Virgin Wanted (BWWM Billionaire Romance) (8 page)

Because she deserves someone better than me. Some pure, like herself.

No, it’s best in the long run for both of us if this remains exactly what it is – a simple transaction. Nothing more, nothing less.

She’s a smart girl.

I’m sure she understands ...

§

Alisha

It’s all I can do not to burst into tears. I’ve spent the whole of the morning going over what happened last night, replaying it all in my head, again and again and again. It’s stupid really; I mean, I guess I knew all along that this was how it was gonna go – that he was going to fuck me and then lose interest in me. And really, I shouldn’t feel any better than I do.

But even so.

I just feel so damn
shitty
.

I feel like trash ... Like a whore.

And you know why that is?

It’s because he asked me to
leave
afterwards. He didn’t even want to spend the rest of the
night
with me.
That’s
what gets me, what makes it sting so much.

I mean, the sex itself was ... well, it was
amazing
. Breathtaking, in fact. So much better than I’d ever imagined it would be. And it was tender and romantic too. He was surprisingly careful with me. He really took his time. And honestly, I couldn’t imagine my first time being any better.

But then he goes and ruins everything like that afterwards – reminding me that I’m no better than a cheap whore?

Fuck you, Marcus Whitelaw.

For a minute there you had me fooled. But now I can see that you’re no better than anyone else. You’re just like all those guys that used to come to visit my mom – as soon as you’ve got what you want, then that’s it, isn’t it?

I fight back another urge to stuff my face into my pillow and just scream my damn lungs out.

I guess the thing that smarts the most is that it’s true, isn’t it?

I
am
nothing better than a whore ...

Marcus

God damn
work
. Why the hell didn’t I just take the whole week off? What was I even thinking? First it was the dinner from hell with that boring old crone Malchovic last night, and
now
Greg’s reminding me that it’s his fucking birthday drinks tonight, too?!

A part of me is considering bailing on him – just telling him I’m feeling unwell and going home ... Home to
her
.

But another part of me knows that I shouldn’t let this girl get any deeper under my skin. And I can still take my time. I don’t need to go running home – to her or anyone.

I’m
the one in control here.

I need to remember that.

And I’ve still got
plenty
of time to enjoy that perfect body of hers ... That perfect pussy.

God, I just need to taste her – to taste that sweetness on my tongue, to make her come with my mouth, with my cock ... to possess her completely ...

She’s like an addiction.

And maybe, just maybe, I’m already hooked ...

§

Alisha

That night, I find myself waiting in my room for him again. I’ve even picked out my outfit: a figure-hugging dress, chosen specifically to show off my best assets, clinging so tightly to my skin it leaves
nothing
to the imagination, all in the hope of making him
want me
again. I know Helena told me that he was working late again tonight, but even so, I guess I just want to see him, maybe because if I do, in those precious moments when he’s focusing on me, then I won’t feel so much like a trashy, worthless whore.

I know, I know.

I’m a sucker for punishment, aren’t I?

I guess I take after my mom in
that
respect, too ...

I push myself up from the edge of my bed and pace listlessly up and down the room, as if perhaps I can somehow out-walk these weird feelings that are bubbling up inside me.

I shoot a glance at the phone, wondering if I should maybe call Helena – ask her for a strong cocktail or a glass of that delicious red wine; just
something
to try and quiet down these chattering voices in my head.

Because right now I’m worried that he’s already got what he wants from me, and that’s it. I’m yesterday’s news. For all I know, he’s probably out tonight at some bar with his work colleagues, hitting on some leggy waitress ...

And as the hours tick on, and I start to get sleepy, my worst suspicions are confirmed.

Midnight comes and goes, and with a heavy heart, I start to undress again, peeling off these slinky sexy clothes that he never even got to see me in, and then finally slip naked beneath the covers, resting my heavy head sadly against the pillow and letting my eyes droop close, thinking that right now he’s probably out in the city somewhere, looking for
another
innocent girl to fuck ...

§

Marcus

“Cheer up!” Greg laughs, elbowing me in the ribs, before knocking back
another
neat scotch.

I lift my own glass to my lips and take a tentative sip. But it’s no use. I’m just not in the mood to get drunk,
or
to hang around these vacuous assholes for much longer.

It’s at times like this that I realize just how fucking meaningless my life is. All we ever talk about is work – work and women and money. But tonight? Tonight I’m just not in the mood. Tonight I wish I was at home, the home that suddenly feels so
alive
, so
warm
, so
inviting
since she’s been living in it ...

“Oh man,” Greg murmurs, leaning in so close that the whiskey on his breath makes my eyes water. “What I’d give to bang that cocktail waitress. You see her? The brunette on the left with the cute little ass that wiggles when she walks ...”

I nod dismissively, hoping he’ll focus his attention on someone else, but instead his face wrinkles up and the smile drops from his face. “Oh come
on
, man!” he says. “You didn’t even
look at her
. What the fuck’s got into you lately? You turning into some kind of fag or something?”

I meet his gaze with an icy cold look of my own. “As if I need to remind you, Greg,” I growl in a low tone low enough that only he can hear me, “it might well be your birthday, but even so, I happen to be your fucking
employer
and if you give me any more of that shit then that won’t be for much longer. Got it? I only employed you because your daddy
asked
me to, but there’s only so far that carries you. You understand what I’m saying?”

“Uh, sure, sorry Marcus,” he replies, quickly backing away from me, palms up in surrender, leaving me standing alone at the bar as he joining the rest of the crowd.

But I can tell from the subtle look he gives me before turning away, and the way he’s leaning in to one of the other guys and whispering something, that he’s wondering
what in the hell has got into me lately
.

And the truth is, I guess I’m wondering that myself.

But then, deep down, I guess I already know the answer.

§

Alisha

At first I don’t know what’s happening, as I wake up not to bright morning sunlight but instead to the darkness of my bedroom, and then a moment later to the feel of hot rough hands on my body, and then lips pressing urgently against my own, the subtle taste of alcohol on his tongue.

As I begin to realize what’s happening, I feel my body respond so powerfully to the touch of this shadowy figure, who seems so intent on taking me, right here and now; and it’s with a shiver of excitement and delight that I realize he
has
decided to visit me tonight after all.

I push my lips back excitedly against his, and moan softly as I feel his hand pushing its way between my legs, to that place he knows so well now, his fingers cupping the hot and swelling mound that seems to be crying out to him.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” I whisper with delight, confessing my fears between the passion and urgency of our kisses.

“How could I possibly resist?” he replies, the heat of his breath dancing across my skin as he begins to toy with my right breast with his other hand, and then, a moment later, I feel the delicious heat of his mouth as it closes over my nipple, causing another soft sigh to escape from my lips.

“Oh Marcus,” I whisper, my voice trembling as his tongue flickers against the tingling pink bud. “I’m glad you’re here ...”

“I need you, Alisha,” he whispers, taking his mouth from my skin just long enough to speak before moving his kisses across to my other breast, lavishing just as much attention on that one, too, working me into a shivering state of pleasure beneath him. But then, all of a sudden he gives my nipple a surprisingly hard nip with his teeth – hard enough for me to cry out in surprise. I push myself away from him a little, locking eyes with him.

“That was a demonstration,” he murmurs.

“Whatever do you mean?” I reply.

“There’s something you need to know about me, Alisha,” he continues, his voice dropping to a purr. “Certain things I’d like to do. Certain things, I’d like to
explore
with you. I want to teach you about the pleasure that can be had from
pain
Alisha. You see, the human mind is a fascinating thing. Pleasure and pain sit so close together, closer than you’d ever guess, so close in fact that we can have our most delicious moments when the boundary between the two is somewhat blurred. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

I gulp, then nod.

“I think so,” I reply.

“And will you let me show you just what I mean?” he continues.

I look at him, at the darkness flashing in those steely blue eyes of his, and I realize that even though I
am
technically
his
for the week, he’s still not allowing himself to do anything to me without my express permission. And it’s this realization – that he’s respecting my boundaries – that reassures me. And anyway, I have to admit, I
am
a little curious to find out what he means, too ...

“Show me, Marcus,” I reply, surprising myself with the sincerity of what I’m saying, so much so that I can hear my voice shaking from a mixture anticipation and excitement. “I want to know what you mean. I want to
experience
it ...”

A moment later, I gasp in surprise as he swiftly pulls me up from the bed, then throws me roughly across his knee, so that my face is nestled in the sheets and my ass is thrust high in the air, just as if I’m some naughty little girl, being disciplined by her daddy.

It feels as if the whole room is charged suddenly with a heady energy, as I wait for him to do whatever he might do to me.

Surely he’s not actually about to
spank
me like some naughty little kid?!
I think to myself, my breath clutched tightly in my throat. I mean, I’d heard of people doing things like that, but really? Marcus?
That’s
what he’s into?

But even as I’m still thinking this last thought, all of a sudden, sure enough, he brings his hand down hard on the tender flesh of my ass, the loud sharp crack of his palm against my skin reverberating all around the quiet of the bedroom, the only other sound being the soft little cry of surprise that escapes my lips.

“How did you like that?” he asks, the playful tone still there in his voice, mixed in with something else – something primal, animal even. “Want another?”

My skin is still singing in pain from the shockingly powerful way he’d slapped it, but it’s the weirdest thing, because as I think carefully about his question, it turns out that I really
do
want another slap of his hand against my ass.

“Yes,” I say quietly, my voice just a trembling whisper now, yet at the same time utterly sincere. “Yes, Marcus, I do.”

“Very well,” he replies gravely, the room once again seeming to descend into silence for a trembling moment before exploding into life in a sharp chorus of pain and pleasure, as I feel his hand strike my tender flesh for a
second
time, and I hear the crack flash loudly around the room.

And this time, after his hand has struck my ass, I feel his rough fingers slip between my legs from behind, teasing my opening with his hot thick fingertips, causing me once again to moan and shiver, laid across his knee, as he drives his fingers a little further, a little
deeper
inside me. But just as I feel that delicious bubbling sensation begin to build in my stomach, he pulls his fingers away, and then ...
Crack
.

He slaps my ass again a third time, even harder than before, causing me to cry out, my mind flashing white from the sheer force of this strange new sensation. Because it’s not just pain, but it’s not just pleasure, either. Instead it’s a crazy mixture of the two, one that creates a brand new third sensation – just the same as last night when he’d first taken me, and just like he’d suggested.

And while a part of me is crying out for more, soon enough he’s pushed me roughly from his knee and onto the silk bed sheets. I move to turn onto my back in order to face him, but at this he stops me in place, holding me there by the nape of the neck as if I were a naughty kitten.

“Stay
exactly
where you are,” he commands, that strange animalistic quality still there in his voice.

And I do just as he says, staying exactly where I am, sprawled upon the silk sheets, my face nestled in the pillows, my bare ass exposed to the room, as behind me I can hear him unzipping his pants with his free hand.

Just then I feel his fingers move again between my legs, roughly grazing the tender folds of my pussy, moving back and forth, even pushing a little ways into me like that, before he pulls away his hand, and then, climbing up onto the bed behind me he begins to press the swollen hotness of his cock right against my opening from behind.