Chapter Ten
Vanessa
Jacob was generous. Far too generous.
He’d given me everything I could possibly need right now—a great job, an amazing place to live, and a brand new car. It was probably unfathomably expensive, but he hadn’t actually let me see how much it cost. I suppose I could just Google it and see how much he spent, but that wouldn’t feel right. I was so grateful to him, and I wanted to do everything I could to show him I was worth all this effort. There would be no more repeats of the other week; no more getting into trouble.
I was going to be Jacob’s good girl.
The salesman at the dealership had recognized him immediately when we walked in earlier, and so I’d been allowed to drive my new car away immediately, before the paperwork and other relevant things had even been processed. Everyone just trusted Jacob implicitly—I guess because he was so successful. I admired him so much for that; the way he commanded respect without ever being an arrogant prick about it.
The car had even come with a bunch of amazing perks—a year’s worth of free auto services and cleanings, a free Apple watch, and a bunch of gift cards for a local mall and nearby restaurants.
I pulled into the parking lot at college, still glowing with happiness about the amazing gift I’d just received. I was going to take care of it as best I could, because I never wanted to disappoint Jacob. After walking across the lot and toward the nearest lecture hall, I met up with Emma, who’d been waiting for me just outside the door.
“Um…what the hell was that?” she asked, looking over my shoulder as I waved and said hi.
“Huh?”
She pointed toward the parking lot. “I just saw you get out of that swanky silver car. Where on earth did you get that? And that Apple watch, too! Did you rob a bank?”
I blushed. “No. It was….it was a gift.”
“A gift? From who?”
The heat in my cheeks intensified. “Jacob.”
“As in your boss?”
I nodded, and her eyes widened. “You don’t think that’s weird?”
“Weird, no. Generous, yes. He takes care of me.”
She made a face at me. “Oh, come on, Nessa. There’s generous, and then there’s….well, let’s just say that dude is trying to get in your pants.”
“He’s not.”
“How do you know?”
I looked down at the ground. “Because I…I tried that,” I mumbled.
“You tried to do….oh! Really? You tried that?” she asked, an excited grin spreading across her face.
“Yes, and he rejected me. He just wants to take care of me, that’s all. He likes it, and I like it too.”
“Um. So he turned you down that night….and then immediately asked you to move in with him, then bought you a fancy car. Wow, what a huge rejection.”
“Emma…” I said, not really knowing exactly what else to say.
She went on. “Obviously he only rejected you because you were wasted. I don’t think he’d reject you again, though. Not if you were stone cold sober.” She wrinkled her nose. “I think Leah had the right idea the other night, though—isn’t he kinda old for someone like you?”
“He’s not old!”
“Yeah, I know thirty-eight isn’t old-old, but you know what I mean, Nessa. He’s over twice our age. I mean…don’t you think it’s a bit weird that a guy like him—at his age and with his money—is trying so hard for you?”
I crossed my arms. “You don’t think I deserve someone to put in effort for me?”
She let out an exasperated sigh. “That’s not what I’m saying at all, and you know it. I’m just worried, that’s all. I don’t want to see you being taken advantage of.”
“That won’t happen,” I said defensively.
She held up her palms. “Okay, okay. I’ll stop talking about it. Just be careful, okay?”
“I will,” I replied, my voice meeker now.
Did she have a point? Was it creepy that Jacob was behaving the way he was around me? Was he too old for me to have such a gigantic crush on?
Then again, what I felt was more than a crush….or so I thought. I wasn’t really sure exactly what it was, but it felt like a lot more than the silly crush I once had on a boy in the ninth grade. That infatuation had only lasted two weeks, and it had never made my stomach flutter the way Jacob did.
“Maybe he’s a serial killer,” Emma mused, despite having said she’d stop talking about it.
“Emma!”
“Sorry! It’s just…oh, never mind,” she huffed.
I let out a sigh. “Just say it.”
“I watched this true crime documentary about a fifty-year-old man who groomed a fifteen year old girl by buying her tons of gifts, among other things, and making her depend on him. Then he abused her and ended up murdering her.”
“Holy crap, Em. For one, I’m eighteen, not fifteen, and he’s nowhere near fifty. He isn’t grooming me, and he’s not a murderer! If anything did happen between us, it would be my choice as well as his. Now seriously, I’m done talking about this.”
“Sorry,” she muttered, looking shame-faced. “Let’s go in. Our class is about to start, anyway.”
“Sure.”
Emma and I had always traded silly, jokey lines in the past, sometimes bordering on offensive, but we’d never taken any of it seriously, and we’d certainly never had any sort of argument like this. I knew she was wrong about Jacob, even though she was saying all these things out of concern. She was just trying to be a good friend. But still, Jacob wasn’t a crazed ax murderer who was grooming me for anything, and he didn’t expect a single thing in return for his generosity. I wanted to give him something anyway, though.
I wanted to give him my virginity.
***
I settled back on the sofa in my nightie in the main sitting room at Jacob’s house—well, it was my home now too, I suppose—and sighed. After doing a crazy amount of college work today, along with picking up Tommy from school and taking care of him, I was exhausted. Jacob had texted me earlier to apologize and say that he had to work a bit late tonight, so Tommy and I had eaten leftovers of the scrumptious lasagne Jacob made the night before, and then I put Tommy to bed at seven.
Even though I was tired, I was somehow also still buzzing. I knew it was because of the thought that occurred to me earlier—the thought that I still wanted Jacob to be my first—but I didn’t know what to do about it. I couldn’t shame myself by throwing myself at him again, like I had the other week when I was drunk. I was supposed to be a good girl for him.
Good girls didn’t beg men to fuck them.
Fuck. The naughty word sent a jolt down my spine. I didn’t swear very much, other than the occasional ‘crap’ or ‘hell’ but thinking bad words in the context of me and Jacob made my core pulse and tingle.
I stood up, my legs trembling slightly. Maybe I couldn’t throw myself at Jacob, but while I was alone, I could certainly help stave off my needs in other ways. I had never been one to masturbate all that often—it usually felt weird and awkward—but now the need to touch myself and make my body quake was overwhelming. I could feel my cheeks warming, but not from shame. It was desire. Lust. Yearning.
I headed upstairs to my bedroom, my mind flashing back to that drunken night the other week. I’d been wasted, but I still remembered enough of the way I’d kissed Jacob, and what I felt when I pressed my naked figure up against him. He was fully clothed, but that didn’t mean I didn’t notice what was pressed up against me from under his pants. He was hard. He was big. Big and hard for me. As much as he’d rejected me and pushed me away that night, I knew Emma was right about one thing—he only did it because I was so drunk.
If I’d been sober…
What would have happened?
I slipped into bed and ran my hand over my belly, slowly creeping below my underwear. The tingling between my legs was driving me insane now. Ripples of pleasure radiated through me as I began to tentatively stroke between my legs, imagining that my hand was Jacob’s hand.
I pictured him stroking and caressing me from my neck and moving downwards, teasing around my breasts and then moving to my abdomen and thighs, and then to the pink area between my legs. I’d always kept it shaved because it just seemed cleaner to me that way—plus all my friends told me it was the fashionable thing to do—and as I touched myself, I felt my bare lower lips becoming slick with my own wetness.
Picturing Jacob’s big, muscular body totally naked and thrusting against me, I closed my eyes and began to move my fingers around in a circle near my clit, biting my lip to stop myself from letting out a gasp. My free hand roamed over the rest of my body before settling on my breasts, and I pinched and twisted my delicate nipples between my thumb and forefinger until they were stiff and sensitive.
“Oh, Jacob…” I moaned to myself. “Jacob…”
Just as I said those words and felt the initial waves of throbbing pleasure starting to spread out from my clit, I heard the bedroom door opening, followed by what sounded like someone clearing their throat. My eyes flew open, and there he was… Jacob, standing in the doorway and staring right at me.
Oh, crap. I forgot to lock the door. And he definitely heard me saying his name.
Red-hot shame rushed to my cheeks, and as I sat up and pulled the sheets up and over myself, Jacob stayed still, expression not betraying any sort of reaction. “I got home earlier than I thought, and the door was unlocked. I just came to say goodnight.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was doing. I was just…”
I tried and failed to find more words to explain myself, and Jacob simply stared. “You don’t know what you’re doing?” he finally asked softly.
“I mean…I…”
“Do you need someone to tell you what to do, Vanessa?” he asked, eyes slightly crinkling around the sides.
Another sudden jolt of warmth shot through me as his words echoed in my mind. Was he saying what I thought he was saying? If so, where was this coming from?
“I…do you mean you could tell me what to do?” I asked before biting my lower lip. “You could….show me? Teach me?”
His eyes darkened, and he stepped toward me. “Is that what you want, Vanessa? Do you want me to teach you?” he asked.
I nodded slowly, timidly. “Yes.”
“You know I’m old enough to be your father,” he said, taking another step in my direction. “We’ve had this conversation before.”
I took a deep breath, mentally preparing myself to be brave enough to speak the words on my lips. “I know. But you seemed to like it when I called you daddy the other night…” I managed to say. His eyes flashed, and I knew I had him. “And I still want you to be my first,” I continued, emboldened by the look in his eyes. “I want you to teach me everything. Take care of me in every way, like you promised. Every. Single. Way.”
He smiled thinly. “You want to call me daddy, baby girl? You like that?”
Another nod. “Yes.”
“Careful what you wish for, Vanessa. You might just get it. You might get it all.”
He reached up to the top button of his crisp white Armani business shirt, and my mouth dried up. This was really happening; it wasn’t a dream. It was all too real.
My words were barely a whisper now as I stared up at him, waiting. “Then give it to me,” I said. “Give it to me, daddy.”