Chapter 5
NESSA
My first day at work, like most first days at work, involves a lot of stumbling, confusion, mistakes, and frustration with trying to keep up with all the people coming in and out of the busiest coffee shop I’ve ever worked at, and I’ve worked at many, trying to pay for college and certification.
My parents couldn’t afford much for me and Jen, especially because Jen and I are twins and that’s a double hole in their pockets at the same time.
After high school, Jen finished beauty school, then fell in with the wrong crowd working makeup for a rock band. Drugs with rock and roll are still very much a thing, and Jen loved it until she ended up hospitalized and needing rehab, which normal people like us can’t afford.
We can afford it now. Last night, I sold my hymen to Blake Hellway, who just walked into the coffee shop in his own hotel, of all places. He’s hot. I mean, he’s so hot, it’s intimidating and definitely bad for my heart.
I don’t want to star in one of those Cinderella stories where a charming prince glances at the glass slipper on his way to a woman of his own class. I can’t be that Cinderella. Never liked her story anyway. It’s completely out of the scope of reality.
But so is selling virginity for half a mil, or rather four hundred thousand after the men my sister owed drug money to took their cut before they delivered a bag of cash to my door late last night almost immediately after Blake left.
I was terrified the two shady-looking dudes walking up our driveway would break in and kill us. They didn’t. They threw a leather bag into our backyard. A nice leather bag full of cash.
I don’t know why I expected a direct deposit into my account, but I did. Goes to show how much I know about dealing with these guys.
The next customer and the one after move through the shop and my morning in a haze. The cologne Blake wore lingers in the place, imprinting him on my brain. Before my break, I wipe the counter and pick up a receipt, glancing at it before tossing it in the garbage.
Coffee.
Croissant.
Mints.
TOTAL:
It’s Blake’s receipt for here, and I sent him off with a blueberry muffin. “Shit.”
“What is it?” Nassrine asks and fixes her glasses.
“I messed up Mr. Hellway’s order.”
“How so?” She pulls out a bottle of water and takes it to the register. I follow her. “I gave him a muffin.”
“Instead of a ham and cheese croissant?”
“Yup. He always orders the same thing?”
“Oh yes.” Nassrine throws a croissant into the oven to make it crispy.
“Same time every morning. Same thing. Maybe OCD. Who knows, but his heart’s in the right place.
” She takes out the croissant, puts it on a plate, and hands it to me.
“His office is on the ground floor. Take a right, follow the wall past the front desk, then the narrow hallway. Security will ask questions. Tell them I sent you.”
I stand there. I cannot see Blake again. Not after last night and then this enlightening morning.
“Go,” Nassrine says with more force. “I can’t leave that man hungry.”
Grumbling, I leave the shop and follow her directions until I reach a pair of security men standing before a foggy glass door.
“I’m new at Vanilla Delights Coffee,” I say. “Delivery for Mr. Hellway.”
“He brings his own breakfast,” one security man says.
“Nassrine sent me.”
The massive guard with a devil tattoo on his neck purses his lips and taps the unit in his ear. He’s not even dressed as security. This is a bodyguard if I ever saw one. Even wears shades indoors. The man standing next to him stares straight ahead.
“Aisha, I have a girl from the coffee shop— Yes, ma’am.” The guard opens the door. “Smells great, by the way. What is it?”
“A crispy fresh ham and cheese croissant.”
The guard nods. I think I just passed the test. Nassrine said Hellway orders the same thing all the time, so the guard would know what it is.
I enter another lobby, this one quiet and dim, with vanilla-scented candles lit up in different places and a mini fountain with water dribbling down the wall.
An older woman comes from around her desk, tossing a blueberry muffin wrapper into the bin as she walks toward the grand glass doors. “Go right in, dear.”
As if walking on eggshells, I enter his office. The door behind me closes and locks. Blake’s behind his desk, and he puts down his tablet and smiles. His smile disarms me. He’s…so very approachable. Warm in a way that makes me feel less horrible about messing up his breakfast.
I walk to the desk and put the plate on it. “Croissant for here. Not a muffin to go. I’m sorry about that.”
“It happens.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“Had more pressing things to say. Picked one that seemed more important.”
“The gala dinner?”
He nods.
I can’t say no again. I just can’t do it. I’ll study when I get off work, do what I gotta do to make this gala dinner.
His eyes twinkle. “You’ve completely destroyed my morning, which means you’ve completely destroyed my day.”
“Oh, I’m very sorry.” The muffin wasn’t that bad. Jeez.
He stands and unbuttons his suit and loses his tie. “Close the blinds, would you?”
Um… Why? I don’t move.
He raises an eyebrow. “Did you not hear me?”
“Why do you want the blinds closed?”
“Because I will punish you now. If you like to be watched, by all means, leave the blinds open.”
“Um, I just came to deliver a croissant.”
“And you will be leaving with a weeping pussy.”
“That’s not what I had in mind.”
“But I did. Press the button by the door for the blinds, please.”
I head for the door and grab the handle, tug. It’s locked at first, but then it clicks, and I open the door.
“Before you leave,” he says. “I will take pussy for five hundred thousand, please.”
I stare out at the lobby, the spa-like atmosphere, and the secretary who doesn’t lift her head even though she knows I’m standing here. He paid for my pussy. If I don’t put out, they’re gonna take the money back or worse.
“The blinds,” he bites out. “And this is the last time I’m going to ask politely. Time wasting is my number one pet peeve.”
I close the door, and he locks it. Finding the button, I press it, and the blinds fall over the doors and windows. It’s not pitch-black, but pretty dark, and Blake sits behind the desk like a devil in a suit, brown eyes almost hazel, shining with lust. “Come here, baby doll.”
I walk to the desk.
“Closer.”
I round the desk and stand in front of him.
He grabs my hips and gently brushes a thumb over my belly and the hem of the tights I’m wearing, then pulls them down to my knees, exposing my bottom half. “Hold up your shirt and don’t touch me.”
I push up my shirt, leaving my belly exposed to his gaze. I’m a size twelve, a bit rounder around the edges, and uncomfortable doesn’t begin to describe how I feel right now.
Under that fine suit, there’s a toned body and a six-pack, I’m certain.
Besides, I’m sure this man dates women blessed with great metabolism, genetics, and discipline, women who grace magazine covers and the social media sites I scroll through once in a while.
So yeah, I’m uncomfortable, trying to suck in my belly without making it obvious.
Blake leans forward and sticks his tongue out, wedging it between my legs. Immediately, I spread them as wide as possible, with the tights impeding my movement. He flicks his tongue against my clit, and over the underwear, the friction feels amazing, rubbing me, sending tingles up my belly.
His big palm splays over my lower belly, and he uses his thumb to lift my mound to gain better access.
His tongue licks the length of my slit, and I rest my palms on the sleek cold desk and lean back, my feet coming off the floor.
He takes my ankles and places my feet on his thighs, then lowers my tights and spreads my knees.
Finally, he moves my underwear to the side and buries his face between my legs.
Blake eats pussy with his chin buried inside my hole to put pressure on it while his tongue swirls my clit with lazy movements.
He watches me while he’s licking me, and I can barely hold his gaze because I’m both embarrassed I’m inside his office and aroused to be in his office, to have this beautifully refined man between my legs.
I work at the coffee shop, okay? He owns the hotel. I can’t even get his order right, and yet he knows how to eat my pussy without knowing what I like.
Well, I like whatever he’s doing, and my hands itch to grab his hair, make a mess of the finely styled strands, but I don’t because he asked not to be touched.
The fact I can’t or maybe the fact he commands me easily and with no effort makes me feel like I could just lie back and relax and let him do whatever he wants.
I do that. I lean back on my elbows, and he stops. I’m watching the ceiling, waiting to see what he’ll do, when I hear a belt buckle. Oh my God, he’s gonna fuck me over the desk.
Swallowing, I lift my head and find him grabbing his cock and stroking. It’s a beautiful big cock with a big mushroom top, and I’m sure it will hurt when it enters my pussy. I want him to hurt me like that.
Blake moves forward, and because my legs are constrained by the tights, they’re also in the way. He stops just before he can penetrate me to rub his cock at my entrance.
Groaning, he keeps rubbing, and I have this inexplicable need to scoot down and impale myself on it.
Frustrated, I moan, and he snaps his eyes toward me, then reaches for my clit and starts rubbing.
I lie down on the desk while he strokes me, rubbing my clit with his fingers while the head of his cock stays at the entrance.
Butterflies wreak chaos in my lower belly, and I close my eyes, anticipating the moment when I shatter into a million pieces, coming and coming, my pussy convulsing, making my legs shake.
Blake removes his fingers, leaving my clit throbbing with need.
I freeze as he pushes the tip inside. So this is how I will lose my virginity, the thing I’ve been saving for a man who’s gonna sweep my heart away and hold it steady, never hurt it or try to manipulate it for the rest of our lives.
Four hundred thousand will get my sister and me places to live.
It’s just a stupid hymen. I fist my hands, waiting for him to push inside, bracing for pain. He wanted to punish me.
The pain never comes, and neither does my orgasm.
Sitting up, I swallow between quick breaths.
He’s standing right in front of me, his chin inches from my lips, and I kiss him there, tasting myself on him.
Stepping back, he smiles and looks down.
I follow his gaze to his cock, where at the tip, fluid glistens.
Some of it slides down and drips on the floor.
He swipes a thumb over the rest and brings it to my lips, smears it over them.
He bends and kisses me, eyes open and watchful, fingers stroking my pussy again.
Tasting the mix of his precum and mine, I throw my hands around his neck and grab his hair—finally—and kiss him with my eyes closed.
This way, I don’t have to look at the devilishly charming, utterly out-of-my-league man who’s gonna punch my Vanessa card and shatter the glass slippers.
He’s dominant, but not aggressive. Charming, but not fake.
Rich and full of himself, but not obnoxious.
And he’s so easy to like, and I bet easier to fall in love with. This spells trouble for me.
While I’m holding him and he’s kissing me back, he strokes me but doesn’t touch any other part of me, and when he starts stroking me faster, I throw my head back and moan loudly, anticipating my orgasm again when he closes his hand over my throat and squeezes gently.
The lack of air makes the blood rush to my cheeks.
They heat up, and I gasp, my lower belly almost in a cramp over the need to come.
Blake releases my throat and wipes his fingers on his mouth.
“The next time we meet, you will come. Meanwhile, don’t touch yourself.
” He kisses me softly. “My pussy, my rules.” He tastes like peppermint and me, fresh and exciting, and when I finally leave the office in a daze, I know I left something behind. And it’s not my hymen. Shit.