Virgin Romance by Penny Wylder

10

Of course he has a penthouse. And of course it’s in the Financial District.

As we wait side-by-side in the elevator taking us up to his private floor, all I can think is that I’m going to start getting used to this kind of treatment.

That’s a dangerous thought.

The elevator doors open on a tastefully decorated bachelor pad. It’s got big windows, similar to the penthouse we stayed in at his hotel, though at least there are gauzy white curtains on these, so we can block out the sunlight if need be. The view overlooks San Francisco Bay on one side and the city on the other, and it’s all lights and the chilly fog rolling across the bay. But closer at hand, his place looks way too similar to the hotel. It’s gray, rather than white, with stainless steel appliances in his kitchen, matching gray marble countertops, and an open plan loft up above. Down a low set of steps beside the living room, I can just glimpse the bed, which of course, is also upholstered in gray.

It’s lovely, don’t get me wrong. It just doesn’t look like a place that anyone lives, not long-term. It doesn’t feel like a home.

“You don’t spend a lot of time here, do you?” I ask as I step into the apartment. Behind me, he follows me out of the elevator, but remains quiet. I trail my hand along the kitchen counters, and glance across at the living room. There’s a fireplace, modern like the rest of the place, but it could be cozy. Add a throw-rug, and some blankets and pillows to that deep leather sofa, and move the way-too-big TV a little farther back from the couch . . . Add some paintings on the bare walls between the windows, maybe some thicker curtains, something patterned and homey, and this place could work nicely to live in.

It could definitely be turned into not-a-hotel-room easily.

I glance over my shoulder. Pierce’s eyes never leave mine—he’s studying me, waiting for my reaction. I smile at him, but he remains serious, almost . . . Anxious? No way. Not him.

“You seem like a very busy man,” I point out, stating the obvious. But even then, he doesn’t agree. Just watches me like he’s waiting for something. “Don’t you ever relax? Take time off to enjoy your home?”

He shrugs. “I enjoy living here.”

“Do you? Or do you just enjoy that it’s probably close to work?” I glance out the window, and sure enough, there’s the now-familiar logo of Woodland Marquis glowing across the street.

“I like the apartment, too,” he protests.

I laugh. “For all ten minutes I’ll bet you spend in it every day.” I step closer to him and prod at his side gently. He catches my hand in his, then twines his fingers through mine. “Do you even take time to enjoy meals? Go on walks, take breaks, maybe . . . date people?” I raise an eyebrow, challenging.

He scowls. “No comment.”

I laugh harder. “That’s why you were on that Sugar Babies site, isn’t it?” I smirk. “You don’t even have time to pick up all the hot ladies who would fawn all over you, huh? You had to find them digitally, browsing at lunch in between checking work emails?

“That’s not why.” He grabs my waist, pulls me against him. He lifts me up so his feet slide under mine, and next thing I know we’re walking backwards, me balanced on tiptoe on top of his feet. I wrap my arms around his neck for balance.

“Bullshit.” I lift my eyebrows. “I’ll bet you found me in between working on accounts, or in the one half an hour you allowed yourself between day-long meetings.”

“Wrong.” He pushes me backwards and I gasp in surprise. But I hit the bed a second later—I didn’t even notice him carrying me down the stairs. Damn, he’s good. He’s strong enough to throw me around, position me however he wants. It makes me hot as hell.

I spread my legs in a dare and raise my eyebrows at him. “Right.” I lift my chin higher as he crawls on top of me onto the bed. I stare up at him, defiant. “Admit it, I’m at least warm.”

His hands trace my sides, slipping under my shirt to reach for my breasts. “I’ll say.”

I laugh and lean up to kiss him, wrapping one hand around his neck. He kisses me back, slow, deep. Nothing like the frenzied, angry kisses when we first met. This is a real kiss. When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing faster, our eyes glazed.

“Fine,” he whispers against my lips. “You might be close to the truth. But only close.”

“Oh really?” I nip at his lip gently, then kiss him again. “Only warm?”

“Maybe smoking hot.” He pushes me backwards into the comforter. I arch my hips and he takes the signal, undoing my jeans and yanking them off in one swift motion. He leaves my panties on, though, and I wonder if he recognizes them as the first pair he bought for me, at the salon.

“So you are a workaholic.” I run my hand over his fresh stubble, and savor the rough sensation across my palm.

“I’m busy, yes.” He leans in and kisses my neck, and I fall against the sheets, surrendering. “But have you considered that maybe I bought you just for the glory of fucking a virgin?” His breath is hot against my ear, and his tongue toys with my earrings. “I fantasized about you from the moment I first saw you.” He bites down, his teeth digging into my earlobe, and I gasp softly. “I imagined taking you before anyone else could. Tasting every inch of you.” He licks his way down my neck, and I run my hands through his hair, desperate to feel his bare skin on mine. But he’s clearly going to take his time, and for once, I don’t mind. Because I know this is it. He’s finally going to give me what I want.

“Have you considered why I didn’t get this over with quickly?” His tongue, his fucking tongue, god, he’s driving me wild. He pulls my shirt off, tosses it aside, and my bra follows soon after, so that he can envelop my breast in his mouth, kiss and suck at me until it’s hard to breathe.

“Why?” I whisper, because I can’t control my voice any louder than that.

“At first I wanted to savor you. Corrupt you, slowly.” His hand drops to my panties. Slips beneath the hem, and his fingers dance around my clit in slow, teasing circles. “I wanted to make you scream with pleasure, and know I was the first man ever to do it.”

I shiver, unable to help myself. “No one has ever touched me like you do, Pierce,” I murmur.

“I wanted you to be desperate.” His fingers spread my pussy lips, and my head falls against the sheets as I arch my back. “I wanted you to beg for me to fuck you.”

“You . . . tease,” I manage to gasp, in between jolts of pleasure, as his thumb zeroes in on my sweet spot. I can feel my clit, swollen and heavy with need. He brushes against it, and my whole body jumps, electrified.

“Yes.” He grins. “But not nearly as bad a tease as you.”

I wrap a hand around his neck, try to pull him down to kiss me, but he holds back. His eyes find mine, serious again, and there’s something else. Something more he’s not telling me. I think back to what he just said. At first. “Then what happened?” I murmur, my body tense, waiting for the blow. What happened? Did something change? He still wants me, of that much I’m sure, but . . .

Oh.

Oh.

My lips part in surprise, as he continues to watch me, his smile twisting into something almost bitter. He moves to slide his hand out of my panties, but I catch his wrist, hold him there.

“You’ve figured it out,” he says, his voice low and constricted. Because that’s real emotion in his eyes, in his tone.

I almost missed it, because I was so distracted by fighting my own feelings. But he’s feeling the same thing. “You didn’t want it to end,” I murmur, and I know before I even say it that that’s why. Why he kept stalling and delaying, why he wouldn’t fuck me that night in the penthouse. Why he threw me out to throw himself into work instead. Why he followed me to my grandmother’s, and paid for everything, before we’d finished our deal, before he’d taken what he wanted.

He leans in to kiss me again, roughly this time. Before I can kiss him back, he pulls away again, and this time he withdraws his hand from my pussy, his other hand from my breast, and leans back on the bed. I feel cold in all the spots where he was just touching me. My whole body burns for him.

I sit upright and reach for him, but he cringes away.

“I’m a complete idiot. This was a business deal; I don’t get in over my head in business. I stick to what works. I stay logical, focused. But you . . .” He glances over his shoulder at me, desperation written all over his face. “You make me lose focus. Lose my damn mind.”

I reach for him, touch his shoulders gently. When he doesn’t pull away anymore, I slowly sit up and wrap my body around his. “Pierce . . .”

“I’m falling in love with you, Bonnie. And I know, I know how insane that sounds—we’ve only known each other for a week, and this was only supposed to be about sex, but I can’t stop thinking about you, all the time, even in meetings, and I normally don’t . . .” He shakes his head. “But there it is. I’ve fallen for you so damn hard.”

“Pierce.” I say his name sternly this time, and he meets my eye. I cup his cheek in one hand and kiss him, slow, soft, deep. I don’t break that kiss for a long time, not until I know exactly what to say in return.

The truth. A truth I had barely begun to realize, a truth I didn’t want to look at too deeply, because I knew how dangerous it was to admit.

“I’m falling for you, too,” I whisper against his lips.

At that, his body relaxes. Mine does, too, all this tension I never even realized I was carrying falling out of me at once. I think about what Gram said, about the right partner helping you toward your goals. Pierce and I were both feeling out-of-focus, lost. But not because we were a bad fit. We were unfocused because we weren’t able to see the obvious truth right in front of us.

We fit together. Crazy well.

He turns in my arms and kisses me again, and this time we both pour everything we’re feeling into the kiss. He leans me back slowly, and I pull his shirt off, wrap my arms around him to savor the sensation of his bare chest pressed against mine, finally, finally.

Our hands roam all over one another, exploring every inch of our bodies. I pull his jeans off, and he kicks them aside, his boxers too, while I wrap both hands around his cock and savor the feeling of his hard, strong length. He slips my panties off, spreads my legs, and drops his head between them.

I’m not nervous or scared anymore like I was the first time he went down on me. When his tongue laps across my clit, I tighten my fists in his hair, clench my teeth and groan his name.

“Right there,” I gasp as he tongues me, again and again, until the orgasm crashes over me.

He slides up my body to kiss me, and I taste myself on his lips, and already his fingers spread my pussy, play with my clit again, as he smiles down at me. “I could watch you come over and over again forever.” He takes one of my hands, wraps it around his cock. “Feel how hard you make me, Bonnie. Feel how fucking much I love making you come,” he orders, and I clench my fist hard around him as he rubs my clit, so light and fast that I come again, gasping in his arms.

I have a feeling he’s going to tease me forever, but I’ve had enough. I grasp his wrist before he can start to toy with me again, and pull his hand up to my shoulder. I gaze straight into those pale blue eyes of his. “Fuck me, Pierce Pinewood.”

He slides his legs between mine, already rolling a condom over himself, and I feel the hard press of his cock at the entrance of my pussy. Every muscle in my body clenches in anticipation.

“Please,” I gasp, and he finally listens to me. He slides his cock into me in one slow motion, until he’s buried inside me, every inch of him. I cry out, a mix of pain and pleasure searing through me as he spreads my tight walls. I feel my body stretch to take him in, and it feels so fucking right that it’s him taking me, that he’ll be my first.

“I fucking love you,” I breathe, and he smiles against my lips before he kisses me, hard.

“I fucking love you too, Bonnie Taylor.” He rocks out of me, slowly, and my hips rise to meet his as he thrusts into me again, harder. “I fucking love your sexy body, and your tight pussy.”

“Fuck, Pierce,” I groan, and his smile widens.

“I love the way you gasp my name when you lose control.” He tangles his fist in my hair and leans my head back against the sheets, then bites my neck, trailing his teeth over my skin, just hard enough that I can feel a faint sting. “More than anything, I love making you lose control, Bonnie.”

I wrap my legs around his hips instinctively, and arch up against him as he starts to thrust harder, faster. Soon we’re both too lost in sensations to talk, and I glance down between us to savor the sight of his thick cock plunging inside me. I wrap my hands around his shoulders to brace myself, and gasp as the sensations start to build within me.

“Come for me,” he says, his voice sharp with the command.

I moan, long and low, not quite there yet, trying to obey him, trying to get to the peak. He pulls my body lower underneath him, angles his hips so his cock drags against my upper wall as he fucks me faster.

“Come on my cock.”

I cry out, feeling my pussy clench hard around him. A few more quick thrusts and I lose myself in pleasure, moaning his name as I come. He fucks harder now, his eyes glazed, hands tight on my hips, probably leaving bruises, and I fucking love that, I love that he leaves his mark on me. He comes hard a moment after me, groaning through tightly gritted teeth, and while he’s still thrusting, I lean up to kiss him, hard and rough.

When he’s finished, we both collapse back onto the bed, our legs entangled, neither of us anxious to move. He lays on top of me, and I can feel his chest rise and fall, his heart pound against my breast, the faint sheen of sweat on both of our bodies mingling with the scent of sex in the room.

“Holy fuck,” I finally manage to gasp, and he laughs, his real, deep laugh, leaning back to watch me as he does.

“How was that for a first time story?” he asks, smirking, and I tighten my legs around his waist, running my palms down his chest with a smile.

“I think . . .”

He raises an eyebrow, waiting.

My smile deepens. “I think I need a second time, to compare it to.”

“Is that so?” He leans down to nip at my neck.

“Mm, I’m afraid so.” I tangle my hands in his hair, running my nails over his scalp, which makes him shiver against me. “And after that, maybe a third and a fourth time too, just to be sure . . . I need a good pool for comparison.”

Pierce kisses me, and I feel his smile through our joined lips. “Hmm.” He sighs against my mouth, pretending to be put-out. “I suppose I can try to accommodate your demands.” He runs his hands up my sides, and I shiver. “Difficult as it will be to obey. I’ll just have to grin and bear it, somehow . . .”

I prod his side, fake offended, and he rolls over, pulling me on top of him. It doesn’t take long before I feel him start to harden beneath me again, and as we kiss once more, and he lifts me to position his cock beneath me, then guides me down onto his cock, until he fills every inch of me, I realize . . .

This is definitely the kind of treatment I could get used to.