I feel strange as I hold the door for my beauty and allow her into my home.
This isn’t something I do. When I see women, it’s always at a hotel or one of my other properties. This is my home base – the place I can be myself. And now I’m willingly bringing her into it.
I always thought the whole married and kids thing was not for me. After all, how many billionaire marriages out there do you see that actually work? Some dumb nerdy guy marries an actress who takes him for half of everything he has and leaves him standing wide-eyed wondering what the fuck just happened.
Not me.
I decided that a long time ago. And then I met Amory, and now I’m rethinking everything. And if I’m being honest with myself, I’m afraid.
I thought I had my feelings under control. You have to when you’re in my position. One wrong, emotional move can cause a deal to come crashing down or topple an empire. But Amory has me beside myself, and even the thought of my life without her makes me wince inside.
I can’t let her go now…and it has nothing to do with the fact that she knows my secret.
I need those lips…those breasts…those sweet hips.
I need to feel her body pressed against mine. I need her moans in my ear, and I need to feel that sweet virgin pussy for the first time and watch her face as I claim her. God, I can’t even imagine how incredible that would be.
Men have called me cold, callous—even Vulcan-like for all the Star Trek fans out there. But I can already feel my walls beginning to fall, like tiny chips beginning to appear in the mortar.
This could be dangerous. My whole empire rests on my unshakable foundation. If that foundation crumbles, the whole thing could come down. I could take her home…make her sign an NDA and assign a group of men to watch her day and night and make sure she doesn’t talk…
But, fuck, I don’t want her out of my sight. Out of my presence. The thought of another man laying his hands on her, feeling her gorgeous lips against his, or claiming her cherry has me seeing red. No, there’s no way I can let her go.
I realize my right hand is clenched at my side as I close the door behind us. She steps ahead of me and I watch her as she looks around my home, already looking like she belongs. My eyes struggle to find her curves, but her work outfit is hiding them from me.
“I have to get you out of those coveralls,” I tell her.
She turns, her eyes bright.
“Am I not dressed right for this mansion of yours?”
“Sweetie, if I had it my way, you’d never even be dressed.”
My cock is throbbing in my pants as I imagine her body naked, dripping with arousal beneath me. What would her face look like when I first slide inside and stretch her? I dig my nails into my palm in an attempt to force my lust for her down to a tolerable level. But she hasn’t zipped her coveralls up again, and as she shifts her weight, her perky tits bounce—even underneath that sports bra of hers—and I’m going crazy for her.
“So, what’s the plan, Mr. Duke? I just live here with you forever?”
“Would that be that bad?” I ask her. “You wouldn’t have to work as a janitor anymore. Why are you doing that anyway?”
“Some of us need money.” She shrugs with a sly smile. Wow, a woman with a little spunk. “I know that might be a strange concept for someone like you.”
“So you work as a janitor at the Met because you need money?” I’m not buying it. “Why not nanny? Shit, you could model.”
Amory scoffs. “Stop. No, I couldn’t. And even if I could, I wouldn’t want to. I work at the Met because…you know how Will worked at Harvard in Good Will Hunting?”
I can’t believe the way she’s talking to me. The girls I’m used to are completely brainless, and she’s springing an analogy on me.
“Because he didn’t want to admit to himself that he wanted to do more with his life,” I reply. “So he got himself close to what he wanted.”
“Exactly,” Amory replies. “Only I fully admit to wanting to be a painter. I’m not that good…not yet—”
“I’m sure you are.” The words slide out of my mouth instantly. I’m not a bullshitter; I know better than to say something before I’ve thought it through, but saying that felt so natural. And I believe it. I don’t know how or why I know, but I know; this girl is talented.
“I want to go to art school. I’ll never be able to afford it, but maybe I could apply for a scholarship one day.”
“You can afford it now,” I tell her.
“What—what do you mean?”