Claire: The Forced Virgin Of The Billionaire

“Ah. Well, tomorrow we can hit the mall.”

“You don’t have to…”

“Naw, what guy doesn’t like being dragged around a mall while a woman buys clothes?” I gave her a wink.

She smiled and it spread to her eyes. They sort of twinkled, the light catching them and her sapphire collar at the same time. My throat went dry.

“I’m really throwing your life into a tailspin.” Her expression dropped.

I shook my head, “I do my best work under pressure. No worries. So why don’t you whip us up some PB & J and I’ll go get changed?”

She smiled, “You don’t mind eating sandwiches for dinner?”

I shrugged, “Naw, why not? Pizza for breakfast, PB & J for dinner, why be conventional?”

“You’re amazing,” she said and she was looking me right in the eye. She looked serious. Too serious.

“It might look like that after what you’ve been through, Angel, but you don’t know me,” I muttered and left the kitchen.

As I passed the utility room I saw that the dryer was still going and there were folded clothes and towels on top. s**t. Rosita would have something to say about this, for sure. When I came back out she was finishing putting things away and she’d served up sandwiches.

“What would you like to drink, Ma—Drake?”

“I’ll have what you’re having,” I said and sat down at the island.

She poured two glasses of milk and climbed up on a stool and looked at her plate with reverence. My sandwich was cut in half on the diagonal. Hers was cut into triangles. She closed her eyes a minute and then I saw her mouth an “amen” and then she lifted one of the triangles.

She took a bite and the expression on her face almost made me f*****g c*m.

If her face went like that at a pb&j what the f**k would it look like while she was having an o****m?

“I don’t rate for triangles?” I teased. I reached into the kitchen cupboard and pulled out a bottle of chocolate syrup and squeezed a healthy dose into my drinking glass. Her eyes lit up. I squeezed an even bigger glug into her glass and then passed her a spoon.

She blushed, stirred, took a sip of the milk, and m****d. Then she said, “They taste better when they’re triangles. I didn’t know if you’d agree.”

I gave her a grin, “Does something magical happen to triangular food?”

“Absolutely,” she smirked at me and I felt a pang at that smirk.

f**k, she was gorgeous.

She lifted another triangle and the m**n that she made as she ate it, her eyes rolling back, it went right to my f*****g c**k. Evidently I seriously needed to get laid.

But how could I get laid if I was keeping up with my ‘man w***e no more’ plan? It’d be complicated to start a new relationship while she was living here, too.

What woman who was marriage material would be okay with me having a chick live at my place?

I had to keep her close, though, to make sure that the Kruna scumbags didn’t get suspicious. Maybe I needed to push the no man w***e plan out a little. Go to a bar, get laid, get s*x off my brain for five minutes. A voice inside me said:

Or maybe just take the angel in front of you. Problem solved.Property of Nô)(velDr(a)ma.Org.

That voice had been nagging at me since the minute my fingerprint opened that tablet and it was getting f*****g louder.

It was trying to tell me that I could take her, that taking her wouldn’t mean I was taking advantage, that I could take her and be gentle with her and she’d get healthy and we’d get what we both wanted.

For her, safety and knowledge that she was out of the reach of the Kruna scumbags. For me, my beautiful redhead who liked to f**k, who’d never cheat, and who’d give me a family and be fine with whatever life I made for us, whether it was in a world of shady s**t or living in the country or moving to Yellowknife to be a bush pilot, or whatever.

But yeah, taking her? How was I any better than my uncle if I did that?

I’d never have a girl who really loved me, only one who was obligated to pretend she did. Forget that s**t.

But Azriel did it.

Yeah, he did. And despite how they got going Claire now loved him. Her world revolved around him.

I wanted that. I f*****g dreamt about having that.

And as far as having another girl fall for a Clarke boy after being thrust at him? Well…lightning usually didn’t strike twice.

I pushed my plate with the untouched sandwich back, “On second thought, I gotta hit the gym. Be back later.”

Her expression dropped but she quickly recovered and gave me a nod.

I headed to my bedroom and got my workout gear and threw jeans and a tee into a bag with it and headed out. The gym was in the building. Maybe I’d go for a drink afterwards.

** ** **

“Oh, my, Gaaaawd!”

I looked over my shoulder and saw a skanky-looking bleach blonde in f**k-me heels, big hair, and a hot pink tube mini dress approaching me.

Aw f**k. Not her.

“Drake Clarke, slumming it?” Casey was in Debbie’s clique in high school. I was in a bar down the street from my building, post workout. I’d texted Zack to see if he wanted to meet me for a drink, thinkin’ it’d be good to hang with someone who knew the predicament I was in.

“Slumming it?”

This wasn’t exactly a dive bar.

She gestured to me with her hand, “I haven’t seen you in jeans since I don’t know when. High school? Mr. Dapper Drake is always in a suit. What’s up? Leather jacket and jeans? You’re like a bad boy or somethin’ tonight.”

She sat on the stool beside me and threw back the last of the pink liquid in her glass and then gave me another once over, her eyes all lusty.

“Just finished a workout.” I flashed a smile. She had a great rack, a great fake rack. Casey’d been pretty well flat-chested in grade 12. Now she had double D’s, at least, “And I’m always a bad boy, babe.”

“So how about you buy me another drink, bad boy?” she flirted.

A text came in from Zack, “Sorry man, on a stakeout and can’t make it. Hit me up next time.”

“Bartender?” I called out, “Another vodka for me and another pink sludge or whatever the f**k that was for this lovely lady.”

Felicia’s POV

After my peanut butter and jam sandwich I pondered it for a while and then after about half an hour of thinking about it, decided it’d maybe be okay if I took a long bath in Drake’s master bathroom. He had one of those peanut-shaped whirlpool tubs big enough for two. He didn’t have any sort of frou frou bath stuff and none had been packed with my things so minus bubbles but the bath was still heavenly.

His mood, as he left the apartment, made it very apparent to me that I needed to give him space. I had to be fair to him.

He had rescued me out of necessity, sure, but he’d rescued me nonetheless and had been nothing but kind to me. We were in a sticky situation and it was being made stickier by the fact that my cheese had slipped off my cracker.

I thought I had it together all that time. I thought my A to B plan was what kept me sane because I could lock the real me away and get to it later, if I wanted to. I figured I could turn my emotions off and just do what I was supposed to do.

But from the minute he walked into my life and the minute I was getting my Point C things had gone off the rails and I was having a hard time getting my brain back on the track. I was consumed with the need to spread my legs for him. Completely consumed with it.

I’d thought I held it together all that time, compartmentalized things to keep my sanity but I guess I was wrong. Maybe I was so far off the rails I’d never get back.

After the bath I got into a red silky short nightie and borrowed his robe and then I went to his den to re-make up the futon, which had been folded back upright. I’d give him space to try to make up for the fact that I had been a total pain.

I was afraid that if I didn’t give him space he’d send me away or send me back. If his plan was to make them think he was okay with this maybe his life would be easier if they sent him a new girl who wasn’t a crackpot, begging and pleading with him to f**k her.

But as I started to drift to sleep I started fantasizing, imagining him romantically carrying me to his bed and telling me that he wanted me, that he’d keep me and keep me safe forever.

I hesitantly slipped my hands under my nightie while under the covers and after a lot of deliberating, a LOT of deliberating, I did something I hadn’t done since a few months after I was taken in to Kruna.

We were not allowed to masturbate unless it was part of an assignment. Our o*****s were gifts granted to us by our handlers or patrons. There was a camera in my room, which I had not known but had figured out when I got punished for it. The punishment had been severe, unforgettably so.

There were no cameras here. No rules about touching myself here. So I did. I made myself come twice, one huge earth-shattering O right after the other, with my fingers to my clit, my eyes closed and in my mind I was picturing his face, his lips, his tongue, his sexy hands, his gorgeous eyes, imagining his big beautiful hard c**k in my mouth, imagining him petting me afterwards, holding me, touching my face in that sweet way of his, and telling me I was his good girl, his angel.

Afterwards I slid into blissful slumber but then woke with a jolt from a dream, a dream where they’d come in and caught me touching myself.

But when they tried to get me, he’d come in and told them to take their hands off. “She’s mine. None of you will f**k with her again.” Then he shot them in the head. Cleo, Rafe, Mr. Chen, and three others. I’d woken up panting but elated.

I touched myself again, made myself come again muttering “Master” as I hit it, and then I fell back to sleep.

** ** **

I woke up with a start. Another dream but I couldn’t remember what it was about. I adjusted the pillow and tried to curl back in but felt a chill creep up my spine. The room was dark but the door was now open so there was a stream of light from the hallway over my face. And then I noticed there was a figure looming over me.

I caught a waft of tobacco and alcohol and a little bit of sweet-smelling perfume.

“Master?”

He laughed a little. It was more of a sneer. “Yeah, that’s me,” he said.

I shifted onto my side to face him and fluffed the pillow again.

“Why’re you in here?” he asked, but it was sort of slurred, “This shitty futon f*****g sucks. You roll to the middle and it dips and buckles. It’s like a fuckin’ taco. Stupid taco bed.”

“It’s not so bad,” I whispered.

“Forgot to buy you a real bed today. Or maybe I didn’t forget.”

Huh?

“I was trying to respect you, Drake, give you space. I’m sorry about my behavior last night.”

“Hah!” He sat on the futon, “You’re f*****g with me, right?”

“I’m not trying to.”

“Well you are.” He reached down and put his thumb to my lower l*p, his fingers along my jaw, his face only inches from mine, “You’re f*****g with me big time. Do you know what happened tonight?” I put my palm to the back of his hand and caressed it.

“s**t. You even f*****g smell like s*x. Aw, fuuuuck me!” He got to his feet. He reached into the pocket of his jacket and then I caught his profile as he lit a cigarette. He took two or three deep hauls off it and then shook his head and left, uttering more cusswords under his breath as he left.

I stayed still, feeling mortified. After a few minutes I curled up into a ball and closed my eyes and decided to try to go back to sleep. But he came back. He left the door open wider this time and the hall light spilled over the futon again.

He sat on the edge of it, “You’re f*****g with my head, Angel.” His voice sounded sad now.

“How?” I asked, feeling his words vibrate through me.

“I’m a cold-hearted snake. A man w***e. And I’ve done some bad s**t. I’ve ordered people to take out other people. I’ve watched people die. Taken lives, myself. Deservedly, but still.

I come from a bad f*****g seed. I’ve screwed with lives and just f****d with them until they were unrecognizable. I’m no better than the scumbags who took you.

Don’t have some twisted hero worship thing, baby, because I’m no better.”

“You saved me,” I whispered. And I wanted to add and I wanna be yours but I didn’t say it.

“But don’t let that fool you. I did that to save myself.”

“You still did it. And you’ve been so kind to me.”

“Yeah well not a long time ago, before I saved you I hand-delivered another girl, an innocent girl, to her new Master, all because my Uncle told me to. Not the same as what you’re dealing with but too damn close.

I was totally fine with taking the girl out of her happy life and handing her over to some sick bastard and saying, ‘Here you go.’

There’s a f*****g pattern here with my family, baby, a very f****d up pattern.”

He was quiet a moment, then he continued, “Just before I found out about you I decided that I was tired of being a selfish prick. Man w***e no more! That was gonna be my motto. Karma laughed in my face, though, didn’t it?

You make me wanna keep being that prick because you and that f*****g collar and those f*****g eyes and that body, and that angelic face…the things you say to me. I keep trying to stay away but you make that hard.”

I stayed still, not sure what to say.

“I had my d**k in a chick’s mouth tonight,” he said low, and then leaned closer to me, “And I couldn’t bring it. Couldn’t finish. Never had that problem in.. my.. life.

I was only hard because I was remembering your mouth around it, and then I couldn’t bring it with her because she didn’t have hair like this,” he fisted my hair, but not roughly, “and a mouth like this,” his fingertips from his other hand were now on my lips, “and a necklace like this.”