Dahlia’s been mine since the second I saw her.

My doll.

She opened her mouth to whisper something,

but I stop her by taking her lips for the kiss I’ve been

waiting all week to give her. I wrap a hand around her

waist, gripping the small of her back as my tongue parts

her lips. She molds to my chest as much as she can with

her bindings, yielding to each swish of my tongue as I

explore every contour of her mouth. Tasting her for the

first time is more intense than I expect. I want to cover

every inch of her body with mine and impale her hard

without holding anything back.

Moving deeper into the kiss, I support my weight with

one arm and stretch out beside her. She can’t turn to

face me, but she does what she can with her legs, sliding

one up and down between my ankle and calf through my

pants. I have to pull away, so that I don’t end up ripping

off my clothes and burying my cock deep inside of her.

The entire night is ahead of us, so I plan to pace myself

and taste every inch of her before I fuck her hard.

I pull apart from our kiss, and smile as she takes a breath and runs her tongue over my bottom lip, eager to

continue. I’m just as ready to devour those lips again.

Raising off the bed, I move to the spot between her

knees, parting them to make room as I bury my hands

into her long, raven tresses, and tilt her head up sharply,

crashing my mouth over her lips.

Her feet slide up the bed, and she presses her thighs

against the outside of my legs. Heat radiates from her

center and in an instant, I’m rock hard. Gripping her back

with one hand, I lower my torso and hips to her body,

letting my full weight rest on her as I grind my cock at her

barely legal pussy, separated only by my boxers and

slacks.

Dahlia is hardly breathing, surviving on the lungful of

air we share, and manages a whimper that sounds like

words. I want to stifle out the sound, to keep this kiss

going, but she repeats the words.

“Sorry, what?” I ask, pulling from her mouth to let her

speak.

“I said, I haven’t been with a man…like this. I just

wanted you to know.”

There’s no stopping the ringing in my ear that sounds

like I’m in the middle of a room during a five-alarm blaze.

Lifting up off her torso, I study her face. “Did you just say

you’re a—”

“A virgin,” she answers, finishing my sentence. “Yes.

I’m…that.”

A slew of questions starts to surface, along with two

urges fighting each other in every single cell in my body.

The one hardwired to my dick wants to end her virgin

status right this second. Right here in my bed. Be good, you hear? Or there won’t be any special

treats for my darlings. Give me a kiss, babies. Give

Mommy a kiss. I love you all.”

Is Vivian ever going to leave?

I nod repeatedly with a polite smile lifting my lips. This

is my attempt to keep a look of professionalism on my

face as my part-time boss, Vivian Chandler, lowers to the

floor to dole out embraces and kisses to her little ones in

the hallway outside her penthouse condo front door.

Well, not all so little. She still babbles on and on to me

with instructions about her fur babies before she flies off

for a three-week trip to Europe. Preston, one of the more

senior condo concierge staff, waits patiently with her

mountain of designer suitcases stacked on a shiny gold-

plated rolling luggage rack at the elevator on the

opposite wall.

After some more cuddling, the pampered pooches go

back to what they were doing. Vivian rests her Salvatore

Ferragamo designer handbag on the threshold and starts

to put on her plush, all-cream fur coat. That’s progress.

“All the emergency numbers are in the email I sent you, and in the top drawer beside the fridge,” she

reminds me again. “And upstairs in the dogs’ room.”

“I’ve got them right here in my cell,” I tell her, pulling

my phone from the pocket of my sweatpants. “And the

dog monitoring app is installed from the last few times I

was here. Even while I’m on campus, I’ll know what

they’re up to, and I’ll be close enough to get here fast if

they need anything.”

“Great, and don’t hesitate to put them up in their

playroom if you’re at school for more than a couple of

hours. It’s one of the few doors Daisy still can’t open on

her own. Just remember to fill the food and water

dispensers, and they’re all set to stay in there for a

while.”

“Sure. I’ll do that.”

“But make sure you take them out after they eat and

drink. We want to minimize any accidents…especially on

my Persians on the landing.”

“Got it.”

Vivian stares longingly past me at her three pets.

Sheba, a tan-colored Shih Tzu, is at the far end of the

expansive condo living area, bouncing off the floor every

so often as he paws at the all-glass sliding door to the

balcony. Bailey, a white Bull Terrier, is waiting in the

middle of the marble foyer, sitting dutifully beside Daisy,

the black-and-white spotted Great Dane that stands at

almost my full five-foot-six in height. Like I said, not so

little.

“I’ll take great care of them, Ms. Chandler,” I say for

the hundredth time. “I promise.”

“And you’re sure you don’t mind sleeping here while

I’m gone?” she asks with concern as she picks up her

purse again, eyes fixed on her pets while distractedly

sliding the leather straps over her shoulder. “Not at all,” I say, beaming. And my expression is

authentic, too, because who wouldn’t want to stay in a

multi-million-dollar penthouse condo instead of a tiny,

cramped Brooklyn walkup apartment for a few weeks. “In

fact, it’s a big help. This building is fifteen minutes from

Columbia, so you’re saving me a fifty-minute train ride

each way from Brooklyn. Trust me, I intend to be here

whenever I’m not in lectures. All the time. Day and night.

Don’t worry, Ms. Chandler. They’ll be fine.”

“I’m going to miss you, my babies,” she whimpers out,

a little choked up. “So much! But I’ll be back in a few

weeks with all your favorite imported treats, my darlings.”

Daisy, Bailey, and Sheba more or less ignore her.

They’re used to me being around. I’ve been pet-sitting off

and on for Vivian for more than a year and a half. That’s

almost as long as it’s been since I moved from Cedar

City, Utah, to New York to complete a degree in

Veterinary Sciences at Columbia U. These dogs are

practically my family. I’m also the only person Vivian

trusts to take care of them. Which is why I got this gig.

Mind you, this is the first time that I’ll be with them on

an extended overnight basis. The last time Vivian had to

go out of town, she left them at the doggy spa. They

were fine, but Vivian was not happy about Bailey losing a

couple of pounds while she was away. She almost sued

them for negligence, but changed her mind when I

reminded her that Bailey has a history of picky eating,

which was echoed by her vet.

Gosh, I hope she doesn’t sue me after this

pet-sitting gig.

Vivian’s sure paying me enough. This will be the most

money I’ve ever earned in one job. Five thousand dollars.

I still can’t believe that round-the-clock pet-sitting pays

this much. Vivian spent more than double that amount to keep them at the doggy spa last time. It’s expensive,

owning three pets here in Manhattan. Daily boarding

rates per dog can run in the hundreds. For me, the five

grand will go a long, long way. My tuition is taken care of,

thanks to scholarships and such, and my folks back

home send me what they can, but I cover my own rent

and other expenses. Even in Brooklyn, living expenses

aren’t cheap.

In any case, I love these doggies just as much as

Vivian does, so I plan to make sure they’re happy while

I’m taking care of them.

The chime of the antique grandfather clock in the

study gets our attention.

“Two o’clock,” Vivian choruses. “I’d better get going.

See you soon, my babies. Mommy’s going to miss you.

And please do whatever Dahlia asks you to do, okay?”

“Have a safe trip, Ms. Chandler,” I tell her.

“Thanks, Dahlia. Oh, before I forget. We have a new

neighbor. Jackson Knight. Remember his name.”

“Jackson Knight. Got it.”

“He’s a handsome young man. But you know how the

billionaires living in this building are?”

I nod, but Vivian, a trust fund billionaire, is also one of

them. I don’t know for certain what she means.

“He’s all business. Cold as ice. Curt and impolite.

Hates dogs. Sheba has already wandered onto his

balcony. He didn’t like that very much, so make sure you

keep an eye on him. Sheba, I mean, not the neighbor,”

she says lightly with eyebrows raised.

“Will do,” I tell her with a nod. “Bye, Ms. Chandler.

You’d better hurry, or you’ll miss your flight!”

“Yes, I really should go. Take good care of them.”

“I will,” I assure her. “Everything will be great.”

Vivian sighs, turning to walk over to the elevator and the waiting concierge.

I remain in the doorway, waiting with the door ajar

until the elevator doors open. With one final wave at her

dogs, she allows the concierge to roll the luggage rack

inside, steps on next to him, and they leave.

Finally. Deluxe everything awaits me, and all I have to

do for three splendid weeks is take care of three

munchkins I love to pieces. The five thousand big ones

are just sweet, sweet icing on the cake.

It’s only as I lock the door and turn around that I

notice Bailey is the only one looming in the foyer. Daisy

has managed to open the balcony door, and both she

and Sheba are romping around on the granite tile slabs

out there. It’s a sight to see. Daisy’s as large as a pony,

while Sheba can almost fit in both my hands. Hurrying

across the foyer and living room, I make it onto the

terrace just in time to see Sheba’s hindquarters squeeze

through a tiny space under the privacy partition—to the

neighbor’s balcony.

“Sheba, get back here, boy,” I call to him, squinting

with one eye through the narrow opening between the

exterior wall and the frosted glass partition. Sheba

doesn’t make a sound, so I walk over to the thick

limestone railing at the ledge of the terrace, and peer

around the opaque glass to look for him. “Sheba?”

Sheba begins to bark excitedly. Then I hear the tap of

men’s dress shoes hitting the granite floor. Trailing my

eyes to the sound, I freeze. That’s when I see the not so

happy yet smoking hot man in his mid-twenties, dressed

in a well-tailored navy suit with white shirt, hovering his

smartphone an inch from his ear.

Jackson Knight, is my guess.

And he’s staring at me.

No. More like glaring. Fuck.

This puny little mutt again.

It’s two in the afternoon, and I just got home

after a close to twenty-three-hour negotiation meeting

from hell. I’m exhausted as fuck. My phone won’t stop

buzzing. I don’t need a whiny little nuisance yapping his

fur-covered trap off—and licking my shoes on top of that.

These babies are House of Testoni, for fuck’s sake.

I open my mouth, about to shout some choice fucking

words over at my neighbor, Vivian, to put a leash on her

runaway canine when I lock eyes with a girl I’ve never

seen before.

Straight, jet black hair framing her heart-shaped face,

big blue-gray eyes almost hidden by her grown out

bangs, pale, creamy skin, slightly flushed from

embarrassment and not a single blemish, and those full,

pink lips I can’t even try to ignore. There’s not enough of

her body to view, but her long neck, narrow collarbone,

and slight swell at the top of her sweater-covered tits give

away her small frame. For a split second, I wish she

wasn’t mostly hidden by the glass partition between