Dahlia’s been mine since the second I saw her.
My doll.
She opened her mouth to whisper something,
but I stop her by taking her lips for the kiss I’ve been
waiting all week to give her. I wrap a hand around her
waist, gripping the small of her back as my tongue parts
her lips. She molds to my chest as much as she can with
her bindings, yielding to each swish of my tongue as I
explore every contour of her mouth. Tasting her for the
first time is more intense than I expect. I want to cover
every inch of her body with mine and impale her hard
without holding anything back.
Moving deeper into the kiss, I support my weight with
one arm and stretch out beside her. She can’t turn to
face me, but she does what she can with her legs, sliding
one up and down between my ankle and calf through my
pants. I have to pull away, so that I don’t end up ripping
off my clothes and burying my cock deep inside of her.
The entire night is ahead of us, so I plan to pace myself
and taste every inch of her before I fuck her hard.
I pull apart from our kiss, and smile as she takes a breath and runs her tongue over my bottom lip, eager to
continue. I’m just as ready to devour those lips again.
Raising off the bed, I move to the spot between her
knees, parting them to make room as I bury my hands
into her long, raven tresses, and tilt her head up sharply,
crashing my mouth over her lips.
Her feet slide up the bed, and she presses her thighs
against the outside of my legs. Heat radiates from her
center and in an instant, I’m rock hard. Gripping her back
with one hand, I lower my torso and hips to her body,
letting my full weight rest on her as I grind my cock at her
barely legal pussy, separated only by my boxers and
slacks.
Dahlia is hardly breathing, surviving on the lungful of
air we share, and manages a whimper that sounds like
words. I want to stifle out the sound, to keep this kiss
going, but she repeats the words.
“Sorry, what?” I ask, pulling from her mouth to let her
speak.
“I said, I haven’t been with a man…like this. I just
wanted you to know.”
There’s no stopping the ringing in my ear that sounds
like I’m in the middle of a room during a five-alarm blaze.
Lifting up off her torso, I study her face. “Did you just say
you’re a—”
“A virgin,” she answers, finishing my sentence. “Yes.
I’m…that.”
A slew of questions starts to surface, along with two
urges fighting each other in every single cell in my body.
The one hardwired to my dick wants to end her virgin
status right this second. Right here in my bed. Be good, you hear? Or there won’t be any special
treats for my darlings. Give me a kiss, babies. Give
Mommy a kiss. I love you all.”
Is Vivian ever going to leave?
I nod repeatedly with a polite smile lifting my lips. This
is my attempt to keep a look of professionalism on my
face as my part-time boss, Vivian Chandler, lowers to the
floor to dole out embraces and kisses to her little ones in
the hallway outside her penthouse condo front door.
Well, not all so little. She still babbles on and on to me
with instructions about her fur babies before she flies off
for a three-week trip to Europe. Preston, one of the more
senior condo concierge staff, waits patiently with her
mountain of designer suitcases stacked on a shiny gold-
plated rolling luggage rack at the elevator on the
opposite wall.
After some more cuddling, the pampered pooches go
back to what they were doing. Vivian rests her Salvatore
Ferragamo designer handbag on the threshold and starts
to put on her plush, all-cream fur coat. That’s progress.
“All the emergency numbers are in the email I sent you, and in the top drawer beside the fridge,” she
reminds me again. “And upstairs in the dogs’ room.”
“I’ve got them right here in my cell,” I tell her, pulling
my phone from the pocket of my sweatpants. “And the
dog monitoring app is installed from the last few times I
was here. Even while I’m on campus, I’ll know what
they’re up to, and I’ll be close enough to get here fast if
they need anything.”
“Great, and don’t hesitate to put them up in their
playroom if you’re at school for more than a couple of
hours. It’s one of the few doors Daisy still can’t open on
her own. Just remember to fill the food and water
dispensers, and they’re all set to stay in there for a
while.”
“Sure. I’ll do that.”
“But make sure you take them out after they eat and
drink. We want to minimize any accidents…especially on
my Persians on the landing.”
“Got it.”
Vivian stares longingly past me at her three pets.
Sheba, a tan-colored Shih Tzu, is at the far end of the
expansive condo living area, bouncing off the floor every
so often as he paws at the all-glass sliding door to the
balcony. Bailey, a white Bull Terrier, is waiting in the
middle of the marble foyer, sitting dutifully beside Daisy,
the black-and-white spotted Great Dane that stands at
almost my full five-foot-six in height. Like I said, not so
little.
“I’ll take great care of them, Ms. Chandler,” I say for
the hundredth time. “I promise.”
“And you’re sure you don’t mind sleeping here while
I’m gone?” she asks with concern as she picks up her
purse again, eyes fixed on her pets while distractedly
sliding the leather straps over her shoulder. “Not at all,” I say, beaming. And my expression is
authentic, too, because who wouldn’t want to stay in a
multi-million-dollar penthouse condo instead of a tiny,
cramped Brooklyn walkup apartment for a few weeks. “In
fact, it’s a big help. This building is fifteen minutes from
Columbia, so you’re saving me a fifty-minute train ride
each way from Brooklyn. Trust me, I intend to be here
whenever I’m not in lectures. All the time. Day and night.
Don’t worry, Ms. Chandler. They’ll be fine.”
“I’m going to miss you, my babies,” she whimpers out,
a little choked up. “So much! But I’ll be back in a few
weeks with all your favorite imported treats, my darlings.”
Daisy, Bailey, and Sheba more or less ignore her.
They’re used to me being around. I’ve been pet-sitting off
and on for Vivian for more than a year and a half. That’s
almost as long as it’s been since I moved from Cedar
City, Utah, to New York to complete a degree in
Veterinary Sciences at Columbia U. These dogs are
practically my family. I’m also the only person Vivian
trusts to take care of them. Which is why I got this gig.
Mind you, this is the first time that I’ll be with them on
an extended overnight basis. The last time Vivian had to
go out of town, she left them at the doggy spa. They
were fine, but Vivian was not happy about Bailey losing a
couple of pounds while she was away. She almost sued
them for negligence, but changed her mind when I
reminded her that Bailey has a history of picky eating,
which was echoed by her vet.
Gosh, I hope she doesn’t sue me after this
pet-sitting gig.
Vivian’s sure paying me enough. This will be the most
money I’ve ever earned in one job. Five thousand dollars.
I still can’t believe that round-the-clock pet-sitting pays
this much. Vivian spent more than double that amount to keep them at the doggy spa last time. It’s expensive,
owning three pets here in Manhattan. Daily boarding
rates per dog can run in the hundreds. For me, the five
grand will go a long, long way. My tuition is taken care of,
thanks to scholarships and such, and my folks back
home send me what they can, but I cover my own rent
and other expenses. Even in Brooklyn, living expenses
aren’t cheap.
In any case, I love these doggies just as much as
Vivian does, so I plan to make sure they’re happy while
I’m taking care of them.
The chime of the antique grandfather clock in the
study gets our attention.
“Two o’clock,” Vivian choruses. “I’d better get going.
See you soon, my babies. Mommy’s going to miss you.
And please do whatever Dahlia asks you to do, okay?”
“Have a safe trip, Ms. Chandler,” I tell her.
“Thanks, Dahlia. Oh, before I forget. We have a new
neighbor. Jackson Knight. Remember his name.”
“Jackson Knight. Got it.”
“He’s a handsome young man. But you know how the
billionaires living in this building are?”
I nod, but Vivian, a trust fund billionaire, is also one of
them. I don’t know for certain what she means.
“He’s all business. Cold as ice. Curt and impolite.
Hates dogs. Sheba has already wandered onto his
balcony. He didn’t like that very much, so make sure you
keep an eye on him. Sheba, I mean, not the neighbor,”
she says lightly with eyebrows raised.
“Will do,” I tell her with a nod. “Bye, Ms. Chandler.
You’d better hurry, or you’ll miss your flight!”
“Yes, I really should go. Take good care of them.”
“I will,” I assure her. “Everything will be great.”
Vivian sighs, turning to walk over to the elevator and the waiting concierge.
I remain in the doorway, waiting with the door ajar
until the elevator doors open. With one final wave at her
dogs, she allows the concierge to roll the luggage rack
inside, steps on next to him, and they leave.
Finally. Deluxe everything awaits me, and all I have to
do for three splendid weeks is take care of three
munchkins I love to pieces. The five thousand big ones
are just sweet, sweet icing on the cake.
It’s only as I lock the door and turn around that I
notice Bailey is the only one looming in the foyer. Daisy
has managed to open the balcony door, and both she
and Sheba are romping around on the granite tile slabs
out there. It’s a sight to see. Daisy’s as large as a pony,
while Sheba can almost fit in both my hands. Hurrying
across the foyer and living room, I make it onto the
terrace just in time to see Sheba’s hindquarters squeeze
through a tiny space under the privacy partition—to the
neighbor’s balcony.
“Sheba, get back here, boy,” I call to him, squinting
with one eye through the narrow opening between the
exterior wall and the frosted glass partition. Sheba
doesn’t make a sound, so I walk over to the thick
limestone railing at the ledge of the terrace, and peer
around the opaque glass to look for him. “Sheba?”
Sheba begins to bark excitedly. Then I hear the tap of
men’s dress shoes hitting the granite floor. Trailing my
eyes to the sound, I freeze. That’s when I see the not so
happy yet smoking hot man in his mid-twenties, dressed
in a well-tailored navy suit with white shirt, hovering his
smartphone an inch from his ear.
Jackson Knight, is my guess.
And he’s staring at me.
No. More like glaring. Fuck.
This puny little mutt again.
It’s two in the afternoon, and I just got home
after a close to twenty-three-hour negotiation meeting
from hell. I’m exhausted as fuck. My phone won’t stop
buzzing. I don’t need a whiny little nuisance yapping his
fur-covered trap off—and licking my shoes on top of that.
These babies are House of Testoni, for fuck’s sake.
I open my mouth, about to shout some choice fucking
words over at my neighbor, Vivian, to put a leash on her
runaway canine when I lock eyes with a girl I’ve never
seen before.
Straight, jet black hair framing her heart-shaped face,
big blue-gray eyes almost hidden by her grown out
bangs, pale, creamy skin, slightly flushed from
embarrassment and not a single blemish, and those full,
pink lips I can’t even try to ignore. There’s not enough of
her body to view, but her long neck, narrow collarbone,
and slight swell at the top of her sweater-covered tits give
away her small frame. For a split second, I wish she
wasn’t mostly hidden by the glass partition between
