I'm not sure what causes me to look up from my paperwork, through the rain-blurred window of the limousine. Ever since yesterday, there has been an itch between my shoulder blades. Something prickly under the starched collar of my dress shirt. If I believed in bullshit hocus pocus, I might even think it was a premonition.
Ever since I had the sensation of being watched yesterday, I've been unable to focus on work—and I don't take kindly to this kind of distraction. Work is the only thing worth focusing on, after all. So when I look up from the rental reports on my lap and see the girl walking in the rain, I tell myself it's not my fucking problem.
I've been left in the rain before. Literally and metaphorically.
It's only the end of the world if one allows it to be.
And I certainly didn't allow myself the self-pity.
Whoever this stranger is, she shouldn't have been stupid enough to forget her umbrella. Maybe she'll learn a lesson from getting stranded on this long stretch of road without assistance. God knows when I faced the same obstacle, I decided to change my life. Decided never to be left out in the rain again—and I haven't.
At age thirty-one, I do the leaving now.
Ignoring the sting in my chest—and despite my best effort to ignore the girl—I lean forward in the backseat to get a better look as we pass.
"Stop."
That barked command to the driver is pulled from a deep, untouched recess inside of me. As I sit staring at the vision on the other side of the window, the itching between my shoulder blades dulls and stops completely. I don't like that. I don't like it one bit. Who is this...creature? She is soaked to the skin, her thin dress molded to a tight, young body. Long blonde hair is plastered to her shoulders, neck and forehead.
And she's smiling.
I don't realize I've moved as close as possible to the glass until my ragged breath fogs the window and obscures my vision. Cursing with impatience, I throw open the back door and step out, buttoning my suit coat. An action I normally perform out of habit, but this time doubles as a method of hiding my erection.
Fuck. I can't remember the last time a specific female got me hard.
I've been with women, of course, but I prefer the efficiency of my own fist. It's fast and doesn't require any conversation. I only engage in sex or masturbation to meet the needs of my body. Not for enjoyment. Certainly not for love. In short, I'm shocked to find myself painfully hungry for this girl in a matter of seconds.
My jacket is growing more and more drenched while I try to distinguish the color of her nipples through the thin dress. With an inward command to get myself in order, I reach back into the limousine for my umbrella, opening it and marching over to the waterlogged blonde.
Drawing closer, I'm disgusted when I'm attacked by an uncharacteristic wave of sympathy. The girl can't be more than eighteen. Who the hell left her vulnerable out here in nothing more than a slip? Because my God, is she ever vulnerable. If someone with more sinister intentions were to drive by, she'd be in serious danger, this beautiful, fragile little thing.
As it is, I'm not positive she's safe from me.
Up close, my attraction burns even hotter. She's nothing short of angelic. I've never seen such a luscious mouth, skin that begs for a man's hands. Tits designed to scramble a lesser man's brain. Wide green eyes. She's a sexual fantasy and yet, her innocence gives her an air of being almost...off limits to a bastard like me.
Too sweet to sully.
Suddenly I'm finding it hard to swallow. "What the fuck are you doing out here in the rain?" I bark, much louder than intended.
Her smile dims. She blinks. "W-walking, sir."
Sir. That word vibrates through me, leaving sensual destruction in its path. "Walking. From where?"
"Home. I just went for a walk. I didn't know it was going to rain, but..." She looks up at the sky and the sun chooses that moment to peek through the clouds, bathing her face in light. "I don't mind it. Rain is nothing to be scared of. It just means the angels are watching a sad movie."
"The other angels, you mean?" Christ, I didn't mean to say that out loud. The blood that has left my brain and relocated in my groin is obviously affecting me mentally. That almost qualified as a compliment and I don't dole those out. Saying nice things to people makes them want to stick around and I'm not interested in company. Being alone is my preferred state. "I suppose you think I'm going to offer you my umbrella? I'm not. You should always be prepared for a storm."
The girl nods. "Are you talking about the weather now?" she whispers. "Or...have you learned that lesson in life?"
How...odd that she is the one in a see-through dress, yet I'm the one feeling completely exposed here. There is something about her that makes me feel uncovered. Like she can see straight through me. Maybe she really did fall from the sky? "Both," I mutter, finally answering her question. "Do you always ask strangers such personal questions?"
She considers that. "I don't really meet a lot of strangers."
"Obviously not," I snap. "You don't recognize the danger they pose when you're all alone, walking around in this..." I brush a finger along the short hem of her dress. "Scrap."
When I drag my attention back up from her creamy thighs, I'm surprised to find her eyes pinched shut, her breaths coming in quick pants. Certainly not because I touched her dress...? "Oh, I don't know," she murmurs. "Not every stranger that drove by would be bad. One of them might be a kind man who shares his umbrella with me."
"I'm not sharing my—" I glance up in astonishment to find I'm now covering her head with my umbrella. Putting both of us beneath it. Far too close for my peace of mind. She smells like fresh apples.
The girl giggles at the dismay I've failed to hide. "I won't tell anyone you're a softie. Don't worry."
I'm lecturing her on safety, but the twist she's causing in my chest is twice as dangerous. This interaction might be nothing to her, but it's the most I've conversed with anyone outside of my employ in years.
I don't allow anyone to get close. I don't like people. They are lazy, deceitful, opportunistic, selfish. Their true colors always show through in the end. It's why I don't feel a hint of remorse when I evict my tenants. No one is truly good or worthy of empathy. Not to mention, I've been at the bottom of the barrel without so much as two dimes to rub together and I've built a billion-dollar real estate empire. If they can't come up with a thousand bucks for rent, they can cry me a river.
The fact that this slip of a girl got through my defenses is not sitting right. I don't like having my indifference challenged. I especially don't like the wisp of satisfaction I got when she called me kind. I'm not.
For some reason, I damn well want her to know it.
"You think I'm a softie?" My voice is deceptively gentle when the rest of me is so hard. "Do you know why I pulled over?""Why?" she says, seeming to hold her breath.Don't you dare. She's innocent. I say the words, anyway, however. I want to drive her away. Now. She caught me with my walls down and that is the ultimate invasion, made worse because I crave it happening again. "I pulled over because I know tight pussy when I see it." I frame her jaw with my right hand, tilting her blushing face up toward mine. "I'd like to fuck you on all fours, right here in the middle of the road, little girl. Rough as you can stand. Still think I'm a softie?""No," she gasps, the green of her eyes deepening to a forest shade. "I don't."I ignore the regret stabbing me in the neck. "Good."She tugs her chin out of my hold, skirts around me and continues walking up the road, arms stiff at her sides. I'm monetarily dumbfounded by the sense of loss I experience without her in front of me—and then I'm tu
It's incredible how quickly my plan went out the window once I came face to face with the man I'm supposed to be bartering with. My body for our home. Or rather, it's my mother's plan I'm failing to execute. She's the one who dropped me off less than a mile from our landlord's gated mansion, advising me to walk the road indefinitely in the hopes that William would stop to offer assistance.We thought about simply arriving at his home and asking to make the trade, my virginity in exchange for cancelling the eviction, but my mother didn't think that would work with a man as shrewd as William.You'll have to get under his skin first, honey.Make it impossible for him to say no.If anyone can do it, it's you.Dripping wet on the expensive leather seat of the limousine, I have no idea if I'm succeeding. William watches me from the dark end of the vehicle, his long legs stretched out in front of him, a frown on his harshly attractive face as he considers me, his fingers in a steeple in fron
Why does this girl insist on trying to endear herself to me?She gasps at the sight of my living room and the downstairs kitchen on our way to the pool, stopping to gawk and turn in slow circles. Stumbling into furniture because she's so distracted by the chandeliers mounted to the high ceilings. I don't like the way my chest tightens over these things. It's odd and alarming.Who is this girl?I want to know everything about her, down to her blood type, but at the same time, I'm terrified of knowing too much. Making her too real to me. I'm already way outside of my comfort zone having her in my home for the night. I told myself I just wanted to fuck her, but here I am, giving her a tour of my house. Needing to see her swimming. Wanting to give her this thing she's been deprived of.Those urges are a warning sign that this girl is creeping into uncharted territory. I learned a long time ago that personal attachments are a weakness. A desire for affection, connection with another person
"Grace," I shout, already stripping off my shirt. Shoes are kicked off and I'm diving into the water, fear icing my veins. Adrenaline propels me toward her. I don't hesitate to wrap an arm around her middle and kick for the surface, already anticipating mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.Why didn't I ask her if she could swim? I did this, by trying to drive home how irredeemable I am. She had to jump into the fucking water just to get away from me.We reach the edge of the pool and I place her carefully on the side, climbing out after her, kneeling down on the cold stone, dizzy with worry. "Dammit, Grace." With unsteady hands, I tilt her head back, getting ready to blow breath into her lungs. "I'm sorry. Don't do this to me."She peeks one eye open and smiles, whispering so low I almost can't hear her over the pounding of my pulse. "Uh oh." Pool water rolls down her temples. "Caught you being a good man again."Shock sweeps me. Followed by relief like I've never known.Then, there's respec
I pull the belt tighter around the fluffy, cream-colored robe and creep down the seemingly endless hallway. There really is no reason to creep, but the ceilings are so high, the art on the walls looks so expensive and it's eerily quiet. I feel as though I'm in a library or a museum, so I try not to make a sound, my purpose made easier by the thick rugs arranged on the hallway floor.Where am I going? I have no idea—and I might even be lost. After William left the pool room, I followed a few moments later and promptly lost my way in the labyrinth William calls home. Who needs this many rooms? Or bathrooms, for that matter? Every one is pristine and decorated expensively, just waiting for someone to arrive and enjoy. No one ever will, however, because the man who owns this house is so damaged on the inside, he can only drive people away.When William unzipped his pants in front of me, I could see his intentions clear as day. God help me, knowing he was trying to scare me off only made m
Awareness prickles along my skin, especially when his open mouth drags up behind my ear, exploiting that sensitive patch of skin. "Why did you come in here?""I tried not to." He sounds frustrated. "But this...I don't know, this burning in my stomach won't go away. It has been there since what happened downstairs. I think it's guilt." It's obvious the admission was painful. "I don't know what to do about it."Why is his honesty making my knees weak? "You could apologize.""I never apologize." His chest heaves twice against my back. "But if I did want to apologize, what would be the appropriate way to go about it?""You'd say, 'I'm sorry, Grace'."His scoff blows my hair forward. "Words? Words don't mean shit.""They do to me." He makes a sound of disagreement and I start to pull away, but his hand creeps inside my robe, smoothing across my belly, squeezing my hip. That touch leaves a trail of lava in its wake, my core clenching hotly between my legs. "What..." I breathe, struggling to
This house feels different with her inside of it.I've never wanted to be around another person...at all.Let alone so fucking badly. She's like a steady heartbeat in the middle of a gale, the purity of it, the reassurance of her, drawing me closer. Closer.I thought telling her about my past might make her understand why I'm such a bastard—and why I'll continue to be one. But she clammed up when I tried to kiss her. Have I ruined anything that might happen between us? If I could turn back the clock an hour and change my actions, I would. I'd allow the perfect exploration of her mouth on my cock without turning it into something forceful.Better yet, I'd go down on her instead.My dick is already hard from being close to Grace, but it swells painfully when I think of getting my tongue between her thighs. Now that will be an effective apology. Far better than words. But first, I have another impulse that is entirely unlike me. I want to...be sensitive with this girl. Whatever the hell
"Once I lick this, angel, I'm the only one who licks it." I pin her knees open wide. "Is that understood?""Yes, sir," she whimpers.My groan is loud enough to wake the dead. I'm called sir all day long by my staff and yet when Grace does it, I almost come in my pants, my mouth latching eagerly onto her pussy, sucking her smooth flesh, inhaling the pure femininity until I can taste her in the back of my throat. I don't make her wait for that first stroke of my tongue up the split of her sex, stopping at her clit and applying pressure, pressure, before teasing it in quick rubs."Oh!" Her thighs jerk, trying to close around my head, but I keep them open. I keep them wide. Because I'm not leaving an inch untouched. This is a claiming. "Al-Al-William. What is...oh, please, please. Keep going."Like I could remove my tongue from this paradise?My cock wants in. It throbs so hard, I'm fucking dizzy, humping the couch cushions like an animal in heat. I remove my hand from where it has been k