story to find a man standing between them. Black suit pants looked tailored to fit powerful legs and slim hips. She dragged her gaze up the broad chest to meet a pair of coffee-colored eyes.
“Oh, Nick, I can always count on you to shower me with false flattery.” Lottie placed her hand in his in a familiar gesture. “Nicholas Webster, this is my niece.”
Don’t call me Reenie, don’t call me Reenie.
“Maureen Sullivan.”
Maureen cast a grateful glance at Lottie before smiling up into Nicholas Webster’s chiseled face.
“Miss Sullivan.” His voice was as smooth and intoxicating as their chardonnay.
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Webster.” Maureen took his proffered hand. When he brought her knuckles to his mouth, she bit her lip.
Nicholas then lowered his lean frame to rest on his heels. “I heard something about you on the news,” he addressed Lottie. “Are you really auctioning off a virgin?”
Maureen flushed to the roots of her hair. She reached over the bread plate for her glass of wine.
“Yes I am Nick. Are you interested?” Lottie grinned devilishly.
“I’m not sure I’ll be able to afford her when it’s all over. I heard the bidding already reached a hundred thousand.”
“A hundred seven when I last checked. For you I’d work out a payment system.” Lottie giggled.
Good lord, another thousand?
Nicholas laughed, a delicious sound, which practically seeped through Maureen’s clothing, to caress her skin. As he spoke to Lottie, she wondered what it would be like to be deflowered by a man such as Nicholas Webster. Her thoughts drew her gaze to the man’s crotch, and she looked away quickly before he caught her checking out his package. As if her thoughts summoned him, he turned to her and nudged her elbow with one long finger.
“Can you believe this woman?”
“Yes I can.” Maureen gave Lottie an affectionate smile. “She’s the best businesswoman I’ve ever met.”
“That she is.” Nick’s eyes were all over her. Maureen was suddenly worried that he knew who she was. She turned away, and took another long drink from her glass.
“Nick is the man I was telling you about, Maureen. The one who helps my girls with their retirement and financial advising.”
“Oh yes,” Maureen said, “You’re a veritable hero.”
“Is that right?” He grinned, showing a set of straight white teeth. Maureen had a mad impulse to run her tongue across them. “I’ll be sure and tell all the guys that I’m a veritable hero at Lottie’s Place. That should earn me some points.”
“Maureen, you might take Nick’s business card. You’re going to have to get some kind of help with your inheritance.”
“My…”
Lottie’s raised an eyebrow in warning.
“Oh, right. I will need some advice. Are you accepting new clients Mr. Webster?”
“Please, call me Nick. I’ll be happy to help. What do you do?”
“I…well, I just got my bachelor’s degree,” she stammered. “I thought I’d come out here and spend a month or two with Aunt Lottie before taking the plunge into a career.”
Nicholas reached into his suit pocket for a business card. “Since you’re new in town, I’ll have to start by buying you a drink downtown on Friday, so I’ll need your phone number.” He pulled out a pen from the inside pocket.
“Oh, is that how it works?” Maureen smiled.
“Ask your aunt. It’s a policy of mine.” His face was set in a guileless smile, but a quick glance at Lottie didn’t give anything away.
“And if I were a man?” she teased.
“I’d assign you to one of my colleagues.” He grinned naughtily. “Now please. I left a very important and very wealthy client at my table all alone, just so that I could come over here to get your phone number. You aren’t going to make me go back without it are you?” Maureen looked over Nick’s shoulder at the table he’d motioned towards. There was a stocky grey haired man looking at his watch with impatience.
“I would hate myself tomorrow.” She said, with mock seriousness. She scrawled her phone number on the back of his card and handed both the card and pen back to him.
“Thank you, Maureen. I’ll be in touch.”
She all but turned in her seat to watch him return to his table. He was tall. His body was trim and firm, his gait controlled yet loose. She’d never before undressed a man with her eyes, but she could practically see the smooth muscles rippling beneath his skin.
“Now that’s the kind of man you should end up with.” Lottie sighed. “Isn’t he decadent?”
Maureen agreed. Decadent was a good word to describe Nicholas Webster. Lottie and Maureen weren’t the only women who seemed to agree. Several female patrons gave the man a once-over.
The rest of the meal passed without incident. If anyone else in the restaurant that recognized either Lottie or Maureen, they didn’t approach them. During dessert, Maureen glanced over her shoulder to look Nick’s way, but unfortunately, she found his table had already been cleared.
She fell into bed that night feeling better than she had in a long time, knowing the burden of her mother’s finances would soon be off of her shoulders.
Immediately, a flash of anger warmed her blood. Her mother had made her bed, and she should sleep in it. Why should Maureen even worry? To think that the entire time Janet Sullivan had been preaching about responsibility, she herself hadn’t paid one red cent in property taxes, and then let her mortgage payments fall so far behind that foreclosure was now eminent. Maureen’s stomach rolled at the thought. Mom probably skipped the payments while helping her daughter through college.
Guilt cooled her anger.
All the more reason to take whatever steps necessary to help her mother out of the situation. They were a team. Had been since Maureen could understand the hardships her mother went through as a single mom. No reason to be angry.
Maureen sighed. Thoughts of her mother always left her conflicted. She couldn’t wait until this whole ordeal was behind them, and they’d have a clean slate to begin again. Surely there was something more appealing to think about.
Nicholas Webster.
She grinned into her pillow. She never did get his business card. Would he call her? Would he really invite her out for a drink? What would she say? Could she go out in public and risk recognition when she was with him? Lottie’s Place had a bar, maybe he would be willing to meet her here.
But she’d have to come up with a damn good reason why she didn’t want to leave the property. That thought conjured another disturbing question. Had he been here before? Who knew, maybe he was one of Lottie’s better clients.
Maureen could picture him with one of Lottie’s girls. She imagined his naked body moving over a woman. Shoving that thought away, she closed her eyes and saw Nick’s hands on her. He’d move down to grip her nipple with his teeth, then he would suck the hard nub into his mouth.
Maureen groaned. She felt moisture rush to her sex. The hands she imagined sliding over her abdomen were strong and lean. To sharpen her vision, Maureen tore her nightshirt over her head, then kicked her panties away, then indulged herself by sliding her own hand down her naked body. Images of Nick’s devilish smile and sexy backside flashed through her mind, along with erotic pictures of his tongue licking at her wet core.
She knew his hands would know how to please her. She fingered her engorged clit, then dipped her middle finger up into her hot creamy center. She swirled the slipperiness along her outer lips. A shiver buzzed down her spine.
Soon. Soon she’d know how it felt to have a man inside her, stroking her deeply. That reminder sent another shiver through her body, and she quickened her movements. Pulling her legs up, she spread her knees apart and bit back a hungry moan. Maureen worked her clit with one hand, swirling and tugging, and twisting her nipples with the other.
What would Nick feel like? Was he thick? Or long. Would he stretch her? Her body jerked, then her pussy spasmed, clamping at nothing but emptiness. Maureen couldn’t wait to know what that frantic grasping felt like around a man’s cock. Nick’s cock.
Oh God. She shuddered, reaching her pinnacle at the thought of him inside her. Her channel undulated in waves, and she rubbed herself until the last contraction ebbed away, then she lay still allowing the air conditioning to cool her fevered skin.
Not long after her heartbeat returned to normal, she fell asleep with a satisfied smile.
* * * * *
“When should I pick you up?”
Few people knew her cell phone number, even fewer had hinted at a night out. She knew exactly who had called her, but she couldn’t let him know that. She also needed some time to steady her racing heart.
“Who’s this?” She tried not to let her smile come through her voice. There was a long pause on the other end.
“Did you agree to more than one date tonight?”
“Well, I can’t be sure.” She lay back onto her bed, throwing her free arm over her head. “Is this the seventy-five year old gymnast?”
“Guess again.” She heard his smile.
“Are you the man who’s been breathing heavy in my ear every Friday since I got to Vegas?”
“I’m the man who’s going to make you a very wealthy woman.”
Maureen bolted upright. What did he mean by that? Did he know who she was? Her heart beat loudly, its pressure pounded in her eardrums. Aside from the fact that she didn’t want this man to know about her upcoming prostitution stint, she wondered if he intended to make the final bid.
“What do you mean?” Her voice sounded as thin as tissue paper.
“Your investment strategy, or did you find yourself another advisor?”
She released a pent up breath, and tried to clear her mind. “Oh, well I’ve got one final interview before I make my decision.”
“Which brings me back to my original question. When should I pick you up?”
“Why don’t I meet you somewhere? Lottie’s Place is a bit of a circus right now.”
“The virgin thing?”
“Yeah, the virgin thing.”
“I don’t mind—”
“No,” she said emphatically, then softened her tone. “I’ll meet you.”
Two hours later, and now ten minutes late, Maureen found a parking space in a public lot not far from the lounge he’d chosen. She found him pacing beneath the awning. She stood in the shadow of a decorative tree for a moment to watch him.
He was breathtakingly good looking. The angled planes of his face shone in the lone streetlight, casting intriguing shadows. He was dressed in casual khaki trousers, and a white Swiss army shirt beneath a brown leather jacket. She pushed her eyeglasses into position onto her nose. She hated wearing them, but they afforded her just a little bit of protection. Okay, she was no Clark Kent, but she was wearing them when she met him, and would continue to wear them until her mission was complete.
“Sorry I’m late.” She stepped out of the darkness. He stopped pacing and looked up at her. The relief in his smile made her ask, “Did you think I wouldn’t show?”
“Just save me some grief next time by allowing me to pick you up.” He winked, then took her hands in his and kissed her knuckles in an old-fashioned yet endearing gesture. “You look beautiful.”
Next time? Maureen’s heart hiccupped. “Thank you. I didn’t overdress for this business meeting?”
“I have a confession to make.” He tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow. “Tonight, your money is the furthest thing from my mind.”
She dipped her head and smiled shyly as he led her into the lounge. It wasn’t what she imagined. No neon beer signs or dance floor, just a solo pianist playing softly on a grand piano set near the center of the room. The space was broken by huge potted palm trees. There were plenty of tables where couples were sitting close, but groups of people simply stood holding their drinks and talking. She was relieved to find her dark blue jeans and long crocheted sweater fit in well with the other patrons.
He led her to a corner table. He didn’t remove his eyes from her until a waitress came to take their order.
They chatted over their drinks. There were few lulls in the conversation, and Maureen was beginning to feel like she’d known Nick for years. She was pleased to find that their opinions matched on current events and when talk turned to family, she discovered that he too was an only child.
“And how are your parents?” she asked.
“They’re gone, my mother almost ten years ago, and my father died just last summer.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. You’re very young to lose both parents.”
“I was born late in their lives. Sort of a surprise.”
The waitress returned with a new glass of whiskey for Nick, and another red wine for her. Maureen didn’t know when she’d drained her first glass, or when he had signaled for another, but they had been speaking for close to an hour.
“You’re very pretty,” he said in a low voice when they were again alone.
Heat flooded her cheeks. “Is that how you sign all of your clients?”
“Only the very pretty ones. Do you really want to talk business?” The gleam in his eye spoke of much more pleasant things on his mind.
She leaned back in her chair, searching for an appropriate response when she caught sight of the man seated alone at the bar over Nick’s shoulder. The man had turned around on his stool and leaned against the decorative brass edge, eyeing her lasciviously. When his eyes moved from her legs, across her breasts and up to her eyes, his mouth tilted in what could only be naked lust. He raised his highball in salute, and winked.
She turned away, pushed her glasses back into place, and picked up her wine glass for a long drink.
Nick, apparently oblivious to the stares she’d encountered, was instead focused on her hands as they clutched the fragile stem of her glass. “Where did you go to college?”
Edging to one side, Maureen was able to block the other man’s view using Nick’s broad shoulders. She licked her lips. “I got my business degree from Washington State, but I took two years in Michigan.”
“Any idea what you’re going to do?”
“I want to—uh…I’m not sure.” She laughed quietly.
“You are sure. You just don’t want to tell me. What is it?” This man didn’t miss a thing.
She swiped at imaginary dust on the table top, and gathered her courage. “I want to open a flower shop. Silly isn’t it?”
“Not at all. As long as the world has men that need to apologize to women, we’ll need flower shops.”
She laughed, setting her drink down beside his. “I never thought about it that way.”
“So when are you going to get started?” He used one long tan finger to trace the tendons along the back of her hand. His touch sent a wave of heat up her arm. She watched that lone finger move along her hand, entranced by the sight of the contrast between his that looked so strong, and hers that looked frail by comparison. She realized then that she was holding her breath. She released it shakily.
“I—there are some things I need to take care of before I can even think about it.”
“What things?”
“Money things, college loans, taxes…” She tried to sound flippant, but she should have known better.
“Don’t tell me the IRS is after you?”
“Oh no. Not yet at least.” She knew her smile was crooked, but when she tried to adjust, it only made it worse. She took another sip of wine to cover.
“I know people, if you need help.” He continued stroking her hand.
She raised an eyebrow. “Do you really want to talk business?”
“We can’t do what I want to do, so we might as well talk business.” He didn’t miss a beat.
All tension gone, she leaned closer to him and smiled. “And what exactly is it you want to do, Mr. Webster?”
“I want to kiss you.” Her smile faded a bit at his bold words, but she didn’t move away. “I want to taste you. I want to know what it’s like deep inside of you. I want to know how sweet you smell after you come undone in my bed.”
Oh my. Those few sentences sent her heart rate off the charts. “But…you don’t even know me.”
“I want to know you. I’d like to learn everything about you. Every secret you keep. You asked what I wanted to do, I was just being honest.” He looked like an honest man. His eyes never left hers.
“That’s very commendable,” she whispered. His words had sent her body into a spin. Her nipples stiffened, her sex moistened, and her vision blurred.
“Hm, yes. Well, now that we’ve covered all that I want to do, it’s your turn.”
“My turn?”
“Yes. Tell me what you want to do. Are you the type of woman who insists on three dates before a kiss and a wedding ring before sex, or do you take advice from the women you’ve been living with in your aunt’s home?”
That worked to smother any kindling fires he’d sparked only seconds ago. She pulled her hand away from his, and straightened in her chair. She tried to read the meaning in his eyes. His face was blank, other than the inquiring lift to his right eyebrow.
Surely it was an innocent question. Men here were just a little more forward than those she’d dated in school. He just had more courage.
Rather than meet his gaze, or answer his bold question, she sipped her wine and glanced around the lounge. The man who watched her earlier had been joined by another. They stood elbow to elbow, both their attentions glued to her as they spoke quietly to each other. She looked away, only to find another couple, a man with a woman, watching her just as intently, whispering just as covertly.
A quick check around the room proved her worst fears. Almost every eye in the room was trained on her, and those that weren’t had just been hastily diverted. Someone recognized her, and the news of who she was must have spread like wildfire while she had been concentrating on Nick Webster.
She folded her hands in her lap before looking up again. Nick was watching her, waiting, she supposed, for an answer to his question. The look in his eye wasn’t that different from the others in the room.
She felt sick.
Suddenly, the man who had been watching her from the bar began walking toward her, a predatory look in his eye. His buddy looked on, grinning. Maureen fumbled for her clutch on the chair beside her.
“Thank you for the drink,” she began, standing shakily, “I’ll call you once—”
“Don’t.” He grasped her elbow and stood also, his tall lean body only inches from hers. “Don’t run from me. I’m only being honest with you. I want to have you naked in my bed. Beneath me, screaming my name. It’s the truth, and I’m not going to apologize for that, but—” His thumb caressed her skin through the loosely crocheted sleeve. “I’d never hurt you. Or force you to do something you aren’t ready for.”
Maureen looked away from him only long enough to see that the man had stopped in his tracks. She relaxed only fractionally.
“I appreciate your honesty. I do, and I’m flattered, not offended. But I really need to go.” She ended in a whisper.
“Why?” He hadn’t released her arm, and he stepped closer to her, close enough for their clothes to brush against each other. Close enough to feel the heat coming off of his body. “If it’s not what I said, why are you running?”
She lowered her gaze in embarrassment. “Everyone is looking at me.”
Nick took a moment to survey the lounge. Maureen curbed the impulse to bury her face in the front of his shirt.
“Can you blame them? You’re the most beautiful woman in the room, or didn’t you notice?”
Two long fingers tilted her chin up until she again met his gaze. Maureen smiled shyly; glad that he couldn’t see anything in their interest other than basic appreciation. “It makes me uncomfortable. I’d just like to leave. Please.”
He gave her a long intense look. Finally, he pulled out his wallet and laid a generous tip on the table. Without another word, he placed his hand proprietarily on the small of her back, and steered her toward the entrance. Maureen concentrated on keeping her head high as she walked through the doors, ignoring the leering and speculative glances.
Once outside, she tried to turn toward him, intending on a handshake and thanks again for the drink.
Nick though, didn’t stop to chat. He continued guiding her with his strong hand pressing against her spine, and his long strides led her around the corner of the establishment, in the same shadows where she’d watched him before. He took her by both arms, and backed her against the cool brick.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
She could smell his breath. Taste the moist puffs of air against her mouth. Her heart pounded in excitement. Such highhanded treatment should have made her livid, but instead it lit a fuse on a powder keg of desire. Looking into his appealing face, she couldn’t even remember the question.
“I thought you wanted to kiss me.”
And then he did. His firm mouth covered hers. She indulged in the scent of his spicy cologne, the feel of his warm lips. She parted hers, and boldly darted her tongue inside his mouth. Whiskey never tasted so damn good.
He pressed his body against the long line of hers, molding her against him. She reached around his back to clutch at the leather jacket. When that wasn’t enough, she slipped her hands beneath it to pull him closer.
His hands were busy, moving from the tangling strands of her hair, down her neck and around her back. The heat of his palms inflamed every inch they touched.
He moved his hips against hers, pressing her against the wall. She felt his cock, straining against his fly. He reached down to adjust, and she gave in to the wild impulse to cover his hand with hers.
He pulled his mouth away from hers to utter a harsh string of curses. “Jesus, Maureen.”
“Nick, touch me. Please…”
He was more than willing. His hand covered her breast without pause. She continued to massage him through the soft fabric of his pants, running her hand along his length.
She’d never touched a man with such intimacy. A niggling in the back of her mind told her that she shouldn’t be touching this man either. She’d only known him for a few hours.
But she was fascinated with him, tantalized by the girth and length of his erection. She slipped her hand lower to feel for his balls. She wanted to learn everything about this man.
He massaged her with supreme patience and skill. Her nipples peaked, begging for his attention. Through her two layers of clothing, he took one between his thumb and forefinger, and she gasped at the sheer pleasure that one caress elicited.
Her exploration grew bolder with each quickening beat of her heart. Her pussy had swelled and drenched with anticipation. She ground her cleft against his rigidity, using her own hand to heighten the friction.
“If it weren’t for these damn clothes, I’d be fucking you right here, you know that right?”
“Yes. But—”
“I know.” He sighed heavily. “I know. I don’t want to take you here against a wall.” He pulled away just enough to look down at her hungrily. “Come home with me.”
She wanted to agree. She even opened her mouth to speak the words, when reality hit her.
“I can’t.”
“You can. You want to.”
“I do want to.” She pulled her hand from him. “But I can’t.”
He leaned against her again, breathing into her ear. “I’ve never been turned on this fast. It’s intense.”
“I know. For me too.” She grasped the lapels of his jacket. She knew she should extricate herself. She should be in her car, alone. She should be driving home. Instead she pulled him closer to her.
“I’ve got to touch you. I need to feel.” He deftly released the button on her jeans, then the zipper before his hand slipped beneath her jeans.
“Oh, God.” She shouldn’t allow this. In a public place. Mere weeks before she’d sell her virginity to the highest bidder. “We shouldn’t.”
“I’ve just got to…oh Jesus.” His fingers found her moist center. Her hands wrapped around his wrist, holding him still. He couldn’t. As much as she wanted to grind against his hand, she couldn’t. She had to think.
“Nick—”
“Baby, you’re so wet. You can’t deny you want me when you’re so fucking wet for me right now.” He moved his fingers as much as her grip would allow.
Goosebumps rose on her flesh. She loved the way this put-together conservative-looking man spoke so carnally.
He dipped a long finger a millimeter inside her. His uneven breath was hot in her ear. The muscles in her arms burned with the restraint she put on them. Everything base in her told her to let go, and let him bury his fingers inside her, but she held strong. He rolled her clit against his thumb. She thought her new acrylic nails might snap off with the pressure she used, and he would probably come out of this with ten crescent shaped scars, but she still had no strength of will to seriously tell him to stop. Each swipe of his fingers across her supersensitive folds sent a shiver of pleasure through her loins. Good lord, she touched herself on a regular basis, but it never felt like this. His fingers were so different from hers, and he rubbed her with lazy confidence. He took his time, touching, exploring, and teasing in a slow rhythmic pattern. His exhale came hot against her cheek, and she reveled in the hot whiskey-laced puffs of air, drawing his essence into her lungs with each shaky breath she took. When he changed tempo and swirled his thick finger across her entrance, her knees almost gave out beneath her. She should tell him to stop. She’d rather tell him never to stop, but either way, she didn’t trust her voice; she barely remembered to breathe. When he returned his attention to her erect clit, her body reacted, grasping for him. She succumbed to the overwhelming need to come, and sharply cried out.
He murmured in gratification when he felt her undulating contractions against the tip of his finger. “Christ, you’re so hot. That was so damn sexy.”
“What’s going on?” The shadows of three young men stood beneath the streetlight looking down the dark strip between the buildings where Maureen was flattened against the wall. Their arms were held away from their bodies, ready for a fight.
Maureen straightened, turning away from the voice to refasten her jeans.
“Everything’s fine,” Nick answered calmly.
“You okay lady? We heard a scream.”
“I…uh…saw a mouse.” She straightened her eyeglasses.
The men chuckled, and walked away. When she felt fairly composed, she raised her eyes to his.
“Come with me.”
“I can’t. We just met. I barely know you.” If she’d met him two weeks from now, she’d follow him to the ends of the earth. As it was, she couldn’t sacrifice her future, and that of her mother, on one night of pleasure.
“You just came in my hand, I think you know me.” He grinned, sweet and sexy and too damn enticing.
She needed to get out of here. Now. “I need time. Please.”
He studied her long and hard. His mouth tightened, as though he wanted to say something, but decided against it. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a warm embrace. With her head tucked beneath his chin, she felt him exhale long and deep.
“I understand. You’re right. I’ve never rushed a woman like this before. I’m sorry.” She allowed the comfort of his arms for only a moment. She pulled away, bending to retrieve her purse lying at their feet.
“I should go.”
“Can I call you?”
Maureen smiled. “I’d like that.”
* * * * *
He watched her walk away from him, enjoying the sauciness in her step. The jeans she wore fit her to perfection, and he realized that this was his first good look at her ass. His cock surged to an even harder state when he pictured that ass naked.
He drove home quickly, and tossed the keys to Carl when he burst through the front door.
“Are you hungry—?”
“No, Carl. Just tired.” And horny. He took the stairs to his room two at a time, stripped out of his clothes, then opened the window wide, hoping for a cool desert breeze to blow across his body. It didn’t, and his body smoldered.
He knew she was beautiful. He’d studied the newspaper picture long enough to memorize her face, but the picture was nothing compared to the real thing. He loved the way she lit up when laughing. He enjoyed watching her as she spoke, with her green eyes dancing in amusement or seriousness. Most of all, he loved the way those eyes grew glassy and dark when her pleasure overcame her. Lord, she was so quick to fire, and he hadn’t even been able to reach up inside her. But he knew why she stopped him.
If she wasn’t a virgin, she would have allowed that small penetration. She had gripped his wrist with more strength than he would have imagined she possessed.
He sat down in the easy chair near the window. He clenched his scalp with his fingers, and braced both elbows on his knees. So it was for real. He’d never been with a virgin. He didn’t know for sure if a man could feel the hymen tearing, or if it could even be torn by penetrating fingers, he’d never given it a thought. He glanced at his hands, looking for a sign of blood.
He laughed at himself. He’d barely touched her. She came from his touch on her swollen clit. He brought his hand up and breathed in the scent of her that was left on him.
Another surge of blood rushed to his cock, hardening him until he thought he would burst. He’d been to Thailand, where he toured a perfume distillery. That was what her scent reminded him of, that mixture of erotic incense and spices.
He leaned back in his chair, and brought his free hand down to stroke himself. With each breath, he took more of her scent into his lungs, and his hand moved over his penis. He gripped it, pushing against the tight circle of his hand. Then he licked the tip of his finger, barely tasting her on his hand. That pushed him to another level of arousal. He teased himself with fantasies of her mouth on his cock, her creamy pussy clenching his length. When he couldn’t stand it any longer, he brought both hands down to work his cock, bucking into his hands with a fever he couldn’t control. His balls tightened, and then he clenched his teeth, his body jerking with the intensity of his ejaculate, which spurted onto his chest and arms.
He continued fondling himself until he grew soft enough to walk. He stumbled into the shower, where he stood beneath the scalding water, only to have an image of her harden him again.
God, what was he doing? Yes, he wanted to meet this woman. He wanted to take her shoulders and shake sense into her. But once he met her, he wanted to be deep inside her. He thought that if he took her to bed, either he’d be able to claim that she was a liar, and not a virgin like she’d claimed, or he’d be the one to take her virginity.
He stuck his head under the spray of hot water, letting it pound into his scalp. Since when did he become her big brother? What the hell did he care what the woman did with her own body? Was he suddenly ordained as her guardian angel? It wasn’t like he had any problem with the oldest profession, if that’s what a woman wants to do, but it wasn’t something he’d like to see a woman he cared about getting into. Just because he wanted to be deep inside her didn’t mean she meant anything to him. No more than any other woman he’d slept with.
With a sigh, he realized he wanted more. He wanted Maureen Sullivan.
Now, he had two weeks. He had a good start. He already knew she wanted him, too.