Sacking the Virgin

by Ryli Jordan

  “Hey,” Kate said, reaching over and running a finger down my knuckles, which would probably be an ugly shade of purple by tomorrow. “That was kind of sexy, you know. I've never had a guy fight for me before.”

  I closed my eyes and counted to ten, letting out a deep breath. “I wasn't fighting for you,” I said finally.

  “Oh,” Kate said, sounding like she didn't quite know what to say.

  After a long, silent drive, we reached her house (it wasn't that far away, but it felt like it took ages to get there, no doubt partly due to the thick, swirling snow that was falling outside). Kate paused, her hand on the doorknob. “Is that it, then?” she asked me, looking like she was almost disappointed with me.

  I turned to look at her, feeling an almost desperate urge to pull her into my arms and just...hold her? I frowned at that altogether girly sentiment and shrugged. “What do you want me to say?” I asked.

  “You could admit that you were jealous,” Kate said. “You could tell me why you're going home with me instead of with Anna.”

  I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose between my fingertips. “Can I come in?” I asked, surprising myself. Maybe surprising both of us, if Kate's expression was anything to go by.

  “I don't think that's a good idea,” Kate said, moving to get out of the car. “I don't do one-night stands.”

  “So we'd better do it more,” I told her cheekily. “We could have a string of one-night stands, at least.” That, of course, wasn't what I wanted, but she still didn't seem to realize that, and I doubted she would take the word of a drunk guy who had just punched someone out at a party.

  “Not what I meant,” Kate said coldly, opening her door.

  I reached out and caught her wrist. “I know,” I said. “Look, can I just come in? Not to have sex or anything like that. I just… I don't know. Never mind. Forget it.”

  Kate sighed. “Fine,” she said after a minute. “Fine, you can come in. You're not staying the night, though.”

  I nodded solemnly and then climbed out of the car, following her inside.

  Chapter Sixteen

  DAVID

  We binge-watched a few movies that night, and each time Kate got up—to get popcorn, to refill our drinks (just water for me, and juice for her), to go to the bathroom—she sat back down closer and closer to me, until by the end of the night, she was snuggled into my arms, her back pressed against my chest. She fit there as though she belonged there, I thought distantly, staring down at her soft, shiny hair. I leaned my cheek against the top of her head, giving up all pretense that I was still watching the movie.

  “You tired?” Kate asked, her voice sleepy and quiet.

  “Yeah,” I mumbled, nuzzling her a little. “Really comfortable here, though.”

  Kate carefully extracted herself from my grip. I could have detained her if I'd wanted to, but I figured she needed to use the bathroom again or something. When she stood there with her hands on her hips looking down at me, though, I realized my mistake.

  “You need to go home, then,” she told me firmly. She held up a hand to forestall and protests I might have. “I don't want to hear any arguments. You agreed to leave. And it's my house.” She paused. “I can't...have a repeat of before.”

  I stood slowly and stretched, yawning widely. When I looked back at Kate, I was amused to see she had been ogling my abs where my shirt had ridden up. I tugged it back down, keeping my hands teasingly on the hem as though I might take it off at any second. “Are you sure you don't want me to stay?” I asked her.

  She blinked at me, looking for a moment like she didn't even know what I was asking. But then she scowled. “Oh no,” she said, shaking her head. “Oh no, no, no. You're not going to charm me into it again. I swear, if you–“

  I closed the distance between us and swept her into a dramatic kiss, feeling her protests melt against my lips. I slipped an arm around her lower back just as I felt her knees give out, her weight falling heavily against my support.

  “God,” she said shakily as I pulled away. Then, she shook her head again. “I mean it, David,” she said warningly. “I'm not going to have sex with you. Now, please. I want you to leave.”

  I cupped her cheek in my palm, watching her eyelashes flutter a little. “Oh Kate,” I said sadly, lightly stroking her cheekbone. I leaned my forehead against hers for a long moment, just reveling in this closeness. I swallowed hard. It was probably the first time I had ever wanted to stay over with a woman and not have sex with her. I just wanted to hold her, to possessively treat her as though she was my own for the night.

  And I had missed our conversations. Kate and I were great in bed, and if we had more time together, to talk alone, about the facts of our lives, about the things we grew up dreaming about. .. I wanted more than what we had now, wanted something that I seemed to only be capable of finding in Kate. But I wasn't sure how to go about telling her that. And I knew I shouldn't be saying—or even thinking any of that. It was too early in our relationship.

  “Luke says he thinks our parents knew we had sex on Christmas,” I said suddenly.

  Kate's eyes widened, and she went a couple shades paler than usual. “Really?” she asked. She blushed brilliantly. “Oh god, what does my mother think?”

  I shrugged. “I don't know. I don't think Luke knows. But he says that if they wanted to stop us, they would have come to find us.”

  “I mean, Mom wouldn't have wanted to walk in on me like that, and I bet Alex wouldn't have wanted to walk in on you either.”

  “True,” I said. “But they might have knocked on the door.” I shrugged. “Look, I don't know. I just...”

  “But it doesn't matter anyways,” Kate said firmly. “Because this isn't what you want. I'm not what you want. You just want me to want you.”

  “That's not it,” I said frustrated. “I mean, not to sound like an arrogant prick, but I already kind of expect most girls to want me. I'm attractive, and I make shitloads of money.”

  “Wow,” Kate said, shaking her head as she pulled away. “Wow. I can't believe I slept with you.”

  “Wait,” I said, catching her wrist. “I mean, it also helps that I'm intelligent and can hold a conversation. And I can cook decently too. And… Well, there's a lot of things.”

  “But you'll sleep with every woman you meet who fits your standards,” Kate said bitterly. “And it means nothing to you.”

  “Kate,” I said. I sighed and looked away from her, staring out at the snow. “Look, Kate. I don't do relationships. I never do relationships. You're going into this fast, as though a little bit of knowledge about someone and one night—or a few nights—of great sex might mean you're soulmates and destined to be together forever. I don't believe in that kind of stuff. And I'm not sure how to go about getting to know someone better. Especially if you're living here and I'm living in London.”

  “Except that I won't be living here,” Kate pointed out. “I'll be living in London as well.”

  “I know,” I sighed. “But if you were living with me in London… Don't you think that's a lot of pressure to put on a relationship all at once?”

  “That might be the first sensible thing I've ever heard you say,” Kate said, looking thoughtful. She shook her head. “I really am going to London anyways,” she said again. “I've already okayed it with work. I'll be there starting in early February, once I straighten out my affairs here and get someone to rent out my house and everything.”

  I took a shuddering breath. “Then maybe once you're in London–“

  Kate placed a finger over my lips. “Uh uh,” she said, shaking her head. “Don't say it, David. Not now, not when you're still drunk. I don't want to hear more promises about the future from you and then have you wake up in the morning regretting all of this.”

  I nodded slowly. “That's fair,” I said. “I'm not making any promises. But it would be a shame for us both to be in London and not at least meet up for dinner sometime.”

  “It would be,” Kate ag
reed.

  We were silent for a long moment, just staring contemplatively at one another. Finally, I broke the silence. “I'd really like to hold you,” I told her. “I don't want to have sex, and we'll keep on however many layers of clothing as you think we need. But I'd really like to hold you. That's...not something I normally do.”

  “All right,” Kate breathed. “I'd like that.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  DAVID

  The New Year's party was surprisingly low-key that year. I almost didn't go, after having a long talk with my father about my behavior at the Whittakers' party. But in the end, he decided that if I didn't go, it looked almost worse than my going. He did stipulate that I needed to make a public apology to Michael at the party, and I hadn't fought him on that one. I just hoped the idiot's face was even more spectacularly bruised than my knuckles.

  I didn't go straight over to start flirting with the cluster of girls in the corner like I normally would have. I didn't pick a random woman that I wanted to kiss at midnight. I didn't head straight to the bar to get a drink. Instead, I found a group of guys my age and attached myself to their conversation. They seemed a bit surprised at first, but everything quickly relaxed into some semblance of normal.

  I couldn't keep my eyes off Kate, but that was nothing new. I at least tried to be a bit more discreet about it today, which was probably made easier by the fact that I wasn't drinking as heavily as I normally did at these things.

  Midway through the evening, Kate came over to me while I was grabbing some food. “Want to find a secluded place to kiss at midnight?” she asked under her breath. “Or is that a bit too much commitment for you? I mean, I'm sure you have a line of girls all desperately vying for your kiss tonight...”

  I shrugged a little. “I'm not really interested in kissing just anyone,” I admitted.

  “You haven't really been drinking that much, either,” Kate observed. “I've noticed.” It sent a thrill through me to know that she'd been watching me just as much as I had been watching her. “Is something wrong? Are you sick?”

  “Nah. I just don't really feel like it tonight.” I looked down at my plate of food and decided I had everything that I wanted. “Hey, do you want to go eat outside in the gardens? Usually, they have little fires spaced out in private nooks so that people can get some time alone.

  Kate raised an eyebrow at me. “Are you sure that's a good idea? People might notice we've disappeared together again.”

  “Not at a party like this,” I said. “And especially not this late into the night.” I glanced at my watch. “It's only about forty-five minutes until midnight, anyway. Maybe we can find someplace quiet out there where we can kiss.”

  Kate blinked and then nodded. “Okay.” She followed me out into the gardens. “You seem different,” she said as we walked through the dark gardens, listening to the soft music and laughter spilling out from the party.

  I shrugged again. “Yeah, well. Let's just say I've thought long and hard about punching Michael Westin in the face, and I'm repentant.”

  “You had a long talk about that with your father, didn't you?” Kate asked, grimacing in sympathy.

  “Yeah,” I sighed. “But the most interesting part of the conversation was when he said he doesn't care who I sleep with, as long as I keep my private matters private. Apparently, everyone seems to have overheard the reason that I punched Michael as well.”

  Kate stopped walking for a moment and then hurried to catch up. “So they know, then,” she said. She was frowning. “Mom didn't say anything to me about it.”

  “I mean, what's she going to say?” I asked cynically. “It's not like she can call you up and be like, yeah, so you and your stepbrother, you guys are allowed to keep having sex together if you want to!”

  “There are more tactful ways to say it, I'm sure,” Kate said, but she was hiding a grin.

  We turned into a small labyrinth in the gardens. Kate looked curiously around us, but she didn't ask where we were going like I wanted her to. Finally, I just came out with it: “The center of this part is my favorite, and no one is ever really there—probably because it's a bit confusing, but I memorized the directions a long time ago. It's the perfect spot for a midnight kiss.”

  I said the last words right as we turned the corner into the center of the maze. Where Dad and Linda were already sat on the bench, curled together near the fire. I stared at them for a long moment, hoping beyond hope that they hadn't heard those last words come out of my mouth. But there was no way they wouldn't have; I hadn't been particularly quiet about them since I hadn't expected anyone to be in there.

  “Like father, like son,” Dad said ironically, grinning over at me. “Are you really the person who's been in here every year for the past ten years? I never got a good look at your face because you were always making out with someone, but I guess that makes sense.” He smirked. “I was so happy to find the place empty this year.”

  I could feel my ears burning and glanced over at Kate, who looked just as embarrassed as I felt. “Uh, we were just...” she stammered.

  Linda gestured to the other bench, looking amused. “Alex and I talked about how this might happen, back before the wedding,” she admitted to us. “Two attractive kids in their twenties, meeting for the first time. We kind of joked about this kind of thing happening.” She sighed. “I'm not going to say I'm thrilled with it, and it will take some getting used to for everyone, but...” She shrugged. “What can you do? The heart wants what the heart wants.”

  “It's nothing serious,” Kate was quick to blurt out.

  “Yet,” I amended, looking down at her.

  Kate gave me a surprised but pleased look. “Yet,” she agreed.

  “Well, why don't the two of you have a seat, and we'll have some family time before both of you jet off to London?” Dad suggested.

  When Kate and I sat down on the other bench, curled in very similar positions to our parents, it suddenly felt the most like family that I'd felt in a while. And the kiss at midnight felt like hope.

  THE END

  BONUS STORY 2

  Exclusive Pleasure

  Chapter 1

  I'm a firm believer in nudity, not just because I admire the female form, but because I believe that clothes encourage shame, self-hatred, and scrutiny. We wear them because we are ashamed of our bodies, not just out genitalia, but also because we hate the little things like wrinkles and pimples. We don't want people to see our birthmarks and scars. People buy long, baggy shirts to keep attention away from love handles and dog pooches. Or they buy baggie pants to distract people's eyes away from their lanky legs.

  Junk hanging is how I live. I was never one to wear clothes around the house, not for a long time. Normally I'd put on a towel or a robe when people are around, but when I'm by myself, I'm in my natural, raw form. I decorate my body rather than cover it up. I have an ever evolving tapestry of ink spreading across my back and arms. I don't do anything too strange. As much as I hate society, I still have to fit in. Body art is about enhancement, not deception or changing who you are. That's what clothes are for.

  That evening, I jumped naked into the infinity pool built on my second floor balcony so I could look out onto the water and watch the sun the pass below the horizon.

  Once the sun had set, I took a few laps across the pool. Then I got out with water dripping down my chest and walked naked into the shower where I got my blood pumping just enough to heighten my excitement and started getting dressed.

  I parted my black hair down the middle, and let one strand fall over my forehead. Then I put on a skin tight baby blue shirt and fade wash jeans. It was casual, yet classy adornment that served to accentuate my natural features. When I get dressed there is no shame involved. I don't need to hide my body. I show it off.

  I chose my black convertible with the supercharged engine and left the estate at nearly 70 miles an hour, taking the twists and turns like a mine cart ready to fall off the rails. I'd been doing this
for years. The abandoned road twisted alongside the cliff for more than an hour until the city lights came into view and I had to merge on to the highway. That's when the real fun started. I hit the gas and tailed the person in front of me until I got the perfect chance and eased my way into the left lane and started the process all over again. I wasn't just a California driver. I was an emperor on a mission for conquest.

  The phone started vibrating about halfway there. It was Kirstie. I hit the ignore button and seamlessly moved from the left lane to the right, artfully slowing down to miss an ancient Oldsmobile with an angry looking grandma in the driver's seat.

  The phone started ringing again. I hit the ignore button a second time and gassed it. My exit was in less than a quarter mile and I had to concentrate. The second I hit the ignore button, the phone started having a conniption fit. From its position on the pedestal near my dashboard, I could see it erupting in a burst of messages and flashing lights, moving so fast I could barely read them.

  Infuriated, I pulled the phone off the pedestal and threw it out the window. She'd get the message. I love women, and not just sexually, but there have been far too many incidents in my life. I'm not looking for a girlfriend. They always want control. They want to know where I am, what I'm doing, and every question fuels their paranoia.

  It's always centered around my phone, whether or not I'm answering, who I'm texting. Some have even demanded to go through it. Others have gone through it without my permission. Once they find something that confirms their neurotic delusions, they go crazy. Kirstie was the worst. She went through my phone 2 weeks ago while I was sleeping.

  She found some pictures that my old fuck buddies sent me. I know that was it because she started getting awkward. There would be long pauses and strange questions. Then she began asking about my life history. She wanted to know what kind of girls I'd been with and whether her body matched up to theirs. It didn't matter to me. It's about the person, but Kirstie had self-esteem issues, especially with her butt.