His Dirty Virgin

by Jessa James

  I forced myself to get up. I’d holed myself up in my room too long already that the thoughts in my head were making me grumpier. I needed to get out, and immediately I knew where to go. Who I needed to see. Hell, I’d spent all morning thinking about him.

  An hour later, I found myself standing in front of his tattoo parlor, R.

  R—the name of his business. It was catchy, yet its simplicity put the spotlight on where it was rightfully supposed to be—the artwork. I gathered enough courage to suck it up and go inside. What if he didn’t want to see me? What if he thought of me as a little kid? Or worse, a princess? I thought of calling and making an appointment to get a tattoo, and I didn’t even know if I wanted one. Now that I was here, being inspired by the artwork on display, I was certain I wanted some ink, and I knew specifically the design I wanted.

  “Hey, good morning! Do you have an appointment?” the lady at the reception asked. She wore a white tank top that showed off the tattoos on her left arm and down over the back of her hand. “I’m Anna, by the way.”

  “Becca,” I shared as I looked around the big room. “I’m just a drop in, if that’s okay?”

  Honestly, the space was far from what I expected, and a little part of me felt ashamed at my own judgmental self. The place was sleek, modern, and upscale. The walls were in a dark gray palette with the ceiling in stark white. Ambient yellow lighting set the mood with white-light lamps strategically positioned right above the chairs and tables where people got tattooed. It was clean, neat. My eyes roamed the entire place, and they finally found him.

  Jake was busy talking to a client as he smeared some ointment on a fresh tattoo, then wrapped it in plastic wrap. I thought of going over to him, but I didn’t want to interrupt.

  “Sure, drop ins are fine. Have you met any of the artists before?” With that, I turned my head to look at Anna. “Most of the customers want last-minute appointments after randomly meeting one of our artists, so the schedule’s quite packed. It’s great though…very effective marketing.” The two of us shared a smile at that before I nodded my head.

  “Worked for me,” I agreed. “I have a design in mind, but I can’t draw to save my life. Do you think I can speak to one of the artists and have him draw what I want?”

  Anna beamed. “Absolutely. Want to see our artists’ portfolios? They’re all amazing, so your choice depends on the style and aesthetic you want.”

  I didn’t need to look to know what I wanted. Who I wanted. “Jake…Jake Huntington,” came my instant response. “I want him.”

  “Hmm…Jake…” she trailed off, moving her head to look at her desktop computer. “Unfortunately, he’s fully booked for the rest of the week. He’s available next Thursday. Is that alright? You’ll have time to iron out the details of the design you want.”

  I couldn’t help but feel disappointed. I’d made up my mind and waiting a week would only give me the time I needed to chicken out. Not about the tattoo, but about the rest. In this moment, I was bold, but would it last? Would I be able to come back and tell him I wanted him for more than just a tattoo? “He’s pretty busy, huh?”

  “Yeah. It’s great, actually. He’s very hands on even if he’s the owner.”

  Hands on. Good. I wanted him to be very hands on.

  “He could let the other artists do his work for him, but he enjoys what he does. ‘Enjoy’ is even an understatement.”

  Becca couldn’t help but smile at that. Can the guy get any more attractive? His looks were more than enough, and now, his passion for what he does? Damn, was all I could think.

  If I couldn’t have Jake in bed, then I could still get a tattoo.

  “Who’s free to tattoo me tonight? I don’t think I want to wait,” I said, smiling sheepishly.

  I felt the back of my neck burn, and when I turned around, Jake was looking right at me. I sucked in a harsh breath at his steel gaze. He started walking towards me.

  3

  Jake

  Becca was here. Not in a prim sundress, but a pair of denim shorts that barely covered her ass and a silky baby blue tank top. Holy shit.

  “Bob!” Anna shouted out from behind the reception desk. “Come over here! Someone wants some ink!”

  Fuck. My eyes moved from Becca to Bob a few times before they settled on the six-footer walking over to Anna and Becca a little too eagerly. He said a few words to Anna before he turned to the familiar brunette. Her wavy hair was brushed to her left shoulder; her cute, pointy chin added just the right amount of sexiness to her innocent brown eyes. I didn’t miss the way Bob’s eyes moved to glance at her tits for a second. He could probably feel the hole I was burning in his skull since he tipped his head up and his eyes landed on mine.

  Fuck off. My gaze said enough. That silenced him, and he began scratching the back of his head as I walked over to them.

  “Fancy seeing you here,” I said with just a ghost of a smirk tainting my lips. Fuck, I could just waste my whole day staring at her. She wasn’t beautiful in the usual sense, but fuck, my dick liked her just fine. And every caveman instinct that lay dormant roared to life. I didn’t even want Bob looking at her, let alone marking her skin with ink. “Sure you’re in the right place, princess?”

  “Shut up, boss,” Anna was quick to say. “She wants a tattoo by you specifically, but you’re fully booked this whole week.”

  I saw her flush, glance away, but after a moment, she lifted her chin and met my gaze.

  “You told me to stop by,” Becca quickly put in, and my smirk instantly widened. Never thought she’d be the kind to stand up for herself.

  She dressed and acted…well, fuck, she definitely fit the helpless persona to a tee, and she looked exactly that yesterday. When I saw her on the side of the road in her pearls and pink dress and trying her goddamn best to change her tire, my decision had been a no-brainer. She was a pretty girl who’d needed help.

  Then I discovered that the she I’d helped was none other than Becca Madison. I hadn’t seen her in years and in that time, she’d changed. A whole hell of a lot. She wasn’t a little girl anymore. She had legs as long as sin and curves in all the right places.

  I wanted her to be the helpless one, to seek me out when she had a problem. Yeah, I was full of shit because it was just random luck that I’d come upon her the day before. But I didn’t want anyone helping her. I wanted her to turn to me, to need me. Only me.

  But she was a fucking princess. Her damn car cost more than a hundred G’s. I’d owned and driven luxury vehicles when I lived with my parents and they’d been supporting me, and I had to admit I kind of missed that need for speed. My pickup truck was practical, but I wasn’t going to be breaking any fucking land-speed records anytime soon with it.

  That wasn’t worth the price tag that came with it. And I wasn’t talking about money. It was being under my father’s thumb. I’d walked away and I wasn’t going back. Not even for a killer car.

  I shook my head to cut my train of thought. How the hell was I thinking about a car when I had a beautiful woman standing in front of me? Everyone was staring at me expectantly and I felt like an idiot. This girl got my mind wandering.

  Then I focused in on what Anna had said. Becca came in to get a tattoo. I felt my heart skip a beat. I was the one she wanted touching her skin, marking her. But I didn’t want to dirty her. My hands were calloused from all the hard labor I enjoyed doing, be it working on my car, exercising in my home gym a floor above the studio, and tattooing. I felt like the moment I touched her that her innocence and sweetness would instantly vanish.

  But if I didn’t do it, Bob would be all over helping her out. And that shit wasn’t going to fly.

  “Come on into the back room. I’ll do your ink there.” I wanted to be alone with her. I wasn’t sure where she wanted her tattoo, but no one was getting a glimpse of any more of her skin. Besides, I didn’t want anyone else to see my hard-on. As soon as I touched her, I’d be in big trouble.

  She walked beside me and I let he
r enter the room first. It was used for when a client wanted a little privacy—a tattoo going in a more personal spot or even a piercing.

  “I’m going to grab my sketch pad so we can talk design. I’ll be right back.”

  When I left the room, I could see Anna and Bob looking at me suspiciously. I responded with a smirk before I hurried over to my office and grabbed my stuff. I was back with her in no time, and she looked like she was making herself comfortable in the chair.

  “Do you know what you want?”

  She nodded her head and began to unbutton her shorts and pulled her zipper down. “I want a butterfly on my hip…for my mother. She used to call me ‘my little butterfly’.”

  She wriggled herself to move her shorts below her hips and let them stay there.

  Fuuuuck. I swore her bright pink panties were going to be the death of me. Her shorts were tight and lifted her ass cheeks up a bit. What…the…

  “I want it right here.” The tip of her pointer finger rested lightly on her hip bone. “Will it hurt?”

  I just stared and stared at the exposed flesh. The curve of her hip was something I could easily grab hold of when fucking her from behind. The thong covered her mound and made me wonder if it was wet, ruined with her eagerness for me to fuck her. She certainly wasn’t overly modest. Thank fuck I brought her to the back room. Shit, if Bob got sight of her with her shorts down, I’d have punched him out.

  I cleared my throat, gently ran my finger over the spot where she wanted the ink. Silky soft. Warm. I was going to come like a fucking teenager if I didn’t pull it together. “I remember your mother…she was…definitely much nicer than your father.” We exchanged grins at that. “So, regretting coming in tonight?”

  She was quick to shake her head, just watched my finger as it moved. “Nah. I just want to know exactly what I’m signing up for. Some of my friends say getting a tattoo hurts like a bitch, but others were able to take a nap while getting one.”

  “Well, it depends…” I placed my sketch pad on the desk and walked closer to her. I pressed two fingers on the skin of her hip bone once again, and fuck was I doing my best not to move my hand lower, to feel the lips of her pussy through the lace of her thong, to feel the wetness.

  What the fuck did she really come here for?

  I tried my best to keep my groan at bay and pressed my lower torso against the chair. My hard dick was relentless, and Becca wasn’t helping. She was the cause of it.

  “It depends where you want it. If it’s near any bones, then yeah, it’s more painful, but you’ll live, and you can tell me to stop anytime. You can come more than once.”

  Fuck. The thought of her coming on my cock, on my mouth had me stifling a groan. And her coming more than once? Absolutely. When I got her in my bed, she was going to forget her own name.

  I could see her hesitation with the way she bit her bottom lip. I coughed out loud to shadow another groan threatening to escape. She looked so beautiful and adorable that I just wanted to push her back against the chair and climb on top of her, to slide those shorts down a little further and slip right into her tight heat.

  Fuck off, inner me said, and I was instantly reminded that girls like her never went for guys like me. I wasn’t rich and dangerous for someone like her. I had no future ahead of me besides my small business. No trips to Europe, no polo ponies. There was no way she could go to her high-society events and bring me as her date. I’d just humiliate her. She couldn’t be with the guy who’d walked away from it all.

  Cut it out. She just wants a tattoo, not a relationship.

  That thought was supposed to be an instant boner killer, but with her shorts pulled down that was impossible.

  “Are you sure you want to do this? You look nervous,” I said, realizing my fingers were still on her hip bone. I didn’t want to pull them away. “Give yourself a week to think it over and give me a call. I’ll work around your availability.”

  Suddenly, the shy, helpless girl before me disappeared. There was a light in her eyes and a steadfastness with the way she looked at me now, the way she shifted her hips into my touch.

  “I want you,” she said.

  Um… There was no way I could look away. What the fuck was she talking about?

  “My friends and I made a pact.” Her pink tongue darted out to lick her lips. “To lose our virginity before college starts. I want it to be you. The one to fuck me first.”

  What. The. Fuck? “Say that again, princess.”

  “I want you to be the one who fucks me first.”

  4

  Becca

  I couldn’t take my eyes off Jake, especially not after what I’d just said. It was the truth. I really wanted to get a tattoo, a butterfly, but having him fuck me ranked higher in my list of priorities. I told him what I wanted and it was up to him if he’d give it to me.

  Waiting for him to respond felt like an eternity, as if everything was in slow motion. I watched as he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing once. I imitated him, then sucked in a breath of my own. I’d been bold, bolder than I’d ever been in my life, but I’d learned from my father I had to go after what I wanted. I doubted he meant going after a guy to fuck me, but…whatever. My gaze drifted lower, moved down from his neck past his broad shoulders, muscled torso, narrow waist to the growing bulge in his jeans. Wow. My heart beat faster at the sight.

  I’d gotten to him. I made him horny if the size of his dick was any indication.

  I reached out, carefully and a little hesitantly, and wrapped my fingers around his wrist. He could stop me at any time—he was so much stronger than me—but he didn’t. I moved his hand down, the pads of his skin just barely touching my hip bone, and further south until he hovered over my pussy, then pressed down. There. I closed my eyes at the sensation. I’d never had a guy touch me like this before. It was feather-light, but my pussy felt like they were on fire. I smiled a bit when I heard a groan escape his lips.

  His eyes met mine, but he remained still, let me move his hand as I wanted over my shorts. He could tug his hand free, I wouldn’t be able to stop him. He could control me easily, but in this moment, but he was letting me take the lead. What guy wouldn’t if it led to pussy?

  Bold, I pulled my shorts all the way down to reveal lacy see-through thong. “I went shopping today,” I murmured, glancing up and watching his eyes, the way they heated, his jaw, the way it clenched as he looked at me. Saw what no other man had seen before.

  I’d gotten a Brazilian yesterday after he changed my tire and with the way his eyes and his big bulge grew even bigger, I knew I made the right decision to go bare.

  “Touch me…” I didn’t move his hand. Starting now, whatever happened next was up to him. “Please.”

  He stared at me with the same intensity I gave him, and with every second of silence passing, I grew wetter and hotter. His striking blue eyes raked over me as if he were memorizing every inch. A part of me wanted to know what he was thinking, but with the way he was making me feel, I wanted to leave the talking for later…after…we’d done what I wanted him to do.

  “You’re a virgin,” he said, voice trailing off as if he was talking more to himself than to me. His fingers remained still, but I could feel the heat of them through the thin fabric barrier.

  I nodded my head. “Yes.”

  “Have you done other things?” I unwound my fingers from his wrist, but his hand still stayed on my pussy. “Been finger fucked?”

  I shook my head.

  “Given a blow job?”

  I shook my head again.

  “Had your pussy eaten?”

  Once more.

  “What have you done?”

  His gaze flicked up to mine.

  I bit my lip, slightly embarrassed. I was eighteen and a virgin. A very virgin virgin. He was older, experienced, worldly. Hell, he probably had women flinging themselves at him all day long. I’d done it just now, but I was just a clueless. Was I doing it right? Why would he want me? I fit the “loser�
� stereotype perfectly. I suddenly felt like cowering away, hunching my shoulders into a defensive position. This was silly. I was silly even asking him to do this. To expose myself to him like this. I tried to get up, but he moved quickly, his free hand grasping my shoulder to keep me still. He hovered over me. I was trapped, his broad chest much wider than mine, and his arms were big and strong to keep me in place. I felt like I couldn’t escape him, and I liked the feeling. I’d been bold to begin with, but it seemed he was taking over.

  “You’ve never been touched before?” he asked, even though he already knew the answer. “Here?” His fingers pressed against my pussy, and I was trying my best not to squirm. “Or here?” The hand on my shoulder slid lower to cup my right breast.

  I shook my head again, bit my lip again. I didn’t cower anymore, but arched my back so I filled his palm more fully.

  “Will you?” I whispered.

  He looked from my pussy and up into my eyes.

  “Will you touch me?”

  The edges of his lips curved upward into a grin. “Fuck yes,” came his response. “This?” He brushed over my clit. “This pussy’s all mine.” With that, his fingers slipped underneath the edge of my thong and really touched me. It was a heated shock, just that light touch.

  “You’re drenched for me, baby.”

  I pushed my head backward, closed my eyes. I wanted to remember this moment, every bit of what it felt like to be pleasured. By a man. Not by my hand any longer. I jumped a bit in the chair when his two fingers lightly pinched my clit.

  “Relax,” he breathed, before holding me against the chair. “Don’t feel nervous. You’re safe with me. Enjoy everything I’m about to give you.”

  I glanced down, saw his tattooed arm and followed it down to see his hand between my legs, his fingers disappearing beneath the pink lace. It was so hot, being touched by the bad boy, I whimpered.