I’m not much of a drinker, and especially straight liquor, but I know he’s right. I have no idea what he has planned for me, and this will probably be the only opportunity I have for pain management if I’m going to lose my virginity later.
He seems so calm and in control, it makes me wonder what might be lurking under the surface of that composed demeanor and expensive suit. A warm shiver races through me and I take a long sip of the drink, welcoming the burning path the liquor creates down my throat.
* * *
Colton
One million dollars? My head is still spinning. Sophie swallows the liquor I gave her, the delicate column of her throat working. She makes a grimace. Okay, so I'm mature enough to admit this is not going well.
Tonight has been an absolute fucking debacle. One million dollars was more than I’d wanted to spend and more importantly, I didn’t want a virgin. I’d wanted one of the older, more independent girls who’d done this type of thing before. Not someone I’d have to handhold and train every step of the way. Something tells me Sophie is going to take more time and work than I’ve bargained for.
I release a heavy sigh, and take a long swallow of bourbon, letting it warm a path down my throat. The dull roar of the jet engine is giving me a headache and I pour another measure into my glass.
Fuck’s sake, what had I been thinking?
I glance over at the girl, she’s finished her drink, and the way she’s huddled into the leather chair—her knees pulled up to her chest, and her arms wrapped tightly around them—creams of her discomfort. Her eyes are closed as though she’s trying to summon her inner strength for whatever is about to come her way. I can already tell this isn’t going to go well. Fuck.
I’d only outbid that asshole who wanted her because he’d gotten the girl I had picked out. She was closer to my own age of twenty-eight, and this was her third time entering into this type of relationship. She was tried and tested and would have made a good drama-free companion. But that prick had been the one to take her home, so when he started bidding on Sophie, outbidding him was my way of giving the asshole a taste of his own medicine. Plus, he just seemed like a dirt-bag and I didn’t want him to have her. The little boy inside me wanted to take his toy and go home. Of course, the terrified, timid girl sitting across from me is now mine to deal with, so maybe I hadn’t exactly thought that plan through.
And a virgin too…would she even be capable of handling me? I highly doubted it. I hadn’t wanted a project—someone to babysit and go slow with. But shit, I’m the one in control. There’s no real reason to go slow. I can set the pace of this. And I will.
As I continue studying her, my cock perks up in interest. She’s petite, but with all the rounded curves a woman’s body should have. Soft moldable tits and an ass meant for grabbing onto. Or spanking. Her skin is creamy and pale, except for the apples of her cheeks which are flushed pink. Long dark hair hangs loose over one shoulder. My gaze travels north and I realize her blue eyes have lifted to mine. She’s watching me expectantly, obviously wondering what will happen next. Good fucking question.
I have no idea why I told her to call me Drake. Actually, I do. It doesn’t take a psychologist to figure out that my employees call me Mr. Drake and hearing her call me Colton would feel too familiar. Too intimate. That isn’t what this connection is about. It’s business. Pure and simple. The business of my dick getting some much overdue attention and having a steady female companion without the hassle of navigating the dating scene. Get your head in the fucking game, Colt.
Sophie will be somewhere to park my dick when I'm bored. I have needs and she'll provide for those. There's no need to get all philosophical about things. I'm in charge here. Everything will work out just fine, I'll just have to set some boundaries and expectations. We'll be home soon and then I'll make sure she knows what's expected of her. I'll get the attention I need, and she'll get her money—it's an ancient arrangement and I won't feel guilty about the fact that I have certain desires, certain fantasies.
As the liquor warms a path inside me, I take a breath and cast a glance over at the beauty seated across from me. Yes, this will do quite well...
* * *
Sophie
The plane safely touches down after only about thirty minutes or so, and once again, we climb on Drake’s motorcycle, which I learn has been stored in the bulk luggage compartment underneath the plane. Darkness has fallen all around us, which fits my slightly buzzed and melancholy mood. I want to hide in the night shadows and pretend that none of this is real.
While I hold on to him for dear life, he expertly navigates us down the highway, the single headlight illuminating our path. I pay close attention to the passing signs. Apparently, we’re near Los Angeles—a place I’ve never been. Soon he takes an exit for Malibu and once we’re on the surface streets, my heart begins pounding. We’re nearing our destination and I have no idea what’s in store for me.
When we pull up to the gated drive, Drake stops the bike to punch some buttons on the key pad, and I peer around his shoulder, eager for a look at what will be my new home for the next six months. It can’t really be described as a home…it’s a full on mansion, complete with a stone drive leading up to a sprawling estate.
Little twinkling lights illuminate our path and provide me with just enough light to make my jaw drop open at what I can see. The house is stucco in the color of warm honey and two huge columns flank the rich mahogany front door. Drake cruises right on past the front of the house and parks beside a six-stall garage before cutting the ignition.
Here we go.