Why didn’t I ever have sex?
And suddenly, I wish I had screwed any random guy, so long as I’d have gotten that out of the way.
Because the pressure now is crushing me. Dermot Nash, who has had every experienced, beautiful woman at his beck and call, did not sign up for a virginal prude.
This is false advertising at its worst, and what will he say when he realizes what he’s gotten for his hundred thousand dollars?
It’s dawning on me that I have made a huge mistake, signing up for this, peddling myself as a commodity and lying about the goods. I feel sick again. I feel really, truly ill.
The world is spinning.
I’m starting to have difficulty breathing. Trying to pretend I’m fine, I casually ask if I can roll down the window.
“Of course,” Dermot replies, and hits a button. The window slides down a few inches and air pours into the car. I inhale, close my eyes, tell myself to calm down.
Just breathe. Just relax before you blow this and don’t get paid.
Your life, your father’s life, is depending on this working out.
“Haisley,” Dermot says softly.
I finally open my eyes and he’s watching me closely. “Hi,” I say, trying to smile.
“What’s wrong,” he says, a statement. It’s not a question.
“Maybe I’m a little carsick or something.”
“I don’t think that’s it,” he tells me. “I think you’re maybe regretting this.”
“No. Definitely not.” I try to meet his appraising gaze, to look confident, but my heart races and I feel my chest tighten. I’m having a panic attack.
My heart beat races faster and I try to breathe, but it feels like no air is coming into my lungs. I make a small noise in my throat and feel tears threaten.
“Haisley,” he says again.
“Shit…I…I can’t breathe.” I wave my hands, gasping, heart beating even faster, and now I’m hyperventilating.”
“Stop the car,” Dermot calls out.
A moment later, we pull over to the side of the road.
Dermot opens the car door, takes my hand and guides me out. I’m grasping at my chest, I feel my legs buckle. “I think I might pass out.”
“No. No you won’t,” he tells me. “You need to look at me, Haisley. Look at me.”
“I can’t.”
“Watch me,” he says. “Put your hand on my chest, here.” He grabs my hand and places it on his rock-hard chest. “Now, when I breathe in, you take a breath with me. And you don’t breathe out until I do. Come on.”
I keep my eyes closed, but I can feel his chest, warm and solid beneath my fingertips. It’s electric. My entire body is charged, and suddenly I’m not focused on how I can’t get any air.
Instead, I’m lit up, as if I’ve been plugged into a wall socket. Every fiber, ever cell feels alive.
I can tell that my nipples are stiff, tight and sensitive. My pussy clenches.
His chest rises. “Breathe in with me,” he commands.
I do as he says.
He holds his breath for a while, and I’m sure I can’t do it, but somehow…somehow, I manage. When he releases his breath, I gratefully exhale.
“Again,” he says softly.
We go through this routine a few more times, and I can feel my heart rate dropping slightly. And I don’t feel like I’m going to pass out anymore.
I open my eyes and look at him, and he’s watching me with an expression that is both tender and hungry at once.
I feel myself ache for him in the core of my being.
I am aching to be fucked, possessed, loved, touched, looked at the way he’s looking at me right now for the rest of my life.
It’s exhilarating, frightening, and I lick my lips, hoping he might kiss me right now. Take me right now, if that’s what he wants.
For a moment, it seems he might. He takes my hand, still on his chest, and holds it for a long moment. His hand is strong, large and hot to the touch. “Very good,” he says.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“Come on. We need to get you home.”
Back inside the car, we fall silent again, and he’s texting on his phone while I watch the streets get nicer, wider, the buildings taller, fancier, and soon we pull up to his residence.
“Here we are,” he says.
“It’s so beautiful,” I marvel, looking at the ornate exterior. “What floor do you live on?”
He chuckles. “All of them.”
And it’s true, I realize, as the driver brings our bags to the door and then Dermot uses a keypad and his thumbprint in combination with looking into a camera and announcing his name before the door clicks open.
“Wow, you take security seriously around here,” I laugh, but he doesn’t return the smile.
His eyes are hard and cool. “Yes, I do.”
I feel somehow chastised, and then I feel a bit stupid. After all, my apartment was just broken into and my father beaten and threatened. Dermot Nash is worth billions, and there are surely people who would harm him if he didn’t take his security seriously.
We enter the residence and I gasp at the sheer enormity of the place.
It’s a modern castle.
The ceilings appear to stretch up and up, the walls are enormous. Giant works of art, bigger than movie theater screens, hang on the walls.
There are beautiful, modern stairs that tower up into the air above us.
“We’ll take the elevator to our room,” Dermot announces.
“Oh. Okay,” I say, swallowing hard.
Is this it? Right to the bedroom?
Is he going to have sex with me now?
We get into an elevator and Dermot folds his arms as we travel up five flights. When it arrives, he grabs my bags and then we walk just a few steps into the biggest bedroom I’ve ever seen.
Bedroom?
It’s an entire house unto itself.
There are couches, chairs, a desk, an enormous television, floor-to-ceiling windows, a gas fireplace, and…the bed.
The bed is large, tasteful, not ostentatious.
But my heart skips a beat when I see it. Will we be in that bed soon?
Will we be naked? Will I be crying out his name?
He puts the bags down and calls me over to a set of doors, which he opens. They lead onto a mind-blowing balcony with a stunning view of the entire city.
I stand there, mouth agape at the beauty.
“Nice,” he says.
“That’s the understatement of the decade,” I murmur.
He chuckles. “Maybe later we’ll have coffee or dinner out here. But first…I’d like to taste desert.”
He comes up behind me and puts his hands on my hips. I shudder, feel his breath on the nape of my neck. “Just a quick taste,” he says, now his voice in my ear.
I feel myself moan softly. “Do you want…” I don’t know how to finish my question.
“Yes, I want,” he replies. His hands glide up my hips and then he pulls me into him. His body is pressed tightly against mine, and I can feel how hard he is, even through all of our clothes.
I can feel him, pushing against my buttocks, feel his need and desire, and it wets mine.
“I hope I don’t disappoint you.”
He chuckles again. “You’re serious?”