Chapter 7 A Better Start

• Harper
• The rest of the evening is a blur. Michael has to circulate, of course, but he comes back to Damien and me frequently to check in. He asks where I’m showing my work. I blush and say, “The Witch’s Brew coffee shop on Lake Street in Minneapolis.”
• Michael grins at me. “A perfect place to start.”
• “You’ll have to give some pieces to a proper gallery now, though. People will be wondering where to find your work,” Damien whispers in my ear.
• “Because you announced it in front of the press!” I reply.
• Damien gives me an innocent look. “Did I do that?”
• I squeeze his arm in gratitude, and he laughs.
• It’s late by the time we leave Michael, Julian and the rest of Damien’s acquaintances at the gallery. I can’t help but note that Damien didn’t call any of them his friends.
• “Do your friends not attend gallery openings?” I ask.
• Damien winces at me. “Caught that, did you? I don’t have a lot of friends, Harper. A man like me makes a lot of enemies. I do have one good friend, Laurence Killian, but he’s in New York. My main business is in the Big Apple, so I spend most of my time there. I do keep a penthouse in Minneapolis, though. I’ve been doing a fair amount of business here recently. So, I’ll probably be in the market for another date not long from now.”
• “What, like pay me? You’ve got to be joking. You hooked me up with Michael Vernon! If I had it to give, you could have a kidney, my liver, and my virginity!” I respond.
• Damien raises an eyebrow, and I blush, looking away. Sometimes my mouth moves faster than my brain.
• A tan sedan with its windows down peels away from the curb just as Frederick comes around the limo to open the back door. It nearly hits the poor chauffeur, and he shakes his fist at the other driver, unleashing a litany of curse words.
• The driver then turns to us. Damien has an eyebrow raised. “Sorry,” Frederick says contritely, his cheeks flushing.
• “I don’t think I’ve ever heard so many eloquent conjugations of the word ‘fuck.’” Damien chuckles, clapping Frederick on the back.
• The driver relaxes and resumes his professional persona, opening the back door of the limo for us. “Shall we go back to the penthouse, Mr. Blackwood?” he asks.
• Damien looks at me, his eyes dark with desire. “I don’t know,” he purrs. “Shall we go back to the penthouse, Miss Ward?”
• I know if I say ‘no,’ he won’t feel slighted or refuse another date with me, and he isn’t going to want me to say ‘yes’ out of some perceived obligation after he introduced me to Michael Vernon. But… after this delightful evening of one-upping each other and educating him about art while he listened with genuine interest, I want to. I want to say ‘yes.’
• So I do.
• “Yes, let’s go back to the penthouse, Mr. Blackwood.”
• It’s not as though Scott and I are exclusive, after all. We’ve only had one date.
• Damien smiles at me like a wolf smiles at a lamb and helps me into the limo. “Honestly, I wasn’t expecting you to say yes.”
• “I know,” I reply. “But I’m curious to see what your decorator calls ‘art.’”
• He throws his head back and laughs. “Is that all, little red bird?”
• Little red bird. I kind of like that. “Well, I mean, I’m sure there are a few pieces in your bedroom.”
• “That there are, and I can’t wait to show you the biggest piece of all.”
• * * *
• Damien
• How very unexpected… and delightful. This freckle-nosed goddess is going to ride my dick tonight.
• I’m practically salivating. I hope she doesn’t want the grand tour of all the art in the penthouse. I don’t think I can be patient that long.
• I subtly watch the rise and fall of her chest as I extend my arm behind her along the seat of the limo. I want to take her right here, right now. But that would be both cliché and undignified, and I am neither of those things.
• As the limo crawls toward my penthouse in downtown Minneapolis, I play with some stray waves of Harper’s hair. She must use a lilac shampoo, body wash, or lotion. Whichever it is, I’m looking forward to burying my nose in it.
• Finally, we arrive at the underground parking ramp. Frederick comes around the limo, and I try not to spring out like my dick wants to from my pants. I am not some young schoolboy after all. I can be patient. Suave. Seductive.
• Harper takes my hand and steps out of the limousine, looking around at the concrete pillars and other vehicles around us. “Is this a Banksy?” she teases me.
• “A what?” I ask.
• She shakes her head. “He’s a street artist.”
• “Oh, got it. Ha ha.” I’m not familiar, but I like her sarcastic attitude and quick wit. I take out my fob that will tell the elevator to go straight up to the penthouse. “Come with me.”
• She’s a bit nervous now.
• Cute.
• I squeeze her hand. “Nothing’s going to happen that you don’t want. If we get upstairs and you decide you only want to look at my artwork and go home, that’s just fine by me.” After all, I have every intention of taking her out again. My dick might be disappointed tonight, but I certainly wouldn’t be. Just being in the company of this fascinating woman is enough to make my night.
• “Okay.” Her smile is still a little nervous, but she also looks relieved.
• Art tour it is. I tug Harper along with me to the elevator, and it takes us up to the top floor. “You might also like the view,” I tell her nonchalantly as the elevator doors open to my living room with its long bank of floor-to-ceiling windows on the other side.
• She gasps and walks over to the windows. “Holy shit! This view is amazing!”
• “I know.” I smile and slip my arm around her waist as I join her at the windows. “Perhaps you will paint it sometime.”
• “That would be fabulous!” she gushes. Then her cheeks flush. “I mean, if it’s okay for me to come back.”
• “I’ll have management make you a fob,” I say. I wasn’t planning to; I barely know her after all. But being here with her now makes me want to give her the keys to everything I own. The mansion in Connecticut. The jet. The corporate building. My safety-deposit box with its two million in cash. Whatever her little heart desires.
• This isn’t like me at all. I’m not the kind of guy to fall hard for a woman. Fuck, I’m not the kind of guy to fall for a woman at all. But Harper’s different. She’s intelligent. She’s a hard worker, and she’s motivated. I like all of those things about her. The more time I spend with her, the more I want to give her everything she could ever desire.
• Her dazzling smile makes my heart thump, and it’s more than enough reward for my gesture. “Really? You’d do that for me?”
• “I find I might do just about anything for you, my little red bird,” I whisper, more honestly than I intend.
• Harper throws herself into my arms and hugs me. “I can’t believe you’re not married yet! You’re so generous, kind, and thoughtful….” She frowns. “Wait, you’re not married, are you? I mean, McKenzy made it sound like you were the world’s most eligible bachelor, and you said you broke up with your girlfriend, but…”
• “But rich guys like to keep a side piece?” I grin. “I’m divorced. Nothing to worry about, little red bird.”
• She sags with relief then blushes with embarrassment. “Sorry. I just wanted to make sure.”
• “I’m not offended. Well, not too offended. I think it speaks to your integrity that you’re checking ahead of time.” I give her a sly smile. “Are you seeing anyone? Maybe a certain Scott Bauer?”
• Harper groans and presses her forehead into my chest. “Stalker.”
• “You like that about me. Come now, tell me the truth,” I tease.
• She snorts. “I don’t have to tell you anything. This is just a date from an app, remember?” She has a mischievous twinkle in her eye, so I know she’s teasing.
• “I am twenty years your senior. I’m old enough to be your father,” I point out.
• “Yeah, well, I’m not into that daddy stuff, so I’ll just go ahead and tell you.” She gives me a sheepish smile. “I am seeing Scott, but we haven’t agreed to be exclusive or anything.”
• I nod. “Good. I’m glad. I’m gone so often, I like that you’ll have someone else to spend your time with while I’m away.”
• She blinks at me. “You don’t mind?”
• “Not one bit,” I respond. I’ve shocked her, I can tell. And I like it. “So, are you ready for your tour?”
• “Sure,” she says after gathering herself. “Want to start in the bedroom?”
• Why not shock her more? I slip a sleeve off her shoulder, exposing her creamy skin. “Why not start right here?” I murmur.
• Then I kiss her shoulder and all the way up her neck while I subtly draw down the zipper of her dress.
• * * *
• Harper
• The dress pools at my feet, leaving me in McKenzy’s black high-heeled Steward Weitzman’s, black lace panties, and nothing else. The neck of the dress had been too wide for a bra, and its structure was such that I really hadn’t needed one.
• Damien draws a sharp breath, pulling his lips away from my neck to look at my exposed body. “Perfect,” he whispers. “Absolutely perfect. I swear, I’m having you sculpted and placed in my foyer in the Connecticut house.”
• I imagine the ‘Connecticut house’ is actually a mansion, but these rich types have quaint little names for their dwellings, I guess. I reach for the buttons on Damien’s shirt as he slips out of his jacket.
• “Let me take care of that,” he offers, taking my hands and kissing my fingertips. Then he moves them downward to cup his cock through his pants. “You take care of this.”
• I wonder why he doesn’t want me messing with his shirt. But then I see him remove diamond-and-gold cufflinks with large enough stones that they could have made two very expensive engagement rings. The buttons themselves are tricky, I can tell.
• “Go on. Get your hands on it.” Damien grins.
• I do want to ‘get my hands on it.’ I pull down his fly and unbutton his pants, seeing black silk boxers beneath. They must be expensive.
• But I can also see he’s started leaking cum, wetting the front of the boxers. How long was he lusting after me tonight?
• With a push, his boxers and pants are on the floor. He springs free, his impressive cock pointing straight at me. I ache to have it inside me and know I’m soaking my panties. I stroke my hand over his shaft, thumbing the trickle of semen coming out of the tip.
• “Turn and face the windows,” Damien says, tossing his shirt aside, now naked before me.
• “Giving orders now?” I shiver. I like it.
• “Yes.” Then he spins me around and presses me to the window. His hands reach up between me and the glass to massage my breasts, tweaking my nipples.
• One hand goes lower, sliding down my belly and into my panties. I gasp as his experienced hand slips two fingers inside my wet entrance, his thumb working my clit.
• “Fuck yourself on my fingers,” Damien commands me, and I do what he says, riding his hand while he finger-fucks me. “Good girl.”
• I come around his fingers, whimpering for more. “Please,” I beg.
• He withdraws his fingers and pushes my panties down until they fall around my ankles. “Please what?”
• “Please, f-fuck me,” I stutter wildly.
• “There’s my good girl.” He presses the head of his cock just inside my entrance.
• I want to push back on him and greedily take more inside, but his grip is vice-like on my hips, stopping me.
• “Oh, god,” I plead.
• “Press your tits against the glass and brace yourself,” he orders me. “I want anyone who’s watching to get a good look.”
• Watching?! I look out the windows, glancing around at other windows that might just have a peeping Tom. I know the idea should scare me, or repulse me, but I feel excited for some reason.
• I spread my legs wider and press my breasts against the glass, my nipples hardening at the coolness.
• “That’s my good girl,” Damien whispers in my ear.
• Then, in one powerful movement, he thrusts his whole length inside me.