Sacking the Virgin

by Ryli Jordan

  “Shh,” he says, laying a finger over my lips. “I want you to think about this—I don't need an answer right now. I just wanted to let you know that the door was open.” He grins ruefully. “And I'd prefer to know sooner rather than later so that I can make sure I'm looking at the right apartment size if you do choose to come with me.”

  I laugh and shake my head. This is all moving so fast, but it feels so right…

  I cock my head to the side. “Is that enough talking for now, then?” I ask. “Can you just shut up and kiss me, please?”

  The kiss is sweltering hot, right from the start. I'm immediately impatient with the number of layers between my breasts and his hands as he strokes his talented, calloused fingers across my nipples, making me shiver with desire. He teased me with his tongue, until I was brimming with desire, desperate for him to fill me.

  “Are you sure you're okay with this?” he asks as he pulls away.

  For a moment, I can only stare breathlessly up at him, trying desperately to process his words. Then, I laugh and shake my head. “Just don't film it this time!” I tell him.

  He grimaces, but I manage to smooth away the expression with another kiss which is just as heated as the last. I need more, though.

  “Ben,” I whine, taking a step back so that I can begin stripping off my clothing. Ben just stares at me for a moment, looking almost dumbstruck, but then he quickly gets with the program, removing his clothing as well.

  Then, he looks around, seeming suddenly uncertain. “Here?” he asks, gesturing around the hallway that we're still standing in.

  I shrug a little, pulling him back close to me and nuzzling against his neck, breathing in his heady scent of cologne and skin. “I honestly don't care where it is, Ben, I just need you now. Inside of me.”

  There's a curious flush that spreads across Ben, from his face down along his neck and into his chest, and I wonder what that's about. When I look questioningly up at him, he's looking tenderly down at me. “Marissa, I want to do this right,” he tells me.

  I frown at him, my brow furrowing. “This isn't my first time,” I remind him. “That was-”

  “I know,” Ben interrupts. “But that's all the more reason to do things right this time. I know I can never give you back your life or your virginity or anything else. But I want every time that we make love to be...special. To be what that first time never got to be.”

  His words are like a sucker punch of feeling right to my gut. I can only stare at him for a moment, feeling how wet I'm already becoming—and his hands have never strayed lower than my ribcage.

  “I want that,” I agree.

  “One day, we'll have fun exploring other places around your place—or our place, maybe,” Ben promises me. “But for right now...”

  “Bed,” I say, leading the way.

  In my room, Ben tumbles me back on the bed with practiced ease, and I can't help but giggle. Ben looks amused by the sound and bends down to capture it on his lips. Then, he nudges my legs open and slides a hand down there, testing the waters. He groans and buries his forehead against my collarbone.

  “Marissa,” he says, sounding awed.

  “What?” I asked, suddenly afraid that I've done something wrong.

  “I just forgot how tight and hot you are,” he says, and it's my turn to blush at that. “Sorry, but seriously. You're such a special woman, do you know that?”

  My lust spikes then, though, and I can't help rocking my hips a bit impatiently. Ben laughs but gets the picture, and his fingers slither inside of my feathery folds. That's about all that I can take before I'm climaxing hard.

  Ben looks astonished when I finally open my eyes again. “Did you just-” he begins to ask.

  His fingers are still working inside of me, though, so all I can manage is a weak whimper, my eyes falling shut again.

  “Oh darling,” Ben says tenderly. He pulls back a little, giving me a second to catch my breath and recover. Then, he nudges my legs wider apart. “Ready?” he asks.

  I nod—but I'm pretty sure that words would still fail me if I tried to speak. Ben seems to read me like an open book, though, and he moves slowly to slot himself up against my entrance. I can still feel the stretch of the breach, but it's not as painful as it was last time. And this time, I can't help but feeling-

  “Fuck,” I hiss as Ben seats himself fully inside of me.

  “Too much?” he asks immediately, making a move to pull back. But instead, I hook my ankles behind his lower back and tug him forwards, desperate to feel that friction and that delicious angle again.

  Ben seems to get the picture, and he begins moving almost frantically against me, setting a pace that I know will leave me aching in all the best ways by the time we're done. It isn't long before we're lying sticky and sated in the sheets, staring up at the ceiling.

  “Yes,” I finally manage to whisper, putting all my promises into that simple word. Yes, I'll give him a second chance. Yes, I'll move to whichever city he ends up in. Yes, yes, yes.

  I don't elaborate with words, but Ben understands me anyway. He pulls me closer against his side and kisses my hair, tracing idle patterns on my skin.

  Epilogue — Marissa

  I watch Ben line up on the field with his new team, the Atlanta Blazers, and smile a little to myself. It's strange seeing him in the blue and yellow when I'm so used to seeing him in red and white—but it's not a bad color combination for him. And although I can clearly see that he's not 100% meshing with his new teammates yet, things are looking very promising.

  Even as I watch the team’s practice, he hurls a pass down half the field, and one of his receivers manages, somehow, to get open to catch the thing, sprinting towards the endzone. There are whoops and hollers, and even from the opposite sidelines, I can tell that Coach Sheffield is pleased. That bodes well.

  It's been difficult, moving to Atlanta—especially when Ben and I have only officially been dating for a few months. In fact, it's less than six months since the whole sex scandal that cost me my job. But it feels as though I've known him forever, and without my job with the Kings, it's not as though there was anything really tying me to Chicago anyway.

  Besides, there are a few of Ben's former teammates who also currently play for the Blazers, and they've been great about taking us in and showing us around town. We all hang out in the evenings frequently, drinking beers and talking about everything.

  Ben jogs over to his new coach so that they can draw out another play on the whiteboards, and I wish I were over there to see just what it is that they're discussing. I'm no longer working in the sports field, but that doesn't mean that I don't catch every game that Ben is playing in.

  At the moment, I'm taking some time off and going back to school for physical therapy. After spending time helping Ben out during his injury and going with him from doctor’s appointment to doctor’s appointment, I kind of wonder why I never got into this before. It fascinates me, and I feel like I could really help people—rather than just being yet another sports broadcaster or sports journalist. Maybe one day, I'll be able to work for a football team again; we'll see!

  For now…

  I watch as Ben circles back to the field, turning and finding my eyes as I watch from the sidelines. He points to me with both hands, his signal that he's about to run a play just for me. I roll my eyes a little but can't help grinning. Now that he's beginning to hit his stride again, he's being a bit of a showoff around practices, but I know that everyone's pretty pleased to see that out of him, especially with this much time left before the season actually begins.

  They hike the ball, and Ben ends up with it. Somehow, they create an amazing field setup where Ben gets a huge gap in front of him. He runs pell-mell up the field—something that's been challenging for him given the ankle injury. But today, he's faster than he's been in a while, and he managed to run all the way down the field and into the end zone.

  That's showing off, if I'm sure of anything. It's not like anyone was going
to dare tackle him once he got in the clear anyway; he could have just called the play “dead” there.

  But he wanted to make that touchdown for me, just like he always did, and I am just as flattered to see the display as I am excited to see how well he is healing.

  Coach Sheffield blows his whistle, signaling that it's time for the guys to take a short break, and Ben continues his jog straight around the field, coming down the sidelines towards me.

  I hold out a Gatorade to him, watching as he downs most of it in one go.

  “Man is it hot down here,” he complains.

  “And just think, it's only spring!” I reply. The heat and the humidity are something that we're still struggling to get used to. Of course, we have heat and humidity back in Chicago, but it's rarely anything like this, and especially not this early in the year!

  “I'm going to actually die this summer,” Ben says, but he's grinning at me. “Maybe I'll defect to a different team.”

  I snort. “Well, if you sleep with one of the Blazers' employees, I'm definitely not moving with you to the next city,” I tell him.

  Ben doesn't treat that like the joke that I meant it as, though. Instead, he bends down and cups my cheek in his palm, kissing me gently. “I would never,” he tells me, as though I didn't already know that. “I love you, Marissa.”

  “I love you too,” I tell him, smiling up at him. Maybe we were moving a little too fast, but when he had proposed to me on the six-month anniversary of our move to Atlanta, I had had no desire to say no to him, and today, I wore his engagement ring proudly on my finger.

  “One of these days, I'm going to have to teach you to play football,” Ben tells me. It's something that he's been threatening for a while now, and every time he says it, I roll my eyes.

  “Why would I ever need to know how to play football?” I ask him. “I like to watch it, but I'd rather play volleyball than get roughed up by a bunch of sweaty, gross-”

  “Hey!” Ben says, sounding mock offended and clutching at his heart as though I've wounded him. I can't help but giggle a little, but Ben's expression turns serious again. “Well, how else are you supposed to teach Ben Jr. how to throw a decent spiral?” he asks.

  I laugh again at that one. “There is no way in hell that we are naming our kid Ben Jr.”

  Ben raises his eyebrows at me. “Oh really?” he says, even though this isn't the first time that we've had this conversation—and I doubt that it'll be the last time, either.

  “The kid is going to have his own life, and I want him to have his own name,” I say sternly. “He shouldn't have to follow in the footsteps of The Great Ben Price.”

  “Those would be some difficult shoes to fill,” Ben admits, never without his pride in his game.

  I laughed a little and push at his shoulder. Just then, Coach Sheffield blows his whistle, and Ben gives me an apologetic look. “Guess I have to get back on the field,” he tells me. “But don't worry—we'll be done soon. There's only so much more of this heat that anyone, even Coach Sheffield, can take.”

  “Why don't I get a head start going home and get dinner started?” I suggest. “I bet you'll be famished by the time you get done here, and I've got a few new recipes that I wanted to try out.” I've been experimenting a lot in the kitchen, something I never really felt like I had time for before. But with Ben's strict diet, I have to be creative or else we'll be drinking protein shakes for every meal.

  “That would be so great,” Ben says honestly. He bends down to peck me on the lips once more and then jogs out to join his teammates, who all catcall him good-naturedly as he gives me one final wave.

  Despite saying I'd head home early and get a head start on dinner, I linger there on the sidelines, watching another couple plays go off. Ben doesn't always connect with his receivers, sure, but he's far from the only person making mistakes playing at this game.

  The same can be said about life, I guess. Ben may have made some mistakes early on in knowing him, but that was only natural. And now…

  I rubbed my stomach, even though it was still a bit early for the baby bump to show. This baby—who would not be named Ben Price Jr., if I had anything to say about it!—was definitely not one of Ben's mistakes.

  As I watched the baby's father out there on the field, launching successful pass after successful pass, whooping and hollering with the rest of his teammates, I couldn't help smiling. Despite my insistence that the kid be brought up playing volleyball, I had no doubt that we would see him or her out there on the football field as well, just like its father.

  THE END

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  BONUS STORY 1

  Naughty Package

  Warning! Hot, taboo romance awaits…This is a standalone novella, with complete satisfaction guaranteed. No judgment zone. Enjoy!

  Kate

  Anyone would be lying if they didn’t lust after David. Keeping my feelings at bay after my mom’s wedding was like torture. I knew I couldn’t have him. I knew he was off limits. Our relationship could never go there -- or could it? I know my fantasies of him were already on fire! Now he’s back in the states from London giving me a holiday package I just can’t resist.

  David

  I’m exactly the kind of billionaire everyone loves to hate. I enjoy being single, vaping, and giving women what they want most in bed. Little did I know that my time off for the holidays would really feel like home in more ways than one. I’m stuck in close quarters with my rod throbbing for Kate and I can’t do nothing about it.

  There’s one little secret, this hot beauty is my stepsister. As the saying goes, you want what you can’t have right?

  Mature audiences only, 18 plus only!

  Chapter One

  KATE

  I didn't think I'd managed to sleep soundly through the night in the six months since I'd met David. It seemed like every night, I came awake gasping and writhing against the sheets, caught up in the phantom memories of his hands gently stroking down my curves...spreading my legs and plunging his fingers inside of me...kissing a heated line down from my mouth to my breasts…

  And now, it was affecting my naps as well. I'd never been the type to dream during short naps, but… I slipped my hand between my legs, marveling at how wet I already was.

  But it wasn't really a surprise, given the dream that I'd had. I always imagined David's stronghands playing me like a well-tuned instrument. Of course, I had no way of knowing what it would actually feel like to have his solid, muscular form pressed up against my soft curves. I had no idea what his hot, throbbing length would feel like gripped in my palm—or better yet, slotted up between my legs, buried deep inside of me.

  But I could imagine.

  I practically moaned as I slid my fingers inside myself. I had long since quit feeling guilty about using him as material to get off to. He might be my stepbrother now, but we weren't related by blood, and besides, he was dangerously handsome. What did it matter if I got off to thoughts of him? Nothing would ever come of it.

  I whimpered as I brushed my fingers across my clit, keeping the fingers of my other hand working inside of myself. The dream had already gotten me so close, and it wasn't long before I was coming hard, biting my lip to keep from breathily gasping his name.

  Slowly, I brought my eyes open.

  At some point, I was going to have to sort through my feelings for David. I had an unhealthy amount of like for him—especially considering he'd been on an extended business trip for the past six months, so I'd only really seen him for the two weeks leading up to the wedding. I hardly knew the guy; for all I knew, he might be a total asshole. Granted, there had been witty banter between us, and he'd been able to make me giggle. But this fixation was mostly just based on physical attraction.

  And now that David was back in town, I didn't need to be emb
arrassing myself tripping over words at family dinners or anything like that.

  Speaking of which… I sighed and swung my legs over the side of the bed. I squinted at the clock—5:45pm. That gave me plenty of time to get ready for David's welcome-back dinner that night. I pulled out the green wool dress I'd been planning to wear for the occasion, smoothing my hands over the thick fabric. Then, I went to take a shower and start the process of getting ready.

  I made it to Mom and Alex's house at the exact same time as David did, walking up the front walk just as he was pulling into the driveway in his flashy silver speedster. I vaguely remembered Mom telling me he was staying in a fancy hotel downtown; I didn’t really understand why since he could stay for free at our parents’ house, but then again, I had never had hundreds of spare dollars to just toss around.

  I waved to him and waited for him to stop the car and get out. It would have been rude to head inside without waiting, right?

  I gave him a hug that probably lasted a beat too long, but it just felt so good to be pressed against his warmth. “Hey David,” I greeted. “How was London?”

  David shrugged, grimacing a little. “Cold. Rainy. Grey.”

  I laughed a little and shoved at his shoulder. “Come on, I'm sure you had an amazing time.”

  David gave me an impassive look and then nodded towards the front door. “We should probably get inside, I guess.”

  I followed him inside, trying not to feel hurt by his obvious brush-off. I trailed after him into the dining room, where Mom, Alex, and David's cousin Luke were waiting. “Hi everyone,” I greeted, leaning in to hug Mom and kiss her on the cheek. “It smells amazing in here.”

  Mom smiled at me. “We're having a minor feast, apparently,” she said, shaking out her napkin and placing it in her lap. She smiled over at my stepbrother. “It's wonderful to see you again, honey. How was London?”