Virgin Romance by Penny Wylder
5
"Thank you again for joining me," Pierce says as he shrugs on his overcoat. We're in the lobby downstairs, having finally finished the dessert course.
My stomach still feels half empty, probably because I had trouble eating anything with all the sideways comments and underhanded dirty jokes Pierce kept throwing my way. Anytime I finally started to relax and enjoy myself, he'd make sure to trail a finger up my inner thigh, or lean over and ask if the steak we were both having went well with my first course of cum. It's like he couldn't stand to sit at a table with a non-blushing girl for more than ten seconds at a time.
That, or he really enjoyed making me turn bright red in embarrassment. I'm leaning toward that latter theory.
But I notice him slip the coat check girl a fat wad of cash as she helps me into my coat, so maybe he's not an entirely horrible person after all? After my years working at the diner, I know by now that you can't judge a book by its cover—only by its willingness to tip the help.
The nicest looking people stiff me entirely on a bill, leaving 10 cent tips on a $75 check. And then the grumpiest seeming assholes will leave me a 30% tip with a smiley face drawn in the margins. You never know.
So, against my better judgment, when Pierce rests his hand on my lower back and steers me outside, I follow him to his car. Sure, along the way I gulp a few deep lungfuls of fresh air, but that's only to gather my courage. Because this is it. This is the moment I've been waiting for.
It's time to lose my V-card, once and for all.
No limo this time. Just his personal car, a BMW, because of course it is. He holds the door for me, a true gentleman to the last. But service has taught me not to take that too seriously, either.
I slide into the front seat and perch on the edge of the leather seats like I'm about to drive a gauntlet. I do have to admit, though, his BMW is comfy as hell on the inside.
Pierce slides into the driver's seat, and I force myself to ease back in my seat and strap on my belt. No sense getting so worked up yet. We have to drive to his place first.
“So, did you enjoy sucking my cock, Bonnie?” he asks as he turns the key. Like he’s asking about the weather.
I squirm in my seat. “Yes, sir.”
He smiles. “Good.”
Maybe he wants to fuck me in this car. The seats are roomy enough, and all the windows except the windshield are tinted. If we pulled into an alley, no one would notice.
Then again, that might go against his "I want to savor the fine meal" policy.
But to my shock, a moment later, he pulls onto the road, then glances at me. "Where do you live?"
Panic seizes me. All I can picture is Erin's face. Erin eyeballing me as I lead this handsome, way-too-well-dressed man into the closet I call my bedroom. Erin listening through our parchment-thin walls as we fuck, and he talks about taking my virginity . . .
I tell him the cross streets, then panic as he shifts the car into motion and starts to drive. Shit. "I can't do anything at my place though," I blurt, cheeks red all over again. "I . . . I have a roommate. Uh . . . She's very Catholic." Double shit. I'm babbling. But hey, technically she is Irish Catholic, even if she doesn't so much practice anymore . . .
And I can't exactly admit the real problem. Which is that I'd die if anyone found out I was doing this. Selling myself. Selling my virginity, which all of my friends think I've long since lost anyway.
But Pierce just laughs, loudly. "Relax, Bonnie. I only want to take you home." His pale blue eyes catch mine, twinkling with mirth as he shifts lanes. "Well, okay. I want to do more than that. But tonight I'm only dropping you off."
"Why?" I blurt. Then I realize with a mental kick how rude that sounds. I clear my throat. "I mean, why wait? Don't you want to, you know . . . I trail off, and he raises his eyebrows, waiting for me to finish. I clear my throat again, harder. "Don't you want to fuck me?"
"Oh, I very much want to fuck you, Bonnie." The simple sincerity in his voice makes me hot all over, but especially between the thighs. His eyes hold onto mine for a long moment before they flash back to the road. "But I've got to say, you aren't what I expected."
Almost unconsciously, I touch a hand to my hair. "What do you mean?" Am I unattractive compared to my pictures? But, no, I dolled myself up today. What the heck?
"You make such a big deal about never having had sex before," he replies, and I relax slightly. But only slightly. So he still finds me hot, but suspicious. Great. "You talk about being a virgin, and yet, you seem so eager for me to fuck you right here and now. Almost desperate."
Those eyes are so damn mesmerizing. I can't look away, even though I feel my body tensing with nerves. Thankfully, he has to look at the road again soon, and I take a moment to catch my breath. "I . . ." I shake my head, force myself out of the trance. "I just want to get this over with. It's business, right? You pay me, I give you what you want. End of story."
"What if I don't want this to be over yet?" he counters, and I blink in surprise. "I told you, Bonnie. I want to savor this meal." He reaches across the gear shift and runs his palm along my thigh. Every muscle in my body tenses, every nerve ending starts to fire on high. "I want you to enjoy this as much as I do," he says, his voice a low, throaty growl, and I can scarcely think straight for the ache in my groin.
I want him. Bad. But fuck if I'm going to let on. He's about a million miles too cocky as it is. "We had an agreement," I say, my voice forced, businesslike. "You pay me, you fuck me, and we part ways. That's what we agreed."
Shit. What if he's been playing me all along? What if he doesn't intend to pay me at all, or what if he wants to drag this out for ages, make me beg for it, make me suck him and fuck him over and over without giving me a cent? My palms tingle with sweat and I clench them to try and distract myself.
I need that money. It's the whole reason I got into this mess in the first place. He might think I'm some naive idiot because I'm virginal, but hell if I'm going to let him get away with using me for free. Especially after that blowjob.
Fucking hell, Bonnie, I scold myself. I gave him that for free. No wonder he wants to walk away now. He thinks I'll let him do the same with everything. Give him an inch and he wants to take a mile.
Granted, I enjoyed the fuck out of it, but that’s not the point.
I cross my arms over my chest, protective. "How do I know you're even sincere about this? You could be anyone. That waiter could've been a friend in on this gig."
I jolt against the seat belt as the car suddenly veers off the main drag. He pulls us onto the nearest side-street and whips into a parallel parking spot so fast I barely have time to catch my breath.
Shit. I've done it now. Pissed off this crazy guy I don't even know, all while I'm trapped in his car. I dig my hands into the seat belt, ready to throw it off and make a break for it if I need to.
He turns to face me, and his eyes blaze with heat, though the rest of his expression remains calm. Is he angry, or just annoyed that a business deal is going sour? I can’t read him yet.
"When did I ever give you reason to doubt me, Bonnie?" he asks, his voice calm and even. “Our agreement never stipulated a timeline.”
Even though there aren’t any cars passing by, and the streetlights on this side-street are dimmer than usual, there’s enough light from the illuminated sign above a closed corner store for me to make out his flashing eyes. It lights the side of his face, highlighting the sharp curve of his cheekbone as he faces me.
I remind myself that I have just as much of a right to be worried as he does. “No, we didn’t,” I agree, “But our agreement never stipulated that I’d give you a free blowjob in public, either.” My face flames as I say that out loud, but to judge by the faint curve of his mouth, he enjoys hearing me say it.
“You seemed to be enjoying yourself.” He leans in closer. “I hated to put a damper on the mood just to bring up contractual obligations.”
I set my jaw firmly. “Well, I should’ve . . . I mean . . . How do I know you’re for real about this? That you aren’t just . . .”
“Taking what I want for free?” he asks, and his breath ghosts across my lips. He’s closed the gap between us. Or maybe I did. I think I’m leaning toward him. I tighten my muscles, force myself to grip the seat belt, the edges digging into my palms to keep me thinking straight.
“Exactly. It’s nothing personal, Pierce. It’s business.”
“Oh, I agree.” His fingertips skim my cheek, and the feeling of his rough skin against mine makes me jolt in surprise. I hadn’t seen him reach for me until I felt his hot skin against my cheek. He traces the edge of my jawline, and every fiber in my body urges me to lean closer to him, to fall into those soft, sharply curved lips. His smile looks deadly, but I want him to devour me anyway. “But that’s something you should learn about me, Bonnie.”
His eyes drift over my body, and I find mine doing the same, studying the outline of his muscular chest through his dress shirt, and the thick bulge in his pants. I can still remember the way he tastes, salt and heat, and the way he felt in my mouth, solid muscle but velvety smooth all at once, thrusting into my throat as he claimed my mouth for his own. My heart speeds up.
“In business,” he adds, “I always get what I want.”
His hand drips down my neck, his fingers curving around the back of my neck to pull me closer to him, and there’s no use fighting this. I am putty in his hands, his to control. His mouth pauses an inch from mine and I’m nearly panting with effort at holding myself back. I want nothing more than to close the breath of a gap between us and crush my mouth to his, kiss him, let him taste me, claim me.
But to judge by the soft hiss of breath that he intakes, and the way his eyes flash when I look back up, he’s affected too. He wants me. Bad.
“I respect your forthrightness, though, Bonnie. You know what you want too.” He’s only smirking a little bit as he says that, but I narrow my eyes anyway. Damn him. He knows just how hot he makes me, and he’s enjoying it. “So, fine. If this is what you want, we can do this, right here.” His hand leaves my neck, slides down my body to grasp my tits through my shirt. His thumb finds my nipple and massages it in slow circles, until it starts to harden beneath his touch. “Beg me to do it, and I’ll fuck you until you’re screaming.”
My eyes dart past him, to the car windows and the relatively deserted street beyond. But there are still lights, still the occasional taxi rolling past, light on, searching for fares. So exposed . . .
More exposed than I was on a rooftop crouching under his dining table? I remind myself.
“I’ll send you the money right now, and you can give up your virginity to me right here on this side street. Is that what you want?”
I grimace, debating. I do want the money. But this is starting to feel too familiar. Too much like the bleachers at prom, on a hard floor in a dingy dress, no preparation, no planning ahead . . .
Then again, Pierce isn’t anything like my meek prom date. He’ll make it last no matter where we are, of that much I’m sure.
Like he’s reading my mind, he drops his hands to my waist, then over my hips, one grasping my ass, hard enough that it hurts. I gasp faintly. “I would have thought you’d want it to be special. You waited this long, after all. And I’m paying you quite a sum.” The hand gripping my ass drops to the hem of my dress, then slips beneath it. His rough hands glide up my bare skin, and I can hardly think from the red hot flames that his touch sends throughout my body. “But maybe you’re sick of waiting,” he breathes against my mouth, his lips so fucking close to mine. “Maybe you just want to get this over with. You want my cock inside you, don’t you, Bonnie? You want me to claim you, right now. Maybe I’ll give you what you want, then.”
His other hand tangles in my hair, and suddenly he’s pulling me across the center console, onto his lap. He grips my ass again, hard, and I can feel that throb of desire straight down into my clit. He tilts my head to one side, and trails his tongue along the edge of my ear. When he speaks again, his whisper is right beside my ear. “Or maybe I’ll just have you suck my cock again. You liked that, didn’t you, you dirty girl.” He slaps my ass now, lightly, but hard enough to make me jump in his lap. I feel his cock press against my thigh, and I curl my hips under me to grind against him.
“You are a naughty thing, aren’t you.” His eyes meet mine, and without thinking, without planning to, I close the distance between us and kiss him, hard.
For a second, we both freeze. I’m as surprised as he is, I think. But he doesn’t lose his stride for long. He tightens his grip on my hair, pulls my body against his as he deepens the kiss. His tongue parts my lips and slides into my mouth, tasting me, controlling me. I surrender to him with a shiver of delight.
I haven’t had enough of his mouth, not nearly, but he’s already pulling away, kissing along my neck, down to my collarbone. My head falls back on my shoulders and I groan softly through my teeth.
“You like it when I take control, Bonnie.”
“Yes,” I murmur, before I lean in to kiss the side of his jaw. His stubble scratches my cheek, my lips, as I kiss my way along his neck, but I love the roughness.
His hand comes down in a sharper slap, right across my ass, and I inhale sharply. “Yes what?” he says, his voice dark with warning. I can feel myself grow wet in anticipation.
“Yes, sir,” I reply, my voice barely audible.
He smiles. “Good girl.” Then he tilts my head back so my neck is exposed, and pushes my dress down far enough to expose every inch of my cleavage. An inch to either side and he’d have my breasts on full display to the whole street around us, but I’m too lost in the sensations to care. “Or should I say, bad girl.” He raises an eyebrow at me. “Has anyone ever called you a slut, Bonnie?”
I almost laugh at the idea. Then I catch his eye, and realize he’s serious. “No, sir,” I respond.
“Do you like the sound of it?” His hand leaves my ass to slip under my dress and explore my breast, my bare skin against his palm this time. “When I call you my little slut, does that get you wet?”
I swallow hard. “Y-yes, sir,” I stammer. Because holy hell, does it ever.
He grins. “Good. Because I really think you ought to know, Bonnie . . .” He pinches my nipple suddenly, roughly enough that it stings and aches with pleasure at the same time. He pulls it gently, and the pain arcs up my spine. “You are the sexiest little cum slut I have ever had the pleasure of corrupting.”
“Thank you, sir.” I reach between us, empowered by the heat in his voice, and trace the outline of his cock. I want him, dammit. Fuck our deal, fuck what he owes me; I’m too lost in this moment to care. His lips find mine again, and I sink into that kiss, surrendering. Fuck, does it feel good to let go.
I’m so distracted by the feeling of his soft lips against mine, contrasted by the rough brush of his stubble on my cheek, that I don’t even notice his hands close around my wrists. Not until he pulls my arms behind me, anyway, and folds both of my narrow wrists into one of his strong hands. My eyes go wide, but he just grins at me as he leans in to kiss my chest again, his tongue inching toward my nipple.
“God you are fucking exquisite,” he breathes against my skin. My head falls back as his tongue laps roughly across my already-hard nipple, then circles the areola, before his teeth graze the very tip of my breast, making me gasp.
“You’re mine, Bonnie,” he growls. He licks hard at my breast. I moan something between pleasure and agreement. “Say it.”
My head swims with pleasure, but I manage to find my tongue. “I’m yours, sir.”
His free hand, the one not restraining my wrists, slides between us to cup my crotch. His eyes meet mine, serious and dark in the dim light of the car. “Whose pussy is this?”
“Yours,” I manage to reply, lost in the sensation of his fingers cupping my lips.
Without warning, he slaps my mound, hard enough that I flinch.
“Sir,” I gasp, realizing my mistake.
In response, he shoves my panties aside roughly, and spreads my pussy with two fingers. Another finger toys at my entrance, sliding up and down my wet slit, circling my lips. But he doesn’t enter me. Not yet.
“Say it again,” he orders.
I meet his eyes and feel my heartbeat triple, pounding against my ribcage. “It’s your pussy, sir.”
He smiles. His finger presses harder against me, slick and wet. He’s right at my entrance, and my hips buck in desperation. I want his finger inside me, I want him to take me. But he holds back, for some reason.
I groan in desperation.
“What do you say, my little slut?” he commands.
“Please, sir.”
“That’s it.” His smile widens. “Beg for me, Bonnie. Tell me what you want.”
“I want . . . you,” I pant.
But he shakes his head. “In detail, my lovely little slut. Tell me you want me to finger-fuck you. Tell me how badly you want to come on my hand.”
“Please, sir. Let me come for you.”
His finger slides inside me, and every nerve ending on my body fires. I try to thrust against him, push his finger deeper, but he holds me back, his hips preventing mine from moving, his other hand still tight around my wrists, restraining me. I’m helpless in his grasp, half naked with my dress pulled down and hiked up, spread on his lap in a parked car in the middle of the street like . . . well, like a slut. And I fucking love it.
“Oh fuck. Faster,” I gasp.
“Only if you promise to come for me, my gorgeous little tease.” He kisses my neck, the sensitive spot just beneath my ear, as his finger finally pushes all the way inside me. I buck against him.
“I want to come for you, sir. Please, make me come. Fuck me . . .” I barely even hear myself talking now, I’m so lost in sensation. His finger glides out of me, thrusts back in, finding a rhythm, and I sway against him.
He adds a second finger, and I moan in response, my pussy tightening around his thick, strong fingers. He fucks me faster, and his thumb brushes across my clit, sending waves of pleasure rocking through my entire body. I moan again, unable to form words as he pulls me against his strong, solid body.
He releases my wrists, and I grab onto his shoulders for support as he wraps his other hand in my hair, forces me to look him in the eyes. I can hardly keep mine open, as he thrusts his fingers into me faster, harder, his thumb now grazing my clit with every thrust. I feel full to bursting, ready to lose my mind, and he catches my eye, seeming to stare right through me, into my very core. He knows me better than I know myself, I think for a confused, blazing instant.
Then he says, “Come for me, Bonnie,” and I don’t see or hear anything else.
I cry out as the pleasure peaks inside. My whole body shakes against his, but he’s holding me tight, keeping me upright, and all the while, he doesn’t stop thrusting into me, circling my clit, making my head swim and my pussy clench hard with every spasm of ecstasy. I feel that orgasm all the way down to the tips of my fingers and toes, as if my whole body just lit up with electricity.
When I finally stop coming, I’m panting for breath, trembling. But he’s not finished yet. He keeps stroking me, slower now, his touch ever so light against my sensitive clit. Before long I feel myself clenching again, my body shaking as another orgasm hits me. I shout his name, and he grabs my hair with his other hand, pulls my mouth to his and crushes his lips to mine in a rough kiss.
Our tongues are intertwined, and I’ve lost all track of time and place. He let go of my wrists, so I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him closer. My hands tangle in his hair. He breaks away from the kiss, and I gasp in protest. But he’s only gone a second, leaning over to tap the glove compartment. Then he’s back, and his finger is toying with my clit again.
That’s when I feel cool metal slide between us. I glance down, my eyes widening.
“Did you think I was finished with you already?” Pierce smirks as he presses the egg-shaped metal orb against my mound. He circles it slowly, and the cold of the metal makes me shiver. “I’ve only just gotten started, Bonnie.”
I swallow hard. “Is that . . . ?”
In response, he parts my pussy lips again and slides the egg closer to my opening. “A remote-controlled vibrator, yes.”
I swallow again. Though I can’t disguise my quick breath or the way my pussy clenches in anticipation. I’m still so fucking thirsty, dammit. And he knows it.
Pierce smirks as he presses the vibrator against my entrance. It’s thick—not as thick as his cock, but close to it. My lips part in a groan as he forces it inside me. My pussy is tight from all the orgasms, but he’s patient. And persistent.
As he slowly presses the toy inside me, he goes back to licking and sucking at my breasts, his teeth grazing my sensitive nipples every so often, making me jump and tense.
Finally, he slides the egg all the way into my pussy. I feel tighter and fuller than ever. This is thicker than any vibrator I’ve ever used on my own. I expect him to turn it on, but instead, he slides me off his lap and back into my seat beside him.
He’s breathing fast, too, and the bulge in his pants is huge, straining. He locks eyes with me, smiling knowingly, as he lifts his hand to his lips and slowly licks my juices from his fingers.
I swallow hard, still trying to orient myself. Fucking hell. I didn’t know it could feel like that. I’ve masturbated, of course, but never that roughly, or for that long . . . And I still feel full, stuffed with the vibe he put in me.
He’s still watching me, hungry, excited, and I can’t help myself. I reach across the console and grab his cock again, my hand curling around his thick, excited length.
But he pushes my hand away and starts the car.
I lean back in my seat, confused, and a little stung. “So you can get me off, but I can’t return the favor?” I ask.
In response, he switches on the vibrator.
I cry out as it starts. He positioned it right against my G-spot, damn him. It’s all I can do to sit up straight now, as it feels like my pussy is on fire with pleasure.
“I told you, Bonnie. You’re my little cum-slut. Which means tonight, it’s your job to come for me, and nothing more. Now.” He turns the key in the ignition, as I pant for breath. “Which way am I going?” He smiles at me, enjoying my torment.
I grit my teeth and manage to answer with a direction. Then I lose my voice again, gasping in pleasure.
The whole ride is like that. I lose track of how often I come. Eventually I’m leaning against the door, unable to sit up straight, this feels so intense. Every now and then, usually when he asks me for further directions and I actually manage to respond, he taps the remote he keeps clutched in his hand, and the vibrator amps up again.
By the time we pull up outside my place, I’ve soaked through my panties, this dress, probably the seat beneath me too. I can’t even tell. I’m shaky and still yelling in another long, drawn-out orgasm, the pleasure so intense it borders on pain now, as the car pulls to a stop.
“This is you, Bonnie,” he says, and I stare at him, wide-eyed. Surely he can’t expect me to get out of the car right now. Like this.
But he just smiles. “I’ll see you soon.”
I reach between my legs to pull the vibrator out, but he catches my wrist, and locks eyes with me.
“Leave it in until you get inside,” he orders.
I swallow hard. Stare him down. Is he serious?
He looks it.
So I climb out of the car on shaking legs. I don’t know how I manage to stay upright, especially when I’m halfway to the door and he starts making it pulse—on off on off, over and over with every step I take. I fumble my keys a few times, glare at him over my shoulder, but eventually I manage to get inside. Once I’m there, I must be out of range, because the vibrations stop all at once.
I lean against my closed door, listening to his car drive away, waiting for my heart to stop racing and my pussy to stop pulsing and for sensation to return to my extremities.
Only once my blood returns to my head do I realize that I didn’t even ask him about paying me again. I couldn’t think about business, not with all those mind-blowing orgasms taking control.
This is business, yes. And he’s still winning.
Fuck. I am in so over my head.
