The Virgin Escort: A Billionaire & Virgin Romance

by Virginia Sexton

  Fuck this party. Fuck this auction. Fuck that guy. Everything inside of me cries out to go ape-shit, and I move.

  Calvin steps in front of me, with a huge and oblivious grin on his face. He grabs both my arms. “We’re about to start. Will you be joining us? I saw you put in your deposit last night.”

  “Fuck, yes. Get her ass off the floor and on that stage.”

  He gives me this annoying as hell look — like he knows. “I figured you would be in on the bidding. Kind of a tease having her in your home and not being able to pop that cherry, isn’t it?”

  I clench my fist, ready to wipe that damned smirk off Cal’s face. Nobody talks about my girl like that. The only dirty words Grace is ever going to hear is going to come from me. But, Cal spins and bounds onto an elevated platform.

  He spreads his arms wide in greeting. “Welcome to Excalibur! I hope you are all having a wonderful time flirting with our newest member.”

  A round of hearty cheers sounds off in the room, and I fix on Grace as she is led to the stage. I push my way to the front row — past all the guys who don’t have a chance — because she’s mine.

  “Shall we get right down to the feature of the night?” Calvin asks. He’s greeted with more cheers and raised glasses. “I’m glad to see everyone is eager. Then, let the bidding begin. Shall we start the evening at six hundred thousand dollars?”

  Several voices ring out to claim the first bid, but this is one situation in which I do not give a shit about foreplay. I know what Calvin wants for her. “One million.”

  Hoots and appreciative laughter fills the room in response. Calvin looks at me with that damned assuming smirk. “One million to Mister Ashford. Can I get one point one? One million, one hundred thousand?”

  “Here.” Reynolds stakes his claim.

  “One million, two,” in a thick accent from d’Este off to the left.

  “One million, three?” Calvin asks.

  I step forward, placing myself apart from the crowd. “Two million.”

  More hoots and laughter. Grace is twisting the fabric of that dress I bought her at the thighs, bunching it between her fingers and pulling. Her eyes are darting around the room from mine to the men making comments on money well spent. D’Este, the one who made her laugh — the one she touched — steps forward as well. We appraise one another, and I can tell he’s loaded, and not just the new money kind of loaded. The cut of the suit, the brand of the watch, that confidence that says I can match you.

  “Two million, one.” He addresses me as though I am the challenge — and not as though she is the prize.

  Anger flares inside my chest, and I ball my hands in a fist once more.

  Grace’s eyes are wide, and Calvin is getting excited. He knows he has at least two fat fish on the line. “Can I get two million, two?”

  Yet another guy, a big Russian looking dude — probably Southall — steps forward and claims the number.

  “Three million.” I don’t fuck around.

  The big bearded guy raises his hands, already bowing out of the competition, but d’Este presses his tongue against the back of his top teeth. He smiles at me. “Three million, one.”

  A guy behind him slaps my nemesis on the back, congratulating him on raising the bid. The guys are loving the show. So is Calvin. He claps his hands in one sharp report. “Can I get three million, two?” He looks over the crowd, but there are no takers.

  I look at Grace. She’s begging me with those eyes. “Four million.”

  Calvin’s damned smile can’t get any larger, and neither can Grace’s eyes. She raises her hand over her mouth as Calvin raises both hands over his head, directing his attention to that fucker d’Este. “Four million, one?”

  The guy nods his head.

  I’m about ready to march right over there and rip that damn head off his neck. “Five million. I can do this all night, you little shit.”

  The guy looks amused. He crosses his arms over his chest, challenge accepted, but I can tell there’s an underlying sense of discomfort. “Five million, o—”

  “Six million. Go ahead, raise me, or should I just go seven million now?”

  He raises both hands in surrender. “She’s all yours. Enjoy.”

  Grace looks over at me, complete shock on her face. Pride swells through me. She’s mine. Finally.

  Calvin leads the crowd in a round of applause, asking, “And when would you like to schedule your escorting service with the fine lady?”

  I can’t wait. “Now.”

  “Now?”

  It’s one goddamned word. How hard is it to understand? “Yes. Now.”

  That smirk on his face falters. “That’s highly irregular, Mister Ashford. Perhaps we can go into my office, and we can set up a date for tomorrow evening? I’m not sure the lady would approve—”

  I’m not waiting until tomorrow evening. “No. Grace. I want you tonight. Do you approve?”

  The hand which has been covering her mouth drops to her side, revealing the most genuine smile I have seen in my life. “I approve. Yes. I approve.”

  Calvin, trying to keep some semblance of control over the situation, steps in and asks, “Do you have a reservation at a fine dining establishment? I would be happy to have Excalibur’s limousine provide the service tonight.”

  I don’t look at him. I have eyes only for her. “I already have reservations, yes, but I don’t need transportation.”

  Two powerful strides, and I have Grace’s hand in mine. Her eyes are watering, and she squeezes down on my fingers tightly. I pull her off the elevated platform, and we both turn our backs on the assembly. I need to get her out of this place as soon as possible.

  “Where are your reservations?” Calvin calls after us. Perhaps I can—”

  I call back without turning, “I have a room upstairs. I’ll order in Chinese. Or do you want Thai again, Grace?”

  It comes out as a whisper. “I don’t care what we eat. Just get me out of here.”

  I turn the corner into the hall and press the elevator call button over and over again. That room full of men needs to disappear, and I need to have Grace all to myself.

  She intertwines her fingers more closely with mine and presses into my side, her other hand winding around my bicep and her mouth coming near my ear. “I’m glad it was you. I wanted it to be you. I wanted it all along.”

  I can hear the chamber beyond swishing into place, and the door dings and opens. I pull her inside with me and jam my thumb into the button for the twenty-seventh floor. Without hesitation, I pin her against the elevator wall, no space between her body and mine.

  My lips crush to hers, and Grace’s moan is immediate. Her thighs part, and my knee surges between. Her hands are in my hair, around my neck, gripping onto my shoulders. I need her touch. I need her body underneath mine. I need her like I need the breath in my lungs. I dive in, opening her mouth and claiming her. She needs to know she’s mine. She needs to feel it.

  I’m hard already, and I lean my groin into her, letting her feel what she’s doing to me. She grabs for me — pulling my ass into her and rotating her hips to grind my hard cock against her pussy. She’s whimpering and making those noises that have me wanting to tear that dress off her right here and now.

  The elevator dings once more, and the doors slide open. It takes everything inside of me to tear myself from her, but I take her hand and pull her into the hall. I have a stiff erection pushing at my trousers, but I don’t give a damn who sees. My girl makes me hard. I don’t care who knows.

  There’s only two rooms on this entire floor — and I turn to our door, flashing my key card in front of it. I swing the door open, displaying an extravagant, sprawling room with fresh flowers and chocolates and candles burning. The whole package. I’d almost forgotten I’d ordered the honeymooners treatment. It does one thing, though, it reminds me to slow the fuck down and treat my girl like the virgin she is.

  My breathing is coming heavy, but I manage to get out a gruff, “Wi
ne?”

  Her eyes are on me, but her fingers are working at her dress, pulling it up her legs. “No.”

  “Good.” I run through my brain as quickly as I can, thinking what bases I needed to round first.

  She keeps raising that damn dress, exposing her legs, getting it over her knees and her thighs. “I’m not thirsty. I’m hungry.”

  Fuck the bases. I dip low and grab onto her ass, lifting and setting her on the counter. I pick right up where we left off in the elevator. I dive into the kiss, claiming her as strongly as possible. Having bought this dress, I know exactly where the zipper is. It’s down in a second, and I have the material off her shoulders in no time. I peel it down further and dip my head to take in her breasts.

  My lips close around her sweet nipple, and I suck, kneading her soft tissue. Grace’s fingers are scratching through my hair; she holds my head in place and moans for me. Her dress is pulled all the way up, and she splits for me, my clothed cock rubbing against her panties. I’m already hardened steel — something I have become all too familiar with around my girl.

  I can’t get her dress off quickly enough. I pull it up and over her head then step back and rip at my own shirt. Buttons go flying, fabric tears, and I kick out of my pants as I watch my sweet vixen rock her ass cheeks on the counter until she works her panties down her thighs and around her ankles. God, I need that tight pussy now.

  She stands, steps out of her panties, and then leans back against the counter with a finger running down her belly and toward her cunt. I grab her hand away — that pussy is mine — and I pull her from the counter, propelling her toward the bedroom. I crack her on the naked ass as she passes in front of me. “You better run.”

  This sly grin comes over her, and a childish amusement fills her features. She turns and flies through the expansive living space, giggling as she runs. I pursue, quickly overtaking her, but Grace jumps onto the mattress before I can snatch her. She turns to her back, the laughter still on her lips, her legs spread for me. I halt, taking in this moment. The woman I want laid out before me — finally mine.

  Have I ever seen it? That look on her face. Not an I-want-to-fuck-you look. Not even an I’m-so-horny look. She’s excited for me. For me. Not my cock or my money. Me.

  I’m painfully erect. I need to bury myself inside her and lose myself.

  I can’t wait for him. That look on his face as he stands over top of me — like he owns me and he knows it — like it’s taking everything within him not to plow into me. But I want him to. I need him so badly.

  I indulge in a nervous habit, knowing — thanks to his training — that it will drive him crazy. I place a thumb against my teeth and nibble. The other hand, I send down my tummy and into my pussy lips. I’m wet, and it’s so easy for my finger to slide up and down my slit, stroking me into a physical frenzy mirroring the emotional one inside my chest. My hips rise to my touch, and I send a finger down to my virgin hole.

  Kaden’s look goes feral. “You get your fingers out of there. That’s my pussy. Bought and paid for.”

  “Make me.”

  My man’s nostrils flare, and the mattress compresses with his immense bulk. He places his knees inside of my thighs and spreads me wider. He grabs my wrist and forces my arm to my side, pinning me down on the bed. I am not left wanting for long. Kaden replaces my fingers with his own — so much bigger and stronger.

  Unlike so many times before when he stroked my clit and goaded me to coming, he doesn’t go in shallow this time. The muscles in his shoulder flex into action as he extends his fingers deep inside of me. “You’ve been a bad girl. This is mine.”

  He buries two fingers into my pussy until he bottoms out at the knuckles. He rotates inside of me and brushes his fingertips at the top of my walls.

  I squirm and twist beneath him, whining and gasping to catch my breath. “I want your cock. I’ve waited so long.”

  “Make me.”

  Touché, dear sir. He’s trained me well. I know exactly the kind of thing that drives my man wild. I insert my own fingers into my mouth and close my lips down on them, looking him directly in the eye and sucking. He closes his lips tightly, but keeps up the rubbing motion inside of me. It’s not enough. I drive my hips down, fucking his fingers and twisting him inside of me.

  He loosens his grip on the wrist he has captured, and I break free. I grab at the headboard and use the added momentum to pound my hips in a rocking motion onto his hand — finding a measure of fulfillment in his thick fingers. I pop my own fingers out of my mouth and moan freely then lick up my index and insert it back into my mouth, running it in between my lips as I fuck myself on his fingers.

  He seems to be holding his breath. “Goddamnit.”

  His fingers are gone, and I feel his thick cockhead against my pussy lips. Kaden slams into me. I gasp and cry out, holding onto his massive shoulders with both hands. He’s inside of me with one hard thrust, claiming me like an animal. He stretches my virgin walls, and there is an erotic pain ricocheting throughout my body as he opens me up to his big cock.

  “Is that how you like it?” He asks around gritted teeth. “You like me to make you scream?”

  I do. I scream for him, “Yes! Yes.”

  The erotic pain fades, and I am left with the intense swelling of an orgasm. It crashes into me, taking away my breath. It robs me of the ability to scream, and I arch my breasts into Kaden, my body begging for more. My arousal flows onto the sheets, and the slick noise of his hard shaft running in and out of my wet pussy fills the room.

  Kaden groans and then growls. He lets out a shout, and I raise my hips in time with his, meeting his pounding thrust-for-thrust. I’m sweating and moaning and gasping. Kaden is flexing and panting and cursing. I lose myself to his body working inside of me. I let him take over — relinquishing my body to him. My pussy seizes down on his cock as another orgasm rockets through my core, sending the blood rushing to my head and stars dancing in front of my vision. I find my voice and scream out his name.

  “Kaden!”

  He shouts one last time, and a new pressure fills my cunt. He stills on top of me, having released his seed deep inside. I love that he’s buried himself there — that he’s claimed me in this way — that he’s marked me as his — only his. Everything inside of me collapses, and I am exhausted all at once. My pussy is sore, and my muscles are spent. He pulls out from inside of me, and I whimper from his absence.

  Kaden lays his big body on mine, supporting himself on his forearms, his head on the pillow next to me and a big smile softening his features. He kisses my shoulder and brushes the hair from where it fell over my face then closes his eyes.

  I trained her well. My morning-wood blow job has me in a fantastic mood. No. That wasn’t the blow job. It’s her. It was waking up with her curled next to me, her hand on my chest. It’s having her all to myself. It’s knowing that I am never going to let her go.

  I set the coffee to brewing and order up breakfast for two. This is something I can really get used to. There’s one more thing I have to do. I grab my phone and thumb through my contacts for Calvin.

  “Hey!” His happy voice chimes in from the other end of the line. “How did the day go? I’m going to guess she was worth every penny.”

  I no longer have any desire to talk to him about how well his call girls have done. “She’s not working anymore.”

  A little hitch works into his voice, but he recovers quickly. “Well, sure. I suppose she’s off the clock now. You can send her on back my way.”

  “You know that’s not what I mean.”

  “What? No. Don’t you do this to me, Kaden. She signed the contract. Of course, she’s working. Men will pay a lot of money for her still.”

  Not my girl. My girl isn’t for sale. “You know any contract for what you actually want her to do is not enforceable.”

  There’s a silence over the line, and I can practically hear his gears turning. “How about you buy the contract up? I figure if she were to work
for me for the next two years at an average of—”

  “Fuck that. Don’t be a greedy asshole. I’ve already transferred six million. Three for you, three for her. She’s done, and if you have any issues with that, we can speak man-to-man. Would you like me to come down there? There is a reason I am not a man to be fucked with, Calvin.”

  “No, man. I’m not trying to be greedy, here. It’s just, I’m running a business.”

  “Good. I know how to deal with businessmen. I’ll send my assistant for all of her records. All of them. Get them ready. You’re not going to keep one damned paper with her name on it in your files, understand?”

  “Kaden, come on—”

  I have no idea what he wants me to ‘come on’ to, because I cut off the conversation, hitting the big red button on the screen and flinging my phone onto the couch.

  That woman of mine with her sweet ass sashays out from the bedroom with my button-up draped over her shoulders, open in the middle, and my tie still bound around her wrist from round two last night. God, that is the sexiest thing I have ever seen.

  She runs her hand through her tousled hair, my tie dangling down, a sleepy smile still on her face. “Who was that?”

  “Your former boss.”

  A little sleepiness dispels. “Former?”

  “Yes.” I leave the coffee to brew and drawn near to her. “Mine. All mine. You’re staying with me. We’ll go get your things from your apartment today.”

  She’s looking more awake now — awake enough to ask, “My siblings?”

  “I’ll make sure things are expedited. There’s an apartment under the penthouse available. I’ll buy it and hire a nanny. Hell, they can each have a nanny of their own. Anything.”

  “Really? You don’t need to. I can—”

  “Yes.” I give her my best naughty grin. “You can afford it, Miss Moneybags. You’ll find a few extra dollars in your account this morning. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to take care of you. And your family. Anything for my girl.”

  “Anything?” My little former virgin gives her bottom lip a bite and offers me this sweet as hell sheepish look.