Poor Little Rich Slut (3 page)

My football hero tore at the front of my dress, exposing my breasts to his hungry eyes. His mouth was ready to make a meal of me. He lunged forward, taking a nipple by his teeth; biting down caused my entire body to wrench abruptly into a spontaneous orgasm. Yes, I masturbated; I knew what an orgasm was. But this… this was spontaneous combustion. I always thought swooning was for romance stories. This was not romance but sex, plain and simple, and I swooned into a near faint as the brilliance of those spasms rifled through my body.

“
Gawd
, yes!”
I apparently screamed, although the noise was so far beyond my drunken bliss for me to hear it.

We grappled longer. My hero’s hand moved across my roused crotch. It burrowed under my dress, found my soaked panties easy to remove, and drove deeper into my crotch than any man’s hand had ever been.

“
Gawd
, yes!”
All I wanted was more.

He fingered me in a painful tease. Already, I could feel another climax coming on. When he squeezed my clitoris, I groaned again, making raunchy
cumming
kinds of sounds. I had no idea my dress was almost gone entirely.

I could smell the funny smell of sex arising from our bodies and when he finally turned me around, with plans for entering my vagina from behind, I was ready to let my prudish virginity get taken. He pushed me over some old fence beam where I wriggled against the rough wood and my naked ass end taunted him. The center of me lured him in. “Do it, just do it!” I recall myself saying, knowing very well that the virginity I coveted was about to be forever torn away.

Suddenly, everything shifted. There was a scuffle behind me, two angry males having words, and when it was over, my hero was missing. I was in the arms of the scoundrel, Garrison Tate, who for some unknown reason claimed authority over me.

“C’mon, Heiress.
Time to get you out of here,” he said.

“What the hell are you
doing!
” I roared rather drunkenly, as soon as I realized who was there and who was not.

“Taking you home.”

“I’m
not
going home,” I came right back.

I felt his hand clamped over my mouth to silence me, an awesome act of command that righted my senses enough to realize…sort of…what was happening. I looked into his eyes, seeing something haunting, not at all playful or charismatic, but hedonistic, ruthless and determined. I wanted to wilt inside that expression. But, of course, I did not. I struggled uselessly against his overpowering strength. My arms flailed wildly, my feet kicked, bruising his shin, I think, and maybe a whole lot more. I was gathering steam to pull off the one act that was sure to fell my enemy, but he quickly rescued his crotch from my knee, and threw me over his shoulder like pirate’s booty. Going a few feet into the woods beyond the house—out of earshot I think was his plan—he pulled me down and over his arm. To my utter horror, he began to spank what was still very naked—my bare bottom.

The smacks were hard, furious and painful. One, two, three, a dozen, two dozen, a third and a fourth dozen, more than I could count, but enough for me to quickly realize how utterly amazing my body felt being so completely captured and brutally punished. The spanking hurt like hell…but my physical response was hardly what I expected.

I came up sober, or nearly so. I’m sure that Garrison assumed I was still drunk and about to go into a raving rant. “
Don’t
say a word!” he said, pointing a reproving finger in my face.

I was too stunned to speak. I just shook my head dumbfounded, feeling deliriously overcome by the man and the situation. My ass end was bathed with warmth that seemed to radiate far deeper than my skin. I soaked up the feeling, making it into something sexual and arousing. What
was
even more amazing were my feelings toward Garrison Tate. Rather than hate him for what he’d just done, I desired him with an intensity I’ve never felt for any man. Yes, I’d denied myself the opportunity to feel my sexual passions, but I still understood the feeling when it overwhelmed me that night. I dearly wished he’d finish what my football hero was denied, but that was not his intention.

“You’ve had too much to drink; I’m taking you home,” he said.

I nodded my head in agreement, still following orders not to talk. If I really came to my senses, I would have been so mortally embarrassed that I would never have shown my face to him again.

Twenty minutes later, he kindly deposited me at my front door, extracting my solemn promise that I would go inside and sleep till I was sober. By that time, my head was pounding though pretty clear of its drunken stupor. I replied submissively, “Yes, I think I should.” I slipped into the house and followed his orders, falling asleep within minutes.

***

By the time Monday morning rolled around, I was convinced that my lack of sex had become a real problem. Here I was only half-drunk, allowing the first good-looking man I’d seen sweep me away for the exact kind of indiscriminate fuck I’d been so careful to avoid for ten years. John Sherry’s cocktail party was a wake-up call. All I had earned in reputation and respect could have gone out the window in another, less private, setting. Thankfully it was a private affair, and I’d been rescued before my lapse in judgment went too far. Having replayed the incident over and over in my head that weekend, I came to a life-altering decision and I intended to tackle my problem head-on, just as I did everything else.

I called Garrison into my office mid-morning. He seemed unusually sober but there was no hint that he was reveling in my mistake. As for me, I could feel my sexual body respond instantly to his presence.

“Thank you for Friday night,” I started, likely sounding as meek as I felt.

“No problem,” he said.

“I did something I’ve never done before and I…” I stopped, not sure what to say.

The silence was uncomfortable, until he finally spoke. “Maybe you should try letting go, just in better circumstances.”

“Yes, exactly.”
I took a deep breath. “I spent my weekend thinking about… well… sexual matters. Something I’ve avoided doing for a long time.”

He nodded. I’m not sure he was all that comfortable hearing what I had to say, but I expected that he would stay to hear me out.

“I need a sexual outlet,” I announced with some difficulty. I took another deep breath.

Here I thought he’d jump right in with some glib comment, but he waited, forcing me to speak again. If I hadn’t already gone this far, I might have simply given up my mission in despair. But then, giving up is not my style. It had to be resolved; I had to see this through.

“I’m a virgin,” my next announcement went without his raising an eyebrow. Thus I went on boldly.
“By choice, a very deliberate choice.
The problem is… where it was never a problem before… it seems to be a big problem now. I have fantasies. Pretty outrageous ones… and I’m afraid if I refuse to do something about them… well, Friday night will happen again.”

Still, he was silent, much to my frustration.

“I really shouldn’t be confessing this to you… but you were there, and I think I owe you an explanation.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Heiress. I was just doing what was right.”

“So, I’m making a fool of myself again, telling you this?”

“No, not at all.
I’m not normally the sort to play father confessor, but I suppose I can.”

“Oh, I wish you weren’t so damn…”

“Damn what?”

“Now I do feel like a fool.”

“You’re not a fool.
Just a mixed up girl.”

“Mixed up girl? That’s what you think of me? I run a multimillion dollar company and I’m just a mixed up girl?”

“You’re smart as a tack. In fact, you’re brilliant, just a little shrill. You need softening around the edges, Eleanor. I think some good sex might just be the answer.”

I remained confused. My heart and loins swelled with unexpressed desire, but I was getting nowhere with the one man I thought might actually help me solve the problem. It was lust, just lust, I had to conclude. I wanted him because he turned me on. I had to back off; that was it.
Just back off, Eleanor, I repeated to myself.
“Well, I think I’ve burdened you enough with my problem. I probably said too much, but I’m sure you’ll be discreet. I
will
find a solution for myself. Hopefully it’ll tone down my over-zealous style.”

“So, like what kind of solution are you thinking of?”

“I’ll get laid,” I quipped. I started shuffling papers on my desk.
Did my nervousness show?
“Now, I need to get back to work.”

Garrison moved to his feet and toward the door; stopping just before he was about to leave, he turned back to me. “You know if you need someone to keep you sane while you’re out exploring those quirky fantasies, I’d be happy to be that someone.”

“What?”
“You need a sexual guru, Eleanor. Someone to lead you through your
fears,
let you play safe. I’d be more than happy to oblige.”

I didn’t know if he was serious or kidding. “Oh, you are a heartless scoundrel!” I managed.

He laughed. “A scoundrel I am. But I’m not heartless, just horny like the next guy.”

He walked out, leaving my thoughts in a panic and my desires swarming like angry bees.

I spent the next day and night distracted by the possibilities that lay before me and barely slept that night. My mind obsessively poured over the issue. Although I spent my night confused, I woke up that next morning knowing exactly what I had to do.

At lunch, bolstered by a new wave of confidence, I slipped into the empty seat beside Garrison in the corporate cafeteria.

“Is the food here any good?” I asked as I set down my tray.

“Not if you want steak. But the burgers are decent and the chicken pot pie is pretty good,” he said, although he was eating salmon.

“How about the salad?”
I asked seeing what was on my plate.

“I don’t eat salad, so I wouldn’t know.” He made a half turn and looked at me. “Is there a reason you’re here? I mean sitting so close and all?”

“Privacy.
I wanted a little privacy,” I whispered. The flutter in my belly was exasperating, but wonderful. I felt like some flirtatious tease, the kind of woman I’d sworn never to be. What an amazing thrill that was!

“Ah!”

“I need to know. Were you serious about…
”
I could feel myself starting to blush, “about that sexual guru thing?”

He laughed. “Well, I don’t know. Are you asking me to be your guru?”

“I don’t know why I would but… you have this strange effect on me.”

“Chemistry, Heiress, it’s called sexual chemistry. You hate me half the time because I turn you on, pure and simple.”

He was totally right.
“And what about you?”

“Me?”

“Is that chemistry a two-way street?”

“Sure is. But you are the boss’s daughter.”

“I
am
the boss,” I corrected him.

“That too, Miss Rule.”

“But this is totally aside from work. I’m making a serious gesture here.”

“Like I’d actually believe you’d accept me as your sexual guru. I’m not that naïve.” He was becoming cocky again, and cocky seemed to turn my stomach all aflutter. I could feel the heavy dampness in my crotch as his sexy spirit crept inside me.

“What do you mean naïve?”

We were stuck on the same side of the table, side by side, Garrison having to turn awkwardly in his seat to talk to me. I liked the dynamics. I liked being close to him, almost touching. And, it was hard for him to stare me down in this position. I wasn’t sure I could handle a full-frontal attack from him with any poise at all.

He fished around with the food on his plate, then suddenly put down his fork, turned in his seat, leaning his back against the wall and stared directly at me—so much for avoiding the full-frontal attack. I could feel the heat of his eyes moving inside me and settling. “Let’s put it this way, Heiress; if I were to be your sexual guru, there would be rules, and knowing you and your temperament, you wouldn’t want to follow my rules.” He grimaced. “So, there you have it, a monumental waste of time on both our parts.”

“But you’re the one that suggested it.”

“I was kidding, seriously kidding.”

Now I did feel silly, but I had to play this out if nothing else but to save face. “So, what are the rules?” I jumped back in.

He snickered like he was thinking this up on the spot; I’m sure he was. “You’d have to do everything I say. I mean
everything
. It wouldn’t be an equal partnership. I’m in charge, you submit.”

“I can do that.”

“Yeah, right.
Submit?”

“Really, I can. It’s got me jittery all over.”

“True?”

“Yes. You don’t know what my fantasies are.”

I could see him thinking, letting the idea actually take a hold. “Maybe you should tell me what these deep dark fantasies are.”