Billionaire's Virgin - A Standalone Romance (An Alpha Billionaire Virgin Romance)

by Joey Bush

  “That surprises me. What occupies your time?” Ryder asked.

  “I feel like I’m being interviewed. What do I get if I pass?” I joked. But he winked, sending a chill up my spine. “I do many things. I’m getting ready for college. I will be a freshman at South Carolina. That alone keeps me busy. I volunteer, play in a summer soccer league, run about thirty miles per week, hang with friends, and I even get in the occasional game of tennis.”

  “Do you golf? It seems like a logical question since we’re at one of the world’s finest golf courses.”

  “I have golfed a little. I know what a birdie is and a bogie. I’m a force when it comes to miniature golf. There is an awesome little course not far from here. It’s designed to look like New York City. I always get a hole in one on the Brooklyn Bridge. Since I’m not focused on anything until I begin school, there are quite a few club sports that am looking into.”

  “You have strong legs from running and tennis has taught you to keep your eye on the ball. I was hooked on golf in college. It is a great way to spend time with people. It is a great way to solve your boyfriend problem.”

  “I don’t have a boyfriend problem. I just don’t have a boyfriend,” I responded.

  This Ryder guy was stuck on the boyfriend issue.

  “Sorry,” he said, tilting his head to the side. “Leaving the boyfriend thing aside. I think it’s a waste if you don’t try golf. You don’t have to be great. Some people really suck and they’re still a blast on the links. I was out with an 80-year old man the other day. It is something you will always be able to do.”

  “Do you work for the PGA? It sounds like you’re trying to recruit me.”

  He chuckled. “I have a proposition.” Ryder’s green eyes sparkled.

  “Okay…What is it?” I asked, somewhat apprehensively.

  I did not know what he was planning on proposing but just the thought made my heart rate pick up speed.

  “Join me on the driving range tomorrow. I will show you some basics. We can also hit the putting green. I’m patient. I taught Sammy how to play.”

  “Who is Sammy?” I asked.

  Probably a she, I thought to myself. Sammy was probably a curvaceous Samantha.

  “Just someone I know. So will you meet me? Summer is ending. I will get you swinging straight by the time you head out.”

  “I already swing straight,” I joked, hoping he got it.

  He laughed. “I’m glad you’re straight. Now are you going to meet me tomorrow or do I have to beg?” His white teeth shined as he smiled.

  “I’d love to see you beg,” I told him and grinned. “But I won’t make you. I have nothing better to do. I will be in the pro shop at about 10 AM. Does that work for you?” I asked.

  “I will see you there. Consider it a date. I hate to run but my phone is vibrating. It sucks that you can’t use phones in this place. Someone needs to change the rule.” Ryder grinned and walked away.

  The word “date” reverberated in my ear. Oh, shit. He looked older than I did but god was he sexy.

  Chapter Two

  I woke up to my buzzing television the next morning. I fell asleep watching season three of Game of Thrones. I was binge watching the first few seasons, which I had missed. It took a moment for my head to clear. Was I really meeting Ryder? What had I been thinking when I accepted his proposal? I realized that I did not even have his phone number so I couldn’t cancel.

  I threw on a t-shirt to cover up since I always slept in the nude. It was a habit I would have to break at college. I would not know my roommate and it would probably make her uncomfortable.

  “Good morning mom,” I said, walking into the kitchen. I gave my mother a squeeze, as I had done for as long as I was alive.

  “Hey Jen. What do you have planned for the day?”

  “Oh, just stuff. I have nothing earth shattering going on. I’m meeting this guy, who’s going to give me golfing lessons,” I said casually.

  “Jenna, I didn’t know you were interested in golf,” she responded surprised.

  “I’m not. But when an amazingly hot guy asks you to golf, you get interested in a hurry.”

  “I golfed for a while with your father before he got sick. I probably have some gear you can use.”

  “I have already raided your closet. No offense mom. Your stuff is frumpy,” I remarked.

  “I’m not frumpy Jenna. Check in with me after you give birth to three kids. We can’t all have your athletic frame,” she said, peering at me over her cup.

  “I have seen photos of you back in the day. You were a hot little thing once.”

  “Once? I’m not even fifty yet. I can still get my joy engine revved up,” she said and laughed.

  “Oh my god! TMI Mom! If you have a joy engine, I don’t want to know about it.” I laughed. I wanted more than anything for my mother to find a special someone, but discussing anything about her life that was sex related was like thumbtacks in my ears.

  As I sipped my coffee, I noticed movers next-door. They were moving someone in.

  “Hey Mom, what’s going on with the house next-door. It looks as though someone is finally moving in.”

  The house was easily the most expensive house on the block.

  “It is a single man. I saw him the other day and he’s very good looking,” she noted.

  “Mom, maybe he’s the one for you. Wouldn’t that be convenient? You two could add some flavor to this neighborhood. The gossip would be worth listening to. He could come by for late night visits and you could hop the fence over to his place.”

  “Jenna, I’m just not ready for a relationship yet. I saw the stuff he’s moving in. He has enough electronics to fill the place. He also has a lot of gym equipment, a set of golf clubs and a couple of fancy bikes. Unfortunately, I think he’s too old for you.”

  “Too old for me and too young for you,” I said.

  “I never said he was too young for me. I like younger men.”

  “You are one of a kind mom.”

  “Why don’t you at least welcome him to the neighborhood? You should bake something for him or bring him some of that homemade jam we made last summer,” she suggested.

  “The jam might kill him. We made that when I was a freshman in high school. I will make him an apple pie. We will seem so wholesome. I’m curious about this guy. I would like to meet him.”

  I made a pie with some frozen crust I found in the freezer. I was tempted to run to the store and pick up a Marie Calendars but the apples were handy. I took my semi-homemade concoction to the bungalow next-door.

  I was curious to meet the man that my mom believed to be hot. There were times when our generation gap seemed as wide as the Grand Canyon. When I mentioned that I loved JT, she thought I was referring to James Taylor. Justin Timberlake was more my style. Maybe the chasm caused by our age was smaller when it came to our taste in men. She said he was too old for me. I just wanted to check him out for myself.

  “Hello. Is the home owner here?” I asked one of the movers.

  “No mam,” he answered kindly. “He won’t be here for hours. If you have something for him, you can leave it in the kitchen. You can leave the door open when you leave. We will be in and out for a few hours.”

  “All right. Thanks.” I nodded my thanks as I walked past him.

  I walked into a chaotic mess. Boxes were piled high. My mother wasn’t kidding about the electronics. He had all of the usual audio and video equipment and what seemed to be a gaming console. Some of the stuff looked like it was purchased from Brookstone or an in-flight catalogue.

  Scattered on the countertop were a bevy of amber pill bottles. I was tempted to pick one up and read the label but I resisted. People took a wide range of pills and supplements for various reasons—I didn’t want to make a judgment. My mother mentioned a set of golf clubs—singular.

  The man could run a fucking pro-shop.

  There were a ton of bags loaded with clubs. Some had the familiar swoosh but he did not s
eem to have a favorite. There were logos on everything from Ping, Callaway, MacGregor, TaylorMade and others. He had some framed golf shirts and hats that were signed. I assumed famous people had signed the items but they appeared as scribbles.

  I never considered myself a snoop, but this was fun. I walked to a box filled with books knowing it would tell me a great deal about the stranger. That was a mistake. I wished I had not stolen a look at his mini-library. The dude was into sex – a lot of sex. There was the stuff like “The Joy of Sex”, which I had found in dad’s drawer when I was nine. He had volumes of stuff on STD’s, books on the psychology of sex, and a whole book on fellatio. Who used that term? Fellatio.

  Of course, I opened the book.

  It was full of tasteful sketches of women and men. The person receiving the blowjob was drawn with no emotion. It was as if they were receiving a receipt at the grocery store rather than intense pleasure. Some stuff bordered on soft porn, but nothing scandalous or illegal.

  There were several boxes labelled SC Room. I wondered what SC meant. Sex Consultation?

  I looked in his fridge. It wasn’t plugged in yet so my career as Sherlock Holmes hit a dead end. If I had found random body parts or something else bizarre, I would’ve had a great story. I glanced at my watch. It was almost time to meet Ryder at Magnolia. I left the semi-homemade pie on the counter. After one last glance at the fellatio manual, I left.

  Chapter Three

  I looked in my full-length mirror before departing. Not Bad. I wore a black pair of shorts and a pink polo shirt. My body was toned after an active summer. I accented my look with silver earrings and bangles around my wrist. My hair appeared blonder than usual because of the sun. It fell to my shoulders so I scooped it up in a messy ponytail. I had tried short hair earlier in the year. I was following trend a la Jennifer Lawrence. My best friend, Sayler, encouraged me. I saw the look of horror when my first chunk of foot long hair fell to the ground. I cried for a week and vowed never to go short again. I smeared on some “Dazzle” lip color and the look was complete: I was country club chic.

  I drove my Sol to the country club. It wasn’t a fancy set of wheels, but I worked hard as a waitress for three years to buy the thing.

  “I hardly recognized you without the nametag. Are you ready for the LPGA?” Ryder said and whistled as I got out of my car.

  “Stop. Everyone is looking,” I whispered. “So I didn’t bring clubs or anything. I figured they would have everything I need to rent.”

  “They will supply you with clubs and balls. I have taken care of everything,” Ryder said.

  “I’m sure you have the latter – at least I hope so,” I joked.

  “Yeah I have my own. They could use some cleaning. Can you take care of that?”

  “Ryder!”

  “I’m referring to my clubs Jenna,” Ryder shot back.

  “Oh yeah sure. I will handle the shaft gently.”

  We chuckled in unison.

  We walked onto the driving range. The natural dunes and the undulating greens made a spectacular view. The salt grass in the distance was swaying wildly indicating breezy conditions.

  “I hate to cover up such a sexy outfit, but you should throw on a sweatshirt.” He grabbed a red sweatshirt from his bag. It was from Stanford. He’s educated. And on the other side of the United States

  “Good school. Did you go?” I asked.

  “Yes, I’m a Cardinal. I wanted to be just like Tiger.”

  “When did you graduate?” I thought I was so sly. I had figured out a way to find out his age.

  “A while ago.” Ryder smiled. He was too smart for my game.

  “I suppose if you like golf, Tiger is a good person to emulate,” I said.

  “He’s a good golfer, but have you seen the chicks he lands? Now that’s something to emulate. The first wife was stunning and now he’s hooking up with Lindsey Vonn. The man prefers blonde-haired women. Like me.” Ryder looked at me and winked. I felt my face turn warm. “Well, enough chat. I’m ready to see what you’ve got. Grab a club,” Ryder said. I stared at him quizzically. “Yeah. I’m sure you want to know which one. I had them set you up with a few. It is like asking a person to grab a fork at a five star restaurant. Begin with a 5-iron. It’s labeled. We will try the 3-wood next and switch to the putter eventually. I had them include a pitching wedge, but I don’t think we will get to that.”

  “This must be the one.” I grabbed the club with a 5 engraved on the head. “Wow, it’s lighter than I expected.” I swung it around like a baseball bat and nearly hit Ryder in the head.

  “Careful with that thing!” he exclaimed, jumping backwards. “The last thing I need is a smack in the head.” His stern demeanor startled me.

  Ryder had me get comfortable holding the club. He demonstrated the proper stance and showed me some ways not to position my body. I was paying attention to the power and grace with which he moved. He was using terms like torque, trajectory and follow thru. I nodded as he spoke but made a mental note to look up that stuff on my tablet when I got a chance. His movement mesmerized me and I had no interest in his technical jargon.

  When I finally got to the tee, it became obvious I was a novice. I was hitting the balls all over the place. The fact that I was new to the game combined with the presence of a sexy man made for a pretty embarrassing showing.

  “God, Jenna. I would complement you on your swing but I can’t come up with anything to say. You mentioned that you had golfed before. I’m starting to believe you lied.”

  “Then teach me. You said you were able to teach Samantha.” His eyebrows raised. He was surprised that I remembered the mention of her name.

  “I said Sammy. I will give you a manual assist and see how that goes.”

  Ryder came up behind me. His 6’2” frame eclipsed my petite 5’3” body. My hands began to sweat. It was something that happened when I was nervous – or horny. At that moment, I didn’t know which one it was.

  “We will need to begin with the fundamentals. I’m a good instructor—if you pay close attention. I have been teaching for years.”

  “You are a teacher?” I asked.

  “Enough with the twenty questions.” He smirked. “We will begin with the grip. You are holding the club too tightly. Relax.”

  Ryder rearranged my fingers as he wrapped his large hands around mine. I thought for a moment about the state of my manicure. Shit, I had not been to the nail salon all summer and my self-applied color was a mess.

  “Think fingers when you’re applying a grip. If you rely on your palm, the club will risk slipping out. Keep your thumb pointed downwards. This is going to feel unnatural at first. Soon, you will be able to do it without thinking.”

  The lesson was confusing, but oddly sensual. Ryder’s breath was warm and it smelled as a combination of coffee and breath mints. It was pleasant and it made the hair on the back of my neck stand straight.

  “You are getting the hang of it. Am I making you uncomfortable?” Ryder asked. Our bodies couldn’t get any closer.

  “Not at all. I can see that I’m in good hands.” I was running low on clever quips.

  “You are doing great. Let’s take a break. I would suggest a beer. You look 21, but I don’t want to embarrass you or me.”

  “I would love an iced tea. We can share a glass of wine another time,” I said. I instantly regretted the words and started scolding myself silently. I shouldn’t have assumed there would be a next time. I was hoping he would ignore the comment.

  “Sounds excellent. I will hold you to it after our next visit to the driving range. I would suggest today but I have a million things to do. I’m actually avoiding the tasks by being here with you. It is one of the times golf comes in handy. It offers the opportunity to escape.”

  “What are you escaping from today?” I asked, hoping that he would give me some insight into who the hell this enigma of a man was.

  “Don’t get me wrong Jenna. I would choose to be here with you regardless of what
else was happening.” He sighed. “I moved recently. I’m upgrading from a condominium to a house. I hate unpacking because it makes me realize how much shit I have. I was planning to get rid of a bunch of things. I save them in case…someone wants it someday. I guess I’m sentimental.”

  “Maybe we can get you featured on an episode of ‘Hoarders’.” I laughed.

  “Seriously, it’s that bad.”

  I snickered. “Well, most people could be on that show. What’s with the watch?”

  “My grandfather always wore a watch. I wear one in his honor.”

  “That hardly looks like your Grandfather’s watch.”

  “I upgraded to the 21st century. It keeps all of my stats handy like blood pressure, pulse and heart rate. It keeps track of the steps I take and a load of other stuff. I have a couple of them.”

  “Oh, I have a watch, too. Mine does this cool thing where it keeps time,” I jested.

  “You are a smartass,” he announced and a grin formed in the corner of his mouth.

  “And so are you.” I giggled. “Why do you need a couple of watches?”

  “They are always upgrading the design. I get them in every color available. I like to coordinate them with my outfit.”

  “Okay, Anna Wintour.”

  “Who the fuck is Ann Winter?” Ryder asked.

  “It’s Wintour. Does Vogue Magazine ring a bell or perhaps you have seen the movie The Devil Wears Prada?”

  “Don’t get all girly on me. You don’t strike me as the Vogue type of woman,” Ryder commented.

  “I bet you think I skip reading entirely. You probably think I head right to Twitter for news and hop on Facebook to see what’s trending. You will be surprised to know that I read The New York Times. I also throw in an occasional People Magazine.” I crossed my arms.

  “Don’t get defensive. I tweet and keep my Facebook page current. It is obvious you’re a well-read woman.”

  I made a mental note to check out his Facebook page when I got to my tablet. All mysteries would be solved.

  “I’m ready for round two, unless you need to get to your new home.”