Having James in my room is…weird. It’s oddly intimate. I’ve only ever had boyfriends while I was away at school, so none of them ever saw this room. And James isn’t even my boyfriend, is he? I don’t know what we are at the moment. We’re nebulous.

Sneaking him up here wasn’t easy either. I took the long way around through the garage and up the back stairs, making sure to stay as far away from my father’s office as possible. I’m sure on the surface my parents wouldn’t object to James looking at my architectural designs, but ‘better safe than sorry’ seems like a motto I should live by in this situation. Thankfully he has his shirt on. He’s less distracting that way.

“Here,” I say, leading him over to the drafting table. But he’s not looking at the designs. Instead, he’s looking around my room. I blush, wondering what he’s thinking of the things I keep here. What does it say about me? What do the colors and books reveal about my personality that he might not have known? Finally he comes to where I’m standing, and I show him the different version of my ELIH house and the breakdown of affordable and eco-friendly materials I hope will be used.

I didn’t expect for him to contribute. But instead of just looking at my designs, he points out places where they can be better. Places where I can add more functionality. As I nod along with him, I suddenly realize he may not be the only one who made assumptions about the other.

“Thank you,” I say. “This will help. Now if someone would only be interested in the designs.”

James flips back through the different versions one more time. “I have no doubt that they will,” he says. “They’re really good.”

I bite my lip to keep from smiling too widely. I think they’re pretty good too, but they’re all about function—not usually the type of architectural designs that get a lot of praise. So far in my experience, no one really cares about houses for poor people.

There’s a chiming sound, and I realize it’s the doorbell. I look over at my clock. It’s six. Shit. I got so carried away with James and the designs that I forgot about my dad’s guests. I’m not even close to being ready. I run into my closet and shut the door. I grab the first dress I see that’s appropriate—a short black one that’s pretty but tame enough for my father not to give me any disapproving looks.

I hear James’s voice from outside the door. “You don’t have to hide. I’ve already seen you naked.” His voice is amused.

“Funny,” I say, grabbing a pair of short black heels.

I slip them on and come out of the closet, going straight to the vanity. Light makeup it is.

I can see James gaping at me in the mirror. “I think you might be superman,” he says.

“Why?”

“Because that’s the fastest I’ve ever seen anyone change.”

A smile creeps across my face as I put in a pair of silver earrings. I run a brush through my hair and opt only for a quick sweep of mascara and a little dab of lip gloss. “Good enough,” I say.

“More than good.”

“I’m really sorry I lost track of time. Wait till we’re seated in the dining room—you won’t have any problem leaving after that.”

James grabs my hand to pull me against him, and kisses me. It’s light and teasing and god I can’t be thinking about this when I’m with my parents. “I could think of some ways for you to lose track of more time,” he says.

“I wish,” I say, laughing and making him stop. “I have to go.”

* * *

I think this dinner has been the longest meal of my entire life. In fact, I think that my father’s clients somehow broke time to make this seem like forever. This couple is rich as sin and they’re commissioning my father to build a house for them on a piece of beachfront property they recently purchased. The woman’s laugh is on my last nerve. It was on my last nerve even before she asked, “So, Vera, what do you do?”

I didn’t get the chance to answer. My father chimed in immediately. “Following in my footsteps.” There was a giant smile on his face, even though I knew it was fake. “I’ve been trying to convince her to come work for me. We’d be unstoppable.”

“Cheers to that,” the husband had said, and raised his glass to us. I pressed my lips together and tried to smile. Take a drink. Chew my food. Just get through it.

It’s almost nine now and I feel like I’m slowly dying. This couple has said nothing of actual substance the entire night. It has been all about their other properties, their exploits in society, and the woman’s trips abroad to go shopping. I like shopping as much as the next girl, but I don’t have to switch continents to do it.

When my mother finally signals to one of our staff to clear the plates from the table I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. She gestures to our guests and asks me, “Will you join us in the lounge for some coffee?”

We all stand. “If you don’t mind,” I say, “I think I’m going to call it an early night. I’ve got to get an early start tomorrow. It was nice to meet you.” I shake their hands, ignore their slightly surprised goodbyes and make my escape. I can deal with it if I get a lecture tomorrow, but I am not going to spend another hour listening to them talk.

I take my heels off at the top of the stairs, letting my feet breathe the rest of the way to my room. I wasn’t planning on actually going to bed when I said it, but I might. I’m tired—I never knew boredom could make you that tired. Guess that’s something I should be aware of from now on. I toss my heels in the corner of the room and take out my earrings.

“How was dinner?”

I swear I jump about a foot. James is lounging on my bed—I was so distracted I didn’t even see him when I came in. My heart is pounding from the adrenaline. “What the hell are you still doing here?” This surprises me, but I can’t say I’m not happy about it.

He says, “I have two answers to that.”

“And they are?”

“The first is that I didn’t want our biggest interaction today to be a fight. And the second, is that you wished.”

I give him a look. “I wished what?”

“Before you went down to dinner, I told you I could think of some ways for us to lose track of time, and you said ‘I wish.’” He shrugs. “Well…”

I start laughing. “You want to have sex with me while my parents and my father’s clients are in the house?”

“If by sex,” he says, lowering his voice, “you mean stripping you down and pleasuring you till you can’t breathe, then yes.”

My stomach drops to the floor. Even as my body heats up and I feel myself get wet, my mind is panicking. “This isn’t what I thought you meant when you said we’d figure it out,” I say. “You said you’d wait.”

“I can wait,” he says, “if that’s what you really want. But if you’re willing to take the risk, I’m going to take you to bed. And I’m going to fuck you until we’re both satisfied.”

My pulse jumps again, and I can feel the wetness in my pussy soaking through. I think about the risk. It’s been years since either of my parents set foot in my room—their master bedroom is in another part of the house. And they’ll be occupied for at least another hour…

The absurdity of these thoughts suddenly hits me. I am an adult, and I don’t need to sneak around. I want this man, and if I want to let him take me to bed then I’m going to do that. It’s none of their business. I walk over to my bedroom door and lock it.

“Does that mean what I think it means?” James asks.

“Shut up,” I say, straddling him where he’s sitting, “and take me to bed.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

His arms reach around me, pressing our bodies together as he devours my mouth. I can feel his hardness through his jeans and a shudder goes through me at the memory of it and the anticipation. His fingers are at the hem of my dress, and I raise my arms to let him take it off. My bra follows and he’s kissing me again, hands roaming my skin and spine.

Something rushes through me, like a door has been opened, and I can suddenly feel. The vulnerability of being held by him—nearly naked—undoes me. It’s so simple, and yet I know deep in my gut I’ve never felt anything quite like this.

He raises his arms, and I remove his shirt so I can see his naked skin for the second time today. This time I get to touch him, fingers tracing and teasing. I taste him. My lips are on his collarbone and I let my teeth graze along his skin just so I can feel him shudder. And then James moves and he’s over me on the bed, eyes filled with lust and fire.

“Are you satisfied?” he asks.

“What?”

“I said I was going to take you to bed until we were both satisfied. So I’m going to keep asking you. Are you satisfied?”

“No,” I say. How long will it take me to be satisfied? I’ve never craved anything like this, and I’m a little worried I might never have enough.

His hand slides down my stomach and suddenly he’s there. His hand is in my underwear, his fingers sliding through the slickness of my pussy. My back arches up and I try pushing my mound against his palm as he teases me. He’s touching me everywhere but where I want. His fingertips draw along the sides of my opening. They swoop up and above my clit. Each touch is closer, and closer, but never giving me what I crave.

“I’m going to taste you,” he says, and he presses his mouth against me through my panties. He sucks through the fabric, and I can feel his tongue pressing into me, and the scratch of cloth inside of me. The feeling is so raw and alien that I get wetter. I know he feels it too.

He pushes the fabric aside and licks my hot skin, and I swear loudly. He laughs, and the sound vibrates through me. I can’t breathe. He uses his teeth on me, softly biting my clit and pulling. I get wetter again, and he doesn’t let any of my juices escape. He covers me with his mouth, and my mind cannot process the fact that he’s drinking me.

He pulls away and removes my panties and in seconds his head is between my thighs again and I’m fisting my hands in the bedspread. He hums against my clit, and I swear I will throw my vibrator away because even his voice is better than that thing. My hips move against his face and I can’t control it. This is exactly everything I needed.

He slides his hand under my ass, and I feel his finger pressing against me there. I freeze, anxiety rushing in. “Trust me,” he says, nipping the inside of my thigh. “Let me in. Relax.”

He isolates my clit between his lips and pulls, sucking and biting and making it swell. The wave of pleasure that rides over me gives him his chance and he slips the tip of his finger into my ass. I gasp, the intrusion feeling huge and wrong and right and I don’t know.

“You’ve never done this?” he asks.

My voice is barely a breath. “No.” I manage to lean up and look at him between my legs. His smile is nothing but sin as he locks eyes with me and licks my pussy. Just the sight of him licking me nearly sends me to the brink, but he takes his time. He keeps licking and holding me on the edge as long as possible. The finger in my ass presses deeper, sending strange new sparks through my body. He pulls it out a little, pushes it in. Out, in, out, and in. I close my eyes.

The sensation is wholly new and I can’t say that I don’t like it. His finger moves faster, and his tongue goes to work again, thrusting deep inside me. Oh god. Fuck. I think I’m swearing out loud. He’s fucking my ass and my pussy at the same time and my body can’t keep up with the rhythm. Every stroke is a wave of pleasure and I don’t have time to recover and he knows that and he doesn’t stop, he just goes faster.

His tongue sweeps across me and suddenly I’m blind as the orgasm hits. Pleasure rushes up and over me, everything centering on his goddamn tongue. He doesn’t stop, and his hand doesn’t either and oh my god oh my god a second orgasm hits as his finger plunges far inside my ass. This one comes from far deeper. A rushing tide of brightness hits my body and I can’t breathe, hear, or see anything. Somewhere I feel my back arching off the bed, I hear myself crying out, but I can’t do anything. All I can do is feel that rush of delicious pleasure soak my every nerve and leave me limp and breathless.

It’s his voice that brings me back.

“Vera?”

“Mmm?”

I hear him chuckle, feel his legs on either side of my hips. He’s naked now. I wonder when that happened. “Are you satisfied?” he asks.

“God yes.”

“It’s too bad that I’m not.”