Virgin: A Mafia Billionaire Romance

by Shanna Handel

  And yet...

  There’s a smile curling at the edge of my lips.

  I’m ready.

  I’m so ready.

  I’ve waiting too long to be touched and teased and pleasured. Making love this afternoon has unlocked my soul. No longer self-conscious about my body, I’m delighted in it. Enamored by the way the light dances off my skin. Enchanted by the lusty reaction of my body when my eyes take in his bare, muscled chest.

  Only a few feet of space separate us now.

  His actions are swift, his movements sleek like that of a panther’s. Before I have time to respond, his hands wrap around my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh.

  His head between my legs.

  His hands are underneath my thighs, lifting them up and over his shoulders. He’s on his knees. My legs dangle lazily down his back. My hands grip the edges of my seat. Holding on for dear life as I balance my bottom on the very edge.

  My naughty chair.

  And how very naughty it is because now, he’s burying his face into my pussy. I arch my back, my eyes closing, my head tilting as I exhale a moan of pleasure. My lips part and his mouth is hot, wet, slick against my burning sex. He’s licking and tasting, kneading his tongue against my swollen clit. His fingertips dig into the soft flesh of my thighs and I cry out.

  The tension builds within me as he eats me out. Wave after wave of pleasure rises inside of me. I feel hot, breathless, my head light. Then the sweet release of ecstasy finds me, tightening and loosening like a spring. I’m screaming his name. In this moment he owns me, mind, body, and soul. My body sings his name as I shudder in a quaking crescendo. His mouth leaves my pussy, kissing a trail down my inner thigh. He rises and unzips his jeans. They fall to the floor, his ready cock springing free.

  I want it inside of me. Now.

  I reach for him and he takes me into his arms. I’m still seated on the chair, now with my legs wrapped around his waist. He bends his knees, wrapping his arms tightly around my lower back and pulling me into him. My bottom perches on the edge of the chair and then my mind focuses only on the sensation of his cock entering me.

  The first thrust is gentle. His head pushes past my tight entrance. Stretching me, igniting my skin with a burning. He pushes further and his cock fills me. My muscles wrap tightly around him, eager for the friction his hard cock is creating within me.

  My lower back dampens beneath his arms—he’s holding me so tightly. My hips thrust and I wrap my arms tighter around his neck to maintain my balance. He thrusts again and I moan with pleasure as the aching throb between my legs grows.

  His hands go beneath my bottom. He lifts me in the air as if I weigh nothing. I laugh, my legs tightening around his waist. His smoldering eyes lock on mine as he moves within me. This position lets his cock drive even deeper within me. The pleasure intensifies so much I wonder if I’ve discovered what that g-spot is the Beauties talk about.

  We move together, him holding me in his arms. I love the feeling of his strength, his power as we fuck standing up. His mouth finds my ear and he whispers, “You naughty little minx. I think you need a few stripes across your ass.”

  I freeze—having forgotten the belt, I’m now terrified of the prospect. Before I can answer, my feet hit the floor. His hands are on my waist, my lower back, moving me where he wants me. Seconds later, I’m bent over the naughty chair, much like I was when he plugged me yesterday.

  My sweaty palms grab at the legs of the stool. My head hangs down, my flushed cheeks hide behind my hair.

  The last time I bent over this chair, exposing myself to him, I was self-conscious, worried about how my body might look to him. Now, his caresses have erased any self-doubt from my mind. I feel free, beautiful, sexy, desirable. I spread my legs, opening my thighs and exposing myself to him. I feel his gaze heavy on me. “God, you’re breathtaking.”

  “I want you inside of me. Fuck me, please.” The words sound like a stranger’s in my ears. They’re so raw, desperate.

  “Not before I whip your ass with my belt. I want to see your pretty skin turn red.” He rakes his fingertips across my flesh, causing me to gasp in desire. His hand comes down in a sharp, startling slap and I cry out in surprise. A pool of moisture rushes from my already soaking pussy. I can feel his eyes on me and my cheeks burn, knowing he can see every inch of my glistening, swollen pussy.

  There’s a clanking sound as he lifts his pants from the floor. My mind’s eye pictures the belt leaving the loops as I hear the swish of the leather cutting through the air. A loud snapping sound makes me jump. I quickly get back into place, tightening my hold around the legs of my stool.

  He’s dragging the smooth leather over the curve of my bottom. Teasing me, tormenting me. Making me wait, worry, wonder what it will feel like when the strap finally lands. The leather disappears and I close my eyes tightly shut, holding my breath.

  I hear the sound the belt makes as he swings it through the air. Every muscle in my body tightens as I wait. The leather crashes into my skin and the stinging pain bursts across my flesh.

  And I love it.

  A long, lusty moan leaves my lips and I beg, “Again.”

  A dark chuckle rises from behind me. I sense the belt lifting and lowering. The belt strikes just below the last stripe. My breath catches in my throat at the burning pain. But as before, the sensation dances across my skin, turning to a warm glow. I shift my weight on my feet. “Again.”

  He drags the leather across my hot flesh, teasing me more. I gasp as his fingers suddenly dive between my legs. “Such a bad, bad girl. Getting so wet from a little spanking.” He thrusts his fingers into my wet, wanting pussy. My hips move backwards to meet him, my body greedily milking his hand for every bit of pleasure I can get. The belt drops and with his fingers still inside of me, pumping in and out, he slaps my fiery ass with his hand, spanking mercilessly as I cry out.

  My insides are lava. My pussy swollen and throbbing and begging for more. My ass is stinging, my breasts heavy as they hang, nipples hard and tight and standing at attention. Only one word rolls off my tongue... please.

  His fingers exit my pussy, leaving me wanting. His big hands wrap around my waist and I feel the head of his cock as it presses against my slick entrance. I eagerly part my legs for him. Then his cock thrusts inside of me, so deep and hard and fast that my breath catches in my throat, stopping my cry. He goes again and air fills my lungs, and I’m screaming.

  His cock is even deeper from behind and every time he drives it into me, the head presses into that delicious g-spot. My clit is rubbing against the slick lips of my pussy that press against the cushion of the stool with each plunge, furthering my pleasure. The pressure now builds on the outside as well as the inside. The friction, the tension... it has my fingers digging so hard into the metal legs of the stool, I feel pain in my hands. My breasts swing, heavy and free, bouncing with each insertion.

  His fingers dig harder into me, his breaths getting faster, matching the pace of his movements.

  I’m sweating, my heart racing. I’m lost in the rhythm, the rocking of my hips. It’s too much... the tightening within me. “I’m... I’m going to come!”

  My confession earns me a sharp slap on my ass. A laugh catches in my throat, quickly replaced by a moan of ecstasy when he slaps it again. He pumps even harder and I’m gasping. Animal-like noises rise from my chest as I come in an explosive wave. He slaps my ass again and growls as he pushes inside of me fully, then stops, holding my hips and crying out. I feel his seed fill me. It spills down the insides of my thighs, hot and slick.

  I lie over the chair, catching my breath. Wiping the sweat from my damp brow. He strokes my back, from the base of my neck, down my spine. “You are so damn gorgeous. You know that?” He pulls me up and into his arms, kissing me. He pulls back and I’m lost in his gaze. He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “You are one sexy little piece of work. The way your body responds... you sure you were a virgin?” His face breaks into a grin.


  I trace his tattoo with my finger, smile up at him and say, “Not anymore.”

  His smile freezes. Something akin to worry flashes in his eyes, making my stomach lurch. Then it’s gone so quickly, I think I fabricated it. He leans down, placing a sweet kiss on my forehead. I sigh, sinking into the warm afterglow. His arms wrap around me, his fingers lightly stroking my back. I rest my head on his chest and will this moment to never, ever end.

  * * *

  Dante

  I figure I only have one more night to live, so why not open another bottle of wine? Scanning the labels, I pull down the most expensive-looking one. Pop a cork and pour two glasses. I throw another casserole in the oven.

  Adrianna’s gone to shower again. Our skin so damp and slick after the sex we had this afternoon. Rockland’s going to murder me for taking his baby cousin’s virtue so why not have one more go? Fulfill a fantasy for her? Give her a proper introduction to womanhood.

  I take a sip of the wine. It tastes the same as the red from last night. I set out two plates, two napkins, two forks.

  The last supper.

  I’m glad to be moving from this house. I thought it’d be the thing I missed most about the Parish, other than the people, but somehow, I can’t stomach the thought of living here alone anymore. Not after having these precious days with her here.

  It would feel empty, cold.

  Not like it does now. There’s a magic in the air. A crackle of energy from her presence. Her scent, her laugh fill the rooms of the house.

  I take another sip. Carry both cups with me to the living room. Set them on the mantel. Begin to sweep the ashes. Arrange the kindle, stack the wood. Light it. I feel her before I see her. I look up, and there’s that newfound welling in my chest at the very sight of her. She stands at the top of the stairs, looking down at me. That cream-colored dress loosely covering her curves. Curves I now know every inch of, familiar to me as the back of my hand.

  She comes down the stairs. Takes the cups from the mantel. Hands one to me and sits down on the floor beside me, tucking her legs beneath her. I hold up my cup to hers. “Cheers.”

  Our cups clink.

  She smiles. “Cheers. To a magical forty-eight hours.”

  The best two days of my life.

  I take a sip of the wine.

  Maybe the last two days of my life.

  * * *

  Dante

  We sleep in, wrapped in one another’s arms. I spend the morning working, her curled in her chair finishing her book. Spending the day as a couple living together might.

  I feel a queer tug at my gut every time I check my watch.

  A quick lunch—leftovers of last night’s dinner.

  Another game of Scrabble—no cheating this time and I win by fifty points.

  I check my watch, knowledge of the time leaving me unsettled.

  We clean up. She insists on doing the majority of the tidying. Thanks me profusely for taking such good care of her.

  I gather my things.

  We stand by the picture windows, our arms touching. We hear the whir of the motor and watch as the fence sinks into the ground. I wrap my arm around her shoulder. Pull her into me. Kiss the top of her head. We gaze up high as the smoky shield lowers, exposing the afternoon sun in the sky.

  I take her hand in mine. Our fingers interlocking. We share a brief gaze.

  I lead her out the door, heading to the jet that will take us to the Village.

  We hear the door close behind us, latching with a soft and final click.

  * * *

  Dante

  We board the plane. I can’t help but chuckle at the blush that rises in her cheeks as we pass the lavatory. I whisper in her ear, “Be a good girl or you’ll find yourself in there again.”

  She eyes the other brothers. “I’ll try.”

  We reach our seats and she looks longingly at the overhead compartment. Of course, she wants her purse. She’s spent two days with nothing of her own but the clothes on her back. I retrieve it, place it into her eager open hands.

  “Thank you. I’ve never been this long without my phone before.”

  “Or your books?” I give her a playful nudge.

  “I didn’t... seem to need them.” She gives me a sweet smile. One that tugs at my heart and tells me this whole ‘going back to being friends’ thing will be just as impossible as I predicted. At least for me.

  I watch as she searches her bag. Holds a smaller soft pink bag to her cheek, squealing gleefully.

  “What’s that?” I ask.

  “My makeup bag. God, I must have looked hideous without it.”

  I stare at her bare face. “I much prefer your natural look. You don’t need makeup.”

  “You’re funny.” She finds her phone. Holds it between her hands and takes a deep breath. Gives a sigh of relief, gratitude. She unlocks it, her eyes widening. “One hundred and twenty-three unread text messages...”

  She starts scrolling through them. They’re all from the Beauties. Checking on her. Telling her they miss her. That they can’t believe she missed the reunion. Tell her the others were asking after her. A few from Tess telling her she can’t wait to see her. One from Rockland telling her to behave.

  I leave her to catch up with her friends and family. I peruse the cabin, greeting the brothers. Catching up on their days. They throw me and Adrianna a curious glance or two, but they all know better than to ask questions. When we’re ready for takeoff, I return to my seat, sliding in beside her.

  She’s still returning texts. “I’m sorry you missed the memorial. Were you and Brett close?”

  She shakes her head. “He was much older than me—maybe fifteen years? He moved to New York when I was very young. I only met him a few times.”

  “I’ll bet it was quite the party. Are you sad you missed it?”

  The tips of her teeth sink into her bottom lip. Her eyes hesitantly raise to meet mine. Finally, she answers me. “Not a bit. I had... a lovely time.”

  “So did I. Best lockdown of my life.” I take Pride and Prejudice from my bag. Slide it over to her. “Here. I want you to have this.”

  She takes it with a smile. “It’s going to put my other books to shame. My first classic. Thank you.” Instinctually she goes to the front of the book to see if I’ve inscribed it. I have. She reads the words, quietly to herself. When she’s finished, she looks up at me, eyes shining.

  “I mean it,” I say.

  Her voice breaks as she speaks. “Thank you, Dante. For everything.”

  I swallow hard. Not trusting myself to speak, I nod. It’s time to begin the transition back to being solely her guardian. Nothing more. Just as we promised one another. But now, she’s peering into my bag, her long fingers holding back the cloth.

  A murderous offense. But somehow, when she touches my bag, I don’t have a surge of anger, no need to rip her hand from it.

  What is it that I’m feeling?

  It’s trust... I trust this girl.

  “Gotcha!” From my bag, she pulls out my brown leather-bound journal. The one she saw me inking in the day we were supposed to take off. The one I told her about when I shared Sophia with her. I don’t grab it from her because I feel I know her well enough to know though she might retrieve it from my bag without asking, she would never read it without my permission. She holds it up. “It’s only fair you read me the one you wrote about me.”

  She hands it to me. I take it. “Fair enough.”

  “What kind of poem is it?”

  “A limerick. About how much I wanted to spank your ass for making us late.” I show her the page. Watch the blush rise in her face as she reads it.

  Her wit and beauty stand unmatched

  Discipline is needed, a plan I have hatched

  Turn her over my knee

  As she screams with glee

  Spank her and she might be a catch

  I watch her read. Wait for her to turn to me and laugh that high, tinkling laugh she has. I wait for her laught
er, a playful punch in the arm. It doesn’t come. She turns to me. Her face still. Her eyes shiny and wide. There’s no smile on her face.

  “Have I offended your delicate sense of pride—”

  “You think... you think I’m... beautiful?” Her brow knits.

  There’s a tightening in my throat. I can’t tear my gaze from her enchanting brown eyes. I swallow hard. Then confess, “I do. I always have.”

  “Always?”

  “When you first arrived in the Parish, I saw you walking along the shore. You had on a light blue dress. It had tiny yellow flowers on it. You were barefoot, throwing stones into the ocean. Your hair kept getting in your face and you’d push it back. Time and time again, even though you had a hair tie around your wrist. The wind blew your skirt up, and you laughed. And I thought to myself, who’s that beautiful girl?”

  She stares at me, murmuring, “I like the way it feels.”

  “What?”

  “The wind in my hair. I like the way it feels.”

  Since the beginning, I’ve misperceived her. Yes, she’s flighty and forgetful, but there’s a reason why she’s so lost in her own world all the time. She’s truly present in the moment. Enjoying life’s little treasures. Not bothering to plait her hair neatly behind her back, not because she’s forgetful, but because she likes the feel of the wind whipping through it. I say, “You intrigued me.”

  “Oh. I always thought... I guess I thought you never liked me.” She looks down at her lap, playing with her fingers.

  I shrug. “I never disliked you. I guess I may have been annoyed by you... your lateness, your clumsiness. Your flighty ways. The fact that you never worked.”

  “They won’t let me. I want to work. It’s part of the reason I’m going to the Village—Tess has promised to talk some sense into Rockland. She’s offered me a secretary position at Bachman Enterprises. I’m just hoping she can talk sense into him in more ways than one.”

  “You mean—letting you date?”

  “Yes. I guess... I mean... that was before you and I—”

  Nip this in the bud, Dante. “No. You’re right. You should date. You should get to have everything you ever dreamed of.” I gesture between us. “This... is purely professional. Just as we agreed.”