Forbidden Virgin

by Carmen Falcone

  Her jaw dropped. “How did it go?”

  “She’s been clean for ten years, but her health isn’t the best. She’s in a nursing home now.”

  She smiled. “Are you okay?”

  He kissed her hands. “I am now. You make it all worth it, Kate.”

  “You give me too much credit but I’ll take it. I love you, Graham.” She lowered her lips to his, and kissed him with all the tenderness and love she could master.

  “I can’t wait until we’re home so I can take you again,” he whispered when one of them—she wasn’t sure who— stopped the kiss for a gulp of air.

  She nibbled his jaw. “Are you going to fuck me like I’ve been a good girl or a bad girl?”

  Chuckling, he flipped her so her back pressed against the leather seat. “I’m fucking you like you’ve been my girl. My dirty girl,” he said, and she wrapped her legs around his torso as he snatched her deliciously close. “Forever,” he said, cementing that promise with one deep thrust.

  Epilogue

  Five years later…

  Graham twisted the key in the handle. He should have gotten his own birthday off from work, but an important meeting kept him busy. Besides, Kate had promised she’d get him a gift he’d love—and he in turn promised he’d be home in time to give little Jackson a bath and put him to sleep.

  When he opened the door though, a flash had him squinting his eyes, and a loud “Surpriiiise” in unison made him blink. Oh, Kate. He should have known.

  A couple dozen of his closest friends and family members stood in his spacious living room. Sheri waved at him, next to her boyfriend of two years. Jacob lifted a flute of champagne, while Anna kissed Jackson’s head.

  Kate sashayed to him wearing an elegant halter-top white dress. “Happy forty-fifth birthday, love,” she said, and kissed his cheek.

  “Thanks. Thanks, everyone,” he said, and lifted his hand to greet the friends who shouted his name.

  “Daddy,” Jackson said, running to his arms. “There’s birthday cake,” he said, pointing at the two-tier cake at the corner of an impeccable table of canapés and hot dishes.

  “I missed you buddy,” he said, and gave his three-year-old a hug. Jackson’s sparkling green eyes—like his mother’s— flickered with happiness.

  Little jolts of joy moved through Graham during the next hour. What else could he ask for? His business had never looked better, and ever since the birth of their son, Jacob had stretched an olive branch to him and their friendship had been repaired. In fact, they were even closer now after everything.

  “Do you like it?” Kate whispered in his ear.

  He took a sip of his champagne. “Not the surprise I had in mind, but amazing party.”

  “Oh, the night’s not over. Come to our room,” she said, and winked at him.

  He watched her disappear into the crowd discreetly, and after a few minutes did the same. Excitement throbbed inside him when he entered their master bedroom.

  “Kate?” he called.

  “Here,” she answered from the walk-in closet. “I don’t want anyone to hear us,” she said, and closed the French doors behind him after he joined her.

  “Yes, I know how you like to get loud,” he said, placing her on the counter where usually she set clothes before putting them on. She opened her legs, and reached for his belt, unbuckling it.

  “Only with you,” she said.

  A gift he would never take for granted. She pulled down his pants and boxers, and he helped her, kicking them to the side. She stroked his cock, and he groaned. Didn’t matter how often they screwed; each time a part of him found more pleasure in her touch.

  He captured her lips with his for a kiss, and like usual, soon they were breathless, forehead against forehead, eyes semi-closed. His blood traveled to his dick quicker than he could speak.

  “I want to watch you fucking me,” she said, and pointed at the full-length mirror to the left side.

  What had he done to deserve this crazy, adventurous, vibrant woman? He didn’t know but he’d spend the end of his days earning her love.

  He positioned himself behind her and placed her in front of the mirror. She touched the edge of the counter for support, and he snuck his hand into her dress. She quivered against him, her eyes pinned on the mirror. He couldn’t help but watch them with peaked interest.

  “You’re so hot, Kate,” he said, fondling her breasts under the fabric. Motherhood had only made them bigger. He groaned against her ear, and she moaned—low at first, but then he had to put a finger into her mouth to distract her and keep her from revealing their quickie to the guests downstairs.

  He pulled the hem of her dress, and pulled her to him until their bodies molded perfectly. She arched toward him, and he thrust his cock inside her pussy. She parted her lips, sucking his index finger, her eyes so focused on him that he almost came too fast. “Later we’ll do this the right away,” he said. “Now we just need to get off.”

  He flicked her clit, and she shook her head from side to side but he stilled her, lifting her jaw so she would stare at her reflection. “Look at yourself, Kate. You’re gorgeous. I love you more than I did five years ago when we got married.”

  “I love you too, baby,” she whimpered. “So much.”

  He intensified the flicking of her tender bundle, as he thrust into her, quick, fast and hard—giving them what they both needed. Soon she shook, pleasure hitting her but she didn’t take her eyes off of the mirror and neither did he.

  He released himself into her, groaning, growling and trembling.

  When they both stood upright, she recomposed her dress then said, “Remember the surprise I mentioned?”

  “Yeah?”

  She climbed on a stool and grabbed a device from the top of the mirror. A small black camera he hadn’t noticed before. “I bought a special camera. You know, so we can film ourselves and you can watch it when you have to travel out of town and feel lonely.”

  A lovely shade of pink stained her cheeks. “I love the surprise. And I love you,” he said, giving her a hug.

  One lifetime, that would be it. One lifetime filled with joy, peace and best of all …Kate.

  ~The End~

  Want more smexy? Check out the first chapter of Forbidden Inmate:

  “Inmate, take off your shirt,” Trent said when she entered his perfectly organized office. “A source told me you’re contra banding lingerie and I need to make sure that’s not the case.” His voice dropped an octave, sending little thrills of excitement through her.

  Mia Singer stared deep into his gaze. His deep azure eyes had a hypnotizing effect. The irises were fiery cobalt, but the little flecks around it hinted at a gentler blue. He gestured with his index finger, and she removed the ugly khaki shirt over her head. When she removed it completely, the little hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

  She knew she shouldn’t ogle, but her eyes skimmed the impossibly tall, broad shouldered hottie who belonged in a Hollywood movie—a thriller rather than a rom-com.

  Trent slid his finger down her neck, and she quivered. She sucked in a breath causing her tingling breasts to rise. Her nipples tightened against her bra. “Like what you see?”

  “No man will ever turn down a red lacy Victoria’s Secret,” he said, his gaze gliding between the valley of her breasts, making her heart flip in her chest. “But it’s still wrong to sneak in unauthorized merchandise.”

  She unhooked the clasp of her bra, and lifted her chin in defiance. “Maybe there’s a way we can work on a common ground?”

  He pushed her against the wall, and the bra slid off her arms. Her breath caught in her dry throat. “I’m all for common ground, Singer. So much that I want to finish this conversation naked. On the ground.”

  He touched her tits, and she gasped. His hand was strong, manly, commanding. Her pussy clenched.

  He’d screw her good. A jolt of anticipation moved through her body. And for once, she’d let him—

  An annoying sou
nd rang in her ears. She pressed her lips together to prevent an inconvenient moan from escaping. She embraced him tighter against her to keep him from vanishing, yet the noise persisted, and when she looked up, he was gone.

  Well, crap.

  Startled, she opened her eyes and glanced around. The stupid prison alarm yanked her from her reverie.

  Mia had never been a morning person, but five a.m. pushed the limits. She heard her other three bunk mates mumble something and just nodded.

  To confirm her sad reality, she peaked into her shirt and found the faded beige bra instead of the Victoria’s Secret lingerie. At least the yucky underwear stayed the hell out of her fantasy—she called them birth control fabric.

  What the hell? She’d done most of her time. She’d survived fifteen months at a federal minimum-security facility and in two more months she’d be out.

  Yet for the past twelve weeks, her life had changed dramatically. Her counselor Mr. Lawrence retired and newcomer Trent replaced him. She’d started having forbidden fantasies including Trent and, at times, she wondered if he knew. Whenever she’d gone for their weekly sessions, she’d shifted in her seat, restless, crossing and uncrossing her legs, trying hard to conceal the delicious ardor burning her insides. Whenever he’d asked her anything her answers were monosyllabic and vague. He must think I’m crazy. Though hadn’t she caught him staring at her in silence? She swore a time or two his gaze slid down her neck and a smile curled at the corner of his mouth.

  “Watcha thinking about Singer?” Jessica Thomaz, one of the older inmates asked. “You seem worried.”

  “Oh.” She waved Jessica off. “Nothing. I’m good.”

  In the morning, she went through the motions of sharing the bathroom with another twenty inmates in the midst of showering, brushing teeth and slapping on whatever minimum makeup Leland Correctional Center approved. Afterwards, she headed to the outside garden. Every few months, they rotated jobs so everyone learned new skills. The garden had been her favorite job so far. She loved being outdoors, touching dirt, and planting.

  Before her appointment with Trent at the end of the afternoon she managed to stop by her bunk and put on some gloss, clean herself up and brush her teeth. During her stint in jail, she’d succeeded at going against her every instinct. Being invisible turned into her survival mode; it helped her keep out of fights and she even managed to make a couple of friends. Leland had suffocated her so much she’d have to relearn to breath on her own once she left.

  She inhaled and read the sign in front of his room, Trent Coleman. The golden plaque was the only delicate thing about it. The door seemed a lot sturdier than the others in the hallway, and also unlike the others didn’t have a clear window to peek inside.

  She smoothed down her hair, hoping her usually straight bob wouldn’t get all frizzy. At least summer had just ended. God, the humidity never favored fine hair.

  “Singer. Come in,” he said, standing in the center of the room, as usual.

  Mr. Lawrence often sat on his chair, rocking it back and forth as he spoke. He’d occasionally fuss over his glasses as he talked to her, but he never treated her the way Trent did. Trent waited until she sat on the chair across from him before taking a seat, and sometimes she imagined what kind of fabulous date he’d be. He’d probably bring flowers and be a generous lover. In her wet dreams he excelled at any and every sexual activity.

  “You wanted to see me?”

  “Yes. We’re experimenting and trying something new: we’ll be more hands-on before your release. I want to make sure inmates like you who have had good behavior during your stay have every chance you get to succeed after you’re released. So I’ll see you more often to give you the confidence you need to brave the world,” he said. She assumed inmates like you also meant without prior conviction and non-violent crimes.

  “You talk like I’ve been tucked away in some post-apocalyptic underground. I can watch Modern Family in the TV room,” she said, and to water down the unplanned sarcasm in her voice, she smiled.

  He cleared his throat, and his eyes flew to hers. He held her folder, but didn’t open it. She shifted in the chair, and wished the stomach sinking sensation would stop. Why did they need the extra sessions? Every time she sat in front of him a crazy lust overpowered her, leaving her two options: staying silent or acting on it. How much longer will I be able to keep this up?

  For an endless minute, their gazes connected. She had no idea what exactly he said to her without words, but her unsexy panties melted in anticipation.

  Finally, he opened her folder and said, “In over a year you’ve only received a couple of visits. What’s up with that? Do you have anyone to go back to?”

  She blinked, and shook her head. “Why does it matter?”

  “Inmates do better when they have a support system after they leave,” he said steadily.

  “My family… I love my parents but I asked them not to come. I know it hurts them to see me here.” Besides, her elderly parents deserved better. That had been why she’d ended up at Leland to make sure nothing bad happened to Tina and Charles Singer. Her time at Leland meant they’d enjoy their retirement in good health and alive.

  He ran his fingers through his short-textured hair and gave her a once over that lingered. Her heart throbbed at the base of her throat. Did she see a silver fleck in his eyes or was she imagining things?

  “I understand.” He squared his shoulders, stretching the navy blue uniform. “How about a significant other?”

  Did he need her to spell things out? She’d dealt with a lot of humiliation in the past year. Her body belonged to the state pretty much. She couldn’t do a third of the things she’d wanted to. Yet, his persistent personal questions stung her like a bee in the darkness. “I… you must know by my file what happened to me,” she said, producing the kind of neutral smile that usually worked when her bunkmates asked her about her opinion on shit she completely didn’t agree with.

  “You confessed to dealing drugs and worked a plea deal for lesser time.”

  If only it’d been that easy, but she’d learned nobody cared for the truth and in her case the truth hurt her. She’d chosen to take the guilt, because fuck it, she’d been the idiot who dated a guy with a rocky criminal past. She’d expected him to change but she’d been the one who changed. Prison had been her punishment, but not for the crime people believed she committed.

  “There’s something different about you, Singer. You’re not an addict. You managed to stay out of and avoid any kind of fights. Lawrence said good things about you. I have been seeing you for three months, yet I can’t get through,” he said, leaning closer and if the desk didn’t separate them she’d be nervous. Very nervous.

  She pushed down the lump of apprehension in her throat. “Does that mean anything? Does being reserved keep me from leaving in two months?” She hated how defensive she sounded.

  He ran his fingers down his face, and sighed. “No. It keeps me from doing a better job.”

  “I won’t tell. Not that my opinion means anything but if anyone asks I’ll say you’re wonderful.”

  “I used to work at L.A. correctional facility. Trust me I’ve seen it all. What are you hiding?” he said, his voice lowering and sending chills down her spine.

  God. Lawrence never asked these Freudian inquisitive questions. He filled out his paperwork and sent her on her way. Why did this man want to analyze her like she was some rich housewife whose husband died under suspicious conditions? “You make me uncomfortable.”

  A flicker gleamed in his eyes like she sparked his interest. “Why?”

  “Because you’re good looking,” she blurted out. He’d asked, didn’t he? And complimenting him would hardly get her in trouble. Her shoulders dropped with a measure of relief like she just shared a dirty secret she found impossible to keep. She had never told a soul about the crazy attraction she felt toward him.

  He frowned and leaned in his chair, maybe unsure of what to make of her comment. “G
ood looking people always make you uncomfortable?”

  “No. Just you,” she said, unable to hide her accusatory tone.

  “Why?”

  “Because if we weren’t in here, if we had met under different circumstances… I’d want to date you. Maybe even sleep with you. I’m not saying you’d date me, but I’d at least try. That thought doesn’t leave my head when you’re around which is why I have to watch every word so I won’t let it slip accidentally,” she said, and her hand flew to her lips. Shit. What had she done? Damn it, Mia. You started out so well.

  Cold sweat slicked her palms. Unfiltered, brutally honest Mia didn’t belong at Leland. And honesty certainly wouldn’t do her any favors in a session with her appointed counselor.

  Tension crackled in the air. She parted her lips but no sound came out. Should she apologize? I complimented him, how’s that breaking any laws? She drew in some air.

  Trent watched her in silence for an instant that stretched into eternity. What if he sent her to the maximum-security unit as punishment? She’d never gone but had heard stories that place made suicide a viable alternative. “I think we’re done for today. Please sign here,” he said, giving her a pen and the piece of paper to confirm they’d had a session.

  She scrambled her name and stood. He stood too. She sighed, how embarrassing. She clenched the pen, clicking the top. Anxiety thrummed in her veins and she dropped the paper when she motioned to give it to him. She quickly fell to her knees and grabbed it, and surged upright again. “Here,” she said.

  “The pen.” He pointed at the pen she still clenched.

  “Oh. Sure.” She loosened the grip on the pen, opened her palm so he’d get it and hopefully not notice her hand trembling. He placed his hand on hers to make the exchange, she expected him to move away, but he didn’t.