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  I step closer and find myself untangling her fingers from the robe belt. “Please.”

  “Alana,” she whispers, watching me work. “Yours?”

  There’s no harm in her knowing, as long as my last name is kept confidential. Plus, I want to hear her say it. Badly. “Gavin.”

  “Gavin.” The way she rakes her bottom lip through her teeth when pronouncing the V has my cock pushing up against my zipper. As does the blush that renews itself on her cheeks. “Estelle told me you want be called something else, though,” she whispers.

  There’s no help for me. I groan like a broken man, the very fact that this beautiful girl has knowledge of my hunger, that she is here to service it, is almost enough to push me over the edge. “That’s right,” I rasp. “How do you feel about that?”

  Alana takes a moment to think. “Well, when I thought you were going to look and sound like real-life Elmer Fudd, I didn’t feel so great about it.” Again, she elicits a chuckle from me. “But you’re…hot.” That confession visibly embarrasses her, but she keeps going. “You also seem kind of decent.”

  “Decent?”

  “Yes.” With her fingers unraveled from the silk, I keep her hands in mine, making circles in her palms with my thumbs. I wonder if she realizes that with every lap my thumb takes, her nipples harden more and more, creating tight points against the panels of her robe. “I can’t see you doing the things Estelle said you would.”

  That earns an eyebrow raise. “What did Estelle say I would do?”

  “I’d rather not repeat it,” she blurts.

  I bring her wrist to my mouth and drop an open-mouthed kiss on her pulse. “If you can’t repeat the words, Alana, how are you going to do this with me?”

  “You ordered a virgin, didn’t you? Aren’t nerves kind of par for the course?”

  My mouth stills. “Virgin?” I’m an idiot for not recognizing the possibility before. Maybe part of me chalked up her shyness to part of the game. But she would have to be an Academy Award-winning actress to pull off this level of inexperience. “I didn’t order a virgin, Alana,” I say truthfully, watching surprise light her eyes. Especially the blue one.

  “You didn’t?”

  “No. I wouldn’t. Not knowing how hard I want to…” I rake my free hand through my hair. “She quoted me a price and I thought it was high, but considering what I wanted…considering how long I’ve wanted it, I agreed to pay.”

  Alana’s mouth drops open. “So Estelle just threw in my virginity like a free toaster?”

  I puff a laugh, shaking my head. “You’re kind of hilarious, you know that?”

  “Oh.” Pleasure erases the shock from her face. “Thank you.”

  “Welcome.”

  “So you didn’t even try to bargain with her, huh?”

  “Thankfully, no. That would have been a crime, considering who she sent me.” I trail a finger down her throat, between the soft valley of her breasts and over the flat plane of her belly, stopping when I reach the belt of her robe, gently tugging it open. “She could have asked a lot more for you, Alana. I’d have paid anything.”

  “There’s always the tip.”

  We smile at each other and I stand there marveling over the turn this night has taken. It’s not a damn thing like I anticipated. She is nothing I would have known to anticipate, this gorgeous, witty, brave—

  Virgin.

  I can’t fuck this girl, can I?

  Not like this. Not in a brothel. Her first time should be special. On a balcony in Paris or something, while the Eiffel Tower sparkles in the distance.

  And I need to be the one between her legs.

  The ferocity of that wish catches me off-guard. I didn’t come here tonight expecting to meet someone who would knock the wind out of me, but here I am. I shudder to think about how close I came to turning down this trip to Julian. I’d have missed meeting Alana.

  Now that I have, what am I supposed to do with her?

  This was supposed to be one night. Nothing about it was supposed to follow me home. Can anything reasonably come of this…connection with Alana? She knows about my hunger. She’s been well informed on the matter. What am I supposed to do? Introduce her to my peers as my girlfriend? She can’t be a day older than…

  “How old are you?”

  “Eighteen.”

  Jesus Christ. It’s inexcusable that my cock throbs all the harder. A barely legal virgin. I should not want to pry her thighs apart and rut this awful ache away, but I can’t help but wonder how tight her pussy would be. How she’d need soothing when I broke through her cherry. How she’d need to be taught to open up for me.

  You should be ashamed of yourself.

  “Gavin?”

  “I can’t do this to you, Alana,” I say, my voice guttural with need. “This was supposed to be a transaction…but it won’t be that easy with you. You deserve better than some sick fuck getting off on treating you like his little girl.”

  She inhales sharply at those two dangerous words and I catch a flare of excitement in her eyes. Is there a possibility she would enjoy this kind of play as much as I would?

  No.

  On no planet is that possible. She doesn’t have enough experience to know what she likes or doesn’t like, but once she figures it out, I’m sure it won’t match the dirty scenarios in my head. I’m going to drive this girl home safely right now to her parents’ house, just to remind myself exactly how young and innocent she is. Then I’m going back home to put this disgusting fantasy behind me.

  I sense Alana’s panic when I step around her, intending to collect my coat, then go find Estelle so I can bring back Alana’s clothes, so she can get dressed to leave.

  She stops me in my tracks when she drops the robe to the ground.

  “Please don’t go…Daddy.” She unhooks her emerald green bra and lets it fall on top of the robe, showing off the roundest, bounciest little pair of tits I’ve ever seen in my life. “I’ll be a good girl, I promise.”

  3

  Alana

  Bold move.

  Before I came into this room, Estelle gave me a crash course in age play.

  I’m scarred forever after listening to some of those words come out of her mouth, but I digress. She made it sound like a nasty bit of business. A man scratching an itch, a woman earning something shiny out of the deal. But I can’t imagine it being like that with Gavin.

  For one, he’s had an attack of morality and is ready to call the whole thing off to protect my virtue. That’s not something a man without honor would do, is it? And two…his sexual frustration is breeding something identical in me. I want to slake his thirst. I feel responsible for it. Like I was maneuvered here by fate tonight with a purpose.

  God, that sounds insane, but I don’t want him to leave this room without kissing me. Or touching me. A hot prickle started under my skin the moment I opened the door and saw him, in all his tall, dark, scholarly splendor. He’s in suit pants and a white shirt, the sleeves cuffed around his elbows. His dark, wavy hair is a little long on top, as if he’s been too busy reading books and walking along the edges of misty cliffs to get it cut. He smells sharply of bergamot and smoky cedar and as soon as I was within three feet of him, I wanted to bury my nose in his neck and fill my lungs with it.

  I decided when I was nine that boys were stupid.

  This isn’t a boy, though. This is a man. A really sexy, conflicted one…and I am drawn in a way that I truly expected to go my whole life without experiencing. I thought it might happen for Ripley, but I’ve always been too sarcastic and sensible to consider getting swept away.

  When I drop my robe and watch his handsome features tighten with pain, when I see that gigantic ridge pushing at the front of his pants, I am already in serious danger of being swept. It has to be why I say it. Words that would have made me giggle an hour ago.

  “Please don’t go…Daddy.” I unfasten my bra and let it fall away, forgotten. “I’ll be a good girl, I promise.”

 
I’m not giggling at the way those very bad, very forbidden phrases make me feel. Those words on my lips turn me into a different version of myself. I’m not Alana, the goofy girl who always has a camera attached to her neck, I’m Alana, Gavin’s little girl, and according to the madam of this establishment, he wants to fuck me on my hands and knees.

  The thought of it makes my tummy feel fluttery.

  Makes me want to bite my lip and turn my foot in, shyly, awkwardly, because I think he’d like it. And I want to be lusted after by this man. I want him to use me for his male purposes. The way he said “little girl” is still echoing in my head, shimmering with a touch more sensuality every time. Is it possible…I won’t just enjoy being compensated for tonight? That I’ll actually love giving this man what he came for?

  Because as much as I’ve been distracted by Gavin’s voice, scent, face, body…I do need the money for tuition. There’s no way I can let him leave unsatisfied, or I’ll be stuck in Julian when the semester begins next week.

  “Alana,” he says finally, adjusting the heavy-looking bulge in his pants. “You don’t have to do this. You shouldn’t be doing this.”

  “I want to.” Going on instinct, I slide my fingertips into the triangle of my green lace panties, just barely allowing the pad of my middle digit to tuck into my lips. My God, I’m so wet here. Wetter than is considered normal, surely? “Don’t go. I want you.”

  His jaw is slack, nostrils flaring as he watches where my hidden fingers dip into my sex. “Fuck. I can hear how slick it is.”

  Oh good, all this dampness is normal. Or at least he seems to like it. I’ve tried masturbating a few times, mostly at Ripley’s stern insistence, but I could never reach that great height of pleasure everyone is always going on and on about. “Do you want to touch?”

  He makes a hoarse, withering sound that communicates what an understatement I’ve made. “I want to do more than touch. I want to eat it, fuck you, and eat it again.”

  A hot shiver wracks me, tightening my nipples like screws, raising sensitivity bumps on my skin and forcing me to clench my back teeth. I think if Gavin had been watching me the few times I’ve tried giving myself pleasure, I would have achieved an orgasm pretty darn easily. Right now, though, I don’t want to do it myself. I want him to do it for me. And God, I want him to utilize my body to give himself that almighty relief. Want to watch his expressions change, want to feel his weight press me down, his teeth rake my naked skin.

  Gavin still seems conflicted so I hook my fingers in the sides of my panties. Before I’ve even shucked them down my legs, he makes a broken, surrendering sound and unzips his pants, sliding his long-fingered hand through the sagging opening and into the waistband of his black briefs. The muscles of his forearm shift, his fist repeatedly punching against the cotton, and I realize he’s stroking himself. Looking at my virgin flesh while he does it.

  “God help me, I’ll never be able to pull out of that pretty little thing,” he groans, coming toward me a few steps. “Look how precious it is. It’ll overflow with my first spurt.”

  My knees grow so weak under a rush of…definitely lust, though I’ve never experienced it until tonight, that I drop onto the edge of the bed, my hands curling in the comforter. “Gavin…”

  He stops right in front of me, his pumping hand and manhood still hidden in his briefs, the jerks of his fist stopping a scant inch from my mouth. Like he has one more barrier up and he’s asking me to eliminate it. “What is it, princess?”

  “Can I see it?” I ask, my cheeks heating. “I’ve n-never seen one before.”

  His barrier crumbles. “Hell, here I come,” he grits out. “At least I get to pay a visit to heaven first.”

  I’m not sure what I said to make it happen, except make that embarrassing admission, but a change seems to come over Gavin. His demeanor hardens, reminding me of the time I got sent to the principal’s office my sophomore year of high school and sensed a kind of excitement from the man on the other side of the desk. Like he took some kind of pleasure in issuing me detention, having me at his mercy. Gavin is in control here, too. But unlike that day in the principal’s office, I’m excited as well. Because Gavin’s lust is cut with adoration. For me. There might be a mean set to his jaw, but his worshipful eyes inspire trust.

  “Last chance to leave,” he says gruffly, leaving his oversized shaft pressed to the front of his briefs while he strips off his shirt. The move messes up his dark hair and ohmygod he is stupid gorgeous. He’s not like the muscle-bound gym guys I see on Instagram. Not at all. His muscles are long, lean and defined, like a swimmer or a rower. His stomach is deliciously ridged and tight as a drum. There’s a forest of dark hair on his chest and a trail leading down past his belly button, promising to turn even thicker inside his briefs. “Alana,” he prompts me, placing a knee on the edge of the bed, a hand on my jaw. “If you stay, you’re my little girl from here on out. I don’t think I can fuck you any other way. Not when you’re my fantasy come to life.”

  A buzzing current races in my belly. “I don’t want to leave,” I whisper. With my fate sealed, I scoot back farther onto the bed, a naked feast for his eyes. That’s what he turns me into as he follows, prowling toward me on the bed, those strong shoulders flexing in the dim light, his eyes hot as they scour my body.

  “Lay down,” he instructs me roughly, dropping his head to plant a kiss on my belly button, then higher between my breasts. By the time he reaches my throat, licking, settling his lips on top of mine, I’m panting. I’ve followed his directions without even realizing it, too, my back flat on the mattress, pulsations fluttering in places they never have before. Between my legs, deep in my womb, my nipples. “You’re so beautiful,” he rasps against my lips, angling his body half on top of mine, rubbing his erection against my hip. “Do you feel that, Alana? You made it need to go inside of you. We don’t have a choice.”

  Pressure gathers at the juncture of my thighs and I dig my toes into the bed, trying to combat the twisting, achy feeling that keeps increasing. “Is it going to hurt?”

  “Yes.” He skims a fingertip over the peaks of my breasts, making me whimper. “But your Daddy is going to hold you through the pain.”

  I don’t have a chance to react or respond before Gavin’s lips part over mine, sipping at me with a slanted kiss. His chest shudders and my mouth parts in response, as if my body has already attuned to his needs. Learned to anticipate them. The heavy bulge at my hip grows thicker when our tongues touch and slither together. Our groans unite and turn into shallow breaths, but we don’t try to keep pace with those breaths. Gavin’s kiss is not fast or desperate, it’s almost nurturing. My mind tries to make sense of why I like his almost parental tutelage of my mouth, but my body is way ahead of me, muscles squeezing and releasing, more and more heat pooling between my thighs.

  Gavin’s fingertips are still dragging over my nipples and the answering pull in my lower body becomes so insistent, I have to break the kiss, sucking in drags of air.

  “Do you like me playing with your tits, Alana?”

  Biting my lip, I examine the pleasure/pain and answer honestly. “I-I think so.”

  Watchful heat flares in his eyes and I’m beginning to understand more about Gavin’s fantasy. Estelle had it all wrong. He doesn’t want to take me on hands and knees. Or pull my hair. Not tonight, anyway. He wants to introduce me to sex. It’s an X-rated version of having The Talk about birds and bees. That’s what he needs and by some twist of fate, I actually require The Talk. My parents never gave it to me and I’ve kind of lied to Ripley, claiming I know all about sex. Truth is, though, I haven’t even bothered to Google it since I’ve always found the opposite sex so boring.

  “You think so?”

  I bite my lip and nod.

  His palm closes around my left breast, molding it gently. “Do you like when I kiss you?”

  “Yes,” I breathe.

  Gavin nods, his mouth curving slightly. He surveys my body as if it’s a puzzle he’
s trying to solve. “I think I need to kiss your tits to be sure you like me playing with them.”

  Even imagining it makes me dizzy. “Is that…something people do?”

  “If you like it, Alana, it can be something I do. All the time.” He lowers his mouth to my breast, squeezing the globe in his grip so my nipple distends even more. His breath feathers the sensitive bud and my hips writhe on the bed. “We can play just like this, whenever we want. Just you and Daddy.” His erection pulses against my hip, stark hunger displayed on his handsome face. “Nod your head if you like playing.”

  My nod is immediate.

  He groans.

  I don’t feel like myself anymore.

  Somehow I’ve been transported to a different time and place. Where we’re different versions of the same people and what we’re doing is wrong. But we can’t help it. Gavin’s desire has become mine and instinct is ruling me now, giving us what we both want. I gather up all of my shyness and put it on display for him, turning myself on in the process.

  “I like playing,” I whisper.

  I witness lust expanding Gavin’s pupils, just before he dips his head, closing his hot mouth around my nipple. He sucks lightly, laving the tight peak with his tongue, and my knee—the one he isn’t pinning down—jerks up automatically. It’s as though a landline runs between my nipple and my sex—and he just placed a long-distance call.

  “Daddy,” comes my whimper.

  Gavin tears his mouth away from my breast, breathing heavily. “Fuck, little girl, your nipples taste like fresh picked cherries.” He rocks against my hip, gritting his teeth. “Give me a minute or I’m going to come in my goddamn pants.”

  Ruled by instinct, I put my bottom lip out. “What does that mean?”

  He buries his face in my neck. “Jesus. Christ.” It takes him a moment to gather himself, turning his face and pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses beneath my ear. “You feel how big you made my cock, don’t you, Alana?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well it can’t stay that way.” His voice vibrates with hunger. Frustration. “It hurts when you make it so hard.”