Page 9 of Keeping The Virgin

Okay. But I don’t really know this man. Yes, he was already more intimate with me than I’ve ever experienced before, but part of me feels afraid because this isreallyhappening—this impulsive, out-of-the-ordinary offer from a billionaire. But even more significantly, he seems like the type of guy who could steal my heart if I’m not careful.

I can be careful though—way more careful than I’ve been in the past.

“I accept your offer,” I say, my blood already singing for what I’ve just signed on for.

Cage doesn’t say anything, but I see something that confuses me in his blue eyes—something that grips my heart—before his gaze cools and he nods in satisfaction, sealing the deal.

* * *

All business now,he directs me to a lounge where there’s a gigantic plasma TV plus every media option available on it. After he gives me a phone charger, he tells me that since I’ll be hanging around, I’ll need some dinner.

I watch him leave the room, and I wonder if he always runs the gamut from hot to warm to cold and back again.

Probably. But I’ll be with him only a few days, so I can take his changing moods. My patience will hopefully be rewarded in many ways...

I plug my device into an outlet. Then I settle onto a stuffed leather sofa in the dark-wooded room that has a view of the waterside pool with white-draped awnings, which gives it a decadent Roman flavor. There’s also a curtained iron gazebo, and as I access a movie on the TV, I see Cage going out there with a tray of ingredients.

Is he going to cook me dinner?

It seems there’s a small kitchen in that gazebo, and I find myself watching him cook more than I watch the movie.

He’s still in his board shorts, shirtless, and that means I get to see his muscles work with every move he makes. Even though he’s not dressed in an elegant business suit and chased by paparazzi at this very minute, he’s still the authoritative billionaire who just bought me.

And he plans on fucking me.

Oh, god, but when? How? Where?

I curl onto the sofa, pressing my thighs together so the ache between my legs won’t drive me insane. I think the only thing that’ll make the delicious pain go away is him, his fingers, his mouth, and...

I blow out a breath. His penis. Or, now that I’m about to become very familiar with it, maybe I should start being a big girl and calling it what the big girls call it.

His cock.

By the time he finally summons me outside, I’ve blushingly fantasized about him having me in about a thousand different ways.

He’s put on a dark T-shirt, as if he took that extra courteous step for our waterside dinner, and he pulls out my chair for me.

A flutter of appreciation wings around the inside of my belly, and I smile at him as I sit and place my phone on a chair next to me. The white curtains stir in the mild breeze as the sun turns a simmering orange, coating the water with its warmth.

But it’s him I can’t take my eyes off of. Tall, dark, gorgeous him.

As he slides a plate in front of me, I realize that something smells delicious, and I close my eyes and inhale.

“Yum,” I murmur.

When I open my eyes again, Cage is standing there and watching me as if my slight, delighted sound has turned him on. I see it in his eyes. But he’s also guarded, absolutely in control.

This is a man who does things the way he does them. He’s a mystery I’m not going to solve in a few days, and I’m going to enjoy myself for what this is worth.

I glance at my plate, which is full of yellow rice with olives and something like grilled bananas. “What is this?”

Cage smoothly pours a golden wine into my waiting glass. “Cuban plantains. It’s supposed to be a family recipe from generations ago.”

I glance up at him to see the breeze toying with his thick brown hair. As he looks back at me, his eyes pierce me, and the color is all the more intense because of his tanned skin and dark eyebrows.

This has got to be a dream, I think as he pours wine for himself and then sits across from me. Every move he makes sends a quaver through me. It’s almost as if he’s stroking my pussy again, getting me wet and ready for what he’ll eventually be doing to me…

Tearing myself away from yet another fantasy, I take a sip of my wine. It’s buttery and fruity.

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