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“Couldn’t if I tried,” I mutter, opening the folder. “Anything good?”
“Straight A student but she took a year off after high school because of her mother. She just finished her sophomore year at the University of Chicago where she’s majoring in—you’ll never guess.”
“Business,” I say dryly.
He nods. “Looks like Flick wants to take over Daddy’s restaurant one day. She loves buying cheap floral art from Etsy, chocolate, and Netflix. She hates the gym but goes anyway because hers has a sauna, and I’m pretty sure I’d give my left nut to bang her.”
“And then I’d help you dispose of your right one,” I say in a dangerous voice without glancing up at him. I don’t give a fuck how long I’ve known him—if he touched this girl, we’d have issues. “She seeing anyone?”
He chuckles suggestively. “Not yet but she’s got a lot of interest.”
I meet his grin with a sharp glare. “What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”
“Last page, my friend.” I don’t know why he can’t just tell me, but I leaf to the final sheet in the folder. It’s a grainy printout from a website called V-Bay, and the hot photo of the soaking wet brunette in a bikini is none other than the girl I met a little while ago.
Grinding my teeth, I toss the page back to my desk. “She’s an escort?”
“Nope. A virgin. And she’s selling it.” Nate over-enunciates every syllable, giving the shock plenty of time to work through me. A virgin. No wonder Little Flick had quivered and blushed in my arms. She had shot down my offer just to put herself on display for every man with deep pockets. Fury boils my blood as Nate continues, “I ran her picture through facial recognition and this site came up. That pussy just went up for sale and she’s already got bids. Her Bed Her Now price is two hundred grand.”
I drop my attention to the countdown timer on the page—only forty-four hours left at the time Nate printed this out—and the comments below it.
StrangeDragon69: Anal or no?
mR_LT: Would you be interested in making this a permanent situation?
“That’s not going to happen,” I hiss under my breath. StrangeDragon69 and Mr. LT can both eat a dick because neither of them will ever find out how glorious Felicity’s ass is or whether she’ll fuck them for breakfast, lunch, and dinner on every day ending in Y.
“So, what’s your plan?” Nate settles his giant frame in the chair in front of my desk. When I open my laptop to look up the site and my … virgin, he laughs. “Ah shit, Jax, don’t tell me you’re going to bid on this bitch.”
But I am.
I’ve never paid to get my dick wet—and I sure as fuck would’ve never considered tossing money at someone who owes me—but now that I know she’s untouched, her pussy’s as good as sold. Because Little Flick? She just became mine.
3
Felicity
I’m still flustered, my stomach tangled in knots when I push through the front door of York’s twenty minutes later to check the schedule. Even though I’d already acknowledged yesterday that Jackson Cade’s voice was quite possibly the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard, I expected him to look like his dad—pudgy from excessive drinking and partying with a receding hairline. The man I faced in the high-rise office, though, was the epitome of tall, dark, and wickedly handsome.
As soon as he turned to cast that devilish grin on me, my nerves faltered. And when he strode around to my side of the desk to lean his long, muscular body inches from mine—that’s when the rest of my cool flew out the window. With his messy raven hair, golden skin, and a gleam in his turquoise eyes that pinged between scalding and frigid, Jackson Cade wasn’t like any other suit I’ve ever met. He was GQ sexy.
And filthy. Oh, god, he was filthy.
Unable to focus on the schedule on the dry-erase board, I release a curse as his words stream through my head. His proposition had knocked the air right out of my lungs, but it wasn’t nearly as startling my body’s reaction to him. While my head and mouth rebelled against him, my nipples pebbled when we touched. My pussy clenched as he spoke. And my panties clung to me like a fucking swimsuit even though my brain swore up and down he was wrong about making me wet.
Even now, I can still feel his effect on my sex.
“Fuck you, Jackson Cade,” I snap as I text myself my work schedule for the rest of the week. Spinning around, I almost run directly into our kitchen manager. Ziggy backs up against the swinging door and blows a low whistle.
“Damn, what’s got you so pissed off?”
“Work stuff.” I cross my arms over my chest to hide my body’s reaction to the mere thought of that rich prick. Nodding toward Dad’s closed office door, I ask, “Is he in yet?”
