Virgin Wanted (BWWM Billionaire Romance) (11 page)

Just then, I hear a champagne flute being tapped with a fork, and the whole room falls silent.

An older man with salt and pepper hair and a kindly face comes up to the podium at the front of the stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he says, “I’d just like to welcome you all to this, the fourth annual Whitelaw fundraiser, to support St Mary’s Children’s Hospital. And now, a few words from our main benefactor, Marcus Whitelaw ...”

I shoot a glance at Marcus. “I’ll be right back,” he murmurs, giving my arm a comforting squeeze before striding up towards the podium.

And as he begins to speak, captivating the whole room with his words – words which seem so natural, so effortless, yet so elegant, too, so utterly
confident
– I feel a flush of pride, as I realize all over again that he’s
my date
.

I didn’t think I could fall any further for this man.

But as he’s speaking, I do – falling deeper than I
ever
thought I could ...

Alisha

“Take off your clothes,” he growls, the very second we’re finally alone in his bedroom after the ball.

With a flurry of delight, I quickly peel the figure-hugging little black dress from my tingling skin, pulling it up over my head, plunging me into darkness for a moment. I’m not wearing a bra, and I feel the cool air on my stiffening nipples as I drop the dress to the floor next to me, my skimpy thong panties and that dazzling diamond choker all that’s remaining on my skin now.

I step out of the panties, then make a motion to unclasp the choker too, but he quickly stops me.

“Leave that on.”

And I shiver again at the image I have of myself then, totally exposed with just that sparkling collar covering my slender neck, while he stands there before me, still fully clothed in his beautifully tailored jet-black suit. 

“As soon as I saw it around your neck,” he explained quietly, “I’ve been imagining binding your wrists too.”

And with that he reaches down and plucks my damp silk panties from where they lay by my feet, effortlessly tearing them in two, until they’re nothing but two long pink silken strips, dangling from his hands.

“Give me your wrists,” he says sternly, and I do just as he instructs, offering out my slender writs, which he slowly but firmly binds together, tying them so tightly that I realize there will be no way I’ll be able to pull my hands free again without his help.

“Now turn around.”

Again I do just as he commands, turning my back to him, and after a moment I feel the second cool strip of silk cover my eyes, plunging me once again into darkness, as he ties it just as firmly at the back of my head as he did with the first on my wrists.

I tremble in delight, feeling so helpless all of a sudden, completely at his mercy. I hear the soft click of the soles of his shoes on the floorboards as he encircles me, and even though I can’t see him, it’s as if I can still feel his eyes, travelling all over my body, my nipples and pussy both tingling in anticipation of his touch.

A moment later, I feel his hands on my shoulders, pushing me downwards. I do as he instructs, until I’m resting on my knees before him.

Then I heard the now-familiar sound of him unzipping his pants and, a moment later, I feel the sheer heat of him coming in a soft wave against my face. I wait there on my knees, knowing what is coming next. Sure enough, a second later I feel him press softly against my lips – warm and moist and velvety smooth. I open my mouth, feeling him slide between my lips, touching against my tongue, the heat and faintly salty taste of him filling my mouth completely.

I moan a little, surprised at just how good this feels. And as I do, he pulls himself a little way back out from between my lips and then thrusts again, driving himself even
deeper
into my mouth.

I feel a powerful shiver of pleasure, as I picture myself there on my knees, taking him in my mouth like that, as he slowly begins sliding himself in and out from between my lips. And in response I start sucking greedily on him as if he were some kind of delicious lollypop, guiding my tongue in gentle circles all around the throbbing head of his cock, sighing softly as another wave of delight flashes through me – as if the sheer sluttiness of what I’m doing is enough to send a charge of pleasure direct to my clit without even being able to touch it. 

Still sliding himself in and out of my mouth, I feel one of his hands move from my face to my breast, pinching my nipple so tightly that I gasp, as much as I’m able, sending another delicious flash of pain and pleasure around my body.

Oh fuck, if only there was some way I could touch my clit too
, I think to myself in frustration.

But then a new thought occurs to me. Shifting onto my haunches, and spreading my legs wide apart, I find that I can easily rub my bound hands between my legs, using the heels of my hands to rub against the hot and aching place that seems to be crying out to be touched.

And I feel the sheer heat and wetness of myself as I begin to grind my bound hands urgently between my legs, as he continues to fuck my mouth.

It takes me almost by surprise when I feel the intense rush of orgasm building inside me, stimulated both by my hands and also maybe by the damn
idea
of what we’re doing.

With a stifled little moan, I begin to shudder as I come, the sensation or orgasm spilling out around my trembling body, as he continues to drive himself between my lips, his cock so fucking hard now that it feels utterly solid, as if carved from heated stone.

With a final grunt, I feel his hands hold my head firmly in place, and then it’s as if he swells even further for a moment inside my mouth, before my tongue and throat are flooded with his come – hot and thick. I gulp as much of it back as I can, my mouth opening in a soft moan as I feel even more of it spilling from my lips and over my chin.

A moment later, he slips from my mouth, and I feel his own lips now touch against mine in a tender, loving kiss, before he unties my wrists and then finally my makeshift blindfold, too.

I look up at him happily, my whole body still shuddering with pleasure.

And then, quickly, I push myself to my feet, in order to run through the connecting door to the en-suite bathroom.

“Hey, come back here!” he calls after me. “You okay?”

But I’m too eager to even answer him.

You see, the truth of it is that I’ve rushed into the bathroom to admire myself in the huge gold-edged mirror that hangs above the faucets, and what I see in it is just like imagined and hoped it might be: because there in the mirror stands a beautiful young girl with a wicked smile dancing upon her lips, brazen and naked, utterly unashamed, totally slutty, her small breasts heaving from pleasure, her chin shining wet with come, her eyes sparkling with delight, and to complete the picture, the most beautiful diamond collar you’ve ever seen, shining and glittering on her throat.

 

Alisha

“I thought I told you to be quiet,” he growls, gripping my arm hard, so hard that I wince.

I’m struck dumb, too scared to say a word. All I can do right now is shake my head.

“Stupid kid. I
told
you what would happen if you opened that mouth of yours.”

“Please,” I mumble. “Please don’t.”

But he’s already begun to unbuckle that big leather belt, sliding out from his dirty pants and then winding one end of it so tight around his knuckles that they turn white.

“Turn around and lift up your dress.”

I know there’s no point in disobeying him now. Instead, I do as he says, trembling with fear.

I just want my mom.

But Mom’s not here.

Mom’s in the emergency room; and she might be dead right now if I hadn’t made that phone call ...

There’s a pause, a horrible endless pause as I hear the thick leather of the belt creaking in his hand. And then ...

CRACK.

I cry out from the pain, my brain flashing white, as I feel the leather striking hard against the bare skin of the backs of my thighs.

“Please stop,” I sob. “Please ...”

But he does it again.

CRACK.

And again.

CRACK.

And again.

CRACK.

And again ...

§

I wake with a start, crying out in the darkness, unsure where I am, throwing off the sheets and sitting up in bed, my skin slicked with a thin sheen of sweat, my whole body shaking.

“Hey,
hey
,” Marcus murmurs, pushing himself up too and stroking my back gently. “What’s up? Another bad dream?”

I nod, the words catching in my throat.

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “Whatever it was, it’s over now ...”

“I’m just going for a ... a glass of water ...” I finally croak, stepping out of bed and quickly pulling on a white silk nightgown.

“Come back here,” he laughs, reaching for the phone. “You don’t need to do that. I’ll just get Helena to fetch it for you. That woman never sleeps anyway ...”

“No, Marcus,” I say, decisively, turning and giving him a
not-now
look which silences him. “I need some air. Just let me go. Please.”

“Whatever you say,” he sighs, letting himself lie back in bed.

I pad hurriedly out of the room, closing the door behind me, then pacing along those strange, endless white corridors, the half-light of the early morning making everything seem so strange and unreal.

And even though it
was
just a dream, it’s like I can still feel the sharp sting on the backs of my legs – like that horrible scene happened five
minutes
ago, not
fifteen years
ago.

Somehow I manage to find the kitchen, which is huge and spotlessly clean, the moonlight reflecting and sparkling off the many brushed stainless steel counters and refrigerators.

After a quick search, I finally locate a large tumbler and pour myself a glass of water from the faucet, gulping it down.

But the water wasn’t the only reason I needed to get out of that room.

There was just something so
real
about that dream – so horrible. And for some reason, it made me want to get away from Marcus, too.

I can’t quite explain it.

I shake my head, wondering if I’m just too fucked up. I thought I’d buried all those awful memories deep down in my subconscious but now it seems like they’re coming bubbling up to the surface again to haunt me.

As soon as I get the money for this week, the first thing I’m gonna do is pay for a shrink,
I decide.

Just as I turn to head back to bed, the ghostly white female figure standing in the doorway makes me jump, so much so that I
almost
lose hold of the glass, but still manage to spill a great deal of water all over myself.

“Oh madam!” says Helena. “I really didn’t mean to make you jump. I just heard a noise and my bedroom is only a little way down the hall. Is everything okay? Why aren’t you in bed?”

“I’m fine,” I offer, but my face must be telling a very different story.

“You certainly don’t
look
okay,” she replies, stepping towards me and rubbing my arm gently.

And all of a sudden, I just can’t hold it in anymore.

I feel my body crumple as I begin to sob, and to my surprise, I quickly feel Helena’s arms wrapping tight around me, pulling me into her in a warm, comforting hug.

“There, there,” she murmurs, stroking my hair as I sob even harder against her shoulder. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

When I’ve eventually finished crying, she smoothes the wet strands of hair from my face and then says with a kindly smile, “Now listen. I’m going to make you another one of those hot chocolates you like so much and then you’re going to tell me just what’s the matter, okay?”

I nod, smiling shyly.

Once she’s made the chocolate, we both sit at one of the counters in the kitchen on a couple of stools, illuminated only by the moonlight, the steaming glass of chocolate cupped in my hands, and she says, gently but firmly, “Now what’s got you so worked up? Is it Marcus?”

I look up at her, assessing her kindly face, realizing that maybe for the first time in my life I really
can
open up to her.

“I don’t know, Helena,” I sigh. “It’s all kind of complicated. I guess it
is
to do with him, but there’s a lot more stuff too, stuff from my past ...”

“Forgive me if I’m being a little forward here,” she continues, “but I’ve known Marcus for a great number of years – both as a boy and as a man – and it hasn’t escaped my attention in recent times that his, well, more
unusual
tendencies have become rather gossiped about in certain circles. You can’t work in this house for very long, without realizing that Marcus has a few, how can I put it, curious bedroom proclivities. Is
that
what’s causing you distress, my girl?”

I fight back a blush as I shake my head. “No, that’s not quite it,” I sigh. “If you want to know the truth, I’ve actually really
enjoyed
the, um,
things
that Marcus and I have done this week ... No, it’s not quite that.”

At this, she places her hand gently over mine, squeezing my fingers, as if to tell me that whatever I say here will be among friends.

“Okay,” I continue, “if you must know, for some reason this week has stirred up a lot of messed up stuff from my childhood. My dad left when I was young, and my mom ... Well, she did her best to raise me, but she was also into drink ... and drugs. And she had a string of good-for-nothing boyfriends too, one of which in particular ...”

I pause, feeling the tears welling up in my eyes again.

“Oh poor dear,” Helena sighs, putting her arm around my shoulders now. “Take your time ...”

“I don’t even want to say his
name
,” I murmur. “He was horrible. He beat my mom ... and me. He ruined my childhood. I’m just glad he’s dead. He OD-ed when I was seven. But now it feels like he’s
back
. I keep dreaming about him ...”

“My dear,” Helena says gently, “I think that you and Marcus might have more in common that you think. You see, I’ve been a part of this family since he was just a baby, and his parents were rather distant, I suppose you could say I was something of a mother figure to him. But my influence and protection could only go so far. And, well, Marcus’s father? Cruel doesn’t go halfway to describing it ...”

I feel a sudden rush of tenderness for Marcus then, imagining him as a scared little boy.

“I think you need to have a good long talk with our Mr Whitelaw,” Helena adds with a tender smile. “Don’t you?”

“Maybe,” I mumble, sipping my chocolate.

But how can I explain to this kind old woman that our whole relationship is built around a
contract
– and that I still suspect that when this damn week’s over, I’ll be tossed out like last week’s trash ...