Virgin Wanted (BWWM Billionaire Romance) (12 page)

Marcus

Thank God it’s finally Saturday
, I think, the moment I wake up.
No more work, and even better than that – I finally get to spend a whole day with Alisha.

I turn over in bed, expecting to find her there lying next to me, and then I remember again that strange dream she had, the one that seemed to shake her up so much, and how she left in the night, while I was still half asleep.

I push myself out of bed and quickly grab a shower in the en-suite, before throwing on some comfy casual clothes – just jeans and a t-shirt – and then heading off into the house to find out where she’s got to.

First I try her room, but after knocking a couple of times to no reply, I decide to try the lounge, or perhaps the Livingston Suite.

But I can’t seem to find her
anywhere
.

“Looking for someone?” Helena says from behind me, catching me by surprise.

I spin around.

“Yeah,” I say, “I was just wondering if you’d seen Miss Adams ...”

“She’s in the pool,” Helena replies.

“Thanks,” I say, about to turn and head towards the pool and sauna complex that joins onto the back of the house.

“Oh Marcus?” she calls out to me, as I’m making to head over there. “Do be careful with that girl, won’t you?”

“Don’t worry, Helena,” I smile back. “I’ve got only the best of intentions ...”

§

I stand by the edge of the heated indoor pool, watching her swim – her elegance as she cuts so easily through the water taking my breath away. And I get to enjoy the sight for a couple more laps before she finally notices me, swimming up to the side of the pool and lifting herself up at the side, resting on her elbows, the water droplets glimmering like jewels on her beautiful skin.

“How long have
you
been standing there?” she says with a grin.

“Not long,” I reply. “You’re an amazing swimmer, you know?”

“Thanks,” she replies. “The weekly trips to the local pool were about the only thing I enjoyed about school ...”

“Hey, listen,” I say, feeling a strange pang of nervousness as I wonder how to form my question. Damn. It’s so strange. When I’m around her, it’s like I’m reduced to some shy schoolboy again ... “I was just wondering if you might like to take a drive with me today? I’ve got a collection of vintage cars, and I hardly ever get a chance to enjoy them. It’s a beautiful day out there. But, I mean, if you’d prefer to stay in the house, that’s cool too ...”

“No, I’d love to,” she replies. “Let me just get ready ...”

As she pulls herself out of the pool, I feel that now-familiar tightness of lust and desire as I set eyes on her perfect body again: the faint bumps of her nipples beneath her white one-piece bathing suit that clings to her skin, the curve of her hips and, as she turns to pad back to the changing area, that amazing
ass
...

I think about tonight.

I can’t help it.

I need to enjoy her as much as I can, before this week is through ...

§

I push the pedal to the floor, feeling the car glide effortlessly through the winding roads that border my estate, feeling the wind in my hair as I push this old Jaguar to its limits, its engine purring, the soft top down to allow us a fantastic view of this beautiful, lush greenery that zooms past, all around us.

This should be just perfect. I mean, here we are, just the two of us, an amazing picnic stowed away in a hamper on the back seat courtesy of Helena, and of course Alisha sitting next to me. But even though things should be perfect, I still can’t help feeling like something’s
off
.

She’s been quiet ever since we started our drive, and every time I’ve tried to ask her a question about herself, she’s seemed uncomfortable and diverted it right back at me.

I don’t know, maybe I’m just imagining things, but I’m worried I’ve done something to upset her ...

I push a button on the dash, and the roof slides closed, cutting out the roaring sound of the wind, enveloping us in almost-silence, just the soft growl of the engine.

“You enjoying yourself?” I ask.

“Sure,” she says.

I wait for her to say something else, but she doesn’t, and again I can’t help but wonder if she’s mad at me.

“Your accent,” she says, all of a sudden. “It’s so strange. Where are you
from
exactly?”

“All over,” I explain. “I grew up in so many different countries, attended so many different schools. My dad’s business meant that we kept travelling.”

“That must have been exciting,” she says.

“Kind of,” I say. “But it was pretty lonely too. The only real constant in my life was Helena, I guess ...”

“She’s great, isn’t she?” Alisha smiles.

“She sure is,” I agree. “I don’t know what I’d have done without her.”

Maybe I’m just imagining it, I think. She seems to be brightening up a little.

But even so, I just can’t help but shake the feeling that she’s got something else on her mind ...

Alisha

This should be great. I mean, here I am, having a picnic in this beautiful countryside with a man so handsome he looks
unreal
– like something out of a magazine – not to mention that amazing dark green sports car of his parked at the bottom of the hill, sparkling in the midday sun.

I should be enjoying myself, right?

So why do I still feel so crappy ...

I’m doing my best to hide it, but I can tell he’s picked up on my weird mood.

I think part of it is my dream last night. I just can’t shake the feeling it’s left me with; those horrible things it stirred up in me again – thoughts and feelings I thought I’d long since buried.

But on top of that, this all feels kind of bittersweet, because soon this week is going to come to an end.

Soon we’ll have to say goodbye.

And then what?

Just focus on the money
, I tell myself.

But whereas before that would have comforted me, now it just kind of feels ... hollow.

You see, I guess one of the things I’ve learnt from Marcus this week is that money doesn’t necessarily buy you happiness ...

Well, I guess the best thing I can do right now is just
enjoy this
– enjoy it while it lasts.

Alisha

“I want you naked this instant,” he says, his voice stern and deep, stretched taut with desire.

It’s nighttime now, and I
still
don’t know what’s gonna happen after this. I have
so
many questions, so many things I still want to ask him – but I just can’t bring myself.

Maybe it’s because I don’t want to spoil this moment.

I just want to enjoy the remaining time we have together to its fullest. 

I shiver as I undress for him, my hard puckered nipples giving away the fact that I’m already more than ready for whatever he has planned for us this evening.

“Give those to me,” he says as I step out of my pretty black panties with their hot pink bows, and by now I think I know exactly what he plans to do with them.

Sure enough, the very moment I’ve handed them to him, he’s torn them into long strips, just like he did that other night, and as if I can read his mind, I offer my wrists to him, pressed together, ready to be bound tightly.

But to my surprise, at this he shakes his head.

“No, Alisha,” he explains. “Tonight I won’t be binding your wrists
together,
but to the bedposts.”

I dart a glance at the imposing four-poster bedframe that stands in the center of his room, imagining myself bound tightly to it.

“Oh, Marcus,” I whisper in excitement. “
Yes
.”

And before he can even command me, I’ve hurried over to the bed and thrown myself onto its plush silk sheets, spreading my arms and legs wide, offering my trembling body up to him – to my stern and handsome master.

Sure enough, he begins roughly and tightly binding my wrists to the posts of the bed, so that my arms are stretched wide apart. And as he works, I admire his naked body – the glow of his skin, and the taut musculature of his body, not to mention that thick hard cock of his, jutting from the center of him, which brushes tantalizingly against my left breast as he binds my wrist so tightly, the slick pink head dancing against my hard left nipple. And I try to move my head towards it, to plant a soft kiss on it (or perhaps even to take him all the way between my lips), but I find myself bound too tightly in place now, both wrists tied surprisingly firmly to the bedposts, holding me in place.

Next he begins binding my
ankles
, too, so that I’m held utterly tight and firm – with all four of my limbs stretched out in a star shape. But still there’s still one final long glossy strip of black and pink cloth dangling from his grip, and I’m about to ask what it’s for when he climbs over me, so that his knees are either side of my hips, and I think that he must want to blindfold me again – as he did last night.

But instead, this time, he moves the strip of cloth to my
mouth
, tying it so roughly at the nape of my neck that it actually parts my lips, and it’s all I can do but let out a muffled moan, now that I’m no longer able to speak ...

Then, thoroughly bound and gagged, all I can do is watch him from my position on the bed as he steps down from the bed, his eyes travelling hungrily over my body while he strokes the thick shaft of his cock with his fist, sliding his fingers slowly up and down its shiny pink length, wielding it in his hand as if its some kind of weapon as he circles the bed.

He stops at the foot of the bed, his eyes moving between my legs, and then he begins to approach me, climbing up onto the sheets on his hands and knees, so that his head’s positioned right between my thighs. I moan a little, just from the feel of his hot breath dancing against my exposed clit, which is throbbing and aching for him. And then I let out as much of a stifled gasp as I’m able, as I feel his tongue touch right against it.

Oh
fuck
, sensation of his mouth, there between my legs, feels utterly different from the touch of his fingers or the animal heat of his cock. No, this is something different, something new, though no less lovely and delicious. And he knows
just
what he’s doing, too, the motions of his tongue and lips teasing me right to the very edge of pleasure, but then denying it, and I begin to suspect that he’s doing this on purpose – bringing me so close to the edge but never tipping me over it. He seems to know
exactly
which parts of me to tease, flicking his tongue first in slow circles around the swollen nub of my clit, and then a moment later, moving further downwards, even entering me, each fresh motion he makes with his lips and tongue causing me to writhe and moan as much as I can in my bound and gagged position.

And then, when it seems as if I’m right at the very edge of orgasm, he finally tips me over and into it by bringing his fingers to join his tongue, fucking my pussy with his hand while he flicks my clit with his tongue.

With a long low moan, I shudder beneath him, feeling my wrists and ankles pulling painfully against their bindings as my body shudders and trembles, my mind flashing white and the pleasure spilling over inside me, causing me to lose control of myself completely for a few moments.

But it seemed as if he’s only just begun in the various ‘punishments’ he has planned for me this evening. I’ve hardly come back to my senses before he’s started kissing my breasts, taking first one then the other of my hard puckered nipples between his sensuous lips and flicking them with his tongue. At first his kisses are tender, but soon they became kind of rough, and I squeal as he bites down on my left nipple, leaving a bright spot of
blood
next to it ...

What the hell?

Hey, watch it!
I want to say, but of course I’m gagged so tightly I can do nothing much except moan. The very same kind of moan I would probably make if I
enjoyed
his biting. 

But this is too much.

And this time – as the flashes of pain mix in with those of my pleasure – I’m finding it harder and harder to fully enjoy the sensations.

Just then, his hand moves too roughly between my legs, working his fingers so hard and feverishly inside me, at such a speed that I cry out despite myself.

And when my pleading eyes finally meet with his, I notice that there’s
a devilish glint in them, almost as if right now it’s the act of causing me pain
itself
that he’s enjoying the most now.

I try to call out to him to stop, to be a little more gentle with me, but of course he can’t hear a word I’m say from behind my gag. 

All of a sudden, all I can think of is
him.

Of that horrible man from my nightmares.

The man who’s name I don’t want to speak, even inside my own head ...

I struggle and whimper, struggle and whimper, trying to tell him to
quit
.

But it’s only when he pauses for a moment, locking his burning blue eyes with mine again, that he finally notices the hot tears that are spilling down my cheeks.

All of a sudden he stops what he’s doing, quickly untying the gag from my mouth, allowing me finally to gasp in the air that’s been partly denied me.

“Fuck you,” I cry, the words springing out of my mouth before I’ve even thought them through. “Leave me the fuck alone. Untie me, right now.”

“What is it? What’s wrong?” he says, but doing as I ask, a pained and confused expression covering his face now as he quickly unties my wrists and then ankles. “What’s the matter?”

But I don’t want to talk any more. All I want is to be rid of him so that I can try to claw back some sense of dignity – and so the moment he unties me, I run crying for the en suite bathroom, slamming the door loudly behind me and locking it too, for good measure.

“Alisha, please come back ...” I hear him call after me. “I don’t understand ...”

But I’m not in the mood to explain myself, my body still trembling with barely concealed anger and shock.

“Leave me the fuck alone, Marcus,” I call back, loud enough and angry enough to silence him.

And then, before I can say another word, I start to sob.

Marcus

What the hell just
happened
?

I shake my head, completely puzzled by her reaction. I mean, up until a few minutes ago I really thought that we were on the same page – I really thought that we were both enjoying this. And I’d
never
want to do anything to upset her.

Dammit. I’m such a fucking idiot. I must have pushed things too far, too fast. I must have let myself get carried away.

But how was I to know?

I sigh in frustration, rubbing my face with my hands.

I should have taken things easier with her.

I quickly jump out of bed and head over to the bathroom, gingerly trying the handle, but it’s locked.

“Alisha?” I call through. “Alisha?”

She doesn’t answer me. But I can hear her sobbing from inside the room – sobbing so hard it sounds like I’ve
really
hurt her – and again I curse myself at going too far.

“Listen, can I speak to you?” I say gently. “Please? I’m sorry I went too far, I realize that now. I meant what I said, Alisha. I’d
never
do anything to hurt you – not in that way. I guess I just took things to far. Let’s talk about this. Please ...”

There’s a pause, and I finally hear her crying stop and then the faucet turning on. A  moment later, the door mechanism clicks as she pushes open the door, her face streaked with tears.

“I’m sorry,” I say again, the moment I can see her. “Please believe me.”

“It’s okay,” she replies with a sad smile, stepping back into the bedroom. “It’s not just you. It’s me, too. I guess there’s a few things I haven’t told you.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, puzzled, taking her hand and leading her back towards the bed.

Luckily she doesn’t push me away, even though I fucking deserve it, and before long we’ve climbed back under the covers, holding each other in a tender embrace.

I don’t push things; I just wait for her to speak – to tell me whatever it is that seems so damn hard for her to say out loud. I watch her sigh, as she struggles for the right words, and I wait, remaining patiently silent. And then, all of a sudden, she starts to speak.

“I’m sorry I ran away like that,” she begins. “I guess I just got scared. But I need you to know that it’s not
you
I’m scared of. It’s more about things from my past. I’ve been enjoying these things, these new experiences, Marcus, but I guess they’ve triggered a few uncomfortable memories too ...”

And as she begins to tell me all about her Mom’s abusive boyfriend, and how he sometimes took it out on
her
too, even though she was just an innocent little kid, I feel a rising mixture of rage and sadness – rage at this asshole who spoiled the life of a young girl, and sadness that it’s obviously affected her so deeply, and that up until now it seems like she’s had nobody to turn to, nobody to talk to about these things.

And I guess it makes me think about
my
dad too – those irrational rages he could fly into at the drop of a hat, always taking it out on whoever was nearest. Yes, I know just what she’s feeling – that horrible pain and anger and sadness and fear.

“I’m sorry too, Alisha,” I say once she’s finished speaking. “I really should have asked if what I was doing was okay. I know I went too far. I can see that now. But you need to believe me, the
last
thing in the world I want to do is hurt you. In fact, I don’t think you have any idea just how much I’ve come to feel for you in just this short time we’ve been together. So much more than I ever expected I could feel for anybody. You’ve become very dear to me, Alisha. You do something to me – I can’t explain it. But I’ve found myself having the strangest thoughts, thoughts I’ve never had before ...”

I tail off, again wondering if I’ve gone too far – bared too much of myself to her.

I mean, I have no idea if she even feels the same way, and I don’t want to scare her off – especially when I’ve just got her back again.