Can't Buy My Love: Billionaire and Virgin Romance Collection

by Jamie Knight

  Her words fill me with pride.

  "Thank you! I really like my work here. Actually, it's always been a dream of mine to own my own flower shop like this," I confess to her.

  She goes to the register, checking the cash and change in the drawer.

  "If you keep working as hard as you have been, I have no doubt that you'll be able to accomplish that," she replies, with a smile, before walking back to her office.

  I go back to helping the elderly lady, who has finally settled on a nice vase of cosmos, believe it or not. At least all my time spent with her wasn’t for nothing. And she smiles at their beauty, which makes me happy.

  The shop is empty after she leaves; it's a slow day. I walk around and clean up. I then busy myself with removing some of the thorns from the roses. I can hear Marsha giggling on the phone; she must be talking to her husband.

  A few minutes later, she walks back out into the main part of the store, with an expensive Louis Vuitton purse slung over her shoulder like it always is whenever she’s coming or going.

  "Sheila, can you handle the store for about thirty minutes? I have to run to the bank," she asks me.

  "Of course! It's such a slow day; it'll be easy," I reply, looking up from the flowers I’m arranging.

  "Great! See you when I get back!" she says, hurrying out the door.

  I just smile, then get back to work. I know she's actually going to have lunch with her husband. He treats her out about three times a week. He can afford it; he's a real estate tycoon.

  While I snip the stems on a bouquet of roses and start to wrap them up, I'm torn between being envious of the type of marriage they have and of being distrustful of it. I know I couldn’t handle being married.

  There is a great deal of pressure involved, as well as the need to trust the other person. I saw what happened in my parents’ marriage, and that misplaced trust destroyed it. I definitely don't want that to happen to me, so I stay far away from committed relationships since I don’t want to be married.

  As I finish preparing a few orders for delivery, I continue thinking about marriage. I can't imagine what it would be like to be totally reliant on a man, especially financially. I want to own my own business, and there are so many other goals that I want to achieve for myself.

  I was always raised to be independent. I know I couldn’t be in a relationship where I'd have to give that up.

  Finished with work for now, I check my watch and see that thirty minutes have passed, and Marsha still isn't back yet. I stand at the register and stare out the window.

  I count the people who walk by on the sidewalk, but I lose track after a while. A growing restlessness is stirring inside me.

  Sure, I don't want to be married, but there is one thing I'd like to experience: sex. For that, I would need a partner. It wouldn't have to be permanent, though – maybe a one-night stand or a hookup.

  Could I do something like that? I wonder.

  Sure, I decide.

  It would just be to experience it. Other people do it, so it's not a big deal, I tell myself. Besides, it's not like I'm going to make a habit out of it. It would just be one time so I could say I've finally done it.

  I mean, I've dated a couple times, but it was never serious. We kissed and made out, but it never got to the level where I even considered having sex.

  I wonder what it will be like when I finally do it?

  I don't think I'd do anything crazy, but I'd want it to be hot.

  I'd want a guy to start by playing with me first. Exploring my pussy with his fingers, lightly playing with my clit. Maybe eating it until I can't take it anymore, and I'm ready to go all the way.

  I imagine how it would feel, after I'm all wet from his tongue.

  To have him slide inside of me.

  Slowly stretching me open and filling all of me.

  To have him thrusting into me, both of us naked – his body undoubtedly hot.

  Me lying under him so I can wrap my legs around him.

  My nails digging into his back as he thrusts deeper each time.

  Calling out his name as I cum.

  Afterwards, I'd have him turn me over and take me from behind. Not anally, of course, as I'm not ready for that level of experimentation yet. But just doggy style, with my ass and pussy bared for him, ready for him to push himself inside me.

  These thoughts are turning me on too much. My pussy is dripping wet while I’m at work!

  I take a deep breath and tell myself to forget about these thoughts because I’ve still got a job to do.

  At that moment, a couple of customers walk in, followed by Marsha. She smiles at me, then walks to her office. I calm my thoughts and put on my most polite smile.

  "Hello, how can I help you today?" I ask, addressing one of the customers who looks confused.

  We start discussing the bouquets I just fixed, because he has no idea what to get for a girl he wants to be his girlfriend, and I tell him that that one would be perfect. I wonder what it would be like to have a man buy me flowers, but then I push that thought aside.

  If I ever want that dream of my own shop to come true, I can't afford to be distracted from my work.

  He buys the bouquet, looking happy to be in and out so quickly, which is a nice change of pace from the last customer.

  Later that evening, Marsha says she’s proud of the way I helped all those customers in such record time. We're both happy that it's almost time to close for the night. A few customers are still coming in, but it’s still been a slow day, all in all.

  I'm slowly sweeping up stems and leaves from the floor, in case I missed any on my last round, but when it gets this late in the day, there's really not a whole lot left to do. Marsha walks around checking how many flowers are left, and what needs to be restocked and ordered. I can tell that she's getting anxious to leave.

  "Do you have plans for tonight?" she asks me.

  She's clearly just trying to make conversation to make the time go by faster.

  "No, I'll probably just get some dinner and go home," is my response.

  Since she’s become somewhat of a friend to me, instead of just a boss, we chit chat and are honest with each other. She likes to give me advice, which I appreciate, but clearly she doesn’t know what it’s like to be me. Our lives are very different.

  "Oh, but you're young! You should be out having fun, or with a boyfriend..." she says absent-mindedly, while writing down a few orders that had come in online, for us to fulfill in the morning.

  "I know, but, I just.... haven't met anyone yet," I reply, while putting the broom away.

  We’ve talked about this subject before, but I never want to get into my reasons for not wanting a boyfriend. That would involve entire therapy sessions, no doubt.

  She pauses to give me a look of sympathy.

  "Aw, don't worry. It'll happen, especially with your good looks and curves. You'll be chasing them away."

  She smiles at me, then goes back to writing.

  If only she knew that chasing them away isn’t my problem. It seems to be all I do these days, and why I stopped dating altogether. It’s as if it’s impossible to just have a fun time, going out and making out, without the guy thinking it means I’ll see him again and become his girlfriend.

  But I have goals to focus on and I don’t want to end up miserably dependent on a man, like my mom. So, I just thank Marsha and go back to sweeping, knowing that she just wouldn’t understand.

  Chapter 2 - Andrew

  One Week Later

  “Today is one of those days," I grumble to myself, as I walk into my HR Manager’s office.

  "Now, Andrew," he begins, as I sit in the chair opposite his desk.

  Suddenly I'm already tired of this conversation. Even though I’m the owner of this company, I hate visiting HR just as much as any of the employees do.

  "As you know, one of our employees has just returned from maternity leave,” the HR Manager conti
nues. “As a new mother there are certain....." he pauses to clear his throat,. "…needs that she has to attend to."

  He sounds nervous as he says it.

  "You mean that she needs to pump?" I ask him.

  The irritation in my tone is making him jump. But it’s me I’m irritated with – not him – for overlooking something so obvious.

  I’ve watched my share of TV shows with the theme of the working mom who needs to pump. I just hadn’t thought to bring that concern into my real life and my workplace, which was stupid of me. It’s something I need to build into my workplace manual, right away.

  Everything at my company must have a system, a way of doing things. It’s how I manage to juggle so much at once. I suppose the one thing I’m irritated at my HR Manager about is that I hire people to help me plan out my systems, and it’s his whole job to think about these things in advance, but instead I’m being blamed for it.

  Still, when I really admit it to myself, I know that since I’m the owner and founder of the company, the buck stops with me, and everything is ultimately my fault, so most of my annoyance is aimed at myself.

  "Um, yes..." he stammers.

  "Well? What is the problem then?" I ask.

  His constant failure to get to the point really annoys me. No one has time for this kind of beating around the bush.

  "The current floor plan doesn't have a private space for that. For, um, pumping. She says she needs privacy," he says in a rush.

  I sigh deeply and rub my temples with my fingertips in an effort to calm myself.

  "Then hire someone to build a personal space specifically for pumping," I reply, trying to control my frustration.

  "Ok, anything else?" he asks, taking notes.

  "Yes, write it into the company handbook and bylaws that we'll have plenty of space and time for pumping for employees who are on return from maternity leave," I say, getting up from my chair to show that that settles the matter.

  That’s the way to solve a problem and work it into the system so that it doesn’t happen again. Why I can’t get highly paid professionals to understand and help me do this is beyond me.

  He doesn’t say anything, so I guess it’s my turn to talk again. Sometimes it seems I’m the only one who likes to take charge around here.

  "If that's it, I'm leaving now. I have errands to run," I announce.

  The HR manager keeps his head down and doesn't look up from his notes as I leave. He barely manages to mumble out a “goodbye,” probably because he knows I’m not pleased with how this meeting went.

  I'm on my way out of the office when I bump into my friend Brian.

  "Well, I didn't think you'd be in today," Brian says, by way of a greeting.

  "Eh, I'm on my way out. I had to speak to HR about something," I complain.

  "It’s not easy, running your own business," Brian sympathizes.

  He’s not only my best friend, but he also helps me run my company, which began as a tech start-up but has blossomed into a huge corporation. We have since expanded from our main office in Silicon Valley to this small town of Bloom in Idaho, which has tax incentives for businesses such as ours.

  I know most people think I’m a nerd when I say I’m in tech, but Brian and I aren’t like that. We were both jocks in high school and continue to work out. We have women throwing themselves at us constantly, and not just because of our money – they like our muscles, looks and bad boy vibe, as well.

  I guess we created a whole new style of guy – bad boy billionaire tech business owners.

  Right now, though, Brian looks like he has something on his mind. He wasn’t too happy about giving up big city life to come out here to the middle of nowhere with me, but I’m paying him handsomely, so I hope that helps cancel out any gripes he may have about the arrangement.

  "I need to go get some flowers for my mom’s birthday. Walk with me and tell me what's on your mind," I suggest.

  I like things in my business, as well as in my personal life, to run smoothly and sometimes walking and talking is the only way to get that done. Brian agrees.

  We walk outside and down the sidewalk. It’s a nice day and a short walk to the Love in Bloom flower shop.

  "What's up?" I ask, when Brian doesn't start talking right away.

  He laughs a little.

  "Well, you see..." he starts.

  I sigh again.

  "Look, Brian, you're my best friend and my business partner. Just spit it out," I snap.

  "Whoa, why are you such a grouch today?" he asks.

  "Sorry, it’s just that today has been hectic, and nothing has worked out according to my plans," I admit.

  Brian pats my shoulder in sympathy.

  "I’m sorry; I know how your impatient ass gets and I know you’re under a lot of pressure." he says.

  I shrug that comment off before responding, telling myself it doesn’t sting.

  "Thanks, I guess. So, tell me about your problem."

  He puts his hands in his pockets as we keep walking.

  "Ok, so remember how I was telling you my idea the other day about the auctions?" he asks.

  We slow our pace.

  "Yes," I reply after a moment.

  I vaguely recall that conversation. I've been so busy with the business. And Brian’s right – I’ve never been a very patient person. I tend to skip over long diatribes and just focus in on the important parts of whatever anyone is saying.

  But I do know that Brian is obsessed with attending these auctions he’s into, where billionaires buy women. And that he’s been upset that there are none of these auctions out here in this small town, of course.

  He would tell me about the ones he would go to, and the kinks he likes to have the women engage in with him: tying them up, spanking them, having them have sex with him in public. Brian isn’t just a bad boy billionaire tech business owner – he’s one kinky motherfucker to boot.

  It’s some pretty crazy stuff that he’s into. A lot of kinky shit goes down. And of course there isn’t anything like that going on in Idaho.

  "Well, just to give you a little refresher, since I know you have a lot on your plate these days and may have forgotten, I have some concerns about my plan to bring them to Idaho. This is a small town. There aren't too many options here for something like that, but I really want to try to start one up," he explains.

  We stand outside the flower shop, talking about this very private matter before we go inside.

  "That's true. A big city always has more options for everything," I agree. "I do remember that we’ve been over this before. So, what is it exactly that you’re asking me?"

  I’m trying to get to the point of the conversation, which is essential for efficiency. I need to get back to the office.

  "I need your help. Small towns are not only lacking in options for placing to hold the auctions as well as women to participate in them, but they’re also always strict when it comes to codes and laws. Help me find a place to hold these auctions. Help me avoid legal problems when I find the places?" he pleads, looking around to make sure no one hears us.

  I look around too but am relieved to find that there's still no one within earshot.

  "Okay, I’ll help," I agree, after a moment’s consideration. "You're my friend and you're helping me with my business, so I’ll help you with your own goals, as crazy and perverted as they might be."

  "Great!" he says, and then we both laugh before walking into the Love in Bloom flower shop.

  Brian is already ogling the few women in there. I'm busy walking around but my mind isn't on flowers. Brian has told me some wild things about the auctions he used to run in the city. That's all I can think about.

  This could be an opportunity to have fun. It’s been a while since I was with anyone. Maybe I can join in, bid on a woman, get her naked in my bed.

  I'd have her go down on me first, of course, and I’d enjoy watching her mouth as she sucked on my big, hard
cock. Brian mentioned that anything goes at these things. If you're lucky, sometimes you can get a virgin. That idea excites me a little.

  A woman so shy in my bed.

  No experience, not knowing what to do.

  I imagine the naked woman, her curvy body lay bare for me – just my type – her surprised face as I slide inside her for her very first time.

  Her pussy would feel so good and tight.

  The thrill of knowing that I will always be the first one to have had her would add to the amazing physical feeling I know I’d get from popping her cherry.

  I shake those thoughts out of my head and force myself to focus on what I’m doing. The flower shop is surprisingly busy, so I don't see any available sales associates.

  That's okay, because I don't know what I want yet. I walk around picking up flowers and smelling some of them. Not only do I need to buy flowers for my mom, whose birthday is today, but I should also buy some for that employee who just came back from maternity leave, to apologize for the inconvenience of the lack of a pump room issue.

  Having disgruntled employees does not help my office run smoothly. Plus, I really should have thought that one out more, and had a system in place for moms returning back to work after their maternity leave. The least I can do is apologize.

  I settle on a nice bouquet of red roses for my mom. I still don't know what to send to the employee. I consider asking Brian, but I know he'd be more clueless than I am. I can hear him across the store, trying to flirt with some women who are over there buying flowers.

  I want to roll my eyes, but I have to admire his determination. When it comes to women, he never stops trying. He usually succeeds, too, but it seems to have a detrimental effect on his performance in the workplace.

  When he focuses on things other than getting some tail, though, he can accomplish a lot. He's been a major help to me while opening this new branch of the business. Which is exactly why I agreed to help him with his auction plans.

  Or at least that’s what I tell myself.

  But a part of me knows that I’m a bit curious about them for my own reasons as well. Maybe it’s time I check one out and see what it’s all about. Perhaps I can have some fun, too.