Virgin Wanted (BWWM Billionaire Romance) (5 page)

Alisha

A few hours later, there’s a soft but stern knock on my door, and when I dash over to answer it, there’s Helena once again.

“Mr Whitelaw is ready for you now,” she announces. And then, not so subtly, she checks out my outfit from head to toe.

I’m wearing Louboutins: a black strappy sandal with a killer heel and a kind of cutout design so it looks like there are hearts weaving their way up my ankles. And even though they’re skyscraper high, to my surprise they’re also super comfortable, probably because they’re so perfectly designed, so finely balanced that there’s no uncomfortable pressure anywhere on your foot. It’s amazing.
God damn, that man’s a genius
, I think. And I’ve paired these amazing shoes with that amazing white and black Stella McCartney dress that first caught my eye.

“Not bad,” Helena says, begrudgingly impressed at my clothes choices. “Not bad at all.”

“Thanks,” I smile back, but she’s already turned and begun racing down the maze of corridors again at her usual breakneck pace.

I follow her as best I can, trying to keep up with her on these crazy heels, wondering if perhaps I should have chosen something a little smaller. But it’s too late for that, and before I know it, we’ve come to a halt outside a large ornate mahogany door, somewhere on the ground floor of this strange, sprawling house.

“Don’t look so terrified,” Helena says with a comforting little smile. “Just enjoy yourself.”

And with that she turns, leaving me all alone outside that huge door – behind which, I’m guessing, is Marcus Whitelaw.

I take a final deep breath and then use all my strength to heave open the huge, heavy wood of the door, and sure enough there he is behind it, sitting at a small dining table waiting for me.

The moment he sees me, he stands up, and the whole picture: the small beautifully lit room which looks like some kind of study, lined with thousands of leather-bound books, the deep mahogany of the floorboards, the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, the meticulously laid dining table, and of course Marcus: dressed in an immaculately tailored black suit, his blue-grey eyes blazing, his thick blonde hair shining in the flickering candlelight, and his full sensuous lips curling into a warm and inviting smile – well, the whole thing just takes my breath away.

And it seems like I’m not the only one.

“Wow,” he says the moment he sees me. “Just
wow.
I mean, I
knew
you were beautiful but that outfit? It’s just perfect ... I’m guessing Helena helped you choose it?”

I shake my head, feeling a flash of pride. “I picked it out myself,” I explain.

“Very good,” he says, nodding to himself, obviously impressed. “Very good indeed. It seems like you have a few hidden talents, Miss Adams.”

I stride towards him, once again trying to ignore the way my body seems to respond so damn powerfully whenever it’s anywhere near this totally gorgeous, devastating man, trying to just focus on remaining upright on my stilettos before I can finally sink down into the surprisingly comfortable dining chair which Marcus has walked around and pulled out for me like a true gentleman.

“Thank you,” I say, suppressing a smile as he heads back around to take his seat at the table opposite me.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, obviously noting my amused expression, despite my best efforts to hide it.

I shrug.

“Just ...
everything
, I guess?” I explain. “This room. You. The whole thing. It’s all just so unreal. It’s like something out of a fairytale.”

“I’m guessing this is all very different from your real life then?” he replies gently.

“Tell me about it,” I laugh.

I’m about to say more when I realize that a man in a dark red suit has appeared in the corner of the room, as if from nowhere. I watch Marcus’s eyes flick across to him and then back to me.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the man announces, as if he was addressing a room of fifty people or more. “Tonight’s meal is Kobe beef served with mustard gravy and a selection of seasonal vegetables.”

Marcus leans in across the table. “Don’t worry,” he whispers. “I can have the chef make you anything you want if that doesn’t sound good? I mean, just say the word and we can have cheeseburgers and fries ...”

“No,” I reply with a smile. “That sounds absolutely delicious.”

“Very good,” Marcus says, giving the man a quick nod.

And quickly and silently the man slips away again into a back room somewhere, once more leaving us alone together. Marcus plucks the bottle of red wine from its spot in the center of the table and asks, “Wine?”

I nod, and he pours a little into the absolutely huge glass set out in front of me. I take a sip, just enough to swirl it on my tongue. I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever actually
tasted
red wine before, and I don’t want to have to do something as unladylike as spit it out if it’s gross ...

“Wow, that’s amazing!” I blurt out as the delicious liquid totally overwhelms my senses. It’s way,
way
better than I was expecting, and I have to hold myself back from just gulping it all back in one.

“It’s a Chateau Margaux, 2009,” he explains. “And let’s just say it wasn’t cheap so I’m glad you can appreciate it’s fineries. But anyway, I believe you were about to tell me about yourself ...”

I shake my head. “Honestly?” I offer. “There’s really not that much to tell.” 

“Oh, I’m sure that’s not true,” he smiles back, lifting his wine glass and taking a sip, the ruby liquid sparkling on his full lips, forcing me to imagine what it might feel like to have those amazing lips touch against my own. “Where did you go to school?”

“Oh, just a crappy public high school,” I say with a sigh.

“And what were your hobbies?”

“I don’t know,” I reply, wishing we could change the damn subject. You see, for some reason I’ve always found focus on
me
kind of uncomfortable and awkward; I don’t know why. “The same as anyone I guess? Hanging out with my friends, watching TV, going to the mall. Seriously, I’m really kind of boring.”

He smiles and nods to himself, as if he’s made some amazing discovery. But I can’t for the life of me think what it could be.

“You’re determined not to stand out form the crowd in any way, aren’t you?” he says quietly. “But I
just
know there’s more to you, Alisha Adams. And by the end of the week, my dear, I
promise
you I’ll find out what it is.”

“Your accent,” I begin. “It’s so strange. Where are
you
from?”

But just then, the silent butler in his dazzling red suit comes back into the room, carrying our plates, bursting the bubble on our conversation just as it was starting to get interesting.

He sets mine down in front of me, then walks around to Marcus’s side of the table and does the same. Marcus gives him the smallest of nods in acknowledgement, and then as before the waiter slips out of the room so quickly and silently you could almost forget he was there.

I look down at my plate; it looks
a-mazing
. I cut of a tentative sliver of the tenderly cooked meat, then lift it to my mouth.

Ohmyfreakinggod!

It’s totally and utterly
divine
. By far the best food I’ve ever tasted.

“You like?” Marcus says.

I nod emphatically, my mouth full.

“Good,” he says softly. “Because I want you to understand, Alisha, that it’s
your pleasure
that I’m intent on uncovering this week. You see,
that’s
what turns me on – watching you enjoy yourself ...”

The suggestive tone of what he’s saying seeps through me, making it a little difficult to swallow my food. And I get the feeling that as soon as this meal is over, he’s going to have something
other than food
on his mind ...

§

Marcus

There’s something so sweet and innocent about this girl. I mean, sure, I knew she was going to be
innocent
in regards to her sexual experience. But the rest? Well, it’s just so damn refreshing to meet someone so pure, someone who isn’t so jaded and bored with life as I sometimes feel.

As soon as the meal is over, I fix her in my gaze and say, slowly but confidently, “Well, Alisha, I think it’s time we went somewhere a little more comfortable. What do you say?”

I mean, she can’t exactly refuse, can she? After all, we both know that that’s why she’s here – and now it’s time to see just how willing she
really
is.

There’s a pause, as if she’s processing just what our little arrangement entails.

And then she nods, shyly.

“Sure, okay,” she says, the nerves audibly jangling in her voice, but I can tell from the subtle flush that’s risen to her face and the way the points of her nipples have emerged just a little from beneath the unforgivingly tight fabric of her dress that she
wants
this, just as much as I do – maybe even more so. 

I reach out to take her hand, suddenly aware that this will be the first time we’ve actually touched. And when we do, in that split second that her skin touches against mine, it’s like a flash of fire runs right the way through me, sizzling and crackling in my very nerve endings.

Woah,
I think to myself, totally taken aback.
I wasn’t expecting that ...

And it seems like she must feel the same way. Maybe it’s the wine, or maybe she’s not used to standing on such gigantic heels, but she stumbles ever so slightly, giving me the perfect opportunity to slip my arm around her slender waist, sending
another
almost painful charge of lust-tinged excitement coursing through my body, my cock swelling a little and my balls tightening as if in anticipation of what’s to come.

God, her body is just perfect. So slim, so slender, so fragile ...

I turn and lead the way, slowly and confidently, through these long winding corridors that I’ve come to call home, and up the large set of stairs that take us up towards my bedroom.

We’re both silent – the stillness and anticipation pulsing around us as we make our way ever closer to the door to my room.

Once we finally reach it, I push it open, letting her set eyes on my room for the first time, happy with the impression it obviously makes on her. After all, this room was
designed
to impress.

It’s lit by soft low lighting, set into the ceiling, and in the center stands my huge four poster bed covered with blue silk sheets, so sumptuous and inviting.

“Don’t worry,” I whisper softly, standing right behind her, letting the warmth of my breath dance against the beautiful ebony skin of her neck, realizing with delight that my words are sending a visible prickle of goose pimples flashing across her perfect flesh. “We’ll take this really slowly ... In fact tonight, you can relax, because I don’t even want to go
all
the way. Tonight, all I want is to see your body, Alisha. So ... Would you do me the honor of undressing?”

She turns around to face me, those big brown eyes like two liquid pools. So innocent. So trusting. So perfect.

And then she nods, and I feel another powerful rush of blood – this time straight to my cock.

I take a step back, in order to take a seat on the edge of the bed, spreading my legs wide, not caring if she can see how fucking hard she’s already making me.

And now I’m finally ready for this show to begin ...

With shaking fingers, I watch with anticipation as she reaches behind her back and slowly unzips the dress, letting it slip from her slender shoulders and pool to the floor around her ankles, leaving her dressed in just her plain black bra and simple cotton panties, panties which are cut in a basic, conservative style – as if to give away all over again just how
inexperienced
she is at all things sexual.