Still, she doesn’t protest when I nudge aside the crotch of her panties and drag a knuckle through the valley of her sex, finding her abundant with moisture.
“Soaked,” I groan. “Dripping wet for me, aren’t you?”
Her eyes are concerned when they meet mine. “Is that bad?”
“No, little girl. It’s what’s necessary.” I exhale roughly against her ear. “Have you had an orgasm before, baby?”
“No,” she whispers, pinkening. “I don’t know how.”
It takes every ounce of my willpower not to drop to my knees and tongue her pussy, but I won’t chance someone seeing us. She is for my eyes alone, now and always. First, though, we have to form an agreement. One that will buy me some time to win her over.
“Do you understand what part of your duties will be, as my assistant, Pippa?”
A beat passes before she whispers, “T-to satisfy you?”
“No.”
She pulls back. “No?”
This girl is mine. Not temporarily. Oh no, not even close.
It would be so easy to bring her home and fuck her blind. Today. Now. But I need to know she is sleeping with me because our feelings are mutual, not because I’m paying her. Or because I’m giving her an interview. Until then, I have to come up with an alternate plan to keep her close. To pleasure her until she’s addicted to me and leaving isn’t an option.
“Eventually you will satisfy me, Pippa. Constantly.” I run my nose up the side of her neck, lifting her up with my hips and reveling in her choked gasp, the sound of her heels knocking against the locker. “But for now, you have two main duties as my assistant. One is to interview me for your exclusive.” Our lips meet and brush, grow damp with condensation. “And two, you’re going to learn how to get yourself off. Using my body only. Do we have a deal?”
She blinks several times before answering, her sex pulsing hotly against mine, her breath coming in short bursts. “Yes, we have a deal.”
2
Pippa
Was I crazy to agree to this deal?
Sitting in the passenger side of Cort Mulloy’s truck, I seriously wonder if I drank insanity juice this morning for breakfast. Not only have I lost my highly-coveted job, I am now the assistant to baseball’s most famous—and mysterious—player. And I came willingly!
On one hand, Cort has handed me the keys to the sports-reporting kingdom. An exclusive from this man will put me on the map. No one has ever even come close, and for some reason, he’s chosen me on whom to bestow his private confession. An interview with the tall, dark, handsome and tight-lipped pitcher will fast track my career in a way nothing else could.
However, the second half of what I’ve agreed to is terrifying.
You’re going to learn how to get yourself off. Using my body only.
I wasn’t lying when I told Cort I’ve never had an orgasm. I tried a few times when I was in high school and I just felt nervous. I don’t want to lose control of my body. I don’t want some euphoric feeling to take over. I’m fine the way I am, thank you very much.
The word throes is so alarming, isn’t it? The closest to the throes I’d like to get is watching a grand slam sail out of the park.
Or at least…that’s what I always thought.
Cort’s voice slides into my ear, making me shiver.
I’ll launch your career as a reporter.
But so help me God, I want between your legs for it, little girl.
And apparently, when he gets between my legs, he wants to get me off. Not himself.
Why?
I didn’t understand men when I woke up this morning and there’s no hope of remedying that when Cort Mulloy is the one who I’m going to be learning from. He is getting nothing out of this deal of having me as his assistant. Is he?
Narrowing my eyes, I study him across the seat.
Our gazes lock, his expression heating and—not for the first time—he adjusts the distended fly of his jeans with that big pitcher’s hand, turning my brain to mush.
Now, I watch a lot of baseball, so I’ve seen many jock adjustments. I always kind of thought of them as a biological necessity. But it’s different with Cort. I’ve felt that large part of him against the juncture of my thighs. Felt it beating. Stretch. Thicken. And I liked it. I liked the ticklish feeling it produced when there was just enough friction. The melting sensation that happened in my belly. I liked how he pushed it up against me as if…as if he owns me. As if he knows exactly what I need.
Little girl.
I bite down hard on my lower lip and try not to be obvious that I’m covered in goosebumps. Why do I like being called that name so much? If anything, I’ve always wanted to be grown up, independent. It doesn’t track that I’d like this feeling of being…cared for. Possessed. But I do like it. I like even more the way he stood up for me to Randy. A hero stepping in to save the day and slay the villain.