For the First Time: Twenty-One Brand New Stories of First Love (30 page)

The torrent of stimulation was enough to push Astrid over the edge and she came with a gasp, feet scrambling at the comforter as she rocked out the rest of her climax against their hands. When she’d drained the last of it from her body, she guided Kinsey’s hand out from her pants and laid it on her stomach.

Kinsey’s small voice came from where her head rested on Astrid’s shoulder. “Will you stay?”

Astrid had to do a quick check of her mental calendar to be sure, but class didn’t start until ten tomorrow. “Yeah, I’ll stay.”

“Good,” Kinsey said, bouncing to her feet, face lit with a wide spread of a smile. She pulled her dress over her head and unfastened her bra, slinging it over the pile of Astrid’s clothes on the chair. “I’ll get us some pajamas.”

An hour later, as Astrid lay in bed with Kinsey curled sweetly around her, the girl’s long red hair draped over her arm, she couldn’t help but feel damn pleased with herself. And tomorrow she’d buy Justin a toaster.

*     *     *

Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed Looking for a Complication, I hope you’ll give my Compass Series a try, starting with
Personal Geography
.

Personal Geography was named a 2014 Buried Treasures Pick by All About Romance, a Recommended Read by Romance Novel News and was selected by Heroes and Heartbreakers as one of their 10 BDSM Romances You Should Read.

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NEWSLETTER

Cynthia Sax

H
oly shit. I
grip the car seat with both hands as we round a bend. My crazy-assed boss is pushing the limited edition Lamborghini to its top speed on the private track. If he makes one mistake, I’m dying a virgin.

Drift laughs, a huge shit-eating smile on his rugged countenance, his joy stealing what little breath I have left.

I love him so much it hurts.

When I was a young girl, my mom told me to save my virginity for a special boy, a boy who would make the experience wonderful. “Your first time will shape your attitude toward sex,” she advised from her hospital bed. “That will stick with you throughout your entire life. Make certain he’s worthy.”

Drift Dornan is so fuckin’ worthy. He’s handsome, successful, the billionaire founder of a same day shipping company, kind, though he’d never admit that, and a little bit wild.

I skim my gaze over him. His pristine white dress shirt is rolled up to his elbows, revealing the ‘Need For Speed’ tattoo scrawled across his right forearm. I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anyone or anything.

Unfortunately, the man dates sexually sophisticated, blonde models, not twenty-five-year-old blue-haired virgins. He’ll never take me for a test drive.

The engine revs. I’m pressed back against the seat, the scent of leather and man filling my nostrils. My heart pounds. My palms moisten.

Drift’s grin stretches from ear to ear. My boss is in his element—completely in control, going faster than any human should, one wrong move away from death.

I should be terrified, scared senseless, but I’m not. A part of me has always trusted Drift, has ever since that first interview three years ago. It started like any normal interview for an assistant position. Then we began talking about cars and, an hour later, we were at his personal track, doing laps in his latest purchase, a SSC Tuatara. We hit speeds of 275 mph that day, the exhilaration of the drive unrivaled.

He was bareheaded, as he is now, his black hair adorably mussed. And, just like today, I was wearing a helmet and secured to the seat with a harness he inspected himself. He might be reckless with his own life but, even then, he was careful with mine, taking every precaution to keep me safe.

We slow as we pass the concerned-looking luxury car salesman. The man wanted to sit in the passenger seat. Drift nixed that idea, telling him I rode shotgun or he wasn’t buying.

The car skids to a stop and I’m thrown against the harness. “Oomph.” I wince. That will leave a mark.

“That.” Drift slaps the steering wheel. “Was better than sex.”

“I wouldn’t know,” I mumble under my breath. “The ride was smooth,” I add louder. “And fuckin’ fast. I almost peed my panties around that first bend.”

“There was no reason to worry. I had it handled.” Drift turns to me and unfastens my chinstrap. “What color are they?”

His fingers brush against my skin. My breath hitches and my nipples tighten.

“What color are what?” I’ve lost track of our conversation.

“What color are your panties?’ My boss’s gaze lowers to my bare legs. My slim black skirt covers my thighs. My knees are pressed together.

We’ve had inappropriate conversations since day one. No topic is off limits. He knows I’m a virgin. I know his first time was in the backseat of a sunburst-orange Chevrolet Cavalier.

He never censors his thoughts around me, openly sharing whatever is flowing through his fast-as-hell brain. I once gibed that he was a lawsuit waiting to happen. He told me I’d never hurt him that way.

The damn man is right. I wouldn’t.

Drift lifts one eyebrow, waiting for my answer.

“My panties are white.” My lips twist. I need sexier underwear. “Did the Lambo’s integrated electronic control system make a difference?” I steer his attention toward the car.

“It made a
big
difference, Wrench.” He started calling me that the first moment he saw the tattoo on my shoulder. Other women might not find the nickname sexy but I love it.

Wrenches were my mechanic mom’s tool of choice. Two days before she died, I snuck a pipe wrench into her hospital room. I’ll never forget how she skimmed her hands over the metal, her once steady fingers trembling. Warmth had lit her eyes, as though she was remembering the cars she’d worked on, the driving she’d done.

I like to think it gave her some happiness, some peace.

Drift removes my helmet. “After driving this car, I won’t see my other vehicles the same way.”

After meeting him, I don’t see other men the same way. I fluff my hair. The strands are damp and stuck to my skull. I must look a mess. “So you’re adding one of these to your collection?”

“I’m considering it.” He runs his fingers along the harness keeping me confined, his touching thrilling my already ecstatic body. “Are they silk or cotton?”

He’s thinking about my panties again. “Lace.” I squirm as his palms graze over my blouse-covered breasts.

“These straps hurt you.” Drift slips his fingers between my body and the nylon. “They dug into your skin.” He frowns. “That’s unacceptable.”

He frees me from the restraints and I roll my shoulders back. “I’ll survive.”

“Of course, you will. You’re as tough as pavement.” He says this with pride.

The man I love views me as tough and strong, not sexually stimulating or beautiful. He plays with the knobs on the dash. I wonder how I can increase my sizzle factor.

“Bikini or thong?” My boss is behind the wheel of a dream car yet his attention returns to me, to ferreting out what I’m wearing under my skirt.

I long to say G-string. That’s likely what his girls of the week wear. But that would be a lie. “Bikini.”

“Hmmm…” His gaze lowers to my hips. Lines etch between his eyebrows.

I’m wearing white bikini panties. Ugh. I might as well broadcast my virgin status. “I realize my panties aren’t sexy.”

He snorts. “Your panties are sexy as hell. I’m hard just thinking about them.”

Is he being sarcastic? I glance at his groin. I can’t tell. My view is impeded by the steering wheel. “About the Lamborghini…” I return his focus to his prospective new toy.

“Yes, the Lambo.” Drift studies the dash, a savage yearning on his face. “I really want this car.”

“Then buy it.” It’s not like my boss to hesitate. “You can afford it.”

His gaze slants to my face. “If my father wanted this car, my mom would tell him to wait, to think about some more.”

“Because that’s what your father wants to hear.” Drift’s father is extremely lovable, always greeting me with a smile and a hug, but he’s also frustratingly indecisive. A dreamer, he never takes action on any of his grand plans, pushing every task forward to a tomorrow that won’t ever come. He’s the exact opposite of my never-waits-for-anything boss. “You’re not your father and I’m not your mom.”

“I’m not my father.” Drift’s jaw juts. “When I say I’m doing something, I want employees, children, everyone to believe I’ll get it done. I want them to have faith in me, to be able to tell their friends about my goals, knowing those goals would be accomplished.”

Had he believed in his father’s dreams and bragged to his friends about them, only to have them never turn into reality? Kids can be cruel. They would have ridiculed Drift, mocking him.

I place my hand on his thigh, feeling for the little boy he once was. “You’re a man who takes action. No one would ever question that.”

“Yeah?” He glances at me.

“Yeah.” I hold his gaze, allowing him to see the faith, the confidence I have in him. His shoulders slowly lower, the tension easing from his body.

“I’m buying this car,” he finally decides. “What color do you want it in?”

He’s allowing me to choose the color of his next vehicle. My chest warms. “Blue.”

“Like your hair.” He flips a strand.

Like his eyes. I don’t have the guts to say this.

“It’s a sports car.” The skin around those eyes crinkles with laugh lines. “No one wants a blue sports car.”

No one wants a twenty-five-year-old virgin either. “I like blue.” He shouldn’t have asked me if he didn’t plan to honor my preference. I look away from him, out the windshield.

The salesman is gazing our way, his forehead furrowed. Judging by his expression, he’s debating whether or not to approach us. I doubt he’d be interested in a woman with my inexperience either.

“What do you do with an asset no one wants?” I ask.

“You dispose of it,” Drift replies without hesitation, without doubt.

“Oh.” I glance at him. That wasn’t the answer I expected. “But someone could want it in the future.”

Couldn’t they? I worry my bottom lip with my teeth.

His gaze drops to my mouth and his eyes darken. “That’s unlikely and, while you’re waiting for that miracle to occur, you’re expending resources to care for the asset. Absorb the loss, learn from your mistake, and move on.”

After a lifetime of saying no to sex, I should say yes to the next man who propositions me? “But—”

“I’ll help you.” Drift leans toward me. His breath wafts against my skin.

Oh fuck. Our lips are a whisper apart.

Will he kiss me now, finally claim me as I desperately want him to? “You’ll help me?” My voice is husky.

“Hell yeah, Cassie girl.” His face grows stark, the turbulent emotion in his eyes enthralling me. “I’ve wanted this since I met you.”

All this time, I’ve been lusting after him and Drift has felt the same way. I stare at him. “You didn’t say anything.”

“You weren’t ready.” He shakes himself and pulls away. I stifle my groan, frustrated as hell. “It’s emotional for you.”

“It isn’t for you?” Could he fuck me and not feel anything for me?

“Fuck, no.” Drift says this as though it’s a ridiculous thought. “We’ll return to your place after I deal with this.”

He waves toward the car salesman. The man takes this as a sign to approach us. He walks toward the Lamborghini, carrying the suit jacket Drift had casually tossed to him before the test drive.

“And we’ll dispose of it quickly, Wrench,” my boss assures me. “The longer you hold onto it, the more you’ll fret about it.”

God, he’s cold.

But he’s oh so right. I
will
fret about it. “Okay.”

My billionaire boss, the man I secretly love, will ‘dispose’ of my virginity. I’ll have him inside me. I shift in my seat, rubbing my thighs together, that thought wetting my pussy.

Drift exits the car, walks to the passenger side, exchanging comments with the salesman. He unrolls his sleeves and dons the black suit jacket, his movements smooth, casual, sexy as anything. Drift then opens my door and holds out his palm.

I grip his fingers, my hands shaking, and he pulls me upright. My legs threaten to buckle under me. He wraps his arm around me and tucks me into his side, not pausing in his negotiations. “And I’ll need the harness on the passenger side padded.”

“Noted, sir.” The salesman is trying his damnedest to hide his exultation over the sale and the correspondingly large commission check.

“I want it in Le Mans blue,” Drift surprises both of us with this condition.

“Blue, sir?” The salesman gulps. “That’s not a standard color.”

“This isn’t a standard car.” My boss rests his chin on the top of my head. He’s enticingly warm and smells like a mixture of new vehicle and passionate man.

“But—”

Drift levels a hard look on the salesman.

The man swallows again, his Adam’s apple bobbing, beads of sweat forming on his high forehead. “Blue it is, sir.”

My lips twitch. No one argues with my boss.

“Send the paperwork to Cassandra.” Drift links his fingers with mine and tugs me forward. “She and I have things to do.”

One of these things we plan to do is fuck. Is this a good idea? We’ll have to work together tomorrow. “We don’t have to rush.”

“Yes, we do.” He glances at me and shakes his head. “I know you.” We head toward his bright-red Ferrari. “You’re getting cold feet already.”

Shit. He
does
know me. I’m scared, fuckin’ terrified that this will change everything between us, that he’ll no longer ask me on test drives of cars, won’t wish to spend most of his waking hours with me, won’t want me to continue being his assistant.