Can't Buy My Love: Billionaire and Virgin Romance Collection

by Jamie Knight

  He wipes away my tears as he lays against me, pumping the last of himself deep inside. “I never thought you’d stay,” he says. He looks down at me and kisses my lips. “I never thought I’d want you to.”

  “And I never thought I’d see your face,” I say, and return the gesture. I never thought I’d love it when he blindfolded me.

  A few hours later, stepping outside of Club Lush together, it’s the brightest, sunniest morning I’ve ever seen. It’s also the first time I’ve ridden in a limousine. The white, pristine vehicle pulls up to the curb the moment we arrive at the street’s edge.

  A driver steps out, addressing Ambrose. “Home, Mr. White?” He looks at me. “And shall I call a cab for the lady?”

  “Absolutely not. She is coming with me to my mansion, Jeffries,” he says snappily. “And stop for some breakfast along the way.”

  Jeffries, the driver, is quick to respond. He is quick to open the doors for us, though it’s Ambrose who loads me into the backseat with him. He guides me to the seat like I’m his lady; he buckles me in as though I’m his most prized possession.

  As we get settled, and the limo pulls away from the club, now bathed in the light of a crisp New York morning, I ask Ambrose the thing I’ve been dying to ask him ever since he asked me to go home with him. “Will you let me paint you? When we get back to your mansion, I mean?”

  Ambrose just arches a perfectly formed, dark eyebrow, then tucks a bit of his hair behind a rounded and sexy ear. “Paint me?” He studies me, a mischievous smile twisting on his lips. “Have you learned nothing from me making you wear that blindfold?”

  I blush. I drink him in again. “I have, Ambrose.”

  “What did you learn?”

  “That I’m going to be a better painter,” I say.

  “Oh?” Ambrose leans in, kissing me.

  “Yes,” I say. “I learned that there are more things in this world than what can be seen with the eyes and conceptualized physically. You taught me how to use the rest of my body, the rest of my senses to paint pictures. That’s going to make me feel it more, the way my parents always tell me I should.”

  “I’ll let you paint me,” he says, gathering me close, preparing to unbuckle me and lean me back along the seat. “And it better be good, so that I can brag to everyone about who painted it.”

  I blushed deeper, hotter.

  “And who will you say painted it?”

  Ambrose rakes his fingers down my clothing, exposing my breasts, just for him. He begins to suck on them, while lightly fingering my clit. “My forever playmate and wife, Karen White.”

  THE END

  Revealing His Virgin

  Club Lush Book 5

  Copyright © 2019

  Jamie Knight –

  Your Dirty Little Secret Romance Author

  All rights reserved.

  Chapter One - Becky

  It’s amazing how being born two minutes apart could make two people so different. I tend to think of myself as a people person. My twin, Samantha, is not. It’s not that she doesn’t like people, she just doesn’t care about them. Samantha is the center of her own world and she prefers to be the center of everyone else’s world as well.

  Tonight was the perfect example. It was our friend Melissa’s twenty-first birthday and we were out on the town. Mel hates going out. She’s super shy. But Samantha was the one who made the plans for us, so we were doing what my twin wanted to do, not what the birthday girl wanted.

  If it had been up to me, I would have had us go to a quiet restaurant, followed by a movie at one of our dorm rooms. That would have been the perfect plan because that is what Melissa likes — and how do I know? Because I talk to people and ask them about themselves. Something that Samantha never does. In fact, she hardly ever shuts up about herself. To make matters worse, once we were out and it was obvious that Mel was having a bad time, Samantha didn’t even care. All she could think about was herself.

  “I want to go. This place sucks, Becky.”

  I had been standing outside of the bathroom in a dance club for the last twenty minutes waiting for my twin. She was taking forever to fix her makeup. I was anxious to get back to our little group of friends and make sure Mel was relaxing or at least trying to have fun.

  Samantha pulled at her skirt, trying to rearrange it somehow, and scowled at me. “Besides, Melissa is just doing what she always does. Being socially awkward and unavailable, even at the coolest spots!” She threw her arms up to indicate the dance club we were in. It was called Nova Rush and was very loud. We had to scream to talk.

  “We can’t just go,” I pointed out, “this night is for Mel and her twenty-first birthday, not you, and whatever issue you’re having!”

  My twin glared daggers at me. “It’s not whatever issue, Becky!”

  The fact that she didn’t care at all about the birthday girl really bothered me. “Listen!” I got in her face, grabbed her hand, and pulled her back towards the others. “You’ve been being a bitch all night, and you need to chill the fuck out! This is Mel’s night, and she’s having fun!”

  Samantha rolled her eyes and tried to pull her hand out of my grip. She didn’t succeed.

  Now that we were out and clubbing, all I wanted was for Mel to have fun. But she wasn’t. The truth was that none of us were really having fun. Not even Samantha. And if I’m going to be even more truthful, my twin not having fun was my fault.

  Earlier, I brought her self-indulgent little world crashing down with one big lie and we had been fighting ever since. I wanted to feel good about my actions. Samantha needed a reality check. But I didn’t feel good about it at all and things had only gotten worse since.

  “I can’t believe you lost your virginity, Becky! I can’t believe you got to experience that before me!” she snapped at me, as Mel came up to us, and started to whisper about how uncomfortable she was. She headed to the exit and we followed. “I bet you’re lying about it,” Samantha continued, ignoring the birthday girl. “Just like the time you lied about getting Valentine's cards from every boy in our class in middle school!”

  She was right, I was lying. I was still a virgin, but there was no way I was going to admit that.

  As my sister and I argued, we followed our friend group outside of Nova Rush and down the street. Britney had seen some outfit that she liked — she was a fashion major — and we went running after the woman who was wearing it. That strange ordeal leads us into a new club, but I was hardly paying attention. All I could think about was the lie that I told Samantha. The lie about losing my virginity.

  It probably was one of the dumbest things I'd ever done. I told my sister, right before leaving to go out, that I had lost my virginity to Tyler, my gay best friend. Samantha had no idea that he was gay, of course. And it was an idea that Tyler and I had come up with together.

  “She always has to be first at everything,” he had said this afternoon, not telling me something that I didn't already know.

  Samantha was the firstborn, first to walk, and first to talk. In fact, I couldn't think of anything that she hadn't been first in.

  “I know,” I had said to him. “I just wish that there was some way that I could beat her at her own game.”

  Tyler, who had been laying on my bed with his legs up on the wall, sat up and snapped his fingers. “I know what you could do,” he had said, excitedly. “You could tell her that I took your virginity.”

  I laughed, thinking about how ridiculous it would be if that happened.

  “Stop laughing,” said Tyler, sounding hurt. “Seriously, though. It would be perfect.”

  The more that I had started thinking about my twin’s face twisted up in a scowl at the news, the more that I had thought that it would be a great way for me to have one up on her.

  And it had gone over perfectly — at first. When I told Samantha, I thought steam was going to come out of her ears she was so angry. I had to admit that it was satisfying watching her ge
t so distraught. I had to hide a smile that threatened to sneak across my lips and ruin the act.

  But, as I stood in the new club — Club Lush — watching her drift away and ignore me, I realized how stupid of an idea it was. Who lies about losing their virginity, anyway? Thinking back on the idea, I regretted going through with it and wished that I could take it back.

  Even though it had kind of made me feel good that I had “won” at something, it really didn't have much to do with her. It was more about Jason.

  I had had a crush on Jason since the beginning year. I remembered sitting in the lunchroom watching him joke easily with his friends who sat hanging on his every word. We had several classes together and even recently got partnered up on a project, giving me the chance to talk to him more. The only thing that came of that was that he started telling me how much he liked Samantha. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised since just about all the boys like her more.

  And now, because of that jealousy, I was a liar and fighting with my twin. But how could I admit to her what I had done? I was stuck and feeling awful.

  My friends and I were shown to a booth by the owner of Club Lush, a woman who called herself Lady White. She was dressed in a Marilyn Monroe costume, sporting the infamous white dress and blonde bombshell wig. She wore it well despite her tall, lanky frame. She smiled at us and told us the rules for newcomers. It turned out that Club Lush was quite exclusive. “If you’re going to stay, ladies, if you desire to be our guests, you will need to participate in tonight’s festivities. Not just giggle or gawk.”

  It was at that point that I came out of my stupor and really looked around at the club. Members were hooking up on the dance floor. People were chained to walls or strapped to tables while other people in masks whipped them. The outfits were short or see-through and there was lots of leather. We were in a sex club.

  I was equally horrified and curious. I had never been to a place like this before. As I looked around more, I found myself wanting to talk to or interview as many of the people in the room as possible. Since I was a journalism major, that was always what I wanted to do — get to know people and ask them why they did what they did. I kept glancing from person to person in the room.

  “My club has turned the heads of anybody who's anybody,” Lady White said to me, leaning in my direction and giving me a smile. “I’m sure you will find someone here who will interest you.” She gave me a wink then wandered off.

  I noticed that Samantha seemed to have eyes for all of the guys in the club. She walked around gawking at them like some cartoon wolf with her eyes bugging out of her head. She had wandered off a little to the bar and found herself deep in conversation with a curly dark-haired man with a nice smile. I rolled my eyes, irritated. Just another man who would like her better.

  Most of our other friends had gone exploring as well, so I figured I would too. Maybe I could talk to some people and get to know why someone would come here. At first, I contented myself with people watching, seeing the sea of bodies weave in and out among each other, their masked faces showing eyes focused on their target. I wanted to learn more about the secrets that swirled all around me. I figured the best way to learn more would be by asking questions. So, I put on my best reporter face, took a deep breath, and walked up to a couple dressed in leather from head to toe.

  “Hi, I'm Becky,” I said, hoping that my voice was loud enough to be heard over the music blaring from the loudspeakers. “I just want to ask you a few questions, if that's okay. How long have you been members? What exactly do you come here for?”

  They looked at me, almost as if they were wondering if the questions had been directed at them, then laughed. A few people joined them, looking at me and laughing like I was a circus animal doing tricks.

  “What is this?” one asked. “An interview? Do you work for a paper or something?”

  “Hey, Ford,” yelled the guy to someone across the room. “Get over here. This girl is doing an uncanny impression of you.”

  The crowd bowled over with laughter then parted and I gasped when I realized who it was.

  It was Stellan Ford. The Stellan Ford, one of the most famous reporters and my biggest celebrity crush. I couldn't believe that I was standing just a few feet away from him. And I was so embarrassed, I wished that I could have just sunk into the floor. Stellan Ford looked over, his bright blue eyes almost pinning me to my spot. Or at least it felt that way because I couldn't move

  Chapter Two - Stellan

  The loud bass-intensive music streaming through the speakers added an exciting element to my celebratory glass of Absinthe. Tonight was my first night of vacation in weeks and it was well deserved. In my last prime-time interview, I had gotten a very important Sheikh to reveal his plans and ruined a coup. I had broken the imposing man with just words, as I did with every person I interviewed. When you can read body language as well as I can, you can get anyone to reveal their deepest secrets. It’s what I am good at and it’s what I love to do.

  But all that was behind me and I was relaxing with a special drink that was already sending me on a mental vacation as I chatted easily. It was time to catch up on the latest news with a few friends of mine who had been off on vacation and I hadn't seen because of my own busy schedule. I always especially enjoyed my nights at Club Lush, a club known for its darker qualities and a secret within itself. Tonight the air around the club was especially intense, just the way that I liked it. I knew something good was going to happen.

  The sex club was a playground for men like me — rich and important. Whenever I was home, in New York, I frequented this place often. This was where all my games started. I liked to find virgins and manipulate them into exposing themselves and all their secrets. Nothing gets my dick harder than an innocent woman emotionally raw and exposed and begging me to fuck her.

  “Hey, Ford!”

  A voice interrupted my discussion with my friends, and I glanced to see what the commotion was. A group of acquaintances was gathered around a young woman — a beautiful young woman.

  “Get over here. This girl is doing an uncanny impression of you.”

  I chuckled at the thought of anyone trying to act like me, especially some college girl. In fact, no one was as good of a reporter as I was. And that wasn't me just being cocky. I had actually won awards for journalism and reporting. I was at the top of my profession.

  Downing the last of my Absinthe, I waved over a waiter to take my glass and bring me a scotch, then I turned to face the woman who was the cause of the commotion. A group had gathered around us — like an audience — and that pleased me greatly. When breaking someone it was best to do it in public.

  Surrounded by leering faces, the girl tried to stand tall, but I could see fear in the slight tremble of her small hands which she kept rigidly by her sides. I gave the rest of her a good look over, enticed with what I saw. Her curves were outstanding; her legs shapely. She was young and obviously inexperienced. The way her wide, dark eyes darted back and forth told me that this was her first time in a sex club. Her pink lips were pulled into a stiff line, an obvious attempt to try to control the emotions spilling across her face. It was that attempt at control that amused me most. In minutes, I would have this poor girl out of her depths and totally in my control.

  She looked like a deer in headlights. She glanced up at me and I could tell that she knew who I was and revered me. I could almost feel her anxiety it was so palatable.

  I smiled at the scene that was set before me, kind of like a little gift to me. Here she was, standing like a mouse caught in a cage, waiting for me to pounce. I moved through the parting crowd closer to her, looking her up and down. The closer I got to her, the straighter she stood, making me admire this beautiful stranger standing in front of me.

  I got a better view of her curvy figure, her hips and breasts shaped like the perfect hourglass. Her voluptuous breasts looked like they were going to fall free from their confines, held in place by a very low-cut blo
use. And the way that her plump lips parted and quivered made me want to make her mouth the home for my dick. But that would come much later. For now, I wanted to find out as much as I could about her and see what I could make her do.

  She forced a smile as she looked up at me. “Hi, I'm Becky Jones,” she said, extending a shaky hand in my direction.

  I looked at her hand with the bright pink nail polish and then at her face, amused. I let myself smirk loving how my expression and actions made her more anxious. I wasn’t going to shake her hand because I knew something that she didn't: I was in control. By refusing to shake her hand I was making her feel uncomfortable and unbalanced in a way that would make an already awkward scene even more awkward. After a few minutes, she snatched her hand back like she had touched fire and I could see the red already starting to form on her cheeks. She was sexy when she was embarrassed.

  I smiled gently. We stood there, silently taking each other in. I could tell that she was trying to figure out what to do next. I crossed my arms, stood back, and watched her flounder.

  “Mr. Ford, I am one of your biggest fans,” she continued. “You really are my hero. I’m in journalism at my university and I hope to one day be a reporter like you. Well, maybe not just like you, but a reporter. I really didn't mean any harm or disrespect or anything...”

  She looked around like she was waiting for a helicopter to burst into the room and fly her away to some unknown location. Her face and the way she awkwardly tried to find a place to put her hands were so comical it was almost like she was doing standup comedy. I laughed and so did the crowd that had gathered around to watch the scene.