Gambling For The Virgin: A Dark Billionaire Romance

by Dark Angel

  That’s what’s really unlocking me to the core. Lucy makes me want to be free to be whatever it is that I’ve become.

  But if I was, would she even want to be near me?

  I pucker my lips to just above her knee, kissing soft as a wind in spring. My other hand trails up her skirt and finds the soft vee of her cotton panties, encasing what I need but what I’ll take time to get to. Not just because of some gentle act … I have a compulsion to worship every inch of her, here and now, when she’s real and in front of me. It almost feels like if I don’t touch Lucy as much as I can, she’s going to fade away.

  Her hands are in my hair, not with any particular goal and just to touch me. No one has ever touched me so tenderly and it cracks something hard in my chest that breaks free a wellspring of emotions. My fingertips sweep back and forth over her panties, inside her thighs, and back, before I sweep in and pull down her panties, in one hand, but still gentle and soft. When they slide down her thighs, down to her ankles, I don’t let her step out of them, my other hand holding her leg in place. I like having her so gently captive, at my mercy while I try to worship her with the grace she deserves.

  “You have no idea what you’ve done, walking into my life, Lucy,” I whisper against her inner thigh, kissing her.

  “I don’t have to know, I just need you,” Lucy says, and I realize she heard what I said.

  Her words shake me to the deepest part of me, buried deep behind the mask of who I am every day.

  God, that woman could penetrate my armor if it was forged in the pits of hell. Some days, that’s exactly how I feel, and yet here Lucy is and she’s at my side. For now.

  My teeth graze over her knees, softly skirting the flesh and not breaking skin or even being so rough to even qualify as a bite. My fingers slide over her bared pussy softly but don’t enter her yet. I just need to feel every part of her, slide through her folds and feel how wet they are, how ready for me they are. I let my thumb slide up to her clit. The bud is swollen with need and I can’t deny her what her body needs. Sliding two fingers in her pussy and working them into a curl to softly stroke her G-spot, I ghost my thumb over her clit. I have to be really gentle as I’m going right to the money spots. I want to stroke her, tease her, bring her to that point where she’s ready to fall apart in my hands. I stroke her, looking up at her gorgeous face. I see how she whimpers, little sighs escaping with her breaths. Her breathing hitches in her throat and gets more shallow, and I know she’s close. My lips on her thighs, kissing her softly, licking at her soft skin to taste her, bringing her to shiver. That’s when I know she’s close and I’m not ready to let go of her just yet. I scoop her up into my arms.

  Carrying her to the bed, I lie her down like she’s so fragile she might shatter. I slide my hand from under her skirt slowly because I’m not going to let her shatter just yet. I press my fingers into her skin, cascading down her leg as my hand exits. I hook my thumbs under her skirt and slide it off. I pull her shirt up and off. Her hands are on her bra and I watch her take it off as I pull off my own clothes. I keep myself from tearing off my clothes in a mad fury. There’s a fury building so strong inside of me I would've shredded it all in a second flat, but I’m not trying to be rough. I’m being tender. Savoring every moment of tonight.

  Because I know the truth. Sooner or later, because I’ve told Lucy that she can go, she’s going to see me for who I am, and when she does, she’s going to leave.

  I want to remember today forever.

  I’m memorizing the taste of her skin, the curves of her body. Because every night when I close my eyes, that’s all that my mind can conjure. But when she’s gone, I won’t be able to pull her tight against me while we sleep.

  Lucy shoots me a mischievous look and then gets up on her hands and knees, pressing her ass up in the air and in my direction. God, she has a wicked mind that I love to plumb the depths of. Not so long ago, she’d never been kissed. Now she’s inviting me to fuck her from behind with the gorgeous half moons of her ass calling for my hands.

  I suck in a breath and grip each of her ass cheeks with my palms, holding handfuls of her and stroking my cock up her pussy slit. Damn, she feels amazing. My cock is so hot rubbing against her pussy that if it weren’t for how wet she was, I’d be afraid we were going to start a fire.

  I slam into her and fuck her so deep, so hard, so fast, that neither of us can breathe for several seconds. I keep fucking her, hard, slamming deep into her pussy and rocking my hips with every thrust to make sure I’m claiming every inch of her. My hands grip her hips and I thrust again and again until I feel just how ready she is.

  “Cum for me, Lucy,” I say fast, trying to catch my breath again. My heart races at the feel of her pussy gripping my cock so hard that I groan out loud. I bury myself inside her and cum so much I can feel our cum dripping down her thighs. I like defiling that sweet pussy and mingling our cum together so damn much. Her legs are ready to give out, so I pull her up against me, and then pull us both onto the bed. I slide my cock out of her and hold her against me, savoring the scent of her skin while she shakes. Little tremors from the afterglow of us fucking. My hands hold onto her so tight you’d think I was trying keep her from flying out the side of an airplane. Because losing her will crush me.

  I know I have to tell her that I’m married. I know it because I want her to marry me, and that’s not going to happen unless I dump off the woman I’m currently married to. Which shouldn’t be too hard because my current wife was trying to get Lucy’s brother to kill me.

  11

  Lucy

  Gian doesn’t bring up the argument again, and really doesn’t bring up anything for a while. We talk about how my brother is doing well and how I should go visit him soon, but not yet because he’s having a difficult time with the detox. I believe Gian, but I can tell that there’s something else that Gian isn’t telling me.

  I don’t confront him about this or whatever sin from his love life that Margot doesn’t want to tell me about. I’m just not ready. I'm tense and frustrated, and right now I don’t want to drown in the overwhelming tides of my relationship with Gian. I don’t want to think about how my brother is suffering. I know he’s getting help. I know that when the time is right I’ll talk with Gian.

  I realize what I need more than anything is for Margot and I to hang out tonight. I go down to the spa, and when she sees what I’m wearing, her eyes get super wide.

  “We should dance tonight,” I tell her.

  “Are you sure … after—“ Margot looks weary.

  And I can understand why. But I don’t want to worry about anything tonight. “I need to feel unburdened and unstressed like I did before that really terrible ending to the last time we danced. I told Gian that I can do what I want with my body, and if he still has a problem, then it's with me.”

  Margot looks convinced and I can tell that she would much rather be having fun than being worried.

  “My brother is not doing so well and I just need a distraction,” I say quietly.

  “Oh, babe,” Margot says and rubs my shoulders. “Sure thing babe. I had customers from hell today,” she whisper to me. “I could use some relief. Let me finish closing up and then we’ll go to the club.”

  When we slink backstage, my stomach turns at little at how poorly the last dance ended. But everything before that was fun, and this time should be fun, too.

  Margot and I pick a good ballad and tease out our hair. This is for us. The fact that our boobs are pushed up so high they might touch our noses is basically beside the point.

  I already feel lighter and happier.

  When the music starts, she and I go out and dance as if there is no one there to watch and it's just she and I having fun.

  But I do look to the audience as our number ends … and I can’t believe what I’m seeing!

  Gian is in the audience, meeting with that same man from before. And though I see Gian grit his teeth, he gives me a small smile. I know he’s trying to let me d
o my own thing and that neither of us wants to have another fight.

  Which may have worked out perfectly fine if a guy several tables up hadn’t grabbed my ass when I got closer to the end of the stage.

  It happens so fast that I almost don’t process it. Gian punches that guy right in the face, hard enough for blood to spatter on Gian’s crisp white shirt and make a loud, wet sound that makes me cringe.

  Some security guys cart the guy off, who looks so shocked. I bet that guy never grabs another ass in his life, and good riddance.

  But now Gian is totally pissed.

  “You just don’t know how to keep your women under control. Though this situation is definitely much better than our little murderous wife cadre,” the man with Gian says.

  Oh God.

  Gian is married. That has to be what that means. But I see Gian every day and I know that he was living in that penthouse suite. I should be angrier, but I trust Gian to know that there is more to this story. I still don’t want to fight with Gian.

  “Take me home, when you can,” I say to Gian.

  Gian narrows his eyes at the man he was talking to. “It's done for. Square?”

  “Square,” that man says, and he walks out of the club.

  Margot walks over to Gian and I, and I give her a hug. “We have bad luck with hobbies, so I guess it probably wouldn’t be safe to put us near knitting needles or anything,” I say to her with a laugh.

  She laughs nervously.

  Gian is nice enough to smile tentatively.

  “I’m going to head home for the night. Breakfast tomorrow, Lucy?” Margot says with her own weak smile.

  “Definitely babe. Though I’m probably going to see Tommy tomorrow, so it'll be quick,” I tell her. That’s when the nurse on duty had said would be the first day that I could visit. I can’t wait to see Tommy, even though I know he’s been through hell. I want to see him and hug him and tell him that soon he’ll be on the other side of all of this.

  “Yeah, sure thing,” Margot says and turns to leave.

  “Lucy, I have to tell you…” Gian starts.

  “Take me upstairs and fuck me, Gian,” I say, stepping up on my tiptoes and wrapping my arms around Gian’s neck. “I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to talk. I’m worried about Tommy and I just need to feel you inside me right now.”

  “Hard to argue with that,” Gian says, eyes hooded with lust, his finger gliding along my jawline.

  I need him so badly right now … I really don’t want to fight or talk about anything until I work out all the tension that built right back up inside of me with this incident.

  I grab his other hand and see that the blood on his knuckles isn’t his, and I wipe it off on the tank top I’m wearing.

  Something about this amuses Gian and we head for the elevator, time suspended from the tension at hand because we’re both thinking about how much we want to fuck.

  12

  Gian

  “I want you inside me now, Gian,” Lucy says. Her eyes are pleading. Is this a distraction because of the argument? Is this because of the argument — Lucy doesn’t strike me as that type, but there are women who enjoy that sort of getting riled and getting defiled thing. Or can this be what I truly hope it is … that she wants me?

  Or worse of all, is she just saying this because Lucy is afraid of the consequences otherwise?

  I'm not a gentle man when I’m wronged. Embarrassed even. Sure, there are few that know Lucy is mine just yet. I have that reputation; perhaps everyone who thinks I fucked her also thinks I’m discarding her. I'm married after all.

  I don’t know what to make of any of this.

  The argument inside the club has me doubting every ounce of progress that we made. I don’t want to be the monster that I know I could be. I’m losing face if I let my girl — and I want to publicly declare Lucy as my girl — prance around half naked. When I met her she was a virgin. She tells me that I make her feel sexy … and then she wants to feel sexy in front of so many people. No matter how erotic the sight of her up on that stage were, I don’t want other people to get to see it.

  But I’m trying to give her a choice. Let her be free to live her own life as she chooses.

  And I’m the dick who doesn’t want her to dance on stage for strangers to try and stuff dollars in her panties … but I'm not the dick who doesn’t recognize that genuine talent and athleticism that goes into actual pole dancing. Lucy has a natural gift for it. I want to be angry, but I also don’t want to crush something that makes Lucy feel good about herself. I saw how she handled it when a man tried to put his hands on her. Hearing her say that she was mine was the most erotic sound I’d ever heard in my life, short of hearing Lucy moan with my cock deep inside her.

  And after I’ve yelled at her and now I have her back in our penthouse suite…do I really want to be that guy?

  Worse than being the guy who is taking advantage of her is being the guy that willingly takes advantage of her when I know she doesn’t want this. That’s the thing. I don’t want her to fuck me here and now if she doesn’t want this? Did I ever give her a fucking choice? It doesn’t matter how it makes me look or what is happening, I want to know that Lucy isn’t sleeping with me because she feels like she has to. I want her more than my next breathe. I care more about sinking my cock into her than I care about if I’ll open my eyes another day. But more than any of that, I don’t want to harm Lucy. I don’t want to hurt her.

  I want to ask her if she’s sure that she wants this. But whom am I fucking kidding? I don’t want to ask her that. I took her virginity when she offered it to me and I told her that she would be in my bed. And as things are about to happen now, and she says those words, I want to ask her again. Fuck me, I’m going to be the cause of my own death.

  “I mean it, Lucy. You can go right now and I’ll help your brother — I don’t want you my prisoner.” I say this as earnestly as I can, which means I have to keep my hands off of her. This makes me clench my fists. My hands don’t feel right anymore when they aren’t touching her. They aren’t my own. None of me is. I want to belong to her the way that she swore to belong to me. I’ve never felt that before and it's fucking dangerous.

  The logical part of me should know that it's downright madness for me to allow myself this kind of attachment. It makes me weak. If it can be used to hurt me, I shouldn’t allow myself to feel it and I should squash it. If I was going to be able to just keep her no matter what, I should've said nothing.

  Instead, I’m looking into her large, beautiful eyes looking up at me. I don’t see fear for me — and perhaps I need to warn her again — but I see a trepidation that she isn’t voicing.

  Stepping back two long strides, I have to put some distance between us. It feels like a magnetic pull will bring us back together, and I can’t have that.

  Lucy steps closer to me. “Gian, I…I don’t know much right now. I’m hurt, I’m lost; I’m alone. But I know that I want you. Would you so quickly discard me? Is that it? Am I being foolish, a dumb little girl you fucked and now you want to get rid of? I wouldn’t have expected the chivalry then. That’s a nice touch,” her words scratch at her throat and she lifts up her hands to press her fingers to her temples. She walks toward me.

  Doesn’t she know that every fucking second she walks near me, it erases every ounce of resolve in my body?

  I can’t keep myself from her if she won’t let me let her go. “Lucy,” I groan, but her hands are already on me. This can’t be the same woman who seemed to despise me, who didn’t want anything to do with me, who was terrified of me? How can her hands be on me like they are?

  Pressing her hands to my chest, her palms are flat to my pectorals and she’s gripping my shirt like she’s holding on for dear life. I can’t handle the way that she’s touching me. Foolish, I'm letting myself fall apart for some palms, but her tits graze my chest and I give myself this — any man would lose their mind at that.

  “Fuck,” I hear her little voice cry
out.

  My hands were hovering just over touching her, but I freeze at the sound. My gaze looks up to her. “Are you—“

  “Is it always like this? When you’ve had sex with someone, do you always crave them so much?” Lucy asks.

  God, the words are the death of me. How am I supposed to operate on a basic, functional level when she says things like that?

  “Babe, it has never been like this before, not for me, and…” I don’t want to finish that sentence. I cup her face and draw her into a passionate kiss instead. I cannot bear the idea of drowning myself in thoughts when I could be deep inside her tight pussy, trapped between her thighs and letting her lay waste to me with her every breath.

  Her lips close over mine and it's so sweet. Mine crush hers, but hers captivate me, soft as rose petals and sweet like a fine red wine. I can’t taste her enough. My arms pull her close to me, crushing her against me. My tongue slides over the seam of her lips and she opens for me. I’m desperate to taste her more. Her warm mouth open for me makes my tongue dance over hers, silk and sin tasting like the pain of reality could never touch us. She’s gasping for air and I break the kiss to bring my mouth to her jawline. Trail down her neck, buttons of kisses pressing sensations throughout her body. I feel the shivers she gets every time I touch her and I’m addicted to the way she inhales, a needy gasp for air before I pull her back under with the undeniable fire of my lust.