Claiming His Virgin In the Ring: The Filthy Wrestling Club

by Cassandra Dee

  And there was nothing Carla and William could do. I’m an adult now, with my own life to live, and I’m not financially dependent on them anymore. It’s sad that my mom’s money is going to waste, but at the same time, I’m glad that I’m not tethered to it the way I was before because now I have Shaft on my side, and life is so much better.

  So what can I say? I haven’t lost a single pound. I eat even more than before to fuel my new gym habit. I’m going to college come fall, and Shaft’s set up a study in his penthouse with a desk and computer especially for me. Somehow, things have worked out because I went from a chubby, desperate teen girl to a woman in full … and with this man by my side, the future has never looked so bright.

  EPILOGUE

  Lily

  “Oh yes,” I pant deliriously. “Right there.”

  We’re in our private wrestling ring within the penthouse. It’s crazy, I know. Most people want a home office or a swimming pool, but instead, we installed a wrestling ring.

  The contractor was surprised.

  “Really?” he asked, eyebrows shooting to the top of his forehead. “A wrestling mat? Do you wrestle as a hobby, Mr. Miller?” he asked, turning to Shaft.

  My husband just nodded.

  “Yeah, it’s good exercise,” he said, eyes gleaming. “Better than you think. A full-body workout.”

  I laughed silently because the contractor had no idea. It wasn’t just Shaft who was going to use the ring to loosen up and get his blood flowing. It was me too. We were going to get down again and again, grappling and lunging until each match finished with hot cock in pussy.

  But it’s been so good, and right now was evidence of that. Shaft’s pole was buried in my pussy once again, the man grunting as he held me down.

  “Oh shit, baby,” he rasped. “You feel so amazing.”

  But as he moved back to give me a good plowing, I put a hand on his chest. Immediately, the big man stopped, eyes blazing.

  “Is everything okay, sweetheart?” he growled. “Tell me.”

  I nodded, breathing hard.

  “All good but I just want to go slower,” was my mewl. “You know, for the baby.”

  My husband’s eyes gleamed with possessiveness, because we’ve entered a new chapter of our lives. After the meeting at my parents’ house, we went straight to the jewelry store and Shaft bought me a diamond so huge and incredible that I gasped looking at it in the box.

  “It’s too big,” was my soft protest. “It must be six carats at least.”

  Shaft’s eyes gleamed.

  “It’s eight, sweetheart. But it’s perfect for you. And will you, honey? Will you be my bride? Make a poor sap happy, pretty girl, and take pity on me.”

  Immediately, I threw my arms around that massive torso.

  “Of course,” I cried, my voice muffled in his shoulder. “I’d love to.”

  And things have progressed quickly since then because I’m a fertile girl and he’s a virile billionaire. Plus, the fact that Shaft has a special locking mechanism means that his sperm have that much more time to swim into me, getting me pregnant in the blink of an eye.

  So here we are in our private wrestling ring, going at it again. Except my stomach’s huge now, the man so gentle as he pushes into my sweet pink channel.

  “Fuck,” he grunts. “Fuck you’re tasty. All this extra weight makes you even more sassy and sexy, sweetheart.”

  “Unnh,” is my breathless moan, pussy pulsing around his penetration as the words sink in. “Oh god, yes!”

  And simultaneously, we burst with climax, our wrestling match done once more. Because I met a man who turned out to be more than a personal trainer. Michael’s bolstered my self-esteem, helping me appreciate my curvy shape. He’s paying my school fees, and even more, bought me a diamond as proof of his everlasting devotion. Last of all, Shaft’s given me a baby … and I can’t wait to form a circle of love that includes three.

  THE END

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  Loving the Spy

  ~A Billionaire Bad Boy Heist Romance~

  © 2018

  By Cassandra Dee and Katie Ford

  Want to hear about our newest illicit romance? Addicted to virgins and alpha males? Join our mailing lists at www.subscribepage.com/alphamalesontop and get a FREE book just for joining!

  ABOUT THIS BOOK

  Loving the Spy: A Billionaire Bad Boy Heist Romance

  Was the beautiful brunette a spy planted to dig up my darkest secrets?

  Most guys take it easy when they hit it big. Me? The opposite.

  Because when it came to walking the talk, I bought an airline.

  To assert my dominance, I wanted to show my competitors that fifty million is nothing to a rich a$$hole like me.

  But Elite Air came with a stewardess.

  Holly Nelson.

  Shy and innocent.

  Sweet as a plum, and perfect at her job. Even more, she’s turned my world upside down. The curvy brunette’s charming, magnetic, and absolutely irresistible with a smile that cracks my world wide open.

  But is Holly a spy planted by my competitors to get my secrets?

  I’m going to find the truth, and god help the female then.

  Because if the woman’s doing a double cross, then $hit just got savage.

  I don’t forgive.

  Ruthlessness is my calling card, even when it comes to curvy, sassy females.

  Holly’s going to cry and beg for a second chance.

  But guess again, baby girl.

  Because there’s no mercy when you’re playing spy games…

  PROLOGUE

  Holly

  “Holly, come on, it’ll be fun,” my friend Katrina wheedled. I looked at my mom who lay on the floor of our apartment, her prone form stretched on the shabby floor.

  “Go, go!” Kathy spoke weakly, gesturing with her free hand. “Go!”

  “No Ma, I can’t,” was my hushed whisper, turning away from the computer screen where my friend waited impatiently. “I don’t want to leave you here.”

  But Kathy wouldn’t hear of it. Her gray head turned towards me again, awkward given the angle of her twisted spine.

  “Sweetheart, I’m just doing my back exercises on the floor with this instructor on the screen,” she said, pointing to our TV where an aged woman moved slowly, stretching her arms high towards the ceiling. “It’s nothing crazy. Go and have a good time.”

  I sighed because Kathy is all I have, and I’m all Kathy has. It’s always been my mom and me against the world since the very beginning. My dad has never been in the picture, and we used to live with my grandma in a cramped one bedroom. But fortunately or unfortunately, my mom has a bad back. It causes her excruciating pain, and she gets disability for it. That money is what keeps us alive, as well as the rent-controlled apartment we have in Queens.

  So I’m grateful for the small things. Usually it takes forever to land a cheap place like this, but because of my mom’s illness, we were pushed to the front of the line. So while our neighbors complain about dingy floors and ghastly fluorescent lighting, I’ve always been grateful. Otherwise, we’d still be squeezed into a tiny one-bedroom with my grandma, instead of our relatively spacious one-bedroom here at the LeBar projects.

  But Kathy worries about me because I feel obligated to stay at home to make sure she’s okay. Going out isn’t a priority for me, not when my mom takes dozens of medications a day, unable to get out of bed sometimes. And so I’d rather make sure she’s as comfortable as possible, rather than partying and gossiping like a normal teen girl.

  But my mom wasn’t having it.

  “Go!” was her entreaty with a half-hearted smile that turned into a wince. “I’ll be fine, it’s only a few hours.”

  “Besides,” wheedled Katrina from the screen, �
�My new boyfriend is going to meet us. Nick Ryver, you’ll like him,” she chortled. “I wish you could meet him too, Mrs. Nelson!” she sang, waving to my mom from the screen.

  And both Kathy and I laughed then because Kat can be ridiculous. My friend’s just like us. Katrina’s family doesn’t have much and we make do most days. But Kat’s latched onto an idea. She wants to date wealthy seventy year-olds because after they get married, the old guy will die, and leave her their fortune. It’s morbid in my opinion, but it’s what Kat wants, and she’s determined.

  “Come on,” the blonde entreated again. “You’ll like Nick, I promise.”

  My mom and I giggled again. This Nick person was probably eighty years old and using a walker, but hey, who am I to judge? Besides, getting out could be fun. I hadn’t been social in at least a month, and this could be a much-needed change.

  So I nodded.

  “Okay Kat, where should I meet you?”

  “The Firehouse,” she proclaimed proudly. “Nick’s taking us there.”

  I gasped, eyes going wide.

  “But that’s real expensive,” was my hesitant reply. “Drinks there are fifteen bucks a pop. You know I can’t afford that.”

  Katrina laughed again. “Seriously Holly, you think I haven’t thought of that? I can’t afford it either. Nick’s going to take care of it all, we won’t have to spend a cent,” she proclaimed proudly.

  And sighing, I agreed. Again, Kat has a way of dating guys who are old as Methuselah and rich as Midas. A fifteen dollar drink likely wasn’t going to make a difference to someone with a bulging wallet. So hanging up, I wandered into my room, staring into the tiny closet.

  “Wear something pretty!” called my mom from the living room, wheezing as she did a series of slow leg lifts. Stretching and keeping conditioned is supposed to help her back, so Kathy’s meticulous about getting through her hours of physical therapy each day.

  “I will,” was my low murmur. “I will.”

  And slowly, I pulled on my one acceptable outfit. It was a plain purple cocktail dress that hugged my curves, emphasizing my hourglass figure.

  Stay, I commanded my big Double Ds. Don’t embarrass me. Don’t wiggle and jiggle like marshmallows, like you always do.

  But my body will always be my body, and I was born a big girl. Some ladies are thin as children, and blossom when they hit puberty. Not me. I’ve always been chunky, and now at eighteen it’s gotten to titanic proportions. I have girls that sway and hips that knock like they’re doing a constant rhumba.

  But it’s okay. I don’t get out much, so it’s not like there are many guys pounding down my door asking me on dates. In fact, the opposite. There are no men period, it’s just me and my mom Friday nights. Thus, Kathy’s entreaties for me to get out of the house to meet people and socialize before I become a potato sprouting hairs.

  But now, standing in front of the Firehouse, intimidation made my knees weak. We live in a little corner of Queens, New York, so this wasn’t the big city. But partying isn’t my normal thing, and the blaze of flashing lights and line of people out front unsettled me. A man pushed by, making me grab my purse strap in fear. Had I just been robbed? But no, it’s just how people are in a club environment, rude and pushy as they barrel towards the front of the line.

  Suddenly, Kat’s voice cut in.

  “Hey Holly,” she sang, prancing up to where I stood behind the velvet rope. “Come on out from behind there, Nick’s a VIP and can get us in.”

  Tentatively, my hand reached for the velvet rope, but a bouncer beat me to it. Believe it or not, he wasn’t here to kick me out. He was here to help me skip the line.

  “After you, ladies,” the bear-like man growled. “Courtesy of Mr. Ryver.”

  My heart pumped. Who was Katrina’s new boyfriend? Clearly, he knew people, seeing the envious gazes of the club-goers around us.

  But even the darkness inside the Firehouse couldn’t conceal the fact that Katrina’s new guy was seventy if a day. Doddering and bent over, he nursed a whiskey alone at a table.

  “Hellooooo!” the man sang, swinging a frail arm around my friend and pressing a kiss to her cheek. Uck. His lips were cracked and dry, shriveled with age, whereas my friend was in the full bloom of youth, her cheek soft as a petal.

  “Hi,” I murmured, pasting a smile on my face. “I’m Holly Nelson, Katrina’s friend.”

  The old man nodded, blue eyes alight. Well, at least the guy was alive and kicking because there was a spark in there.

  “Nick Ryver,” he chortled with a hint of a British accent. “Nice to meet one of my best girl’s best friends. Get it? Best and best.”

  I smiled politely.

  “Yes, Kat and I have known each other since we were six,” was my obliging reply. “Thank you for getting us into the Firehouse,” I said, nodding into the dark interior. “We would have been waiting outside forever if you hadn’t.”

  “Oh that!” wheezed the elderly Mr. Ryver. “It’s nothing! I develop these places so putting a name on the VIP list is nothing.”

  And at that, Kat plunked herself into her new boyfriend’s lap, which wasn’t a good idea if you ask me. The man was frail and small, likely with the osteoporosis that hits old people. My friend had probably just crushed him with her sassy weight.

  But Kat is Kat and the woman threw her arms around Mr. Ryver enthusiastically.

  “Nick is big in construction,” she purred, pressing her cheek to his wizened one. “He owns so many important and famous buildings in New York. This is just a tiny venture by comparison, isn’t that right?”

  The white-haired man nodded feebly.

  “That’s right, sweets. The Firehouse is a foray into Queens because you’re here. We want to do more in the borough, so long as that asshole Thorn Evans doesn’t get in the way.”

  And for the first time that night, I saw Mr. Ryver shed his frail, wimpy exterior. Sure, the guy was shriveled with tufts of white hair, but suddenly those eyes were filled with competitive fire, the gleam harsh and unrelenting.

  “Fucking Thorn Evans,” he spat, tiny bits of saliva hitting the tabletop. “A total asshole.”

  “Oh Nick!” wailed Katrina, hugging his wiry form tighter to her bosom. “It’s not that bad. We’ll figure it out together.”

  I chose to keep my mouth closed, figuring that one, I knew nothing about construction. Two, I had no idea who this Thorn Evans person was. And three, it’s not like Nick and Kat cared. The two of them were in their own world, my young, scheming friend and her much-older lover gazing into each other’s eyes, a feedback loop of churning emotion.

  And that’s how things stayed for the rest of the night. The music pounded around us, strobe lights painting dancers with flashes of red, green, and blue, and Katrina in Nick’s lap, their foreheads practically pressed together.

  “Yeah, I hate that Thorn Evans guy,” Mr. Ryver wheezed unsteadily again. “He’s a heartless bastard.”

  “Oh, poor baby,” cooed Katrina into his ear, her blonde hair brushing his nose. “Poor baby.”

  After an hour of two of hearing this over and over again, I’d had enough.

  “Thanks for the lovely night,” I said with a fake smile on my face. “Thank you Mr. Ryver, I appreciate the trouble you went to.”

  But did they hear me? No. Katrina kept cooing in her new boyfriend’s ear, the wizened guy listening and laughing, on top of the world with a pretty blonde to do his bidding.

  Sighing, I gave up, making my way out of the club. Because this night had been a bust for sure. I’d met Katrina’s elderly companion, and he was ancient with yellowed teeth and wrinkled, papery skin. I’d gone out on the town to party, but it hadn’t been fun. There had been loud music blasting in my ears, making my head ring, and now my feet hurt from the high arch of the stiletto heels.

  But that’s life, and I smiled ruefully to myself. If only Prince Charming had shown up to drop a kiss on my cheek. If only Prince Charming could be found at places called the Firehouse wit
h cheesy crowds out front and octogenarians inside. Yeah, right. It was unlikely he’d ever materialize, and in the meantime … there was just shy, sweet Holly Nelson, boring and chubby with nary a man in sight.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Thorn

  The monitor clicked off from video mode, displaying only the logo of Gravity Holdings. I sighed and slid the remote onto the table. The meeting had gone on much longer than it needed to.

  Of course, that call would have been over sooner if Daniel would just learn to shut up.

  But underlings are like that. They love hearing themselves speak, while I, the boss, lean back and listen.

  It’s a gift, I tell you.

  Talk is overrated.

  Listening on the other hand? There aren’t many people good at that.

  So I watched, amused, as my employees juggled huge stacks of paper and stained coffee mugs while filing out the door.

  Their problem, not mine. As CEO, I give orders, and then guess what happens? That’s right, other people jump.

  Because the meeting was just the beginning. Now that we had a concrete list of to-dos, my employees would be burning the midnight oil figuring out this or that.

  Again, their problem, not mine.

  The chair dipped as I slung a foot over the desk and leaned back. There were still a couple executives in the room, yapping about this or that.

  Daniel, Mr. Unsubtle, jumped up, sending his chair rocketing into the wall. “Five-hundred mill!”

  Another guy cawed his agreement.

  “This is the deal of the century, boys!” Willy cheered. His stomach and double-chin jiggled, fists shaking in the air. Then Daniel mock-punched Willy in the shoulder, the two of them air boxing like little children.