The Pool Boy (A Romance Novella)

By: Penny Wylder

“I was wrong,” he says. “This was a very good idea.”


His hand is on my ass and he pushes my hips against his. “I’m here for one week.”

I smile, “And?”

“And there are many, many things I would like to do to you.” His voice drops to a whisper as he adds, “Preferably some place where I can keep the promise of making you scream my name and beg for more.”

“I didn’t think begging was part of the promise.”

“I added it just now.” He lets me go, taking a towel from the shelf and handing it to me before taking one for himself. “If I stay much longer, it will seem strange that I’m still here.”

I nod, still in a haze of pleasure and not really processing. He pulls on his clothes, and it feels like a sin to watch that body disappear. He pulls me in for a last kiss, and if he wanted to stay in this pool house forever and fuck I would say yes.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Vera.” The way he looks at me, I know he means more than see me.

I smile. “I’ll see you.”

He gives me a long slow look as he leaves the pool house, and then he’s gone.

One thing is for sure—that vibrator is never going to cut it anymore.



I stand in the pool house for a while, unable to move. I feel languid and relaxed and content. But after a while I also realize that I’m still naked, and covered in a good amount of James. I clean myself off and toss that towel in the laundry before hunting for my bathing suit. Even though I’m dressed again, I wrap another towel around myself. I don’t want to encounter anyone in the house in this bikini. I’ve pushed my luck as it is.

I slip out the door of the pool house, and it’s just a mere few steps from that door to the back door of the house, and the proximity shocks me. I’ve never noticed just how close it actually was. I slide the patio door open, and close it behind me. Turning to go to my bedroom, I nearly jump out of my skin.

My father is sitting at the table in the kitchen, papers spread across its surface. I thought he might be home, but he nearly always does his work in his office. The fact that he was that close to where I was just well and thoroughly fucked makes me ill. I manage not to stare at him—I’m still pissed, and I definitely don’t want him asking questions about my day. I slip through the kitchen to the stairs, and I don’t even think he noticed I was there.

The reality of the situation hits me: James said it was a bad idea, and it is. If my mother had seen me, if my father had wondered why I’d come inside in a bathing suit but not seen me in the pool, if one of the house staff had come in to get the laundry, since we didn’t lock the door. Oh god. We were incredibly lucky, and I wanted him so much that I didn’t really think it through.

I wanted to piss off my dad by hitting on James, but if he found me fucking one of the hired help, it would be a catastrophic event of biblical proportions. He’d be furious at me for ruining his perfect reputation, for doing something that could jeopardize his business. That’s rule number one. Never do anything that endangers the business. I’d never get a job in architecture. One word from him, and no one would touch my resume with a ten-foot pole. I don’t know if he’d be so angry that he’d kick me out or disown me, but the way my father’s been acting lately I wouldn’t count it out.

By the time I reach my room I’m hyperventilating, my body humming with panic. I can’t sleep with James again. There’s too much at stake for me to risk it for sex. Amazing sex. Mind-blowing sex. Get it together and stop thinking about the sex, Vera. My body tenses, and the thought of not being with James again sends a pang of unhappiness through me.

But it doesn’t matter. It can’t matter. I get in the shower and I make sure that the water is scalding. The heat reminds me of James’s skin, and the water running down my body reminds me of the way he looked at me in the pool. Just the thought of that look and my body reacts, getting wet and ready for the pleasure it now associates with it.

No. This has to stop—I can’t get carried away every time I think about him. If I let myself go there I’ll never be able to stay away. I find my rattiest comfy clothes, hoping that dressing in the least sexy thing I own will be at least a little bit of a mental barrier. I have plenty to do without this distracting me. I have to look for new places to apply. I have to work on my ELIH—Efficiency Low-Income Housing—project. I have to find a way to make sure I don’t have to go to work for my father.

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