Chapter Eight
Nathaniel
I spent all weekend either reliving every second I’d spent with Poppy in my gallery or glaring at my phone, making sure I hadn’t missed a message or a text from her. The fact that the little doe was a virgin only has me more eager to claim her again. And again.
At my age, I’d definitely thought my deflowering days were over, and that I would never have the good fortune of being with a woman so young and beautiful… but then fate blew Poppy into my life. Before our erotic moment at the gallery, there was only one other person I’d told about my rough childhood. And that was Danneel.
My parents were poor and from the wrong side of the tracks. My father was a laborer by day and a drunk by night. My mother had a string of jobs that came and went, but nothing that stuck. She couldn’t handle authority—people telling her what to do, especially if they were male. I suppose, she got enough flack of my father, and there isn’t a day that I don’t remember the bruises on her face most mornings. The strange this was, even with such imperfections, she was still so beautiful. As beautiful as the canvas that I showed Poppy at the gallery.
Poppy—my mind wanders back to her and my proposition. I know I told her Monday was fine. Part of me, maybe a cocky part, assumed she’d come back with an enthusiastic yes before that.
I mean, she’d be making more money over the next few weeks than most people her age. And despite me being her first lover, based on how she’d responded to me, I didn’t think that spending those weeks as my lover would be a hardship.
I glance at the time on my phone. She’s ten minutes late.
Roberto comes out of his office, holding his own phone. “The intern called in sick,” he tells me, shoving his phone back in his pocket.
“She did?”
He nods.
“You talked to her?”
He glances at me. “Obviously, man. She said she has food poisoning and she can’t come in. She’s hoping to be in tomorrow, and she apologizes for being out.”
He walks off, and I find myself staring off into space. My gut twists.
She’s avoiding me.
If she doesn’t want to accept my deal, all she has to do is tell me so.
“I’ll be back in a bit,” I call out to Roberto, and then I make my way out to the parking lot. I double-check her address on my phone, and then I’m doing something I’ve never done in my life.
I can’t believe I’m doing this.
I must be out of my goddamn mind.
But lying and avoiding me is not okay, and if she wants to turn me down, I want to get that over with now, not later—whenever she decides to come back to work.
Fuck. If that’s the case, I can avoid her for the next few weeks. Roberto can work with her.
As much as I want to believe that it was a mistake to have sex with her, and offer her what I did, I can’t regret it.
A while later, I pull into a parking spot in front of a big, nondescript brick apartment building. This neighborhood is not the greatest—definitely not the kind of area where you want to be walking alone at night. I glance around, then go inside and take the elevator up to the sixth floor. Poppy’s apartment is at the end of the hall, and I take a deep, steadying breath before I knock.
A moment later, the door opens, and I’m face-to-face with Bruce. My driver. Her father.
“Fancy seeing you here, boss!” Bruce says heartily, and I give him what I hope is a relaxed smile. “I was just checking on my girl. Poor kid. Never, ever get seafood pizza,” he says, shaking his head, and I feel the knot in my stomach unwind, just a little.
“How’s she feeling?” I ask.
“Pretty rough,” Bruce says. “You here to check on her too?”
“Roberto told me she called in sick, and she seems like the type who’d try to come to work even if she was in a full body cast, so I figured it had to be bad,” I say, managing to get the half-truth out smoothly, but unable to meet Bruce’s eyes. This man has worked for me for a few years now. He’s a good man.
And I’ve fucked his virgin daughter, and I’m determined to fuck her many, many more times in the future.
Awkward doesn’t begin to describe it.
Bruce laughs. “Right you are, boss,” he says. “If she weren’t weak as a kitten, she would have dragged her sorry self in today.” He glances at his watch. “I better go, or I’ll be late. Don’t want the bossman reaming me out,” he says with a cheerful wink, and then he’s gone.
I take another breath and walk into Poppy’s apartment. Just as I go in, she’s walking into the living room, pulling a big pink robe tightly around her body. Her hair is tousled, and she’s pale. Dark circles under her eyes. When she sees me, her eyes widen.
“What are you doing here?” she asks. She quickly runs her hands through her hair as if trying to straighten it out a bit.
“Hi,” I say with a smile.
“Oh, sorry, hi. But really, what are you doing here?”
I laugh. “Roberto said you were sick, and I wanted to check on you.”
She tilts her head, studying me. “Pretty sexy, huh?” she asks with an eye roll. She pulls her robe tighter again.
“You always look sexy,” I tell her.
“Hm. You wanted to check on me. Or you maybe thought I was avoiding you after what happened the other night.” I can tell she’s feeling awkward and self-conscious. Even being sick as a dog, she sees straight through me.
“Little bit of both,” I admit.
She crosses her arms over her chest and gives me a weak smile. “I have no intention of avoiding you. But if it’s okay with you, can we start our little secret agreement tomorrow? I have the feeling the sex will be much hotter if I don’t feel like death warmed over.”
I grin and start walking toward her. “So that’s a yes to my proposal, then?”
Her weak smile evolves to a full-blown one. “Isn’t that I what inferred just now?”
The second I’m close enough, I reach out and gently pull her against me. “I’m afraid your new position starts immediately, Ms. McAdams.” Her eyes widen, and in the next instant, I’m swinging her up into my arms and carrying her toward the door.
“Wh-hat are you doing?” she asks with a nervous little laugh.
“Taking you home with me. Looks like I’ll be playing doctor today.”
Despite Poppy’s protests, I spend the whole day taking care of her most personal needs. I even surprise myself with my culinary skills at making chicken noodle soup, which she says is just as tasty as the one her mom used to make. Now, that’s a compliment because generally, men can’t outdo the generational magic of a mother’s or grandmother’s recipe.
After lunch, I advise her to lie down on my king-size bed, naked, so I can really play doctor. I start with a back massage, rolling out the knots in her shoulders, all the way down to the curves of her supple ass. When I then instruct her to turn over, the tent pole growing in my pants threatens to burst free. Poppy moans as I give her breasts a thorough examination, teasing them with my fingers before taking my time with each of them in my mouth, sucking and softly biting down on the taut, cherry-like nibs. After I finally release them, my lips traverse down her body, trailing over the smooth skin of her abdomen, her navel, the inside of her thighs, and straight to her sweet spot.
The moment my mouth finds her dripping wet folds, Poppy writhes, her hips momentarily rising off the bed. I swirl my tongue around her engorged clit, all the while looking up at her, relishing the pure ecstasy on her face as she gets nearer and nearer to her undoing.
“Oh, Nathaniel. I’m so close,” she pants, her beautiful face flushed. All it takes is another few seconds of me alternating the rhythm, and she’s bucking again, crying out my name as her orgasm crashes down on her.
What had only meant to be an hour of pleasure for her soon turns into a semi-marathon, with me seeming to fuck the food poisoning right out of her. I take her on the bed, on the sofa, on the kitchen island, even on the floor in the hallway. It’s like she’s a hit of heroin and I have to keep having more.
Finally, the light begins to fade outside, and we mutually decide to take a break… until, at least, tomorrow. Poppy sits on the rug by the fire I’ve just re-stoked, and as I make us some hot chocolate, I watch her from the kitchen. She’s a vision in the firelight.
“How are you feeling?” I ask, carrying the two steaming mugs over to Poppy. I sit down on the rug, barely an inch away from her. It feels as if any amount of distance between us is too much, and that both excites and scares the hell out of me. I’m like a teenage boy who’s just had sex for the first time with a girl he’s been crushing on, and I don’t want to break the fuck bubble we’ve created.
She turns to me and chisels a cheeky smile. “How do you think?”
“I’d hazard a guess that you’re feeling pretty damn good for a girl who felt like ‘death warmed over’ this morning.”
Poppy bites her lower lip and leans over to press a brief kiss on my lips. “Good guess, Mr. Stone.”
For the rest of the night, we just hang out. I warm up the soup, and we settle on the sofa, watching a rerun of Seinfeld.
I could get used to this, I dare to think. I’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be with a woman. Really be with a woman. As in when it’s more than just sex. When it’s deeper yet more casual all at the same time.
When Poppy curls up against me, and eventually drifts off to sleep on my shoulder, I do something I haven’t done since Danneel. I lean down and kiss her forehead—an intimate gesture that I know is probably a mistake. Not only is this girl half my age, an employee, and the daughter of a man I’ve come to respect, but there’s also something she doesn’t know about me—the reason why I hid all the photo frames earlier so she wouldn’t find out yet.
I can’t be irresponsible here. I can’t jump the gun and start a relationship without knowing if it’s going to be worth it. There’s so much at stake, for the both of us, and I don’t know if this, the arrangement we’ve started, is going to work out.
But I will tell Poppy; when the time is right. And if she decides she can’t sleep with a man who has the kind of baggage that can’t be stripped away, then fair enough. I’ll respect her wishes, and let her walk out of my life as quickly as she had walked in.
Pushing away the thought, I take care in moving her head off my shoulder and then shimmy her up into my arms. I carry her down the hallway and back into my bedroom. As I lay her down on the sheets and tuck her in, a fresh memory burns in my mind. So many times, I had done this for Danneel—after she’d stayed up late watching an old, classic movie, or had one too many wines after a gala we’d attended. Although my heart has healed, and I’ve moved on, the ghost of her will always be with me. And that’s something else Poppy will have to know… if things were ever to—
No. No more what-ifs, Nathaniel. Leave it be, I tell myself, and for now, that’s exactly what I’ll do.