Virgin Wanted (BWWM Billionaire Romance) (10 page)

I turn around to face him, tugging my dress hurriedly over my head, unclasping my bra and quickly yanking my panties down over my ankles, exposing my naked flesh beneath, offering myself to him, begging him with my eyes to take me now in the same strong and powerful way he’s done on all our previous nights together.

He meets my hungry gaze with one that tells me that he’s thinking the exact same thing, then starts hurriedly undressing, unbuttoning his shirt, uncovering that broad, muscular chest that never fails to blow me away, then his slacks and boxer shorts, his cock fully thick and hard beneath, jutting out from the cropped fuzz of dusky hair that surrounds it, those two large pink shaven balls nestled tightly beneath. And all of a sudden the overwhelming desire to cover his whole body in kisses sweeps through me, so strong and powerful that I know I’ll never be fully satisfied until I’ve acted out this brand new fantasy of mine.

I fall on him the moment he finally joins me on the bed, both of us naked now. I throw myself on top of him, showering his body with tender, playful little kisses, all the while breathing in the sweaty musk of his body, sending my senses into a delicious tailspin as I taste the sharp saltiness of his sweat, first on his chest, and then further down as I working my loving kisses over his taut, chiseled abs and then even further, wanting to move my face up close to his cock, to really
see
it for the first time in all its glory – this veiny monster that’s already brought me so much pleasure.

I hold him tenderly in my slender fingers, admiring the velvety smoothness of his skin as I stroke him up and down, watching him grow and swell in my grip, the purple bulbous head pulsing out glistening droplets of clear fluid as I tenderly place my kisses up and down his shaft, his delicious musk filling my nostrils as I shiver from excitement, my face buried between his legs, his hands now moving to my breasts, teasing my nipples with his fingertips until they stiffen into two rock-hard little buds beneath his touch.

He draws my face upwards, back towards his own, and as I writhe on top of him like that, my sensitive breasts brushing against his chest, I feel him reach down between my legs and then guide himself right into me, causing me to gasp as he once more stretches me wide open – this time with no condom covering him.

A part of me wonders whether I should maybe ask him to stop, but another part is just too damn busy enjoying this even more deliciously intimate contact, as he drives himself deep into me with me, as I ride on top of him, feeling the sheer
heat
of his cock inside me.

“Oh fuck, oh God,” I whisper as he takes me, my voice trembling, my eyes closing as he holds me steady, cupping my buttocks as he drives himself ever harder and deeper inside me, plundering fresh pleasures from my very center, pleasures which swell inside me, until finally they seemed to crest and explode, causing me to gasp and moan as I feel myself clenching tightly around him, my whole body bucking and shuddering as my mind flashes and fractures.

He too lets out a growl, and I feel his shaft pulsing powerfully inside me, flooding me with his warmth.

As he draws me down in a passionate kiss, I savor the feel of the heat of his come, as our bodies mingle, slicked with sweat and fluids, both of us shivering and gasping and lost together in the moment.

§

A scream. It sounds like Mom’s voice.

And then a violent clattering sound coming from ... from the kitchen?

I quickly spring out of bed and go running into the hall to see what all the commotion is, turning the corner, just wanting to make sure she’s okay.

“Mom?” I call out. “Mom?”

But it’s not Mom that greets me. It’s Him. Coming towards me, backing me into a corner.

I turn around and try to make a run for it but it’s too late. I feel his big hot hand grabbing me by the arm, his fingers closing all the way around my skinny bicep, and gripping so tight it causes me to squeal. But then he spins me around, to face him once more, pushing his big horrible hand right over my mouth as he slams me back against the wall of the kitchen.

And that smell – the one that seems to cling to him, that horrible nauseating mixture of whiskey and tobacco and sweat and dirt, piercing my nostrils with its sharpness, making my eyes water.

I freeze, trying to stay as still as I can as he presses me hard against the wall, hoping he’ll let me go if I just do exactly as he says.

And that’s when I see her, lying there sprawled, facedown on the kitchen floor, sobbing, covering her face, dots of blood spattered around her on the faded, dirty linoleum floor.

He lets go of me, but only so that he can unbuckle his belt, slipping it from the loops of his stained dirty jeans and then doubling it up in his hand, holding it by my face to show me – to threaten me.

“Don’t you say a word about this, girl,” he growls, “or you’ll get such a hiding you wont be able to sit down for a week. You got that?”

I look from the belt, then to Mom, and then up at him him, nodding slowly and silently as the hot tears begin to well up in the corners of my eyes and then spill down my cheeks ...

I wake with a start, gasping and clawing at the silk sheets as if they’re trying to strangle me. But of course it was just a dream, I remind myself, a dream which is quickly slipping to the back of my consciousness now, fading like a long-forgotten bruise, just a dream of a person that I
never ever
want to think about again ...

“Hey, what’s wrong?” comes the voice from behind me.

I turn around to face him, remembering all over again that tonight he didn’t ask me to leave. Tonight we both fell asleep in his bed and it was
amazing
...

“It’s nothing,” I murmur, snuggling into him, feeling him slip his arm tenderly around my shoulder, drawing me even closer. “Just a stupid nightmare.”

He brings his lips to mine in a soft, sleepy kiss, and then we both fall asleep again like that – wrapped in each other’s arms, happy and content.

Alisha

I’m stepping back to assess my outfit in the full length dress mirror – it’s looking
okay
, I mean, you can never go too far wrong with a trusty Little Black Dress, can you, but it’s still missing something, maybe an accessory of some sort? – when there’s a knock at the door. I’m expecting it to be Helena, but when I open it, there’s Marcus.

“You look absolutely stunning,” he says.

And I guess I could say the exact same thing about him. I mean, this guy would look amazing in
anything
, but seeing him there like that, dressed in a perfectly tailored jet-black tuxedo and bow tie, his hair slicked back and shining with pomade, his freshly shaven skin glowing with health and vigor – well, he just looks like a real
Prince Charming
.

“Can I come in?” he asks.

“Of course,” I laugh, stepping aside to let him into the room. “I mean, this
is
your house after all. Oh, and sorry about all the mess ...” I add with a shrug, hoping he doesn’t mind the hundreds of discarded designer dresses strewn all about the room – on the floor and the bed – which I haven’t quite had the time to tidy away again yet. And looking at the sight, I marvel again at just how
different
my current situation is from just a single week ago. I mean, here is thousands upon thousands of dollars worth of couture, just thrown on the floor like some bargain bin outlet store in a strip mall.

“And what are these?” he asks, lifting my sketch book out from beneath a couple of dresses on the bed and flipping through the pages.

“Oh, that’s nothing,” I say, feeling myself blush and quickly snatching the book out of his hand before he laughs at my crappy designs. “Just some stupid sketches. They’re nothing ...”

“They’re very good,” he says.

“Give me a break,” I laugh, unable as always to receive a compliment with good grace. “They’re just doodles. Anyway, is it time to go?”

“Almost,” he says, reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket and drawing something out of it, something that sparkles for a moment in his long tanned fingers before they quickly close around it, hiding it from view. “Come and stand here, Alisha. Right here in front of me.”

I move over to where he’s standing and do just as he says, realizing that he’s positioning me once more in front of the mirror I was checking out my outfit in, just a few moments ago.

I watch him in the reflection, standing there behind me, my whole body frozen in anticipation, as he moves his hands towards my throat.

And then, very gently, he places the most beautiful sparkling choker around my neck, clasping it at the back.

It looks like ...

No, it can’t be ...

“Oh my God, Marcus,” I murmur in disbelief. “Tell me those aren’t
real diamonds
?”

He nods, a mischievous grin spreading across his lips.

“I can’t possibly wear this,” I gasp, my mouth falling open as I look at this crazy-ass thing dangling around my neck – it must studded with
fifty
diamonds at least, if not a hundred, each one probably worth an insane amount of money. “If I lose it ...”

“You can throw it down a drain for I care,” he laughs. “It’s
yours
, Alisha. I’m giving it to you. To keep. But I’d prefer it if you just
wore it
tonight.”

“Marcus,” I gasp, reaching up to touch this amazing necklace dangling so perfectly from my neck, somehow totally completing my outfit, even though he couldn’t have possibly known just what I was wearing. “I don’t know what to say ...”

“You don’t need to say anything,” he murmurs in reply, leaning in to place the most delicious kiss on my neck. “Come on. Let’s go. Otherwise we’re going to be late ...”

§

Marcus

I normally fucking hate these kinds of things. I mean, they’re all exactly the same. Glitzy ball rooms, crammed full of the same boring investors and socialites, the same old faces, each and every one of them out to get something for themselves, everyone
networking
– yes, even at a supposed ‘Charity’ function such as this.

But tonight?

Well, tonight feels kind of different. And that’s all down to Alisha.

I’m so glad to have her here with me, by my side, looking so gorgeous. And I’m excited too – excited to show her off.

She looks simply stunning, and I can tell from the envious looks I’m getting from nearly every single man in the room that I’m not the only one who thinks it.

“Ah, Marcus!” a woman’s voice says behind me. “I see you’ve decided to bring along a
date
for once! And who is this ravishing creature, may I ask?”

I turn around to face Elizabeth Falcroft, heiress to the Falcroft Industries fortune, one of our biggest rivals, who in the last year alone have probably cost us close to a quarter of a
billion
in losses.

“Ah, Elizabeth!” I smile back, utterly polite and gracious even though Falcroft poached one of our biggest clients from right under our noses, less than two months ago. “This is Alisha Adams. Alisha, this is Elizabeth Falcroft.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Alisha says politely, giving Elizabeth a warm and sincere smile, kind of catching this cold and calculating woman off-guard with her sincerity.

“Oh, your dress is just
fabulous
,” Elizabeth gushes, obviously impressed by Alisha’s outfit. “Where in the world did you
find
it?”

I shoot Alisha a quick glance. Damn. Why did Elizabeth have to ask that of all questions? And I can see in Alisha’s eyes that she’s panicking now, trying to work out what she can possibly say, without giving away our little ‘arrangement’

“Yes, Alisha has excellent taste,” I cut in. “In fact,” I add, “I think she has the makings of a fantastic designer.”

“Oh fabulous! Just fabulous!” Elizabeth laughs, taking a large gulp of her champagne, before her huge cat-like eyes latch onto some other poor unsuspecting guest and she saunters away from us to wave him down.

“
Fashion
designer
?” Alisha whispers incredulously, her lips curling in a puzzled smile. “Where the hell did
that
come from?”

“Let’s just say,” I reply, quick as a flash, “that while
you
may be blind to your own talents, it certainly hasn’t escaped me that you’re very knowledgeable when it comes to clothes. Weren’t you telling me, just the other day, that you made almost all your own outfits for your last job?”

“Well, yes, but that’s just because I was flat out
broke
,” she laughs. “I couldn’t afford to buy clothes so I had to make them out of necessity ...”

“So what?” I reply. “It doesn’t matter. I saw your sketchbook, Alisha. You’ve got real talent. And when I look at you, I don’t just see a ‘broke girl’ who’s making her clothes out of necessity. I see an extremely talented young woman who wears her own excellent designs. And if you don’t mind me saying so, your body is also the most excellent advert for your work ...”

§

Alisha

Does he really mean that? I’d never even allowed myself to dream that someone like
me
could be a fashion designer. But the way he’s talking right now,  guess it
doesn’t
sound so crazy after all. I really could go to college to study it, couldn’t I?! Especially with the money I’ll have at the end of this week ... If the arrangement still stands, that is. I mean, we haven’t really talked about it again since our last conversation ...

“Come with me,” he murmurs just then, leaning in towards me.

“What for?” I ask, confused as to why he’d want to leave the main ballroom, especially when he’s about to make his speech, but even as I’m asking the question he’s grabbed me by the arm and whisked me away into a small side room, just off the main foyer – a dark little wood-paneled room which seems to be being used as a cloak room, although luckily there’s no attendant here right now.

“I don’t understand,” I say, looking in confusion around the dim little room. Why on Earth does he want me to come in
here
?

As if in answer, he slams the door closed behind him then turns to me, his big blue eyes burning with a strange fire.

“Lift up your dress,” he says quietly but firmly, so firmly in fact that I have little ability to do anything other than obey his command, despite the flash of worry that courses through me at the thought that
anyone
could come into this room at any moment to collect their coat or bag.

With trembling hands I pull my dress up around my waist, uncovering my bare legs and my pale pink thong beneath, feeling my pussy begin to throb in anticipation for whatever’s about to come next.

He takes a few steps closer to me, backing me right up against the wall, his eyes locked intensely on mine. And then I gasp, as I feel his hand move between my legs, stroking the very place that’s throbbing and aching for him through the dampening silk of my panties, massaging my swelling clit slowly yet firmly, working his fingers back and forth over my swelling flesh in just the way that makes me tremble and sigh, my eyes closing in pleasure as I feel that now-familiar excitement building inside me with each new stroke of his fingertips.

There’s a pause, and then I gasp again as I feel him roughly tug my thong down around my thighs, exposing the hot wet center of me to the cool air of this dim little room.

Oh God, I feel so fucking naughty, so damn
slutty
– standing there with my dress held up around my waist and my panties pulled down, exposing my wet and throbbing pussy to him, watching in shameful delight as he begins to unbuckle himself too, tugging open his slacks just enough to free that long, thick cock of his, letting it spring free, gripping its base with his fist as me moves back towards me, then guides it right between my legs, brushing the hot swollen tip back and forth against my wet and tender folds, back and forth, just as he did with his fingers, causing fresh moans to escape my parted lips as he teases me like this for a long and delicious moment before, with a low grunt, he finally lets himself slip inside me, filling me to the very hilt with him, that long shaft of his actually fitting all the way inside me now, so much more naturally and easily, now that I’m growing a little more used to it ...

But we’re only able to enjoy ourselves for a few breathy seconds before the sound of the turning door handle freezes us both in place in that dim little cloak room, crushed against the far wall, his body pushed up against me, his cock driven deep inside me, still pulsing in time to his heartbeat as we remain frozen still, nestled in the shadows, as someone actually
enters the room
.

Oh my god ...

To silence me, he’s slipped his hand firmly over my mouth, but even so I feel as if the deafening pounding of my heartbeat will surely give us away. But the elderly gentleman who’s come to collect his jacket seems completely unaware of our presence, as I’m guessing he’s perhaps he had one too many glasses of the delicious Champagne that’s flowing in abundance in the main ballroom to notice that much of his surroundings ...

And soon enough the old man has found his jacket and left us alone in the room once more, and with a mixture of relief and disappointment, I felt Marcus withdraw himself, quickly buckling his pants back up as I too pull up my panties and then tug my dress down around my thighs once more, my heart still hammering, and my pussy still throbbing almost painfully
for him.

“Later tonight,” he says quietly with a knowing smile and a wink. “Later tonight.”

And then he takes my arm and leads me once more back into the main ballroom, and as we weave through the many happy crowds, I smile to myself at the thought that nobody knows just what the hell we’ve had been doing a few moments ago.

In fact, the whole thing seems so unreal now – more like a fantasy – if it weren’t for the damn hot slickness I can feel in my panties as I walk, reminding me of what we’ve done – not to mention what I’ve got to look
forward to
once we get back to the house tonight ...