The Virgin Auction

by Olivia T. Turner

  She cums first, screaming as her erupting pussy squeezes my cock for the fourth time. My body flexes as my breath is ripped out of my lungs. The orgasm hits me like a speeding truck, and I hold onto her legs for support as I cum deep inside of her ripe womb.

  “Oh, fuck,” she moans as I coat her channel with hot streams of cum, filling her virgin pussy with my fertile seed.

  I drop my head on her lush tits, breathing heavily as I say a little prayer that my sperm will make it into her teenage womb, binding us forever.

  If I don’t get her pregnant this time, I will next, or the time after that. I won’t stop fucking her hard and unprotected until she’s got my baby growing inside her sweet innocent body.

  We stay like this for a long time, until my legs cramp up and I can’t stay awake. Jessica is sound asleep on the table. Her young body is not used to such intense sensations, but she’ll get used to it soon. I plan on burying my dick into her every single moment that I can.

  She groans but doesn’t open her eyes as I slide my arms under her naked body and carry her to the couch. I lay down, holding her on top of me for the rest of the flight.

  She’s so perfect. This is what I’ve been wanting all of these years, but I just didn’t know it. I didn’t know something this good was a possibility.

  I kiss her forehead and smile as I stare up at the tiny lights on the ceiling of the cabin. She’s mine now. I have her.

  Nothing else matters. Not my businesses, not my ten figure bank account, not my thousands of employees, and not my collection of houses, cars, and planes.

  I have all that I need right here in my arms.

  We’re headed where no one will be able to find us. A little island near Fiji where I’ll buy a beachfront villa and the two of us can stay locked away forever. We’ll have each other, a baby, and our love.

  It’s all that I need.

  The rest of my life starts right now, with this beautiful girl in my arms, and I couldn’t be happier.

  Epilogue

  Max

  One year later…

  I pop out of the clear turquoise water with a fresh fish wiggling on the end of my spear. It’s the one with the blue stripe, Jessica’s favorite.

  The hot sun beats down on my shoulders as I walk back to the beach where my beautiful pregnant beauty is laying in the sand.

  She’s completely naked on our own private beach, reading a book as I stare at her swollen tits and round belly. She’s due any day now, and I can’t fucking wait.

  We’ve been living in a tiny secluded island near Fiji that has a name I still can’t pronounce. I sold all of my businesses when I arrived, bought a huge villa overlooking the ocean, and settled in with my girl.

  It’s been pure heaven living with her, and I’ve never been happier.

  “Whatcha got there?” she asks, lowering her book as I walk onto the shore.

  “Dinner,” I say, looking down at her with a grin. Her smooth skin is tanned with little specks of sand clinging to it.

  Her eyes are on the fish that I caught but mine are on her exposed pussy. The sight of her walking around pregnant and naked always gets me going. Seeing her bred with my child is the biggest aphrodisiac on this planet.

  “Dinner? We still haven’t had lunch,” she says, looking up at me.

  I stab the spear upright into the sand and kneel between her feet. She giggles as I grab her knees and spread her legs apart.

  She’s already wet for me. She was probably wet as soon as she saw me pop out of the water.

  “I don’t know what you’re having, Dimples,” I say, licking my lips. “But this is my lunch.”

  She moans as I descend on her folds, devouring her pussy with my hungry mouth.

  This island is paradise but the real paradise is on my tongue.

  My Jessica. The girl I stole from the virgin auction is what heaven is made of.

  And she’s never leaving my side.

  ***Keep scrolling to read the first chapter of Daddy’s Best Friend by Olivia T. Turner***

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  Bonus Chapter: Daddy’s Best Friend

  By Olivia T. Turner

  Candice

  “Is this really necessary?” I ask with my heart pounding.

  “You’ve been arrested,” the cop snaps back in a gruff voice. He squeezes my wrist a little too hard and yanks me forward. “Yes, it’s necessary.”

  “It was an accident,” I say as he opens the plastic case sitting on the table. It’s a fingerprinting kit complete with the sponge that’s stained with regrets.

  The cop chuckles. “It’s always an accident, or a misunderstanding, or a mistake. Finger.”

  He grabs my hand when I don’t listen and pulls my index finger forward, nearly ripping it out of the socket.

  “Ouch,” I complain as he presses my fingertip onto the dark sponge. All of a sudden this is all feeling very real. I’m starting to get nauseous. I hope I don’t puke on the table.

  My finger is covered in black ink as he pulls it away and presses it onto my fresh new police file. He rolls it to each side and when he releases me, I’m the brand new owner of a criminal record.

  “What happens now?” I ask as I try to wipe the ink off my finger and onto a Kleenex. It’s not coming off. I’ve been branded a thief.

  Too bad it’s summertime and I can’t wear gloves.

  “Now you go to the holding cell,” he says, closing my file. “Until someone comes to bail you out.”

  “Is that really necessary?” I ask again, getting desperate now. I can’t call my Dad to come bail me out. He’ll murder me. “I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

  The cop chuckles again. “He’s in the hospital right now getting stitches in his head. I would hate to see what you do when you’re trying to hurt someone.”

  He deserves every painful stitch in his asshole head.

  I exhale long and hard, trying to calm my swirling emotions. This is all happening too fast. I can’t process it.

  The cop brings me to a bare room with only a table, a chair, and a phone. It’s one of those old, black rotary phones. I’ve never used one and I’m not sure if I even know how to.

  “One phone call,” he says.

  I linger in the doorway, not wanting to come to terms with reality. Maybe if I stay here long enough he’ll get bored and let me go.

  Nope.

  He pushes me into the room and grabs the door handle.

  “Wait,” I say, the word catching in my throat. “Who am I supposed to call?”

  He shrugs. “Your parents?”

  I shake my head. That’s not an option. My strict military father would skin me alive and hang me from his mailbox as a warning to any other kids who considered breaking the law.

  “Any other family?”

  I shake my head again. Just my dictator of a dad and his bitch of a wife, my new stepmom. I’d rather rot away in a prison cell for all eternity before asking her for help.

  “Lawyer?”

  I shake my head again. My chin is starting to tremble. My eyes are burning. I want to go home.

  “Then I don’t know what to tell you,” he says like he doesn’t give a fuck. He slams the door closed, nearly making me jump out of my skin.

  My heart is pounding as I walk over to the table and slip into the hard chair. I already know who I’m going to call but I just don’
t want to admit it.

  I don’t want him to see me like this. He already thinks that I’m a child. I don’t want him to think that I’m a spoiled brat and a criminal delinquent too.

  I pull the phone over and drag my fingertips over the cold metal as I think about him.

  Logan.

  Just the sound of his name sends warmth flooding through my body.

  He’s the reason why I’m in this shitty town. Brander, Colorado. I came for him.

  Logan has been my crush for years. He’s also my father’s best friend.

  My father, Brian, is a very strict military man. He was in Iraq when I was just a cluster of cells in my mother’s stomach. One day, just after I was born, he was on patrol with his squad when they got ambushed. My dad was in the front and got shot in the leg as all hell broke loose around them. He went down and was immediately surrounded by three enemy insurgents who were dragging him back to be captured and tortured when Logan rushed out and saved him. My father never did tell me what Logan did to save his life. Whenever I asked, his face would go serious and he would get that distant look in his eye.

  “It’s not a story for children,” he would always say in that condescending way that he still speaks to me in.

  That’s how Logan came into my family’s lives. My Dad and he always kept in touch even though Logan lived in a different state. We would see him on special occasions, some holidays, birthdays, stuff like that. Logan never had his own family so he kind of adopted ours.

  I never really paid much attention to him until I saw him at my father’s wedding. I hadn’t seen him in over five years, since before I hit puberty, but I saw him then.

  Holy shit, did I see him.

  I was sixteen and a hot mess of hormones. My emotions and mood were all over the place but everything seemed to just click when I saw Logan walk into the church.

  I still remember how my body shook when I first caught a glimpse of him. My heart was pounding in my tight chest as my breath quickened and my fingers ached with the need to touch him.

  I can still remember every stunning detail. I’ve been picturing it every day since. He was wearing a dark gray fitted suit that is burned into my brain forever. His broad shoulders were making me lightheaded, his big arms making my mouth water.

  “Hello, Candice,” he said to me as he walked over. I was frozen to the spot, my pulse racing as he reached out his hand.

  I gulped as I shook it, looking down as his sleeve rose up his thick forearm, showing off his sexy tattoos. I dragged my eyes up his muscular arms, to the red power tie that I just wanted to grab and yank toward me until his lips came crashing down on mine.

  He looked just as shaken as I felt as he gazed down at me with his dark brown eyes that were brimming with something. I didn’t recognize it at the time but now, looking back on it, I think it was desire.

  Logan swallowed hard as he ran a hand over his strong jaw, while slowly looking me up and down. “You’ve…developed so nicely,” he said, his voice low and grittier than I remembered.

  A warm shiver cascaded through my body under his intense gaze. It was such a turn on to see an older man attracted to me, especially one as hot and off limits as Logan.

  He was the best man at my father’s wedding and I was the maid of honor even though I hated the bride and she hated me.

  I always thought my father was strict until I met my stepmother. She is a real ball busting bitch.

  Throughout the ceremony, I kept stealing glances at Logan as we stood across from each other. I saw him glance over at me a few times as he checked out my body and breasts, and every time it made me beam with pride.

  I couldn’t stop having dirty thoughts of him and I kept making plans throughout the rest of the ceremony on how to get him alone but it never panned out. I was too nervous.

  He was a real man. Built like a truck and as sexy as a motorcycle. He wouldn’t be interested in me.

  Just when I was spiraling into a depressive funk, he asked me to dance and it was like my eyes were open for the first time.

  He held me so close as we slow-danced. My nipples were painfully hard against his massive chest and all I could think about was losing my virginity to him. He was the only man that I’ve ever wanted and even now, I still hold my V-card. All because I haven’t met anyone who could stack up against Logan.

  “Hey!” the cop says, banging on the window and startling me out of my daydream. “You got one minute.”

  He gives me a nasty look before disappearing down the hall again.

  I gulp as I pick up the phone, running my fingers over the rotary dial.

  The last time that I saw Logan was two years ago when I was seventeen and leaving for University. All I wanted was to be close to him so I picked a University that was twenty minutes away from his house.

  I was thrilled when he showed up to my going away party and was over the moon when he offered to drive me back. I couldn’t sleep or eat for days. I would be alone in the car with Logan for two hours. So many dirty thoughts raced through my mind and I wanted to make every single one of them come true.

  But he wasn’t interested. He was tight and awkward the entire time, like he was afraid to talk to me. It was only when he dropped me off at the dorms when we finally had the connection that I craved so much.

  He scribbled down his phone number on a paper and placed it in my hand. “Candice,” he said, cupping my hand with his two big palms. I felt so small as his powerful hands swallowed mine.

  His dark eyes met mine and my mouth became moist as I pictured leaning in and kissing his soft lips. I could barely breathe in the car under his gaze like that. I would have gone anywhere with him at that moment. I would have done anything he asked.

  “Here’s my number,” he said in his deep raspy voice that sent warm shivers flowing through me. “If you need anything. Anything. Call me. Day or night.”

  I needed something right then but I was too afraid to ask and unfortunately, he kept his pants on.

  That was two years ago but I still have that number memorized. That paper is still under my pillow beside the picture that I stole from my Dad’s photo album of Logan in his military uniform. I don’t know how many times I touched myself while staring at it.

  “Thirty seconds!” the cop says, banging on the window again.

  I straighten up in my seat and start dialing.

  There’s a pain in my chest as I do what I’ve dreamed of doing every night for the past two years: call Logan and ask him to come save me.

  It’s the middle of the night and after a few rings a groggy voice picks up the phone. “Hello.”

  I picture him lying naked in his bed, his hard beautiful body lit up by the rays of the moonlight drifting in through the window.

  “Hi Logan,” I say.

  His heavy breathing stops.

  “It’s me.”

  Check out Daddy’s Best Friend and my other books, all featuring obsessed and protective Over The Top Alpha Males here