Dirty Little Virgin: A Submissives’ Secrets Novel

by Michelle Love

  I move with her, taking her to the rental car. The guy is right behind us, fuming. “Pierce, you and I should talk before you spend any time alone with Jade. She’s been in therapy for the last few months over what you did to her.”

  Stopping dead in my tracks, I ask her, “Jade, is that true?”

  She nods and sniffles. “But it’s okay. My therapist told me I’m not crazy.” She laces her fingers with mine. “And neither are you.”

  “That’s not exactly true. I am a bit nuts. I did send the only woman I’ve ever loved away. That was insane if you ask me.” I kiss her cheek as we start walking again.

  We gaze into each other’s eyes, unable to get enough of each other. Then the old hound dog barks again, “Jade, seriously! This young man and I need to have a private talk. I must demand it.”

  “Hold on, Pierce.” Jade lets me go and takes a few steps to stand in front of the other dude. “Charles, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. You’re a real gentleman and I’ll never say any different. But I don’t want you to say a thing to this man. If you ran him off, I’d most likely kill you and regret nothing by doing it. He’s come back for me, a thing I’ve prayed for every day for six months. And I’ll let no one get in our way. You understand, don’t you?”

  He’d better understand! I’m not walking away from this woman again!

  “Jade, I know you think you love him …”

  “Shh, Charles,” she interrupts him. “I know I love him. Don’t make things awkward between us. I’d hate that.”

  With a nod, he walks away, going to his car as we watch him leave us, his head hung low. Jade comes back to me and I wrap my arms around her, then kiss the top of her head. “He seems like a good guy.”

  “He is. He’s just not you though.” Jade’s arms run around my neck as she looks into my eyes. “Now how about you take me to my flat and we make love until we can’t anymore, then go to sleep in each other’s arms the way I’ve wanted to since I got on the jet that night.”

  “Anything you want, baby. I’m yours completely, for as long as you’ll have me.” I open the passenger door and help her get inside.

  When I slip in behind the steering wheel, I find her smile bigger than I’ve ever seen before. “Pierce, is this actually happening? Are you really here?”

  “I’m here. You and I are going to make plans for our future. It may not all be roses and wine, but by God, we have more love between us than most have. A future with you sounds like heaven to me.”

  “Agreed,” she says, then closes her eyes as she laces our fingers together again. “I’m not ever letting you send me away again, Pierce Langford.”

  “No need to worry about that. I’m never letting you go again, Jade Thomas.”

  Driving away, toward the setting sun, I can’t help but feel I’ve done the right thing. All I can see is happiness in her eyes, and when I glance in the rearview mirror, that’s all I find in mine too.

  I do believe we’ve found our happily ever after ending after all!

  The End

  Grant Jamison, as mentioned in ‘The Dirty Virgin’ is a founding member of the BDSM Club, The Dungeon of Decorum. He’s a character who will appear in every Submissives’ Secrets Novel. And if you sign up for our News Letter then you’ll get his story with each newly released, steam-filled, full length novel.

  Here’s what you can look forwarded to by signing up…

  Dirty Dom

  The water’s cold…She’s red hot!

  She sits on the white, rocky shore as I stalk her from behind.

  Her aspirations are as big as the Texas sky.

  I have other plans for the Yale College girl.

  Kinky plans!

  I’ll command her body and she’ll command my heart.

  The first step in my plan, make her crave my c*ck.

  Then everything else will fall into place.

  My only fear is that one day she’ll go away.

  Leaving me alone to miss her…

  Sign up now, and read the story that will take you on whirlwind ride, sure to please.

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  Winter Preview Parts 1 & 2

  A Billionaire MFM Romantic Suspense

  When two handsome identical twin brothers, Raffaelo and Tommaso Winter, move to her little corner of the Pacific Northwest, beautiful local businesswoman Inca Sardee has no idea that when she meets them, her life will be changed forever.

  Raised in Italy by their Italian mother, but heirs to the billion-dollar fortune their American property magnate father had built, the two brothers could not be more different. Tommaso is friendly and outgoing, while Raffaelo is a distant, brooding bad-boy who keeps himself to himself.

  Soon Inca finds herself caught between a sibling rivalry as both brothers stake their claims for her heart and her body and, despite her history, she begins a romantic affair with one of them

  When people begin to die, however, the entire scene changes. And when a family member is found dead, Inca begins to wonder if the two brothers have brought more than just their good looks and wealth to the small town she calls her home…

  Snowfall #1

  Inca pulled her coat around her tighter as she ran from the truck to the inviting warmth of the coffee shop. The squall, which had blown in from the Sound overnight, brought with it searing cold winds and fine rain which invaded clothing relentlessly. The door blew open just as Inca reached it and she dived in, grateful that it pulsed with heat—someone had turned up the heating way too high—thank God, she thought—and smiled at Nancy behind the counter.

  “Hey kiddo.” Her adoptive mother offered her a towel to dry her hair. “How goes things?”

  It had been two days since the attack in the city parking lot, and although Inca had been thoroughly interrogated by Scarlett, she’d also sworn her to secrecy.

  “I just want to forget it. And the fewer people who know, the better. I don’t want Tyler and Nancy to worry.”

  Scarlett hadn’t been happy, but something in Inca’s face had made her agree.

  Now Inca smiled at her mom. “Good, thanks.”

  Nancy watched her hang her coat up. “Really?”

  Inca didn’t answer her for a moment and, when she turned back to Nancy, her voice was strained. “I’m fine, Nancy.”

  But she knew she couldn’t keep the truth from Nancy for long—especially after last night, when, tormented by nightmares, Inca had suffered a full-blown panic attack and called her adoptive mother at three a.m., sobbing and incoherent.

  Inca waited until the teahouse was empty, then asked Nancy to sit down with her. In a halting voice, she told her what had happened.

  Inca had spent her day off in Seattle, happily avoiding the rain by ducking in and out of bookshops and coffee shops. Busman’s holiday, she grinned to herself, trying not to compare this coffee house with her own small teahouse in the small town just outside Seattle. Overlooking the Bay, the little Japanese-influenced gathering place had been Inca’s dream when she was studying business at college. With the help of Nancy and Tyler, she’d opened it five years previously, not knowing what the people of small-town America would think; the Sakura teahouse was about as far from Starbucks as they could imagine but they loved it.

  Even the grizzled old mountain men came to drink her specialist brews and chat with their friends. Inca lived in the small apartment above the teahouse but whenever she had a day off, she would escape, either to hike along mountain trails or into the city to find new reading material.

  Two days ago had been the latter. She’d finished the pile of books on her nightstand and, although there was still a couple of other piles of unread books in her living room, she told herself there was always a good reason to buy more. Books were her drug of choice. Hours of browsing and reading relaxed her into an almost soporific state and she simply did not consider the fact that, by the time she left the bookstore and headed back to the parking g
arage, it was already dark outside.

  She didn’t hear him behind her until the last second and then, as her assailant grabbed her, she went into survival mode. Adrenaline flooded her system and she fought back as he attempted to wrestle her to the ground. Inca Sardee was no pushover, despite her diminutive height of five foot two inches. She’d studied self-defense martial arts and she used her body to unbalance her attacker, elbowing him rapidly and firmly in the solar plexus, then turning and ramming her thumbs into his eyes. The attacker, a young guy with dirty blond hair and a pock-marked face, yelped and staggered away, cussing her out. Inca quickly got into her car and banged down the locks.

  She drove out of the parking garage and it wasn’t until much later, at home, that she began to feel the post-traumatic effects. She practiced deep breathing to calm down. She tried to stop her body trembling. She thought it had worked until the moment, almost an entire day later, she awoke screaming at 3 a.m. and crawled downstairs to call Nancy.

  Nancy had her hand on her chest, her face pale. “Oh, good grief, Inca … why didn’t you tell me?”

  Inca looked guilty. “I didn’t want you to worry. I’m fine. Not even a scratch.”

  Nancy looked disapproving. “Have you told Olly?”

  Olly Rosenbaum was the town’s police chief and Inca’s (very amicable) ex-boyfriend. Inca shrugged. Although she and Olly were still close friends, she still felt the pain of the break-up initiated by Olly a few months ago.

  “It’s not that I don’t love you,” he’d said gently, “it’s just … I think we both need more than just being good friends. But you are my best friend, Inca; you always will be.”

  And he’d kept true to his word; he still came by the teahouse every day and they hung out all the time. Inca hated to admit it, but, in fact, once the constraint of a “relationship’ had been removed from them, they seemed closer than ever.

  She shook her head now. “Olly has enough to do, and it was no big deal. I told Knox yesterday, and he agreed with me.”

  Knox Westerwick was the town’s deputy chief of police and local lothario. Inca thought he was funny, but she also knew to keep well away from his type. Knox never gave up though, and Inca had warmed to him lately. Underneath all the bullshit, he was a decent guy—not that she’d ever let him near her heart—or her bed.

  “You told Knox that?” Nancy’s voice was hard, and Inca looked at her curiously.

  “What’s up, Nance? You and Knox have a fight?”

  “Not exactly. I just gave him the Mom Speech.”

  Inca giggled, feeling her mood lift. “The ‘Mom’ Speech?”

  Nancy swatted her with a towel. “Less of your sass, Inca. Seriously though, kiddo, I got your back. It’s what happens when your kid calls you at three in the morning in tears.”

  Inca’s smile faded. “Sorry about that. I guess I just panicked.”

  Nancy frowned and opened her mouth to speak but just then the door opened and a wave of customers came in. For the next couple of hours, they barely had a chance to exchange words and it was only when Scarlett greeted them noisily that Inca looked up from her work.

  “Yo, yo, yo, you old crumblies. Still alive? Good.”

  Nancy rolled her eyes and Inca laughed. Scarlett Moyer might be nineteen years old and a

  brutally confident young woman, but they still loved her. She was bright, funny, and didn’t stand for any nonsense, but she had a big heart. Dressed, as always, in her short skirt with Doc Martins and a T-shirt that read Smile Muthaf*cka, she snapped her gum and gave them both a cheesy grin. Inca studied her apparel.

  “That T-shirt needs a comma,” she said thoughtfully and Scarlett laughed.

  “Only you, Inkyminx, would be more offended by a grammatical error than by foul language.” She grabbed a Sharpie from the counter and added the missing comma after Smile. “Happy?’

  “Definitely. Now, get to work, slave.” Inca grinned at her young friend. There might have been nine years between them, but they’d clicked the minute Scarlett had walked into the teahouse two years ago. Scarlett, an undergraduate at the University of Washington, was wise beyond her years, and Inca trusted her implicitly.

  Now Scarlett slipped her apron around her tiny waist. “I have gossip,” she said, as she began to stack cups in the sink. “Someone, or rather, someones, have bought the old Fletcher mansion.”

  Inca’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? After all this time?”

  “Yup. And you’re never going to believe who.”

  Nancy rolled her eyes impatiently. “Just spill it, Scarlett.”

  Scarlett grinned. “If I said the name Winter to you, who would you think?”

  Both Inca and Nancy looked blank and Scarlett gave a hiss of frustration. “God, Grandmas …”

  She grabbed Inca’s iPad from the counter and quickly pulled up a photograph and newspaper article. “Tommaso and Raffaelo Winter. Look at them.”

  Inca glanced quickly at the photograph. She saw two young men with identical, dark curly hair and intense green eyes. “I have no idea who they are,” she said, turning back to her work. Nancy took the iPad from Scarlett and read the article aloud.

  “The Winter Twins, heirs to the Winter Property fortune, are billionaires in their own right. The brothers, thirty-five, decided to relocate from their native Italy to Washington State to pursue their respective careers. Tommaso Winter is working with the US government to promote clean energy in the Pacific Northwest, whereas Raffaelo Winter is the owner of the international club franchise, Zensual, that will be opening a new club in Seattle at the end of the month. Widely considered the two most eligible men on the planet, the Winters will have the pick of the Seattle social elite to choose from when they arrive in the State. The twins are still reeling from the death of their Italian mother, Silvana, who lost her battle with cancer earlier this month. Silvana Winter was divorced from the boy’s father, Edgar Winter.”

  Inca had stopped listening, but she caught Nancy’s tone and grinned at her. “You hate them already.”

  Nancy shrugged. “Poor little rich boys. Strange that two thirty-five-year-olds still live together.”

  “Twins,” Scarlett shrugged, by way of explanation. “They are gorgeous though. Look, Inca, look at those eyes, those bodies … God.”

  Inca grinned. “Drooling at work is most unseemly, Scarlett.”

  “But look …” She shoved the iPad back at Inca who, sighing, took it. Scarlett wasn’t wrong. Tommaso and Raffaelo Winter were heartbreakingly handsome; they had that brooding, sexy thing going on. Inca studied them, trying to pick out the differences. Raffaelo’s eyes were wary, his curls slightly longer and wilder, but that was it. They looked like movie stars. Inca handed the iPad back.

  “You know what they look like? Trouble.”

  Scarlett grinned. “Yeah … fantastic.”

  Inca opened her apartment door, rolling her eyes and giving him a disapproving look. “It’s eleven p.m.”

  Olly shrugged.

  “Come on in.” Inca stood back to let him pass and squinted at him. “Nancy told you, right?”

  “Question is,” Olly said, “why didn’t you?”

  She fixed him some tea, and Olly thanked her as she passed him the cup. Inca sank into the sofa, pulling her legs up under herm and studied her friend with a critical eye. Olly, at thirty-three, was five years her senior. His light brown hair was cut short, his hazel eyes crinkled at the edges. Clean-cut, all-American, Olly Rosenbaum was the epitome of trustworthy and noble.

  “You’re not my bodyguard, Olly.” She softened her words with a smile. “It was really nothing. I handled it.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Olly raised his eyebrows at her. Inca rolled her eyes.

  “Because you have enough to do, and what could you have done anyway? Nothing. It was over in less than two minutes and I’m fine. Like I said, you’re not my bodyguard.”

  Olly sipped his tea. “Are you pissed with me or something?”

  “No, sw
eetie, just tired. How’re things with you?”

  Olly nodded. “Good. Good. Listen, Inks, um …”

  Inca suppressed a smile. “What’s her name?”

  Olly laughed, his expression sheepish. “Molly. She’s a criminologist, working out of the city.”

  Inca felt a pang in her chest but smiled at him. “Nice. How long have you been seeing her?”

  “A week or two. Look, I wanted to tell you because I’m thinking of taking her to Levi and Jim’s and I didn’t want to just tip up there and—”

  “I get it,” Inca interrupted. “Look, Olly, we’re adults and friends. It’s okay, really. I look forward to meeting her. We both need to move on.”

  Later, after Olly left, Inca went into the bathroom to shower and get ready for bed. She stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her long dark hair and grabbed her moisturizer. Gazing in the mirror, she looked at herself critically. She had café-au-lait skin courtesy of her Indian birth mother and almond-shaped green eyes from her Japanese-American father. She knew people considered her beautiful, but Inca could never see what the fuss was about. She had to be honest; the attention she got wasn’t always welcome. Catcalls, lascivious and repellent remarks, even grabbing hands, had all been part of her life since she was a teenager. Her curvy body drew men to her constantly. It was the reason why she had taken self-defense classes.

  Inca couldn’t remember when her dislike of the attention had started. Nancy and Tyler had adopted her from a very young age and she couldn’t remember her life before that. She’d asked Nancy once, and Nancy, her face pale, had merely told her. “Be thankful you can’t remember.”

  Inca had been satisfied with that for a while. But lately, she had been having vicious nightmares about violence and a woman screaming. She had woken up shivering and gasping for air.

  Even with Olly, it had taken her a few weeks of dating before she trusted him enough to sleep with him. Inca laughed softly to herself now, wondering how many other twenty-eight year olds could boast of only ever having one lover. She clicked off the bathroom light and got into bed, thinking about what Olly had told her. Inca wondered if she herself would ever find anyone else and realized that if she didn’t, it wouldn’t bother her. She was happy enough alone.