The Dirty Virgin: A Romance Novella

by Cassandra Dee

  And I could only imagine. I knew Len Jennings from some business dealings and the asshole was the type who bragged about his conquests, his billion dollar fortune, when everyone knew he’d filed for bankruptcy twice in the last ten years. Cleo had dodged a bullet as far as I was concerned.

  “So is that what this is all about?” I asked. “You and your mom have gone through some hard times and because I’m the rich guy who’s finally made life easy, you feel like you owe me?”

  And the redhead shook her head.

  “No of course not Daddy, it’s not that I feel like I owe you, it’s that …”

  “It’s that what?” I prompted gently.

  “Okay, maybe it is,” she confessed. “I want to pay you back for the kindness you’ve shown. I know it’s not the best of circumstances, but I want to love you, show you how much I appreciate what you’ve done. I want you too,” she breathed, her eyes skimming up and down my masculine form, taking in the erection that was starting up again. “I want to feel you inside me, I want you to be my first.”

  I was so tempted right then to blow-off my newfound ethics, to say fuck it and take that little girl hard, dirty, right on the ottoman where she was sitting. But instead, I did the right thing.

  “Baby, you’re too young,” I said gently. “You don’t know how the world works. You’re still a baby, little girl, you don’t know what you want.”

  Cleo’s cheeks colored.

  “I know I want you,” she said teasingly, coming to stand beside me, putting her arms around my shoulders. Oh god, her tits were in my face again, her waist so small that my big hands immediately circled them, almost touching each other around that small span. “Please Daddy,” she breathed again, her voice soft and slippery in my ear. “Pretty please.”

  And it took the restraint of Hercules, but I did it. I resisted. I pushed her back so that we were no longer touching, and took a deep breath.

  “Honey, you think you’ve seen a lot but you haven’t,” I said gently. “You’re what … seventeen?”

  “Eighteen,” she corrected immediately. And I smiled internally. Of course I knew Cleo was eighteen, I’d been counting the days until she was ready, ripe, and legal. But I pretended otherwise.

  “Of course, you’re eighteen now,” I said smoothly, “but you don’t know yourself. How could you possibly know that I’m the man for you?”

  “I know,” she said stubbornly, again pulling that skirt down her creamy thighs. It was futile, the fabric bounced right back up whenever she yanked it down. “I know because I’m Lorena’s daughter and I’ve been following her all these years, seeing my mom engage in all sorts of backhand deals. So I know a lot more than you think.”

  And that was true, to an extent.

  “But honey, have you dealt with men before?” I said gently. “Not your mom, you.”

  And here my stepdaughter colored, the flush spreading across her chest, those breasts heaving as the pink covered their fullness.

  “I have, sort of,” she said. “Mr. Jennings was interested in me too.”

  Oh shit. That fucker Jennings was even worse that I thought. So when he couldn’t get Lorena pregnant, he turned to her daughter.

  “Did that asshole lay a hand on you?” I growled, my temperature going through the roof. Literally, I thought the top of my head might blow off, the idea of that greasy loser touching any part of my beautiful girl.

  “No, he never got a chance,” reassured Cleo. “I just stayed in the van most times when we were at his house. But when mom told him that the pregnancy test had come back negative again, he lost it. He kicked her out … while she was stark naked,” Cleo confessed. “That’s why I said it was so humiliating. Lorena did the walk of shame in her birthday suit, and when I jumped out of the van with some rags to cover her, she didn’t even care. She brushed it off and slowly walked down the drive, laughing the whole time.”

  Holy fuck. My wife was a piece of work and then some.

  “Did anyone see?” I asked out of morbid curiosity more than anything else.

  “No, well just the crew working that day,” she corrected. “Because Mr. Jennings lives on a huge estate, his neighbors are miles away blocked off by shrubbery. No one saw, but it was still humiliating,” she said in a small voice.

  “Honey,” I said gently. “It was humiliating for your mom, but you did the best you could. You see what I mean though? You’ve gone through a ton of stuff, but all through your mom. You haven’t experienced anything first hand, for yourself, that’s why I can’t do this right now. You’re too young.”

  And again, I silently cursed. What the fuck was wrong with me? Why wasn’t I taking this hot little piece of ass who was offering herself, willingly giving what I wanted so bad?

  But the girl nodded.

  “Okay Daddy,” she murmured, looking at me through her lashes. “I hear you. I understand.”

  But I had a feeling that Cleo hadn’t given up yet.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Cleo

  It was so odd that my stepdad decided not to touch me. After all, I’ve seen the way he looks at me, the way he eats me up with his eyes. So for him to suddenly pull the “you’re too young” stuff was a shocker. Drake Markham, Master of the Universe, actually had some ethics.

  I admit, I’d expected him to fuck me that night, for us to dive right into an illicit relationship, touching each other everywhere, his cock buried deep in my cunny. And I’d made it easy for him too, coming on strong, telling him, showing him with my actions that I was wanton, wet, and willing.

  But surprisingly the big man turned me down. And Drake’s rejection has made me so … happy. So happy that I can barely breathe, I’m positively vibrating, the air humming around me with energy. I smiled at myself in the mirror, singing a little as I brushed out my hair, the long red strands gleaming in the light. It’s just so different from what I’m used to. Someone was looking out for me, with my best interests at heart. Drake could have taken candy from a baby, but he didn’t, and my heart felt like it might burst with joy. So I almost didn’t hear when a knock came at the door.

  “Come in,” I sang out. I half-expected it to be Drake again, but it was my mom, slinking in, her curvy form squeezed into a skintight red dress. She probably had a date with Carlos tonight, who knew where they were going, but the scarlet dress was sure to see the floor at some point.

  “Mom, I didn’t expect you,” I said, turning to look at her, keeping my voice even. “Where are you headed?” I said indicating the dress.

  “Oh nowhere,” said my mom breezily. “Nowhere you’d know.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Okay, fine,” I said deadpan. “It’s up to you.”

  “Well, since you’ve asked,” she pouted. “I’ve been thinking of visiting Mr. Jennings on the North Shore.”

  Oh my god. The same Mr. Jennings who’d kicked her out stark naked? Oh god.

  “Lorena, get a grip,” I said tightly. “This guy is no good, don’t you remember? He treated you like shit, made you do the walk of shame naked, and threw his dog’s crap at you too. Why? Why would you visit him?”

  Because that was what I hadn’t told Drake. Not only had Lorena been ejected in her birthday suit, but she’d been covered with dog crap Jennings had hurled at her, his epithets ringing as she strode down the walkway. The rags I’d run to her with had been to wipe that stuff off, to protect her.

  But Lorena just looked at me slyly.

  “Honey, you’ll never understand,” she said. “I’ve had a lot of experience with men, sometimes they just need to let the bad vibes out, you know? Jennings needed to let loose that day, vent some steam, and if I helped him do it? All the better, he appreciates me that much more.”

  This was some messed-up reasoning, but I wasn’t about to argue with her.

  “Fine Mom, have it your way,” I said tightly, turning back to the mirror. “Just don’t expect me to pick up the pieces like I usually do.” And a shiver ran down my spine as I reme
mbered the sight of my mom walking down the walkway covered in shit. I almost cried again, it made me so sad for a woman who didn’t even seem to feel it.

  But Lorena had come in to say something.

  “Honey, I understand that you’ve been talking with Drake?”

  My pupils dilated with shock, but I kept my expression impassive, fighting the instinct to turn in my seat and pin her with a glare.

  “What do you mean?” I managed smoothly, continuing to brush, giving nothing away. Oh god. She must have seen me go into his office, but I hoped she hadn’t figured out what had gone on in there, that she hadn’t pressed her ear to the door. So I tried to play it off.

  “Yeah, Daddy and I chatted a little. Why what did he say?”

  And Lorena merely smiled again.

  “He said you were growing up to be so beautiful, that’s all,” she purred.

  Oh thank god, Drake hadn’t said anything and I let out a sigh of relief.

  “Oh okay, great,” I said, as nonchalantly as I could manage. “Mom, I’m going out tonight, if you’ll excuse me?” I said, eyeing the door, my hint obvious. Of course, I was going nowhere. I just wanted to lie in bed and replay my conversation with Drake in my head, the way he’d been so manly, so amazing, so unbelievably caring.

  But Lorena had come in for a purpose.

  “Honey, it’s time for you to pick up on family traditions,” she said, serious for once in her life. “We’re vixens and even if you look like an Irish lass, you still have my hot Spanish blood coursing through you.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “What does that mean, Mom?” I asked, exasperated. I really wanted her to leave, I wanted to get back to my daydreams of my hot stepdad again.

  “It means, honey, that it’s time for you to see the Donkey Club,” she said, shooting me a sly smile. “To learn about men, we always start at the Donkey.”

  What? What was that? It sounded like some kind of lame kids’ playhouse with Mickey Mouse as its leader.

  Seeing my befuddled expression, my mom laughed.

  “No baby, the Donkey Club is a gentlemen’s club in the City. I’ll take you. Some of my old contacts might still be around.”

  Internally I lurched back in horror but tried not to show it, instead keeping my expression frozen.

  “Um, Mom, I’m not the right girl,” I said tightly. “A gentlemen’s club? In the city? It’s just not me, I like it here on Long Island with the trees and birds and big lawns. Besides, why? Why a gentlemen’s club?”

  “Oh honey, lighten up,” scolded my mom. “Drake’s comment about you being so beautiful made me think, that’s all,” she said nonchalantly. “It’s time for you to come out to the City with me, girls’ night and all that. You’ll like it, I promise.”

  I hesitated. I’m ashamed to admit but after everything that’s happened, I still craved Lorena’s love. Even knowing that my mom was the champion of bad decision-making, that she always prioritized herself above anybody else, when I heard the words “girls’ night,” I immediately thought that maybe, just maybe, Lorena wanted to spend quality time together.

  “You mean, like you and me, together, for a night?” I asked tentatively. I hated the slightly begging tone in my voice, hated myself even as I felt my heart lurch faster. Maybe this could be an opportunity for us to bond a little, develop some mother-daughter kinship.

  “Of course baby, it’ll be you and me like best friends,” purred Lorena. “It’ll be fun. You’ll see.”

  And so it was set. I had a date to explore the City with my mom … at a place called the Donkey.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Cleo

  The sexual tension between Drake and I was thick as a knife, although I hadn’t talked him since our interlude in his office. But I could feel his eyes glued to my body whenever we passed each other in the hallway, whenever I happened to brush up against him walking by. He’d grow hard, his body stiffening, streaks of color slashed across his cheeks, but he never stopped to talk.

  Meanwhile, I was getting desperate, my body on fire, dying for the big man. I twisted and turned in my bed at night, re-living our conversation in the den. How did he know I wasn’t ready? How could Daddy make that decision for me?

  One night when I was feeling especially frustrated, I got up and stormed into the study where Drake sat at his desk, his head snapping up when I banged open the door.

  “Daddy, I’m ready,” I said. No further explanation was needed, he knew exactly what I was talking about. But Drake didn’t move a muscle.

  “Shut the door Cleo,” he said calmly, his big body giving nothing away.

  Once the door was shut, he turned to me.

  “What do you want, Cleo?” he rumbled, looking at me, his eyes running up and down my curves. And I blushed then because I was wearing just the thinnest whispers of cotton, a tiny tank and bootie shorts, the tank so sheer that my luscious curves were on full display, my nipples poking out. And the sleep shorts were so short that you could see the bottom curves of my ass hanging out, jouncing this way and that.

  “Daddy, I want you!” I said petulantly. “I want you, I want you in my body!”

  Drake didn’t react immediately, instead looking at me calmly, those cool blue eyes assessing, in total control.

  “You want it, little girl?” he asked. “How bad?”

  I was stumped for a second. What to say to this? All of a sudden, inspiration hit.

  “So bad Daddy, that I’ll let you take my pussy cherry and my ass cherry,” I said coyly, causing Drake to hiss slightly, a hard gleam coming into his eyes.

  “I see,” he rumbled, still not moving although I could see a tent at his crotch now, the fabric of his pants straining, his cock dying to get out. “And which one would you like popped first?”

  First? I thought dumbly. But suddenly I was elated with joy. If Drake was asking me which one I wanted first, then it meant he was going to take me, I was going to feel his huge penis inside, my virginity gone.

  And slowly, oh so slowly, I sauntered over to his chair. Cocking a hip sassily, I stood between the vee of his legs before running my fingers through that ink-black hair, bending down to whisper against his lips.

  “Daddy, it doesn’t matter which cherry you pop first. Just as you long as you take them both,” I mewled, and suddenly found myself sprawled across his lap face down, my boobs and stomach mashed against his legs, my butt hanging off the edge.

  “Oof!” I squealed. “What the?”

  But a smack descended on my left cheek, leaving it red and stinging.

  “Ouch, what’d you do that for?” I shrieked, turning halfway to look at the big man. “Why’d you do that?”

  But Drake frowned at me, pinning me down.

  “You do as Daddy says,” he rumbled. “And you’ve been a bad, bad girl, Cleo, not answering Daddy’s question. Now which one do you want popped first?” he asked again.

  “Daddy, I thought the question was just rhetorical,” I squealed, trying to explain myself. But without further ado, another slap rang out, this time on my right cheek.

  “Which one?” he ground out harshly.

  And my body flooded with sensation because Drake was now pulling my shorts down so that they were mid-thigh, my peachy orbs on display, my pink slit running wetly.

  “Daddy,” I tried again, “I want …” but my sentence ended in a languorous moan as Daddy trailed his finger over my slit, dipping in the wetness, touching my little nub for a moment, caressing it before moving to my ass.

  But I still hadn’t answered his question and this time Drake was fast. He flipped me over so that I was face forward on his lap and when he slapped me again, it was on my pussy.

  “Ohhh!” I whined. It felt so good, my little clit vibrating from the touch, the way his fingers immediately smoothed over the sting, running through my folds. “Ohhh!”

  “Baby girl,” whispered Drake harshly, his eyes never leaving my face. “Once more. Which cherry do you want Daddy to pop first?
”

  And without even thinking about it, I blurted, “Pussy! Pop my pussy cherry first, please Daddy!”

  And Drake finally dropped a kiss on my clit, flicking it with his tongue, murmuring against my cunt.

  “That’s right baby girl, when Daddy asks you a question, you answer right away,” he rumbled, lapping at my pussy. I heaved and gasped on his lap, my voice becoming a whine of pleasure as he licked my pinkness, pulling my labia apart to sample my clit, tease me a bit before settling into a deep suckle.

  “Oh,” I moaned, writhing on his lap, “Yes, Daddy, please!”

  By now, my tits had fallen out of my tank and I was playing with my nipples, pulling and twisting them, rolling the hard pebbles between my fingers.

  But suddenly Drake slapped my pussy again, making me jerk up with a shocked gasp before melting again into a puddle, every nerve on fire.

  “Daddy,” I panted, “what’d I do this time?”

  “You don’t touch yourself until I tell you to,” he ground out, eyeing my breasts possessively. “Those tits, that ass, that cunny, they belong to me,” he said coolly. “No one touches them until I say so, and that includes you.”

  My face colored. Oh god, Drake was so possessive but it made me feel fantastic inside, I wanted it so badly, wanted to sample him, feel him in me even more. And suddenly I had an idea.

  Slowly lifting a knee I looked him in the eye, baring my cunt to him, the pink pulsing and slick.

  “Daddy, you know I’m a virgin still,” I reminded him coyly, holding my pussy lips apart, giving him a view up my pulsing channel. “I just have one request. Will you lick my hymen before it breaks?”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Drake