The Virgin Duet

by Alexa Riley

  THE VIRGIN DUET

  Alexa Riley

  Copyright ©2015 Alexa Riley

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, contact riley_alexa@aol.com

  Cover design : © L.J. Anderson at Mayhem Cover Creations

  Formatting by L.J. Anderson at Mayhem Cover Creations

  To Jess, you inspired me, this story, and so many dirty fantasies.

  Thank you.

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from Taking the Fall

  Taking the Fall

  BECS

  Rage bubbles inside me as I look at the imposing double doors of his office. They reach all the way to the high ceiling, and look like you’d have to use all your weight to push them open. On the other side is an arrogant asshole. If you push the doors open he is probably sitting behind a giant desk, or maybe on a throne like a king. I guess he’s king of this building. Mr. Vanilla, as I like to call him just to piss him off, owns the place. I work in the coffee shop downstairs in the building’s lobby. Well, I did until about fifteen minutes ago. I know he’s the reason for my quick termination today, and I’m here to give him a piece of my mind.

  No way am I going back to the shelter. The coffee shop job barely afforded me enough money for the pay-by-the-week motel my older brother and I are staying at. We've been there for the past few months, but anything beat staying at the shelter. One week without a job, and it will force us back there. That’s not something I can handle.

  “Is that asshole boss of yours in there?” I snap at the woman sitting at the desk in front of the double doors.

  Jerking her head up, she looks at me in shock, but her face quickly turns to disgust. Of course he has a perfect-looking assistant sitting outside his office. Sun-streaked blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun, crystal-blue eyes with thin black-framed glasses, and a low-cut top. Very low cut. She looks like she could do the whole sexy librarian turned seductress thing at any moment. Maybe that’s what she does.

  I can tell from the scrunch of her nose she finds me repulsive. I’m her polar opposite in every way. We might both have blonde hair but it clearly ends there. My blonde is a brighter shade than hers, but mine is also streaked with pink and purple. The dye makes my eyes appear more purple than they really are. I can see her long legs under the desk, and shoes that probably cost what I make in three months. If she stands up, I’m sure she’ll tower over my five three height. My black military-style lace-up boots give me no extra help in that department. She’s thin and I can tell she puts time into maintaining herself. Total opposites.

  “I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” she squeaks at me in a voice that sounds like nails on a chalkboard. She reaches for her desk phone, I’m sure to call security, because I am after all half naked. I’m dressed only in a bra, black pants and my boots. No way was I letting that dipshit downstairs take fifty dollars out of my last check for my uniform, and I have no plans of ever seeing his face again. He had the balls, after firing me, to suggest I drop to my knees and he’d pay for other services if I needed the money so bad. When I started to unbutton my top the little fucker thought he was getting what he wanted. All he got was my shirt and apron thrown at him. Well, and a black eye. I can still feel the sting on my knuckles from the punch. Oh, yeah, his eye is going to be a nice black and purple come morning. Growing up in foster care, I learned how to throw a mean punch.

  Seeing that my time has now become limited, I walk past her and push open both doors.

  “Cindy I told you—” his words cut off when he looks up and sees me. Jaw clenching, nose flaring as he takes in my attire, or lack thereof. Today, like every day, he’s wearing a three-piece suit, which is the same grey as his eyes. He’s always so neatly put together. Even his stupid handsome face is all straight, perfect lines. Every time he came into the coffee shop I wanted to mess him up. I always want to run my fingers through his hair and give him that freshly fucked look. I thought about rubbing my lips across his neck, leaving a smudge of my lip gloss there so he didn’t look so perfect. The first time he came in, he gave me a half smile and ordered a plain black coffee. No cream or sugar. Not even a flavor. Seems that’s how he likes everything. Every day he would come in and get his coffee and engage me in a little bit of conversation. I looked forward to seeing him. He was different than the other suits. Most either treated me like I could be a quick fuck for them, or gave me a look of distaste.

  Then one day he came in with a woman. I had my back to him, but I could hear them talking. Taking a quick glance over my shoulder, I could see the woman with him was beautiful. She was elegant in a way I can never imagine being. She said to him, “She looks out of place. I’m shocked they let her work here looking like that.” His only response was “I’m sure she would clean up nice if she actually tried.” It had been a long time since I’d been hurt by someone’s words and it pissed me off. So, that day, the games began. Gone were my sweet smiles and my excitement at seeing him. I know I look different. I like my pink and purple hair, my loud nail polish, and lip gloss. It’s me. I stopped trying to fit into other people’s molds when I left the foster system. I didn’t have to pretend to be anyone but me.

  I tried to make his life hell whenever he came into the shop after that. Maybe if I was a big enough bitch he would stop coming. I am pissed that I let myself believe that he liked me.

  Glancing around his office, it’s all so cold—glass and chrome. It makes goosebumps break out on my exposed skin. Everything in his office is perfectly in its place, just like him. I keep looking around, not wanting to meet his eyes yet.

  “Well, Bray, I didn’t know you hired entertainment for the meeting,” says the man sitting across from Mr. Vanilla aka Bray. He never gave me his first name, but I kind of like it. Only after he pissed me off, and I started calling him Mr. Vanilla, did he tell me who he was. They’d poked fun at the way I looked, and I know it was childish of me, but I wanted to do the same to him. So when he asked me why I called him that, I told him “Because you couldn’t be more plain and boring if you tried.” That’s when he informed me he was Mr. Spencer. When I didn’t respond, he added, “Mr. Spencer as in Spencer Holding, the man who owns this whole goddamn building.” This still got nothing more from me than an eye roll. Like I gave a shit.

  I look over at the other man, and he looks just as put together as Bray. That guy seems more laid back, with a smile playing at his lips. He’s attractive, but not as handsome as Bray. I’m starting to think no one is.

  “I can be some entertainment for the right price, if that’s what you’re looking for. It turns out I’m in the market for a new job,” I say, shooting Mr. Vanilla a hard look before turning back to the other man an
d winking.

  “Is that right? I’d be more than willing to help out a woman in need,” he says as he adjusts himself. I’m not a promiscuous girl. In fact, I’m a virgin. But I know how to use my body to get what I want. A little flirting can go a long way to getting things when you need them. I’m not holding on to my virginity, I just never had a reason or desire to give it up. I don’t think I ever felt attraction until I met Bray. Then he reminded me he’s just like the rest.

  Glancing back over at Bray, I can see his mouth has fallen open in shock. When his eyes lock with mine his anger shines through. That’s a first. This might be the most emotion I’ve ever seen from him. I want to push it. I want him as mad as I am. He comes into my job and gets me fired. Well, I’ll come into his office and cause havoc. Maybe even mess up a business deal.

  As I make my way towards the other man, I run my finger along one of the shelves that line the wall. One by one I start pushing things off the shelf with a soft shove. The trinkets hit the marble floor, their crashes ringing out in the room. Things break but I don’t skip a beat.

  A loud female gasp behind me lets me know that Cindy is back.

  “Security is on their way, Mr. Spencer,” she squeaks in that same voice as before. How he deals with that every day is a wonder. He doesn’t acknowledge her, he just keeps staring at me while I continue my assault on his shelves. When I reach the end, I turn and make my way over to the other man, stopping when I’m standing between his legs.

  I make my intentions known by raising my eyebrows and looking down at him in his seat. When he pats his lap I straddle him.

  “Want a taste?” I ask huskily. “You know, before you buy it.”

  I glance back over at Bray who is now white-knuckling his glass desk. He looks to be gripping it so hard it could actually shatter under his grasp. Turning back to the guy I’m sitting on, I lean in to kiss him. I feel his breath hit my lips, but before he makes contact, I’m in the air. I feel myself fly off his lap and land behind Bray, who now faces his friend. I can tell he’s enraged without having to see his face. His fists are clenched at his sides and I can see him taking long hard breaths as if he just ran a marathon.

  “Out, Smith,” he growls.

  “It’s like that?” Smith asks.

  “Yeah, it’s like that. I’ve known you a long time, and I really don’t want to come to blows with you.”

  “I know. That’s what so intriguing about this. You’re jealous over a woman?”

  Did he just say jealous? Yeah, right. So jealous he got me fired from my job so he didn’t have to see my face anymore.

  “All right, I’ll see you at the charity event next month. You’re bringing Chelsea with you, right?”

  I hate the shot of jealousy that pierces me when I hear he has a date with another woman.

  “Probably. I always do. I’ll see you then.”

  I hear Smith exit the room but can’t see him with Bray blocking my view. Scooting out from behind him, I move to get away from him a little bit. A jolt of desire fizzed through my body when he grabbed me. I didn’t think he wanted me, but now I’m not so sure. Is he pissed that I’m causing chaos in his office? Or is he pissed I straddled his friend?

  “She’s the one, right there. Get her. Call the cops. I’m sure Mr. Spencer wants her arrested. Look what she did to his office!” Cindy cries out like she can’t fathom what has just happened.

  Two hulking men make their way towards me and I stumble back, almost slipping over one of the ornaments I knocked off the shelf. That would have been some insta-karma right there.

  “Do. Not. Touch. Her,” Bray growls again. Now that I think about it, everything he’s said since I came into his office has been a growl—so different from his normally calm, self-controlled voice.

  Both guards halt in their tracks. For once, I’m actually thankful for Bray’s presence. I don’t want two giant men manhandling me.

  “Yeah, Hulk One and Hulk Two. Touch me and you won’t be able to piss for a fucking week,” I taunt.

  “Cindy, I don’t recall asking you to call security.” Bray says in his usual controlled voice. He slips off his suit jacket and vest, and lays them over the back of one of the chairs. Then he starts unbuttoning his shirt. What the fuck?

  “Sir, she barged in here and destroyed your office,” she trills.

  “God, how do you listen to that voice every day? Are you a masochist or something? She must give grade-A head,” I wonder, while looking down to make sure my boobs haven’t popped out of my bra. Thank God I wore my nice one today.

  “You, shut your mouth,” he barks at me. He flings his shirt in my direction and I catch it. Then he turns around. “And you,” he says pointing at Cindy. “Call the cleaning service, and then you can go home for the day.”

  “But, sir, we still—”

  “Enough! I gave you your instructions, Cindy. You’re dismissed.” Cindy shoots me a death glare but I just smirk. Dropping Bray’s shirt on the floor, I make my way over to his desk and flop down in his chair. I put my feet up on the glass, but not before I knock his computer mouse to the floor with my foot.

  Cindy huffs and stomps out of the room. Both security men just stare at my tits.

  “Like what you see, boys? It just so happens I’m looking—”

  “Out!” Bray yells, making us all jump a little. I can see the veins in his neck strain. Bray isn’t a giant like Hulk One and Hulk Two—he’s leaner with broad shoulders and a narrow waist—but those guys seem to be intimidated by him. It’s hard to see all of his body as he’s still wearing his tight white undershirt, but I can just about make out his shape. The shirt clings to his trim body like a second skin and I feel a little drool on my lip.

  “Jesus, don’t you have any manners at all, Mr. Vanilla? You could ask nicely and I would leave— maybe,” I say breezily, but make no move to get up. I’m not leaving. I’m not done with him yet. He still owes me a job and I’m starting to really think he’s jealous. Why not just let security take me? This is something I can use.

  “Not you. You keep your little ass in that chair.” Well, shit. It’s not as fun sitting in his chair if he wants me here. I sat here to further piss him off.

  “You two, I want you out. Don’t ever touch her. Got it?”

  “Yes, sir, we apologize,” they say in unison before turning and leaving the room. I can’t help but roll my eyes. Mr. Spencer barks an order and everyone follows. Probably how I lost my job. He went down there told them he wanted me gone and, bam, I’m gone.

  “Well, now look what you did. You just ran off two more potential customers. You’re just costing me all kinds of money today, and it’s starting to really chap my ass.”

  “Are you saying you’re a hooker, Rebecca?”

  The use of my name throws me off. No one has called me Rebecca in forever. I hate that name.

  “Well, desperate times call for desperate measures, not that you’d know anything about that, but I sure as hell don’t want to go back to the shelter. My brother and I have to make rent and he’s out of work right now.” I inwardly groan. Why did I tell him that? And why am I embarrassed about it? I don’t do embarrassed.

  I see sympathy flash across his eyes.

  “Don’t,” I put my hand up before he can turn this into a pity party. Of course, I wasn’t going to sleep with those men, but when I saw the emotion he showed when I first joked about it, I couldn’t help myself. I had to poke the bear a little. “I don’t need your pity. I know how to get by on my own, and I’ve been doing it for years. What I really didn’t need though, is you getting me fired. I liked that job.” Okay, that’s a lie. I hated that job, but it’s the nicest job I’ve ever had.

  “I didn’t get you fired.”

  “Bullshit,” I retort. He had something to do with it. “But what you’re going to do is get me another job, or I’ll keep making your life difficult. As you can see, I’ve got the time to invest in doing it.” He has to have something for me to do around here. He own
s a freaking building, for God’s sake. Who knows what else he owns.

  “How old are you?” he asks.

  “Twenty-three.”

  He shoots me a look that tells me he knows I’m full of shit. “Old enough,” I finally say.

  “Do you really whore yourself out?” he asks, making his way over to me. I’m shocked when he easily lifts me from his chair, sitting me on his desk and sliding himself between my legs.

  “Why? You looking?” I ask. Why would he need a hooker? A couple of the girls from the shelter make easy money selling themselves. I’ve never been that desperate, but I understand why they do it. I don’t judge them for it. My life hasn’t been as rough as some of the other girls’. I lucked out. Might be shitty luck but it’s still luck. I bet women fall all over him, so I don’t understand why he would need to pay to get laid. Whoever this Chelsea is, I’m sure she’d give him some. “No. Honestly, I’ve never whored myself out, but maybe if the price was right. Maybe if I was desperate enough.” Pausing, I look up into his eyes. He presses against me, and I can feel his cock is hard. “Does it make you hard thinking you could buy me? What do you think virginity goes for these days? Maybe I’m in the market to sell after all.”

  BRAY

  My fists grip my desk on either side of Rebecca’s legs, and I stand between them, with my thick cock pushing against her. My body is trembling at this touch, and I won’t be able to last much longer. I’ve never been this close to a woman’s body before.

  Her words finally sink in and I realize, not only is she a virgin, but she’s offering it up for a price.

  “Are you seriously offering to sell your body to me?” I question, disgusted with myself for actually thinking about taking her up on her offer. I think about sliding myself into her and making her mine. I don’t know where these thoughts are coming from. I’ve never had these feelings before. I’ve always been able to suppress every desire I’ve ever had. She’s different, and she doesn't understand that she’s baiting me.