“Deal,” I moaned as his cock slid inside me, sending shudders through my body. I dug my fingernails into his back and wrapped my legs around his waist as he moved in and out. It was a marvelous way to wake up. As the orgasm shuddered through me, I couldn’t wait to see what the rest of the weekend would bring.
CHAPTER TWELVE: Katrina
The two days I spent with Nicky were without a doubt the best days of my life. Granted, we spent most of the weekend in bed exploring each other’s bodies and discovering new ways to derive pleasure from them, but we also ate in the dining room, explored the grounds, watched TV in bed, walked and talked and held hands, and just got to know one another.
Nicky D’Angelo was not only handsome and sexy as hell, but super intelligent, warm, caring, funny, and sexy as hell… oh wait… I said that already. Well, it warranted saying it twice, he was that sexy.
He told me he grew up in a well-to-do family and went out on his own after college rather than joining the family business. Other than that, he didn’t talk at all about his family. I got the impression it was somewhat of a touchy subject so didn’t push him. That was fine. I didn’t want to talk about my family either. For all he knew, I had a perfect home life and all was well. I didn’t lie to him. I just didn’t talk about it. As my father would say, it’s not a lie when you don’t say anything.
I was thrilled to learn that Nicky was a successful entrepreneur who had his own multimillion dollar financial services company. Plus, he had never been married and didn’t have a girlfriend, so he came with no baggage there.
And best of all, he seemed genuinely interested in me. I mean, granted, he paid a ton of money to spend the weekend with me, but I got the feeling it wasn’t all about the sex. There was more to Nicky than that. It was that connection I was talking about. Call it chemistry or kismet. There was definitely something there. We weren’t in love or anything silly like that, not yet, but maybe we would be someday if this little spark suddenly caught fire.
Still, I had trouble believing it was real. And deep down inside, I kept waiting for it to fall apart. I expected Nicky to pull off his Mr. Nice Guy mask and reveal his true self. That was how my luck usually went, but so far, so good.
* * *
On Monday morning, Nicky was already gone when I woke up. I knew he had to be back in the city early for business, but I was sad that he wasn’t there to wake up to. I loved our morning sex, but truth be told, I was a little sore and welcomed the break. I was still breaking in the equipment, as they say. I had the feeling that I would be walking a little bow legged for a few days. The thought made me giggle. And miss him. It would have been lovely to wake up in his strong arms.
I took a shower and got dressed, then packed my stuff and started to go downstairs to call a cab. I was about to leave the room when there was a knock at the door. I opened the door to find the woman who had overseen the auction standing there with a broad smile on her heavily made up face and a leather briefcase dangling at her side. She handed me the briefcase and clasped her hands between her breasts. She looked as proud as punch.
“Congratulations, Miss Donovan,” she said. “I’m so glad things worked out for you. Mr. D’Angelo is a lovely man.”
“Thank you,” I said, holding out the briefcase between my hands like a tray full of drinks back at the bar. “What is this?”
“It’s your share of the money, dear,” she said with a nod. “Two hundred thousand dollars in cash.” She leaned her head in, put her hand to one side of her mouth, and lowered her voice. “And don’t worry about paying taxes on it because the IRS will never know.”
“Um, okay…” Wow, in my orgasmic bliss I had totally forgotten about the money. This day just kept getting better.
“Mr. D’Angelo ordered a car for you. It’s downstairs to take you back to the city when you’re ready. We do like for guests to leave before noon if possible so we can close up the house. I hope you found your experience here enjoyable. And please, tell your virginal friends about us, confidentially, of course. The authorities don’t approve of our little game. We pay a handsome commission for referrals. And confidentiality.”
“A commission?”
She held up ten fingers and wiggled them one at a time, as if I were a little kid she was teaching to count. “Yes. Ten thousand dollars for each referral that is successfully auctioned.”
“Wow, um, okay. I’ll definitely keep that in mind.”
I didn’t really know what to say so I thanked her again and she walked away. I was a little dumbfounded that I was holding two hundred thousand dollars in cash and had been invited to refer virgins for a commission.
I wondered if Bethany would be getting ten grand for referring me.
If not, I would gladly pay her a commission myself because the Virgin Auction was about to change my life.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Katrina
When I arrived home around ten, I found my dad standing behind the bar with a pencil and clipboard in hand, taking inventory of the liquor bottles and beer in the cooler, acting like it was just another day at the bar and all was right with the world. And he didn’t have some guys threatening to kill him.
The bar wouldn’t open for another few hours, so all the lights were on and he had the radio turned up, listening to one of those loud mouth political commentators he listened to all the time. I didn’t think my dad was especially political. He just liked the noise. He once said it made him feel like he was not so alone. The sadness of the remark never registered with me before, though it was doing so now as I watched him through the small glass in the kitchen door. He looked so small and alone behind the great, big bar. I had never really thought about how sad he must have been over mom’s death. I had never really thought about his feelings at all.
I had used my key to come in through the back door and when I walked into the bar from the kitchen, he jumped at the sight of me.
“Jesus, girl, you nearly scared me to death,” he said, tossing the clipboard on the bar and swiping the back of his hand across his forehead. He took a minute to catch his breath, then forced his version of a smile and waited for me to slide onto a
barstool. I set the briefcase on the floor and laced my fingers together on the bar.
“Wanna Coke or something?” he asked. “Might be some coffee left in the pot.”
I gave him a little smile. “No, I’m fine.”