Oh god. The tone of his voice. So intense. So scary. So hot. It makes a rush of wetness spill from between my pussy and I feel the hot moisture against my thighs. I lock eyes with Mike and fake him out to the left.

  He falls for it, trying to grab me, but I go right, and book it out of the bedroom and into his big master closet. I can hear his footsteps behind me, heavy and serious, but I manage to get myself hidden in the back, in and amongst his clothes, hidden behind dark fabric that smells like danger and power.

  I will myself to be calm and still. All these years of performing, of being watched, of controlling my nerves, it finally pays off. I still my breathing and slow my heart, letting myself focus on the coolness of his shirts against my cheeks.

  “What the fuck, Jess,” he growls. I see him from between two long sleeved blue shirts. I press my butt up against the back wall of the closet, tucking my hands behind me, focusing on way the wall feels cool against my fingertips. “You know I’m going to find you. You know how this ends.”

  Do I, though? Do I? I’m in a house alone with a man that I want so much that I can barely see straight. A man who is not only like a surrogate dad to me but who is also my best friend’s dad. A man whose body, whose face, whose scent has haunted my dreams for months.

  So do I know how this ends?

  I don’t have a stinking clue.

  But my body certainly wants to find out. And so does my heart.

  Footsteps closer now. His breathing, measured and intense. Even though I can’t see him, I can feel his power, feel his strength, coming off him like heat. The scratch of metal hangers on the hanger rod. Closer. And closer. I hold my breath. I close my eyes. I stop my breathing.

  And then, when he checks the other side of the closet, I bolt back out the door.

  Around the corner. Down the steps.

  The rush of the chase taking on a life of it’s own.

  The house that I know as well as my own becomes a fuzzy blur. Carpet on my feet. Now tile. Now wood. Now out the back door, the feel of the patio stones on my bare feet, the dew of the grass kissing my ankles.

  Running. Running. Breaths are burning now. A hitch in my side as I will my feet to go further.

  Then, a strong arm whips around my waist, now a stumble, and whump, I’m down. I land face-first in the dewy grass, gasping for air. My body panics, screams out in worry.

  I cannot breathe, I cannot breathe.

  But I remember this feeling, from horseback riding. I’ve been winded, that’s all, and I force myself to suck in a breath.

  Strong hands on my ankles, pulling me, dragging me, taking me. I squirm and kick to get away, and dig my fingers into the roots of the grass, trying to claw my way away.

  He flips me over, straddling me, one hand to my throat. He’s wearing gym shorts, and I feel his erection pushing hard into my belly, through my little “STRINGS ATTACHED!” youth symphony tank top.

  “Fuck you, you little tease.”

  The words are hard and demanding, but the tone—it’s hot caramel on an ice cream sundae melting my creamy center.

  I watch him, with my chest heaving, with my tits almost spilling out. His eyes flash down at my hard nipples and I feel his cock twitch against me.

  Lord have mercy on me and Mike Hawthorne.

  The temperature my body starts to rise, rise, rise, radiating out from my pussy, like a sunburst, like an explosion. And as the heat rises, so does my desire. I’ve never wanted anything so much as I want him.

  “You terrify me.”

  “So do you,” he growls. He sounds angry about it. Angry enough that I can’t look away. “You and me. That’s what I need, Jess. You’re all I fucking need. All I fucking want.”

  He unpins me a little, shifting his weight. I feel the blades of grass tickle the back of my neck as he pushes my legs back slightly. Now I feel his erection against the wet spot that my pussy has left in my boxers.

  I let my eyes flutter shut as he groans.

  “Look at that mess you made, little girl.” He slides his finger just inside my boxers—not penetrating me, but caressing that soft spot where my labia meet my lips. That fleshy ripple that nobody but me has ever seen.

  I look up into the sky, into the cloudless morning light. We are outside, in his yard, but surrounded by trees, hidden and sheltered from the entire world. It’s like an out of body experience. I can see us together, as if looking down. Big Mike Hawthorne, and little, freckled messy me, with my red hair all in knots in my ridiculous PJs.

  And it’s just so beautiful, so right. Us together.

  I trail my fingers down his forearm. “I can’t stop thinking about you. But…” I swallow hard, letting my thoughts trail off.

  He leans forward, brushing a lock of hair from my cheek. “But what, baby girl.”

  I study his face. His jawline. The sparkles of deep blue in his eyes.

  “But what will everybody say?”

  His expression hardens. And from the feel of his dick against my thigh, so does his erection.

  “I’ve never given less of a fuck about everybody than I do in this moment.”

  “Me neither,” I say, hardly louder then the wind in the trees.

  My body shudders as he presses into me, and he smiles, cruel and knowing. “Feel what you do to me?”

  I nod up at him, my skin feeling like it’s burning up against the cool grass. This feels too, too good. Too good to be true.

  In one quick movement, he pulls his old tee-shirt off over his head. His body is a mass of muscles and ripples and tattoos. I let out an audible gasp, I can’t help it. I’ve never been so close to so much power before in my life.

  It’s almost too much for me. Too much muscle, too much man, and my body involuntarily recoils a little. But his gaze holds me captive.

  And somehow I know that only me, in all the world, can tame this man.

  But my goodness. It’s crazy. SO very, very crazy. “Mike, I… I’m just…”

  His eyes tell me that the time for protests are long-since over. He leans down, scooping me up into his arms, and kisses me deep and slow. This is different from last night at dinner. That was frantic and crazed and frenzied. This is tender and careful. And deliberate. Like he’s been planning it for ages.

  My thoughts swirl in the dreaminess of his lips, his tongue, his stubble against my cheeks. My pussy throbs in time with my heartbeat, molto allegro, ticking away with excitement and anticipation. My body bucks in his arms, involuntary and primal. This desire I’m feeling, it’s all most too much to bear.

  Does he know that I’m a virgin? Does he know that he’s my first?

  As he kisses me, I stream back through what I’ve told Sam, which is just about everything. So surely Mike must know that this, right now, is my very first French kiss.

  His eyes open as he kisses me, and I feel him smile into the kiss. He has no idea how much this means to me. No idea how important his is now just now but always. Because he has always been my anchor. My sane place, my safe place, my shelter from my crazy family. My safety and my strength.

  But not until now did I know it for sure.

  He sinks deeper into the kiss and my body responds powerful, with a shiver and a trembling belly. I clutch his massive body tight, digging my fingernails into his rippling muscles, making him gasp into the kiss.

  I can’t stand this foreplay anymore. I need to taste him. I need to know him. I need to be his for real.

  I pull away from the kiss, and slip onto my knees in the grass, placing my hands on his marble-hard ass. Gently as I can while still being respectful, I nudge him up to standing, while I stay kneeling before him in the dewy morning grass.

  He looks surprised, intrigued. “What. Now that I’m Mister Big Symphony Benefactor you think you can suck my cock and get what you want?”

  A giggle slips out of my lips. He really is such a jerk.

  “Maybe, Mr. Benefactor. Maybe that’s my long game after all. Isn’t that how this all works? I pay my dues, then I get what I want?”

  He bites his lip, gently touching my own lips with the pad of his rough thumb. Without breaking his stare, I pull down his gym shorts, hooking my fingertips over the elastic until his huge cock springs up in my face.

  Gently, very gently, I take his veined rod in my left hand. It responds with a dribble of something clear and a little watery. And though this is my first time, though I know literally nothing about sex, a hundred million years of biology tells me that’s a very, very good thing.

  “Tell me what that was.”

  He laughs a little. “Pre-cum, baby.”

  “Pre-cum,” I repeat back.” Looking up at him, I carefully clean the drop from the head. God, he tastes amazing. And I’m so surprised at how delicate the skin of the head is. So smooth, so soft, so tender. And yet so utterly powerful, too.

  “Fuck. I have thought about this for so long.”

  “For how long?” I ask, gently toying with his cock, kissing and licking and pressing the shaft against my cheek.

  His eyes flutter, and his expression changes. “A year. Tops. I’m not some fucking creep. Just so we’re clear.”

  I never thought he was. Never thought that at all. “A year is a long time.”

  He nods slowly and strokes his dick a few times. “Tell me about it.”

  The way he talks, the feelings I can feel underneath his words. His power, his intensity. This is not a boy with a crush on me, stealing kisses between movements in Mozart’s Second. This is a man. This is Mike.

  And the way he makes me feel, it’s the difference between a flutter and an earthquake. This raging, smoldering unbearable need to give myself to him. To have him make me his.

  To belong to him. Now and always.

  I feel bolder with every moment. I slide my hand down his massive shaft. His cock is so big that my fingers barely meet around it. I take it fully in my grip, clenching it hard. And my pussy responds with a shivering pulse of please.

  As I stroke him, his head falls back. The stubble over his throat pulls tight over his Adam’s apple. The veins in his neck pop out and throb, as he delicately strokes my hair as I work his length. I can feel him losing a little control and I revel in that power. There is so much powerful energy radiating from him to me, so much warmth and need. It feels like a dream. But a dream come very true.

  “You’re gonna earn that first chair, aren’t you, baby?” Mike says, knotting his fingers into my hair possessively. And then looks down at me, so possessively and darkly and with so much need.

  I know he’s playing with me, teasing me. If only this was all just a game to get that first chair place. If only it were that simple. If only this didn’t matter so much.

  And yet, I like the naughtiness of it. “Yes, Mr. Hawthorn,” I say, teasing back. “Let me pay my dues.”

  Mike laughs up at the sky again. “Fuck.”

  I study his cock closely, every detail, every ripple. The way the skin curves tightly over the mushroom of the head. The lacework of veins running up the shaft. And now I feel the weight of his massive close-trimmed balls in my hand. They are heavy. And full.

  “Those need to be emptied. As soon as fucking possible, little girl. So suck that cock like you mean it. Suck that cock like there’s a prize inside and we’ll see if you earn that chair.”

  My toes curl tightly and automatically underneath me, so tight and hard that it makes my feet fill with cramps. But I ignore it. And I open my mouth and gently circle the rim of the head with the very tip of my tongue. Popsicle-licks, little tastes, learning and watching all the time.

  I have no idea what I’m doing. But I follow my instincts, I follow my desire, and I watch him close to make sure I am doing what he likes.

  I am. Oh, I definitely am. I play with his dick in my mouth, growing bolder, taking him deeper, looking up all the time.

  I get more into it with every passing second. He’s huge in my mouth, but I like that fullness. I suck and kiss the tender flesh of his dick, enjoying his taste. His musky warmth, mixed with the freshness of his soap and cologne. And the more I taste him, the more I want to taste him and only him forever.

  I take his cock deep into my throat, fighting my gag reflex. His body tenses and he lets out a primal groan of desire that eggs me on, past my gag reflex, past my body’s protests. I know, in my heart, that he could fuck the hell out of my throat right now. I know he could hurt me. I know he could make me cry.

  But he doesn’t. He lets me do the work, lets me bring on my own tears.

  And that makes all the difference.

  I find my confidence and I start sucking his dick like I was born to do this job. Another drip of precum dripples from the tip and I suck it clean, pushing into the opening of his urethra with the tip of my tongue. He groans at that, clenching his ass to thrust in deeper. I look up at him and see him start to surrender. I’m making him feel amazing and that makes me feel even more amazing, too.

  “Fuck, you look so good with my dick in your mouth.”

  I move it around, batting my lashes, teasing the tip with my teeth. I press the head into the hollow of my cheek, licking down the sides. I pull it clean and lick all the way down the base, from shaft to tip, all around, and then use the wetness of my saliva to lubricate my hand as I draw the skin up to the tip and back down again.

  He feels amazing against my tongue, my lips, my cheeks. Like I was made for him. The veins and ridges ripple under my tongue and lips. As I take him more deeply into my throat again, my pussy reacts, pulsing and clenching.

  And all I want, in all the world, is for him to be inside me.

  I can’t believe I am enjoying this so much. But I am. So much. I shift my foot a little bit so I’m grinding my clit into the back of my right heel. I groan against his cock with the pleasure of it. I’m enjoying this so much, I might just cum myself.

  I open my throat, relax my body, and take him another inch. The tip presses against my esophagus. I gag again and my body feels split in two—the rational part of me says stop that. While the deep primal part of me says keep doing that until you both come.

  I look up at him to check I’m doing okay. And the look on his face, it’s pure bliss. Pure power.

  He pushes into my mouth, taking my throat a little. “You’re such a good little girl, Jess. That tight throat. This huge cock. You think you can fucking handle me for real?”

  My god. Those words. They light a fire in my belly. He knows me well enough to know that’ve never met a challenge that I didn’t like. And his words are just that. A challenge. Halfway to a dare. Little innocent me versus big manly him.

  I’ll show him who can win this one, alright.

  My body warms up and my throat loosens. I take him faster and deeper and more, more, more.

  I hear his groans, feel his thrusts. I push right past my limit and on into uncharted waters. And God, I love swimming in these unknown depths.

  Finally, I can’t take anymore, and I pull away, gasping for air.

  Mike’s cock springs up slick and spit-covered between us. He wipes the spit off my lips, smiling down at me with so much pride, so much need.

  “Have you ever done this before, baby girl?”

  I look up at him and shake my head. “No. Only you.”

  Mike looks relieved and possessive. And for one second, I wonder what would have happened if this wasn’t my first time. If he wasn’t my first. He’d probably kill whoever it was that came before. “So this is your first time. Your first time for all for this.”

  I nod up at him yes. His dick bobs against my lips. I gather up a mouthful of saliva and let it dribble into my palm, then take him again in my grip.

  “This is my first time for everything.”

  Mike groans, his body reacting physicall7y as he does. I didn’t think it was possible, but he gets even harder, and now new veins throb powerfully at the base.

  “You’re so good, Jess. Suck that dick nice and slow. I want to feel every inch going in and out. Because after that, you’re fucking mine.”

  Mine. His. Only his. I relax my throat, take a deep breath, and go in for another round. I take him as far inside my mouth as I possibly can, until my chin nudges my balls. And as I feel their heat and power, I’m reminded that they have a very specific purpose. To make babies. And that thought, that idea just about sends me right over the edge.

  As I get bolder and dirtier, as the morning sounds of birdsong mix up with the slurping of me worshiping his magnificent cock, I taste another spurt of precum. More, this time. With a new taste.

  I want to feel myself get lost in him. But more than that, right now, I want to feel him get lost in me.

  I want to be the one to make it happen. Now. In this moment. Right here, and right now.

  But Mike knots his fingers into my hair and pulls me off him. Rough, aggressive. “Not a fucking chance, baby girl. You come first. Then me. And me inside you. Always. We clear?”

  I swallow hard, looking up at him, feeling my toes cramp again. “Yes.”

  His eyes harden. “Yes, what?”

  He’s wanting something very specific. “Yes…Mr. Hawthorn.”

  That isn’t it. I can tell that right off. “Close. But not quite.”

  The word pops into my head unprompted. The most natural thing in the world. “Yes, Daddy.”

  “Atta fucking girl,” He growls, drawing me up to standing, and swatting my ass. “Now, get on your fucking knees. And let me take what’s mine.”

  With his hand guiding me by the back of my neck, he leads me over to a chase lounge by the pool. I let a whine of pure, basic, simple need. He spins me around, the clean roughness of the pool deck rasping against my feet.

  “Strip. Now.”

  I nod, without breaking his stare. I pull my little tank top off and his expression gets darker. He takes my nipples his fingers, rolling them between them, making me gasp. I feel my heart clench, right along with my nipples. And he growls at me, primal and dangerous.

  And right then, I know that we’ve crossed the point of no return. I see in his eyes that same danger that I saw before—before I took off running.

  And still, it scares me. Still, it petrifies me. But this time, I let that fear settle down in my belly, dense and hot.