Page 9 of The Tycoon (The Douglas Brothers #1)

DOLLY

“Maybe I shouldn’t pack a damn thing and just be naked?” I wonder aloud.

Folding my arms over my chest, I stare at my opened suitcase with my brows furrowed in thought. Sutton told me to pack a week’s worth of clothes, but what kind of week am I looking at? Will we be going out? Staying in? Lounging on some tropical beach? Having a week’s long sex session in bed?

Geeze, I hope so. He probably has a massive bed. And a massive cock.

Laughing softly to myself, I step back to my wooden dresser.

Rifling through my opened underwear drawer, I pull out ten pairs of my newest panties.

They aren’t that sexy, but they’re all I have at the moment.

I hope Sutton won’t be too disappointed that I don’t own anything super risqué.

Lace is about as fancy as I get, and I’m heavy on the florals.

I’ve never been the type of girl who could pull off leather and fishnets.

Ugh, I hope that isn’t a turnoff for him.

He has probably been with women with no gag reflexes who can fold into pretzels and squirt on command.

The reason why I’m so nervous is because of how I was raised.

My family is very conservative, and very Catholic.

Sex was never a topic we openly discussed.

Sometimes I wonder how my parents were able to have my sister and me.

If we didn’t have our dad’s nose and our mom’s eyes, I would swear we were adopted.

Though I suppose there’s always a chance we were both made in a test tube.

I was always taught that sex was something you save for marriage, but I sinned for the first time when I was a junior in high school.

I actually went to an all-girls Catholic high school but met my first boyfriend through my best friend at the time.

It was a secret relationship that I kept close to the chest. My parents still have no clue that I lost my virginity at seventeen.

Besides him, I’ve only been with two other men.

All three were terrible teachers. I feel like I should be much more experienced than I am at twenty-six.

But I suppose that’s what happens when you’re an introvert that moved a lot as a child and were constantly bombarded by religious guilt.

Forming relationships can be difficult for me, and I still feel like I’m going to hell sometimes for some of the choices I’ve made.

What I’m trying to say is that I’ve never done anything more scandalous than a quickie in the backseat of my ex’s car.

I’m so worried about disappointing Sutton sexually.

I mean, who wants to marry a woman who has only experienced oral sex through the characters she reads about?

I have to do something that will blow his mind.

I don’t know exactly what that is yet, but I have bookcases full of written material and a mind full of fantasies.

I’m sure I will be able to think of something. Right?

Ugh.

Turning back to my suitcase, I throw each pair of pastel bikinis into it one at a time.

I just have to pack my swimsuit and bras and then I think I will call it good.

While I don’t have a whole lot of disposable funds, I’m sure I can run out and buy something if I really need to. Or maybe Sutton could buy it for me?

Not that I want him to buy me things! I promise I'm not a gold digger like Sam keeps accusing me of being. Or accused me of being. I actually haven’t heard from him in over an hour, which is a little odd, but maybe he finally took me seriously when I told him to leave me alone?

It would be a first, that boy has never listened to me, but then again, I’ve never been quite so vicious towards him. He’s not used to me biting back.

I’m not quite as pissed now that the champagne has worn off, but I’m still annoyed. Annoyed and starting to feel guilty. Which I shouldn’t be, he started this whole thing. Why can’t I just be an unbothered bitch for once?

Pushing out a sigh, I step to my phone resting on the corner of my bed.

Picking it up, my eyes glance to see if I’ve missed any new messages.

I haven’t, and it fills me with just as much relief as it does dread.

I honestly don’t know where Sam and I go from here.

Neither of us can afford not to be roommates with one another. Hell, this is going to be so messy.

Tossing my phone back on my mattress, I perk as I hear my doorbell. Sutton sure is a man of his word. He sent me a text saying that he would be here in fifteen minutes and here he is, right on the dot. It’s refreshing for a man to follow through with what he said he would.

Quickly stepping through my bedroom, I work my way through my small apartment. Pausing as I reach the door, I check the keyhole to make sure it is who I think it is.

Settling my gaze upon the fisheye image of my future husband, my breath sharply hitches. Looking just as handsome as he did last night, he’s carrying the largest bouquet of pink roses I’ve ever seen. My heart squeezes at the gesture, they’re my favorite flowers. How in the world did he know?

Unlocking the door, I quickly pull the squeaky hunk of wood open. Seeing him in person once again renders me speechless. I stare at him, unblinking, with what is probably the dumbest expression on my face.

Lifting his lips into a humored smirk, he says a single word that turns my knees to jelly.

“Princess.”

Continuing to blink, I stare like a moron.

Raising a brow, he quirks his head. Widening his smirk, he lifts the bouquet.

“May I come in?” he asks.

Nodding my head, my blue eyes fall to the floor before I step to the side.

Stuttering like an idiot, my hand raises to tuck an unruly strand of hair behind my ear.

It dawns on me that I probably should have put a little effort into my appearance.

I didn’t even bother to get out of my pajamas for brunch this morning.

I’m still in my lazy pink sweat shorts and white ribbed tank, my hair piled high in a messy topknot.

I’m not even sure if I’ve brushed my teeth.

“Uh, yeah...uh, yes. Yes, Sir, you may,” I reply.

Slowly crossing the threshold, his head turns to look my way.

I lift my eyes and catch his gaze, it’s just as hungry as it was last night right before I kissed his cheek.

It’s giving me the same panicky feeling that caused me to slam the door in his face.

I’m grateful that that isn’t an option right now, I just don’t want to screw anything up.

“Those are really pretty,” I say, pointing to the bouquet in his hand.

Pulling his deep blue eyes from mine, he glances towards the flowers. Holding them out to me, an almost cocky look falls over his handsome face.

“A little birdie told me they were your favorite.”

Taking the bouquet with both hands, I bring the fragrant blooms to my nose and inhale their delicious scent. My brows furrow at his answer, I have no idea which “birdie” would have told him.

“Oh, yeah? May I ask who?”

Shaking his head, he takes a step closer.

If it weren’t for the bouquet against my chest, we’d be touching.

While not in a full suit, he still looks delicious clad in a white collared shirt and pressed black slacks.

The first three buttons are undone in a slutty kind of way.

I feel the need to unbutton them all and get a good look at the rest of his toned chest.

“No, you may not. That’s a secret that I’m going to keep to myself for now,” he says.

I swallow hard from the sultry tone of his voice.

“Okay, Sir. But I’ll have you tell me, someday.”

Huffing a tiny laugh, he inches in closer. God, his cologne smells so good. It’s warm and masculine, with hints of caramel and spiced whiskey. I'm going to find out what it is and spray my bed sheets with it. When he's not in them, of course.

“We’ll see about that, Princess,” he replies, slamming the door to my apartment shut.

Jumping from the unexpected reaction, the forceful sound squeezes a surprised gasp out of me.

In sharp contrast, Sutton gently takes my wrist and has me pull down the bouquet so it’s no longer covering half my face.

My heart jumps into my throat as I notice the unmistakable want in his expression.

Leaning in to close the distance between us, the icy panic from last night fills my stomach once again.

My nervous gaze moves from his lips back to the sight of his chest to distract me from running.

It’s then that I notice some splattering of crimson spots on his neatly ironed shirt.

“Is that…is that blood?” I ask.

Halting his advance, he stares at me for a moment. There is a split second of confusion as his eyes move to look at what I’m seeing. He sucks in a breath and shakes his head; a small chuckle bubbles from his throat.

“Hot sauce, I had a breakfast burrito on the way over,” he says.

Moving my gaze over the crimson stains, my brows knit together as I try to think how he was able to splatter hot sauce onto his shirt as he was driving. Never mind the fact that he was at the cafe, or at least I think he was. Why would he be eating in the car?

“How did you manage that? One hand with a hot sauce bottle, the other with the breakfast burrito? How were you able to steer your car?”

Straightening his posture, he gives me a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders.

“I wasn’t driving, Princess. Harold was.

He’s my family’s driver, remember? I told you about him last night.

You’ll love him, he’s a big ole’ teddy bear.

I had him drive-thru Burrito King on the way over and I picked up a couple of sausage and potato breakfast burritos.

I tried to wait so we could eat together, but honestly, I was starving so I did eat mine.

Yours is in the limo outside, I know you didn’t eat much at brunch and probably need something to sop up all that alcohol, hmm? ”

Arching a brow with his accusation, a small look of annoyance lashes over his face.

Nodding my head at his scolding, I feel the implications of his words.

The fact that I was right about him watching me in the cafe is completely overshadowed by the shame I feel for disappointing him.

I absolutely hate it. While he deserves to chastise me for drinking on a Sunday morning, I really don’t want him to be upset with me.

“You’re right, Sir. I’m sorry,” I reply, my eyes dropping to the bouquet.

Lifting his hand, he places his fingertips under my chin and forces me to meet his gaze. There’s a calmness behind his eyes that wasn’t there a moment ago. For some reason, it erases all my chaotic thoughts and feelings.

“You’re forgiven, Princess. I can’t be too upset with you since you don’t know the boundaries. But we are going to have a long talk about expectations when we get home. Now, before we grab your things and head back to the limo, I need you to do something for me,” he says.

Lifting my lips into a small grin, my head nods as much as his hold will allow. I find myself getting lost in his soulful eyes. Is he hypnotizing me with his forgiveness? It sure feels that way. He could ask me anything right now and I would do it.

“And what would that be, Sir?” I ask.

“I want you to stand there and let me kiss you. Will you allow me to do that?”

My breath hitches at his question, a million caffeinated butterflies fill my stomach. God, I don’t want to mess this up. Please don’t let me mess this up.

“Yes, Sir,” I say.

Humming low, his hand drags to cup the side of my face.

Brushing the pad of his thumb across my flushed cheek, he takes a step into my personal space.

His torso presses the bouquet of flowers against my chest and for a moment, I think about flinging them to the other side of the room so I can feel the hardness of his body.

“You’re such a good girl, you know that?” he whispers.

Closing my eyes, his lips brush over mine, his touch feather light and sweet as he makes a handful of slow, teasing passes. I whimper in response, the excitement in my body melding into raw want after only a handful of heated seconds.

Raising his free hand, he touches the other side of my face. Pressing his fingertips against my skin, he holds me still as he deepens the kiss. Slipping his tongue into my mouth, he toys with mine in a lewd game of give and take. Coaxing the desire I’ve repressed inside me for so long.

Emboldened by my growing need, I return his passion with a hunger of my own. Moaning like a needy whore, my tongue eagerly slides into his mouth for a greedy taste.

A low growl of warning fills my ears, causing a shiver to race down my spine. Sutton abruptly pulls away from me, leaving me dazed by the sudden change. I open my glassy eyes with a confused expression, only to catch him shaking his head.

“No…I’m in charge, is that understood?”

Breathing hard, I reply with a nod of my head.

“Yes. Yes, I understand,” I say, my voice not more than a whisper.

Giving me a pleased smile, he lends back in.

His lips quickly find mine once again, moving with a desperation that causes my heart to race.

Demanding my obedience, he pulls his tongue from my mouth each time I become a little too wanton.

It’s both frustrating and exhilarating, but I soon learn my place in this new dance.

Melting against his full lips, I allow him to devour me. Every swipe of his tongue, every nip of his teeth makes me want to submit just a little more of myself. It’s as if I’ve been put under a spell, his mouth using my breathy whimpers and whines to seal the lustful incantation.

My head spins from his possessive kiss, the ache in my core becomes harder for me to ignore. I want his hands to drop from my face to learn my body. I want to shatter beneath his touch.

Almost as if he senses my thoughts, he eases his tongue from my mouth. Groaning over my lips, he reluctantly ends our last first kiss. Pressing his forehead to mine, he pushes out a ragged breath.

“Let’s get you home,” he says, his voice deep and rough. “I need to taste more of you.”