Virgin's Lust

by Kayla C. Oliver

  I cried out, prompting him to cover my mouth with his to swallow the sound.

  His hands slid over my body as his hips began to move. They found my shirt and undid the buttons, slipping beneath the fabric to grab at my soft orbs. He grunted at the bra I was wearing but managed to peel back the cups to expose my nipples to the cool air.

  “You’ve got nice tits,” he murmured, his thrusts causing them to bounce and me to moan.

  He fondled my breasts and pinched at my nipples until they were hard. All the while I moaned and begged him to keep going. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him into me deeper each time he thrusted until we were both groaning.

  “Fuck, Marnie!”

  I did my best to meet his thrusts. They grew more erratic until I felt him shove in all the way one last time, then shudder above me. Finally, exhausted and spent, he collapsed over me. He just barely managed to keep most of his weight off me, bracing himself on his forearms.

  We waited like that for a long while, breathing heavily and trying to find our bones again.

  Eventually, he rolled off me and we got cleaned up. We both remained half-undressed as we lounged in the two chairs in front of my desk. My legs were thrown over the arm, and he was slowly massaging one of my feet in his lap.

  “You need a couch in here,” he commented absently.

  I wiggled my toes. “What kind of message does that send to clients?”

  “That this is your office and you fuck in here regularly?” he offered with a pearly toothed smile.

  I kicked lightly at him, but he caught my foot easily and laughed.

  “What?” he demanded.

  I shook my head. “You’re an ass.”

  “So? Besides, it’s true. We always end up doing it in your office.”

  “Not always,” I countered. “We’ve done it in beds, too, remember?”

  Our first time had been in a swanky nightclub where he had keys to a very special set of rooms, complete with a bed. It was insane and a little kinky, but neither of us had expected it to go anywhere. We were just relieving tension.

  Now, we seemed to be relieving tension a lot these days.

  “True,” he agreed. “But you have to admit that it’s always sexier in the office.”

  It was my turn to laugh. “Maybe not always,” I argued. “But yeah sometimes it’s sexier here.”

  He smoothed his thumb along the underside of my arch, and I all but purred like a cat. It was almost enough for me to forget everything else—almost. Except that he really hadn’t been around much lately, and I really was a little miffed by it. I may have forgiven him for the sake of sexy times, but that didn’t mean I’d forgotten.

  “So where have you been for like, the last week and a half?”

  His hands froze for a second, then resumed again. “Work. I’ve been swamped. You know how it is.”

  My eyes narrowed as I detected the definite order of bullshit. “Cut the crap, Reid. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing, Marnie. I mean it. It’s nothing more than being a billionaire running a company. I had the company before we met, and I still have it now. That hasn’t changed. And sometimes it means that I’m busier than I’d like.” I started to pull my foot away, a little miffed that he was just brushing me aside, but he grabbed my ankle and tugged me back. “It doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t rather be with you every damn chance I get. You know that.”

  I wasn’t for sure that I knew that, but I wanted to. And my shoulders did relax a little at his reassurances.

  He was owner of Tarvish Press, a rival publishing company, and I knew that being just a partner came with a lot of baggage. I forced myself to relax the rest of the way and stop being a pain the ass.

  “Okay.” I paused, then casually swung the conversation an entirely different way. “Have you spoken to Harvey lately?”

  Callum fixed me with a chastising stare. “Now, Marnie, honey, you know better. Whatever’s getting kicked around between you and Trent is between you and Trent. My dog in this fight is personal only, meaning I have nothing to do with the professional crap. So you’ll have to work things out between yourselves all on your lonesome.”

  I stuck out my lower lip like a child and petulantly crossed my arms over my chest. I didn’t care that I was being a brat; I was about at my wits’ end with Harvey, and it was driving me crazy. He was making life difficult, and it meant I was willing to play dirty—like asking Callum to use his personal friendship to make Harvey comply.

  “Don’t pout,” he quipped.

  “You and your morals,” I joked.

  He laughed. “Morals? Like sleeping with the enemy.”

  “My kind of morals.”

  He tugged on my leg until I got up and folded myself into his lap. He pulled me down for a kiss, which I eagerly returned. It wasn’t the hot, burning need from earlier, but the passion was there. It always was. When we broke the kiss, I asked, “Are we still on for dinner?”

  He hesitated, then said, “I actually came here to tell you I can’t tonight. I’m—”

  “Busy, right,” I finished for him, then untangled myself from his body. He looked like he wanted to pull me back, but he didn’t. Instead we both got dressed and promised we’d have dinner another night. He left, and I suddenly didn’t feel so great about things.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Courtney

  After only a few days of being cooped up in my apartment, I was going stir-crazy. I was also fully disgusted with the lack of cleanliness of the place. Seriously, how did people not clean? It was gross.

  So I’d put up my hair in a bandana I Love Lucy—style, threw on a pair of overalls that I rolled up, and put on that song from Mrs. Doubtfire. I then proceeded to clean every inch of my apartment.

  I got rid of the junk food containers and wiped down the fridge. The trash went downstairs, and I set the throw pillows out on the porch to dry in the sun after scrubbing them clean.

  I did a load of laundry, hand washed all of my dishes, cleaned the kitchen and the bathroom, then spent the rest of the time straightening. I vacuumed only after I’d dusted everything and wiped down the electronics, tables, and blinds.

  My apartment practically sparkled like Mr. Clean’s bald head. I felt accomplished and much better about the fact that I was still stuck on mandatory vacation.

  At least now while I lounged around like a bum, I’d be able to do it while being clean.

  My phone had been off for most of my vacation time, because I was sick of getting calls from people I didn’t want to talk to about things I wasn’t going to discuss. But after my disastrous fight with Marnie, I’d had a little time to cool down and a lot of time to feel badly. So I’d turned my phone back on in the hopes that maybe she’d call. Maybe we could talk about how we were both being such big jerks, and somehow we’d go out and have a drink and be friends again.

  So when my phone rang, I practically pounced on it. I was so desperate for it to be Marnie. We would talk for a minute, and then we’d both burst out with apologies, and everything would go back to normal.

  But when I answered the phone, a desperate “Hello” escaping my lips, I was sorely disappointed.

  It wasn’t Marnie on the other side. It was Trent Harvey.

  “Don’t hang up,” he told me first thing. Which, screw him, he couldn’t tell me what to do. I was about to tell him as much right before hanging up the damn phone, but he pushed forward, probably sensing that he was on borrowed time. “Please, Courtney, we need to meet. I need to talk to—”

  I hung up.

  A second later, I received a text. This, too, was from Harvey.

  I think I’m in love with you.

  I stared at that text message for what felt like hours. In love with me? Something clutched inside my chest, and I thought it might be my heart. It had been a long time since someone thought they were in love with me. Longer still since someone actually was. And…

  And it didn’t mean anything.

  At l
east, that was what I was telling myself. I set my phone down and numbly walked into the kitchen. My brain was still swamped with the idea that he was in love with me. In love. With me.

  I opened the refrigerator door and stared at the contents within without seeing anything in there. Then I closed the door and turned around to open the pantry. Nothing there either. I wasn’t looking for anything; I didn’t want anything. My body was just on autopilot as I tried to process that text.

  I think I’m in love with you.

  What in the hell was I supposed to do with that?

  My phone went off again, and I cringed. Jesus Christ, who was it now? I almost didn’t even check the phone, sure that it was a Psych! Just kidding! from Trent. But somewhere I found the courage to look and was slightly relieved and slightly disappointed.

  It wasn’t from Trent at all.

  Elizabeth had texted me several times.

  Jesus, the bitch is here.

  In town.

  And I can’t avoid her.

  Like, I can’t.

  She knows where I am!

  I watched as they continued to pour in, and if I’d been in a different mood, I would have been amused by all of it. Seriously, she was texting like the stepsister from hell was a stalker hell-bent on her complete and utter annihilation. Which, okay, possible, but highly unlikely.

  I ignored any following texts and sent her one back. You can’t avoid her?

  I got one back instantly. No. We’re supposed to go out tonight. Please, come with me. I can’t do this alone.

  Normally, I would have teased Liz for being such a pansy, but I was still stuck on that single text from Trent and I wasn’t in the mood for teasing. I wasn’t sure what I was in the mood for, but I knew it wasn’t anything in the light-hearted spectrum.

  So I replied with a Yeah, I’ll come with you. You don’t have to be stuck alone with her.

  Liz sent about twenty different thank-you texts, and I finally just set the phone down. I got into the shower and stood there for the next hour, trying to figure out what the hell was going on in my life.

  ***

  I got ready and met up with Liz at a nice little restaurant over by the docks. It didn’t look the best necessarily, but it had good food, and once you got inside, it was an awesome place to get a bite to eat. I wasn’t sure if Liz was planning on wigging her stepsister out with the outer appearance of the place or woo her with the great food.

  Either way, I was on board.

  Liz was waiting for me outside, glancing at her watch impatiently every five seconds. Her hair was piled up on her head save a few loose curls, and her makeup was done perfectly. She looked ready to kill.

  Or compete.

  I wondered if she was trying to look good just so that her sister would show her up.

  “Liz,” I called.

  She looked up from her watch to see me and practically sagged with relief. She waved me over. “Thank God,” she told me, then pulled me in for an embrace. “I could not do this without you.”

  I laughed but hugged her back. When we parted, I asked, “So where is the She Devil anyway?”

  Liz lifted her hands to the sky dramatically as though to ask the gods, “who knows?” “Maybe she’s not even coming.” Liz sounded so hopeful that she was almost gleeful at the prospect.

  “Jesus, is she really that bad?”

  Liz made a gesture as though to hang herself. “Yes,” she said flatly. “She really, really is just that bad.”

  I couldn’t tell how much of that was bullshit or not, but I could easily assume the worst about a stepsibling. Throwing two families together wasn’t exactly the Brady Bunch, though people liked to think it was. “All right, well, let’s hope she got lost and we can just get some food ourselves.”

  Liz nodded emphatically in agreement. But a second later, her face fell and her shoulders sagged. “Oh, damn. Here she is.”

  I glanced toward the very nice sporty car that had just pulled up. A second later, a beautiful woman with flowing dark hair and perfect skin got out of the car. She had shapely legs and hips but was lacking a little up top. Not that it mattered. She looked like a million bucks, and I wondered if the reason the two sisters didn’t get along had something to do with the both of them being too attractive.

  The woman—Amelia, I assumed—leaned back in the car for a second and shared a few words with whoever else was in the car dropping her off.

  I wasn’t all that invested and really felt more impatient. I wanted to get food already, plus I was basically set up to hate this woman, so I was fairly certain anything she said or did was going to piss me off.

  But as she leaned into the car, the other person leaned toward her just enough that I caught a glimpse of his face.

  I froze.

  It was Callum Reid.

  Amelia kissed the corner of his mouth, then did a little finger waggle wave. My eyes felt like they were the size of saucers.

  I did not just see Callum’s other girlfriend… did I?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Trent

  Sarah leaned against the doorjamb, staring into the kitchen as I made a sandwich. Mayo. Then mustard. Then roast beef and cheese. Tomato, lettuce, onion. A couple of hot peppers—

  “You’re disgusting, you know that, right?” Sarah told me mildly with a smile on her face.

  I waved her off. “You’re just jealous of my awesome sandwich.”

  “Sandwich, heartburn, yeah, it’s definitely one of those things.”

  Smashing everything together, I slapped my sandwich on a plate and grabbed chips. I poured those liberally next to the sandwich. I grabbed some milk—because healthy eating was important to me, obviously—and walked my lovely meal toward the dining room.

  Sarah followed me.

  “Who eats a sandwich for dinner anyway?” she asked mildly.

  I ignored her and sat down at the table, settling myself in for the meal. Just because she had no imagination on the obvious pros of eating sandwiches for dinner, didn’t mean I was equally as oblivious to the truth. I took that first, glorious bite. Food was food for the soul, I decided as I munched. But it was hard to eat in peace with Sarah just sitting there watching me.

  I attempted to ignore her, because I felt a deep, serious conversation on the horizon, and I didn’t think I was going to like it. So as I chewed, I tried to think of other things.

  Like my manuscript, except that was a horrible idea.

  The damn thing was nowhere near done. I wasn’t making any progress, and my editor was breathing down my neck. Where was the inspiration supposed to be coming from? Maybe if the deadlines weren’t so close, or if I’d just had some damn time to really do my work… well, then I could work through this block and finally figure out just what it was that my story needed.

  Novel concept.

  But I doubted I was going to get much more in the way of extensions.

  Suddenly, I was regretting thinking of the manuscript. It was making my sandwich taste like ash. Though in the end it was better than thinking of Amelia—or Courtney.

  Amelia was in town.

  Courtney refused to speak to me.

  I tried to force thoughts of both girls from my mind. This was not what I needed to be thinking about right then.

  “Have you told Courtney how you feel yet?”

  And so much for not thinking about her. I dropped my sandwich down on my plate, because I really wasn’t hungry anymore. Sarah was looking at me with raised eyebrows, waiting for an answer to her question, and for a moment I wanted to strangle her.

  Did she have to ask? Really?

  I sat back in my chair and folded my arms across my chest, pouting like a petulant child, but I really didn’t care. “Yes,” I told her.

  When she lifted a thick eyebrow skeptically, I uncrossed my arms.

  “What? I did!”

  “Okay.” She carefully pulled out a chair from the table and sat down across from me. She laid her elbows on the table and waited.
“And?”

  “And nothing,” I muttered.

  “What do you mean nothing?”

  “I mean nothing. That was what I got as an answer. Nothing. She didn’t even acknowledge it.”

  Sarah’s face scrunched up into a frown. She wiggled her nose. “What? How could she not even acknowledge it?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I never got a text back.”

  Her face went blank, and then it shifted to one of annoyance, her lips mashed together and her eyebrows almost straight over her eyes.

  “What?” I demanded.

  “Are you telling me you texted her that you loved her?”

  I hesitated. Although it didn’t sound bad, I had the feeling that there was something bad in her words. I suddenly didn’t want to tell her that that was exactly how I’d done it, but I had a feeling I’d already shot myself in the foot there.

  “Um, maybe?”

  She groaned. “Jesus, Trent! No wonder she hasn’t gotten back to you!”

  “Jesus, what did I do? Girls make no fucking sense.”

  She waved me off impatiently, wafting away my words as though they were a bad smell. “You’re an idiot and girls are not complicated. But no one wants to hear that someone loves them through a text message.”

  “I text my grandmother that I love her all the time,” I pointed out. “She doesn’t mind.”

  “You’re an idiot,” she deadpanned. “Your grandmother doesn’t mind because she already knows you love her. Genius. No girl wants to hear it for the first time via text message. ‘Luv ya, babe’ is not high on any girls’ list of romantic fantasy.”

  The corners of my mouth turned down into a frown as a cold feeling formed in the pit of my stomach. Had I fucked this up already? It was sure starting to sound that way.

  “What are you saying, then? That I need to tell her in person? ’Cause I’m pretty sure if I showed up at her apartment—which I have no idea where that is—she would freak out and get a restraining order against me for stalking.”