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

by Jamie Knight

  “Let’s hope you still think that way when Vanacore gets done with me. When she finishes having her way with me. I don’t want to give certain things to her.”

  My temperature spikes.

  “I want only you to have them,” I say, feeling my heart rate increase and my breath quicken. “I want you to have me, but she might get to me first, you know? It might be unavoidable. What then?”

  “You don’t really give what your heart is not behind,” answers Melissa. “My ex-boyfriend taught me that. He may have kissed me. He may have claimed to be making love to me, but he didn’t really give himself to me. His heart was never in it, so as long as you’re not in love with Vanacore truly, I won’t think any less of you.”

  She pauses, taking another sip of her wine. Something I suddenly wish I was there to share with her.

  “As for her trying to take things from you that you don’t want to give her, just give in to her a little bit. Make her think you're obedient. Show her you’re trying so that that way she won’t feel the need to force the circumstances.”

  I almost hit myself across the head with how obviously brilliant this is. I should’ve known this approach. It’s something I’ve implemented with my dad for years. Give him enough of what he wants, enough obedience to keep him happy, but not enough to lose sight of myself.

  “I see what you mean,” I say when she asks me whether that makes sense.

  “See if you can get her to be satisfied enough until the weekend —”

  “And then you’ll have me before she does,” I say, finishing what I believe the end of her sentence is. “We’ll be together before she can do anymore, so it won’t matter how much she does or doesn’t get?”

  “Or you’ll have me first,” answers Melissa with an electric purr to her voice. “But yes. That was my idea. Buy yourself some time so that we can have our time on the weekend, and then everything from there is, well, it’s what it will be until she’s gone and dealt with.”

  My heart’s pounding so loud in my ears, I can barely hear her. Part of me wishes I hadn’t made a pledge to “save myself” for the rest of the week, otherwise I’d masturbate a bit right now, but I keep my hands out of my pants.

  “Feel better now?”

  “I do,” I whisper. “I wish I was there with you instead of here, though.”

  Melissa chuckles sweetly at me.

  “I wish you had come home with me on Friday night, but we will see each other tomorrow at work. And if you want, you don’t have to go home at all next weekend. You can stay at my place since you’ll have lots of new, fresh clothes to change into.”

  “Yeah,” I murmur, hearing Dad stomping around upstairs.

  I can hear him shouting about some sports game or whatever — how these players are losers and don’t deserve nearly the thousands and thousands of dollars they are getting in every game.

  “I can’t wait.”

  Saying this, I do my utmost to tune Dad out and erase his little rant from my head.

  “Neither can I,” she says, “but it will be worth it.”

  “It will,” I say, lying back on my bed.

  As I do so, I yawn.

  Melissa chuckles sweetly.

  “My goodness, it sounds like somebody’s sleepy,” she says. “So, I’ll let you go have some sweet dreams then.”

  “Have some sweet dreams too,” I mumble, suddenly feeling very tired indeed. My eyes are heavy-lidded.

  “I will, now that you called,” Melissa whispers.

  She hangs up after that, and I don’t bother to hang up or bring the phone away from my ear. I just fall asleep with it in my hand, my sweet dreams already made of thoughts of her — of Melissa’s body on mine.

  Chapter Thirty-Three - Tommy

  The next morning comes too quickly. My dream about Melissa, the feeling of her body on mine, my cock sliding along her lower lips and finally into her pussy, evaporates the minute my alarm goes off.

  I’m so out of it that I think someone’s calling me. So, I say “hello” a few times before I realize it’s no call, and turn off the alarm on my phone.

  From there, I hurry to get showered and dressed. I’m fully erect and aching for someplace to plunge my cock (Melissa’s pussy if it were here, with her slacks just down enough to access it, but it’s not.)

  I touch myself a little bit as I go to wash, but not as much as my cock wants me to. Not enough to climax. Just enough to imagine how slippery and warm Melissa’s pussy would be. The slapping noise it would make as I fucked her, but then I have to ease off, stop “washing” myself and get out.

  From the shower, I quickly put on a fresh pair of clothes (another big suit, tie, and dress shirt, which still look too frumpty to me), thankful that I will soon have a new and better wardrobe. I put on some cologne, grab my keys, phone and wallet and head up the basement stairs toward my personal entrance and exit from the house.

  Dad’s presence at the top of the stairs this early in the morning, let alone in this part of the house is surprising. Usually, he’s passed out on his recliner in the living room.

  Furthermore, he usually doesn’t come down this way. Not unless he wants to pick a fight with me. And based on the sunken, dark look in his eyes, surrounded by wild, matted pieces of gray hair, that looks like that’s exactly what he’s come here to do.

  “I need some money, Tommy,” he says.

  “I don’t have any to give you,” I answer just as quickly.

  I go to walk past him, but he steps in front of me. Much like he would when I was half the size I am now and weighed less. As he does this, I do something that I didn’t have the balls to do when I was younger: I look straight at him.

  “I’ve got to get to work. I don’t have time for this, Dad.”

  “I need money, Tommy,” he says as if I haven’t just said anything I’ve said. “I know you got paid this weekend. You must have with that new promotion of yours.”

  “Even if I do have money, I’m not just going to give it to you,” I say, deciding to walk up the stairs toward him. “You didn’t give me money just because I asked for it when I was little, so don’t expect me to treat you any differently.”

  As I pretty much push past Dad on the landing and head toward the back door that leads to my private entrance and the closest spot to where I parked my car, Dad says, “Is that any way to talk to your poor, old father? You know I can’t work anymore, Tommy.”

  He’s gone from demanding to sounding pathetic. It’s the usual way he tries to manipulate me out of anything and everything that’s mine or thinks he’s owed.

  “You know I ain’t good for anything anymore. Nobody will hire me, because I’m not some highfalutin wannabe lawyer like you.”

  I look at his hard face.

  I want to say, your skills aren’t what isn’t any good anymore. It’s your attitude. It’s the fact that you sleep on the job if you’re not stealing from it, but that just might get me a quick trip down the stairs, and a hospital trip before work. Something I want to avoid, so I just move further on, grab the door handle, and step out.

  “Sorry, Dad. This ‘highfalutin wannabe lawyer’ has work to go do.”

  I shut the door on him before he has a chance to answer. I get in my car just as quickly, knowing that he’ll be right out the door after me begging and pleading for money. I start my car and head to work.

  As I drive, I run through my plan.

  How exactly I’m going to be with and around Vanacore when I go in this morning.

  How I’m going to make her think I’ve had a change of heart.

  I’ll make her think I’m exactly the kind of man she wants — boy toy material — and then I’m going to give her little bits and pieces. Not all of me. That’s for Melissa. For this weekend, when we have our first real date, and she has her first real taste of a real, good boyfriend.

  By the time I reach Ms. Vanacore’s area on the top of the McKenzie Tech building, and I
’m about to go inside the office I share with her, I’ve run over my plan at least a dozen times. What I’m going to say how I’m going to act, down to the smallest detail. But that doesn’t make me any readier to face her when I open the door.

  For a moment, when her eyes bore into me, and she says, “Good morning,” I forget where I’m at and what I’ve just spent so much time rehearsing.

  But then it clicks in.

  Just as she’s ordered me into the office, and to close the door.

  I make myself obedient and demurely obey her. I make my posture that of a little boy that has just gotten scolded and accepts the scolding.

  After the door is locked, and I’m in front of her again, I fold my hands in front of myself. I hang my head for good measure. Though I’ve done this around her legitimately for the past two weeks out of respect, I don’t have as much respect for her now as I did then. But she doesn’t need to know that.

  “The way you left here on Friday evening, Tommy,” she says. “I don’t approve of it. When I give you the opportunity to do more than what I’ve asked. To go above and beyond the call of duty on certain things, I expect that to happen.”

  Underneath these words, I get flashes of me doing more than accepting her kiss. Moaning with pleasure like she imagines I would and should. It grosses me out and I’m not sure how good of an actor I’ll be able to be.

  She continues, “None of my other boys have ever done what you did. Just walked out without giving me what I want, without giving it your all, especially after the promotion I rewarded you with.”

  I don’t like the insinuation she’s put on these words. I don’t like that she’s confirmed part of the conspiracy theory floating around on the legal aid’s floor. That she gave me the job because she wanted me sexually, not simply because I was skilled in my own right.

  But I let it go uncontested. I’m not here to pick fights with her. I’m here to lull her into a false sense of trust and security. I’m here to make her think I’m just as obedient and pliable — flexible morally and physically — as she is.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see her pick up her cane again. She fiddles with it, fondling the top of it thoughtfully.

  “I really don’t like the idea of having to punish you again,” she says, but the glitter in her smile, the hitch in her breath, tells me otherwise.

  She is clearly more than overjoyed at the possibility.

  “I don’t like having to be the bad guy here, but I don’t like bad boys, Tommy. And you’re a naughty boy.”

  I swallow thickly. Partly as part of my act, and probably because I really am feeling nervous and fidgety. As much as I’ve told myself I’m not, and cannot, be swept in by her, she is a force to be reckoned with.

  “Very naughty, in fact. So much so, I’m inclined to believe you made some things up on that resume of yours.”

  I don’t like this insinuation either, but again, I let it slide.

  “Someone with such a good track record should be so much more obedient,” she muses, sliding her hand up and down the neck of the cane.

  I let her catch me looking warily at the cane.

  “I am obedient,” I say, using my best take-pity-on-me voice. “I can be, Ms. Vanacore.”

  I give her the full force of my eyes. I make them big and wet now. Innocent, like a baby buck.

  “I’m just afraid.”

  I let her see my eyes move to the cane.

  I lick my lips, solidifying her impression of me. That she left a lasting one on my backside last time, and I’m afraid of another.

  “My father didn’t let me be me, Ms. Vanacore. He beat me. Trying to get me to lose weight when I was young, he abused me. Then he sent me to a fat camp, where they abused me, too.”

  While getting slammed around by Dad due to my weight is true, and being sent to camp is true, what I say next is purely for Ms. Vanacore’s benefit. To make her feel sorry for me.

  “I don’t want to disobey or get in trouble. I want to do things with you, but my body won’t let me, Ms. Vanacore.” I swallow thickly.

  Again, it’s probably my act, and partly the anxiety I’m honestly feeling.

  “Any time you get close, I just freak out. I’m worrying what HR will do to me if they find out I’m attracted to you.”

  Here, I bring my eyes down, make myself blush.

  “That I’m in love with you.”

  I look up at Ms. Vanacore, seeing exactly what I want to see: that she’s absolutely flushed with lust.

  She’s trembling with excitement.

  “I want to, but I can’t.” I let myself tremble here.

  Here, just as I’ve been hoping, Vanacore lets go of her cane. She sets it against one wall in her office, looking moved and sobered by my admission.

  “Oh, my poor boy,” she says.

  She sounds tearful, just like I wanted her to.

  So, I put my next plan into action.

  I go to her.

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Vanacore. I’m sorry for not being the good boy you hired.”

  I throw my arms around her and smile inwardly as I feel her do the same back to me. She hugs me to her and begins to rock back and forth with me.

  “I’m sorry I’ve been so bad to you. I’m sorry I’ve been doing such a bad, bad job.”

  Here, I hug her a little tighter.

  “Please don’t fire me. Please! I want to do better. I just don’t know how!”

  I hear Vanacore give me exactly what I wanted. She gives me a sorrowful, indulgent moan. A “poor sweet baby” type of thing.

  “Show me how! Please!” The amount of pitiful begging I put on that would win me an Oscar, I’m sure.

  “Of course, of course, my boy,” she murmurs, patting me on the back and kissing me.

  I let her kiss my face and my lips a few times before adding. “Slowly, slowly.”

  I’m drawing a shaking breath, actually feeling like shaking. “Please go slowly, ma’am!”

  As I wanted, her eyes light up with predatory glee with what I’ve just called her.

  I continue forward, as though the admission leaves me breathless.

  “I’m going to try my best to serve you and work for you like I promised, Ms. Vanacore, but I can’t do everything the way you want right away!”

  I force my mouth into a frown. A wobbling one.

  “Please don’t get mad at me if I’m not ready for certain things! But please know that I am trying!”

  Vanacore sweeps the hair out of my face, actually feeling and looking motherly — gentle and understanding. It almost makes me feel guilty for ever thinking she was and is a predator.

  But then I remember how hungry she looks behind all of that. How ruthless she looks, and I know I have to do it anyway.

  “Oh, don’t worry, my boy. As long as you try. Make yourself available, I’m not going to hold it against you if we don’t move quickly.”

  Internally, I high-five myself. For being the one who used to do all the charming around here, Ms. Vanacore seems to be fully charmed by me.

  She is thoroughly taken in by my story.

  “Thank you,” I say, doing my utmost to look grateful and undeserving of her kindness.

  To seal the “deal” with her, I plaster my lips on hers. I dart my lips forward and hold the back of her head in the exact same way that she did to me on Friday. I even go so far as to plunge my tongue in her lips and flick it around the roof of her mouth.

  As I do, I keep Melissa at the forefront of my mind. I think as loudly and lovingly as I can, I’m doing this for you, Melissa. So, I can be with you legitimately, and so that this company can be free of the dark stain known as Joan Vanacore.

  Under these thoughts, I hear Ms. Vanacore moan happily. She sinks under my lips, grasping for a corner of her desk, something to hold her upright.

  It’s really grossing me out, but I’m doing it.

  As she pulls her lips off mine and she says, �
��What a difference a few days has made in you, boy.”

  She’s breathless, and I see her rubbing irritably at her crotch.

  “I like it, and so does my pussy.” Now Ms. Vanacore is the one who’s blushing. “I know you’ve been through a lot around here, Tommy. Now I know, so I won’t ask you to fuck me,” she whispers, unzipping her fly and sliding her pants down her thighs, “but look at me. Tell me how much you love my pussy. How much you would love to fill it. How full you would stuff me.”

  As she’s talking, she begins to stroke her lower lips.

  And I began to do exactly what she’s asked. I talk dirty to her. However, my dick doesn’t respond to her. It doesn’t grow hard because of her.

  And I know that’s not only because I’m not truly into her but also because I’ve got my mind planted firmly on Melissa. On the real times I plan on having with her before making Vanacore believe she’s taking me for all I’m worth and capturing it on video.

  Even without an erection, I fain rubbing at my crotch and fidgeting under arousal I don’t have but will need to find out a way to fake.

  Otherwise, this whole plan is going to do worse than fall flat — it’s going to quite literally fail to launch.

  Chapter Thirty-Four - Melissa

  Though I know my mind should be focused on work — I have been here for almost three hours straight — my thoughts are still on the luscious, naughty dream I had last night after hanging up from a phone call with Tommy.

  In the dream, he came to my defense on the streets and in court. We were in Paris, touring some beautiful gardens and buildings there while looking at the perfect venue for a wedding when Dennis appeared.

  Dennis and his new girl. Though I couldn’t see his new girl clearly, they both came after me.

  They tried to strip me naked and render me worthless in front of Tommy. But that’s when Tommy came to my rescue. He stepped forward and protected me from them. He brawled with them in the streets, before putting them on trial for how shamelessly and completely they took money and dignity from me.