Taking His Virgin

by Jamie Knight

  Taking His Virgin

  Club Lush Book 8

  Copyright © 2020 Jamie Knight Romance.

  All rights reserved.

  Jamie Knight –

  Your Dirty Little Secret Romance Author

  Here is the reading order for the Club Lush series,

  which can be read and understood alone but are best enjoyed all together!

  Binding His Virgin

  Silencing His Virgin

  Riding His Virgin

  Masking His Virgin

  Revealing His Virgin

  Teaching His Virgin

  Choosing His Virgin

  Taking His Virgin

  These are the books that have been added to the series at the time of publication of this one, but new books are being released all the time.

  Click here to see all the titles in the Club Lush Series!

  And subscribe to my newsletter to be the first to know when a new one is released!

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter One - Amanda

  Chapter Two - Amanda

  Chapter Three - Warren

  Chapter Four - Amanda

  Chapter Five - Warren

  Chapter Six - Amanda

  Chapter Seven - Warren

  Chapter Eight - Amanda

  Chapter Nine - Warren

  Chapter Ten - Amanda

  Chapter Eleven - Warren

  Chapter Twelve - Amanda

  Chapter Thirteen - Warren

  Chapter Fourteen - Amanda

  Chapter Fifteen - Warren

  Epilogue - Amanda

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  Sneak Peek of Choosing His Virgin

  Books in the Club Lush series:

  Chapter One - Amanda

  I’d never seen a colossal city before. It sounds silly, but it’s still true. I was born and raised in nowhere Wisconsin and went about fifty miles up the road to the bustling metropolis of Milwaukee to attend the university. I’d read about cities like New York with their 8 million people and couldn’t quite get my head around it. The books might as well have been discussing the sky city of Asgard—which I also read a lot about being a massive book nerd. Not that I looked like the dork I was. My bestie Liz kept telling me I was hot and what I saw did little to contradict her, though I would have more said ‘cute’ than ‘hot’, but it was really a matter of perspective.

  The trip to the Big Apple was Liz’s idea, as were most of the cool things that had ever happened to me. Were it down to my own discretion, I would probably never leave my room, except maybe to go to the local theater now and then — not the one in Milwaukee but the one back home.

  My parents encouraged me to go to college, but Liz had insisted. It was embarrassing but true that she had a lot more sway over me than my own parents. Even at the university, I was a studious homebody. None of the wild sex or drinking I’d heard about for so long. Though I was pretty sure it was happening in the next room, the one occupied by Liz, who had insisted on attending the same school.

  I felt a bit bad about that. She had the brains and courage to go wherever the hell she wanted. No less than thirty schools had accepted her application, some in borderline betting tones. She’d narrowed it down to Yale, Harvard, Oxford, and Trinity College Dublin before finding out I was going to Marquette and applying that same day. She didn’t walk into her closed program so much as was welcomed with a parade. I doubted the administrators knew what they were getting into with her. Most of the other students were Catholic School kids like me.

  Liz was from the heathen public school across the road that all the nuns warned me about. It was pretty much an accident that our paths crossed five years ago, but I was glad they did. Liz took the lead, of course, and took me in hand, showing me how to actually be a teen. Something no one else could have been bothered to do.

  Not the kind just to say no — like my parents and teachers — Liz gave me other things to distract me from my teenage depression. Things like mythology, fantasy fiction, and black metal, all of which helped me build a different world in my head. Somewhere to go whenever things got rough. Some might call it a ‘happy place’ but Liz, and therefore I, preferred the term ‘inner realm.’

  The streetlights were coming on when we left the New York Public Library. My idea of a landmark, even if I didn’t have a card. It was something special just to be there. Left in awe, we stumbled down a few blocks, deep in conversation about first-editions and such. After a while, we realized we had forgotten where we were going.

  Manhattan island really wasn’t that big, at least geographically. Being built up rather than out. We had a map, bought at the airport before we ever set foot in the city, and were confident we could find our way around without a guide. Often, we were wrong. However, being lost at night was unsettling.

  “That corner looks familiar,” I observed as we came up to an intersection.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Aside from the non-chain record store that would really only ever be there?” I asked.

  “Fair point.” Liz did something that kind of looked like dance before nodding in satisfaction. I was honestly hoping for good news, the fear of being lost already beginning to creep into my bones.

  “We are definitely on the Upper East Side,” Liz said, authoritatively.

  “That’s good, right?” I asked, trying to remember that section in the travel book.

  “Better than some,” Liz said.

  I took a deep breath, trying to keep my heart from beating quite so hard. I was with Liz, everything would be fine. We would figure out how to get back to our hotel.

  The brownstones around us were truly impressive. Even Liz stopped to look at a few of them. We’d never really seen anything like it, and I felt the sudden urge to take a picture. If nothing else to prove to myself I’d actually seen them. Pictures or it didn’t happen and all that.

  No sooner was my phone out than Liz was posing at the bottom of the stairs. We both laughed as I took the pictures.

  “Your turn,” she giggled, taking my phone and all but pushing me in front of the brownstone.

  I was pretty self-conscious, but Liz always knew how to make me drop my defenses. Usually, it worked out fine but not that fateful night. It seemed stupid later, but I thought I had a pretty good idea of what criminals looked like. However, the guy who went up behind Liz looked more prep school than gutter punk. Nonetheless, she stiffed, like something was being pushed into her back.

  “Keep still,” the mugger demanded.

  Liz did as she was told, even if her expression did rage with quiet fury. She would have snapped the guy’s neck if she had the chance. Or, at least, she would have tried.

  “Phone and wallet,” the mugger demanded.

  Liz handed over my phone and her wallet. The preppy perpetrator pocketed them and looked at me. His icy blue eyes made me quietly gasp.

  “You too,” he snapped.

  Feeling as though I was moving through molasses, I took my wallet and put it in his outstretched hand.

  “Phone too.”

  “That was her phone,” Liz pointed out.

  “Oh, yours then.”

  Liz took out her phone and handed it to him. The high-born hooligan pocketed both my wallet and Liz’s phone and then took her by the arm. I stifled a scream, thinking he was going to drag her off and rape or shoot her or something. Instead, he just shoved her toward me and took off at a fast run.

  I could feel my lip quivering. My locked muscles began to loosen as I came out of fight or flight mode.

  �
��Hey,” Liz said, drawing my attention to her and taking me in a hug, “you’re okay.”

  “But, y-you—”

  “I’m okay,” she said before I could blubber anything else, “pissed off but not hurt… except maybe my pride. You have your cards, right?”

  “M-my cards?”

  Liz reached into her jacket and took out her bank and Visa cards as well as her driver’s license, all held together with an elastic band.

  “Oh, yeah,” I said, remembering her telling me to do that.

  “Good, I don’t suppose you have a phone card.”

  “No, I didn’t think there would be any payphones.”

  “Right, me neither,” Liz said, laughing, despite her apparent fear.

  “We should call someone, right?”

  “Probably a good idea. The question is how with no phone cards or change.”

  “You still have money?” I asked, feeling my body start to shake with exhaustion.

  “About five bucks in my boot. Probably not enough for a chocolate bar around here. We’re just going to have to knock on some doors and ask to use the phone.”

  It wasn’t a bad idea, but still, my tummy did back-flips. It was partly leftover stress from the mugging, but I also didn’t want to bother anyone. It wasn’t like we had any other options, though. As usual, Liz took the lead and almost pulled me up the stairs of the next house. It was a giant mansion of a place that went up a full three floors.

  Liz was the one to knock on the door as I stood several stairs below her. She had barely touched the wood of the door before it went swinging open. We both stared in amazement.

  “W-we really shouldn’t just go in,” I mumbled, as Liz moved to do just that.

  She made a tsk sound. “We need to get help somewhere. The way I see it, we’ve already been welcomed.”

  Chapter Two - Amanda

  It wasn’t a great choice. The way I saw it, I could either stay out on the steps and maybe get mugged again, though for what I didn’t know, or follow Liz into the dark unknown and hopefully get some help. Preferable without getting into more trouble in the attempt — even though that would be just my luck.

  I closed the door on my way in, not wanting to be rude, being a guest and all. The house was pretty scary. The front hall was like an echoing chamber with all kinds of weird stuff in it, such as bone specimens like skulls and old books and giant oil paintings. Surprising as New York had been, I never would have expected to find anything like that there. I just figure it was the sort of thing that went on at country estates in rural areas. Most often in Europe. American and arcane, while I was well aware of both, did not fit easily together in my head.

  I wanted to leave, actually pulling on the back of my best friend’s jacket like a little kid, but she was fascinated—seeming almost mesmerized by what was happening. Particularly when the chanting started.

  Liz moved like she was possessed, moving deeper into the museum-like house. Following the sound of chanting that was making the hair on my neck stand up. Soon enough, they came into view. A group of maybe fifteen well-dressed men stood in a small sitting room, rendered otherworldly by flickering candle-light. They were mostly older gentlemen, fifty at least, some of them even older. A couple of them were much younger, maybe in their mid-30s. I’d gone to a girl’s school and hadn’t had a lot of experience with guys outside my own family, so determining age was difficult for me.

  They were dressed similarly: dark suits, white shirts, red silk ties. It looked like a kind of uniform. Particularly with the matching buttons on the right lapel of each of the suits. I couldn’t see really well because of the bad lighting. From what I could tell, the pins hand the picture of the outline of a hand done in broken lines and the initials O.I.H.F.C above it in Gothic script, looking all ancient and important.

  I was afraid they might be doing some kind of ritual, and we really didn’t want to be around for it. It still wasn’t clear to me if demonology actually worked, and I wasn’t in a hurry to find out.

  “O-yay, o-yay, I bring to order this meeting of the Order the Invisible Hand Financial Club.”

  I could actually feel myself relaxing. There weren’t going to be any demons that night. Or at least, so I thought.

  “C’mon, we’ll get in trouble,” I whispered, trying to pull Liz away.

  It was too late. The man standing closest to us looked over, catching sight of us even in the dim light of the hallway. I froze, barely able to breathe. Liz was feeling pretty ridged herself.

  I’d expected alarms or guards or something like that. If we were lucky, at least. Liz had made me watch Eyes Wide Shut, and I hadn’t been able to look at a masquerade mask the same way again. I trembled to even contemplate the indignities that might be visited on us before we were dispensed with. I figured Liz might be able to handle it. She was always so much stronger than I was. She would fight. I was a virgin and would probably faint at the first intimate touch of a man.

  It was like a saving grace. Rather than exposing us, leaving us open to punishment from the club members, the man just stared at us for a moment. He let us know he knew we were there and then did something shocking.

  “Excuse me a moment,” he whispered to the man beside him and slipped out of the room.

  We backed up instinctively. I wanted to run back to the door and take my chances on the street, but he would catch up to us. We were in a stranger’s house, and there was no escape. I was so scared I thought I might faint from sheer terror.

  The man kept coming towards us, Liz putting her arms around me protectively, before stopping and gesturing for us to follow him into a nearby study. Looking at me, Liz took my hand and led me into the study, both of us looking at the floor as we went.

  I could almost feel it as the door closed, actually flinching at the click of the lock. It was beyond my understanding at that point, but he was doing it to protect us. Locking us away from the rest of the club who might not be so lenient.

  “What are you doing here?” the man asked, turning to us.

  “We just got mugged,” Liz explained, her voice steady and eyes clear, “we’re from out of town and need to call the police. I’m not sure what they can do at this point, but it seems like a good idea.”

  Liz was speaking, but the man looked only at me and not my face —not entirely anyway. I was dressed modestly, as was my habit, but he still ran his eyes over my body, seeming to get a good idea of what it looked like. He was so damn handsome I could barely stand to look at him. I also wasn’t used to such intense male attention.

  “Is that true?” he asked, his eyes still on me. I made the mistake of looking up at him. His eyes seemed to bore into my very soul.

  I froze like I did when we were mugged and when we were first spotted in the house. Losing my ability to speak. I looked as hard as I could but just couldn’t find my voice. Even though it could be the only way for us to get out of the mess we were in.

  Chapter Three - Warren

  I was used to the unexpected. Leading the life I did, it came with the territory. I was only 35 but had seen and done things that would make most people’s hair turn white. None of it illegal, of course. I had to maintain some level of morality and was no good to anyone in prison. However, some things went far beyond the accepted social standard.

  In truth, I had no real regard for the accepted social standard, which I generally saw as arbitrary bullshit made up by self-righteous busybodies. I’d certainly had more than enough of that growing up in the wealthy circles that I did. There was a general idea that there was no monarch in America. This was mostly a misnomer. There was very much an aristocracy. They just don’t call themselves that anymore. Like when Romans changed the name of their emperor to the pope. Same function, different name.

  I’d seen some strange things done to be sure, though I’d never seen such sweet, fresh meat come so willingly into my lair. The girls were young. At least 12 years younger than me. Early 20s, maybe. One
looked okay if a little noisy. Perfectly fuckable if she could just put a sock in it. In every sense of the word, her little friend was much more my speed: petite, delicate and quiet, eminently corruptible. At that moment, standing in my study, she looked terrified. I was nearly ashamed at how aroused that made me, almost but not entirely. It was almost an imperative that I play with her. Even if it was just to test her limits.

  I was annoyed by the interruption of the club meeting but was much more forgiving than some others might have been. At least half of them were the shoot first ask questions later type. As it was, I didn’t even have a gun in the house.

  Still, I didn’t know how these two girls dared to just walk into my home, perhaps to steal something. There were quite a few valuable pieces around, though I sort of doubted they would know that.

  “Tell him, Mandy,” the noisy one said, accidentally giving me the sexy one’s name.

  “Mandy?”

  “Amanda,” the noisy one snapped, looking daggers at me, “I think she might be traumatized. We were mugged at gunpoint and need to call the police.”

  “You will not be calling the police,” I ordered, hoping that would be an end to her noise. “I don’t know why you are here. You might need to call the police. You might not. It doesn’t really matter much, as it is academic anyway. The fact is, you have walked into our club’s secret meeting, and there will be no police here tonight.”

  “What are you going to do?” the noisy one asked, looking more like her friend: Tiny and terrified.

  “It is late. You shouldn’t be going back out onto the street, particularly if you’ve already been mugged once. That probably wouldn’t go well for anyone involved.”

  “O-okay,” the noisy one agreed.

  “Glad you approve. So, what is going to happen is you are going to be staying here tonight. I’ll have someone drive you down to the police station in the morning. Do you have your airline tickets with you?”