His Virgin: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance

by Nikki Chase

  The cops check to make sure Christine and I are not dangerous, and there’s no one else in the house.

  “I was just trying to protect this town,” Christine says over and over again to anyone who would listen. One cop takes her outside, saying things to her that I can’t quite hear.

  Despite what she has done to me, I feel bad for Christine. She’s obviously a disturbed person with a sad life. That said, I don’t know if I’d feel the same had she succeeded in slashing my face.

  “Ma’am, are you hurt anywhere?” A paramedic squats down in front of me and starts poking at various parts of my body.

  I shake my head from side to side, still too weak to speak.

  Maybe the effects of the drug get more intense after some time has passed. I’m so sluggish now that I find it hard to believe I actually held a conversation with Christine.

  I wonder if it was due to the urgency of the situation. I once read that people often develop super strength or super stamina when they’re in danger. Maybe I knew that my life—and Jacob’s—depended on how I communicated with Christine, and that gave me the power to break through the fog and do whatever I had to do to survive.

  “Can you walk, Ma’am?”

  I put all my effort into focusing my eyes on the paramedic and shake my head again for him. There’s nothing I want more than to fall asleep right now, but I’m worried they’d suspect Jacob if I didn’t give my statement before passing out. If I had any emergency superpower, I’d like it to kick in now and keep me awake.

  “We’ll get a stretcher for you. You’ll be okay. You’ve been given a new kind of date-rape drug. I’m guessing you were given some powder to sniff?”

  I nod.

  “Yep. That’s some strong stuff. The effects last for about six hours. It makes you drowsy, dizzy, and confused. You’re probably also experiencing loss of motor control,” the paramedic says as another guy in a paramedic uniform pulls an empty bed inside.

  The bed stands on a metal frame and a few small wheels. It sounds weird rolling on the wooden floor, probably because my ear is pressed against the wooden planks, which magnify and distort the sound.

  The men lift me onto the stretcher. I can tell they’re good at their job from how efficient they are. Still, I can’t help but worry about Jacob.

  As they roll me out of Bertha’s house, I turn my head to the left and to the right, scanning the place for Jacob. But all I see is a crowd of sleepy, curious neighbors in their pajamas, robes, sweatpants, and old college shirts.

  Everything looks so surreal with the red and blue lights flashing, casting unnatural primary colors onto everybody’s skin. The cops have marked off Bertha’s house with a yellow police line to keep the audience away from the crime scene.

  Good, they won’t trample on Bertha’s lawn, I think to myself.

  What an inane thought. Why would I be thinking about Bertha’s grass and flowers at a time like this? I wonder if it’s the drug or if it’s just a quirk of the human brain, to never have full separation between normal thoughts and in-emergency thoughts.

  I finally see Jacob when they ‘re about to roll me into the ambulance. Jacob, who has been sitting on the back of the car, stands up and gives way for my stretcher to be pushed inside.

  They have removed his shirt. It’s probably so they can treat his wound or so they can keep the shirt as evidence. But I can’t help thinking it’s also because the female paramedics want to see the hard, sculpted body underneath.

  I must be delirious, I realize. There are way more important things to worry about right now than other women ogling Jacob.

  A rectangular piece of white gauze covers a small area on Jacob’s lower abs. I want to touch it, feel the texture of the gauze with my fingers. I want to compare the size of the wound with my hand, so I can tell if it’s a small wound or if Jacob’s just such a big guy that a big gash looks small on his body.

  “You okay?” That’s about all I can say.

  “Yeah. Don’t worry about me, baby. They patched me up. I’m good as new.” Jacob smiles, making the skin around his eyes crinkle.

  He looks so kind. I vaguely remember us having an argument before all this craziness started, but I can’t remember why I’d ever fight with this guy, who’s standing right in front of me now. This guy literally got stabbed in the gut to save my life.

  “It’s you I’m worried about,” he says as he picks up my limp hand and kisses it.

  My heart is melting inside and, more than anything, I want to kiss this magnificent man all over, but all I can muster is a smile. An honest, genuinely happy smile.

  Despite how crazy the past twenty-four hours have been—hell, the past month has been insane—I’m happy at this moment.

  We lay in the dark together. In my bed, at home, finally. Just the two of us. Without the cops, the paramedics, or the onlookers.

  Just us.

  The paramedics gave me a lot of water to drink, which helped flush the drug out of my body faster. We both gave the cops our statements, they took notes for another one of their stupid reports, and they took Christine away in the back of a car.

  She looked so strange. Up until literally hours previously, that woman was an outstanding member of the community, a pharmacist that everyone in town would trust with their medication.

  And yet there she was, sitting in a police car like a common criminal. She didn’t look like she belonged there at all. God, I can’t imagine Christine in an orange jumpsuit. That would be mega weird.

  At the same time, she hurt Jacob and I can’t forgive her for that. I haven’t forgotten all the other things she’s done, too. I hope she rots in prison for what she did to Max, not to mention what she was about to do to me if Jacob hadn’t arrived when he did.

  Jacob saved my life.

  Now, with him right behind me, holding me tight, I feel safer than ever. Not just because the cops have apprehended the person who’d been intimidating me for weeks, but also because I know now just how far Jacob would go for me.

  For the first time in a long time, I feel like someone’s got my back. I don’t feel alone anymore.

  I reach my hand behind me and run my fingers through Jacob’s hair. In response, he sighs contentedly.

  I feel the heat of Jacob’s body on my back. His hard cords of muscles underneath his skin, the soft patch of gauze on his abs.

  The cops took his blood-stained shirt as evidence, as well as his belt that he used to tie Christine’s hands.

  When we were walking home, his arm around my shoulders, mine around his bare waist, the thought crossed my mind that I should confiscate what was left of his clothes and strip him bare. But I also felt like maybe we should get some much-needed rest after that wild ride to crazy town.

  We collapsed into my bed as soon as we got inside my home. We didn’t even bother to shed or change our clothes.

  But now, as Jacob kisses my shoulder and my neck, I start to feel like maybe sleeping can wait. In no time, my breathing becomes heavy. Wetness leaks out of me and pools in my panties.

  Jacob’s hands start to roam, touching my belly, my tits, my hips. He kneads the flesh of my breasts, teases the sensitive peaks until they harden and poke through the fabric of my shirt.

  “Are you sure you want to do this, with your wound?” I ask.

  I no longer worry that Jacob won’t recover. The wound turns out to be shallow enough to miss Jacob’s internal organs. It’s going to leave a scar, but he’s going to be fine. Still, I don’t think that poor little piece of gauze is going to be able to withstand to the way he usually fucks me.

  “Who says anything about involving my wound? I’m not that kinky,” Jacob says playfully.

  A girlish giggle escapes my lips. But everything stops being funny when Jacob’s fingers reach the juncture of my thighs. He rubs me over my jeans and panties, which only intensifies the ache between my legs.

  “Take off your jeans, and your panties too,” Jacob orders.

  As usual, I comply
. No question, no hesitation, even though I have no idea what he wants. As soon as I’ve wiggled out of my jeans and panties, Jacob places his long leg between mine, his powerful thigh forcing mine apart.

  He kisses the back of my neck, sometimes nibbling and biting me. Meanwhile, his skilled fingers dance over my wet folds, creating sweet, sweet friction against my clit.

  I moan as I let go, as I let myself really feel the sensations Jacob is creating within me. My anxiety melts away, my fears forgotten. All that matters is what’s happening on this bed, all I care about is what Jacob is doing to me.

  Jacob shifts his fingers so they’re right over my clit, teasing and coaxing and stimulating me closer and closer toward the edge. He whispers, “Come for me, baby.”

  As if I’ve been trained, Jacob’s voice pushes me over the edge. As I explode in his arms, he bites my neck hard, knowing how much I enjoy a little pain. I shudder and quiver until I’ve had enough.

  I try to pull away from Jacob, but his strong, muscled arms keep me in place and his thigh keeps my legs open. He rubs my clit until he has squeezed out every last tremor out of my body.

  Completely sated and exhausted, I fall asleep to Jacob stroking my hair. Right before I drift off, I hear him say, “I love you.”

  38

  Jacob

  I look down and reward Jessica with a big smile. The visual alone is enough to make a porn star hang her head in shame and want to retire.

  Jessica looks sexy as fuck, kneeling on the floor with my cock in her mouth. A red ring has formed around the base of my cock as her lipstick rubs off from the friction.

  I love watching her like this. Submissive, pliant, eager to please and, above all, mine. Mine to touch, bite, and throw around. Mine to fuck. Mine to use however I please.

  I love when she looks up from underneath her lush lashes, checking to see if I’m enjoying this, if she’s pleasing me with her service. I love how much she craves my approval.

  I put one hand on her head and push her back against the wall. Now she can’t move. We’re going to see just how much she wants to please me.

  “Lean back,” I order, my voice low and authoritative. “Hands behind your back.”

  Jessica gazes at me, surrender and obedience in her eyes. Without saying anything, she does my bidding. It’s not like she can say anything with my rock-hard cock filling her small mouth and jamming her throat.

  I start to fuck her mouth, sliding my cock in and out of her while all she can do is lean back and take it with her jaw wide open. Small lines appear on her forehead from the effort.

  She’s completely helpless. She knows I can do anything I want to her, yet she trusts me to keep her safe, to protect her even as I ruin her.

  It’s a strange feeling. I want to shield this woman, who’s literally on her knees for me, from anything that can hurt her. And yet, at the same time, I want to exact some pain on her myself, just to see how much she’d take for me.

  It’s primal, animalistic. I can’t control it. I worry for her sometimes, but she loves it just as much as I do.

  Just look at her, her black mascara smudged around her eyes, her red lipstick almost completely gone. She looks beautiful like this, like she belongs there, like she was made for sucking my cock.

  I grunt and grab a fistful of her hair. I don’t have to move her head. She’s perfect where she is. I just want to make it clear to her that I can hurt her, I will hurt her, and she’ll take it.

  Sure enough, I feel a sharp intake of air when I unblock her airway and let her breathe. She moans around my shaft, sending vibrations that electrify my entire body.

  Once again, she looks up at me as my cock plunges in and out of her mouth. She’s saying something, but it’s unintelligible. I don’t need to hear a word from my fuck doll. A cock down her throat is the perfect way to keep her quiet.

  Besides, I already know what she wants.

  “No, you may not touch yourself.” I grunt. “You’re a good girl for asking. I’m glad you understand your pussy belongs to me. I’ll reward you later. But right now, there’s only one thing of mine that I want you to pleasure.”

  I push myself deeper and deeper inside her throat, driving home the point I’m making. My cock should be the only thing in her head right now. Her throat wraps tightly around my cock, like a sleeve custom-made for me.

  I feel my balls tighten. I feel like I’m about to burst. The way she submits to every perverted act I can think of, her gasps whenever I pull out to let her breathe, her…

  Crash!

  My eyes snap open. Immediately, I close them again to shield them from the sunlight that’s pouring in through the window of Jessica’s bedroom.

  Was that just a fucking dream? Damn it. It was getting good.

  I’m horny for real, though. I have a raging hard-on in my pants that’s demanding to be taken care of.

  For a moment, I consider going back to sleep, but I just know that even if I start dreaming right away, I won’t just pick up where I left off. Unfortunately, that’s just not how dreams work.

  I reach my hand over to the other side of the bed. Maybe Jessica can continue that amazing blowjob in real life. There’s nothing like having my cock in a beautiful woman’s mouth the moment I wake up.

  All I find on the other side of the bed is cold sheets. Jessica is gone and she’s probably been gone for a while now.

  With my eyes still stubbornly shut, I randomly place my hand on the nightstand, slapping the wood surface with my palm until I hit my phone. I face away from the window and hold the phone in front of me. Squinting at the numbers on the screen, I realize it’s already past noon.

  I may as well get up now if I’m not getting morning head in bed. I can compromise and get it in other locations in the house, or even outside.

  As I prop myself up with my hands and blink to adjust my eyes to the brightness, a sharp pain penetrates my side.

  Right. I almost forgot about that fucking stab wound in my abdomen.

  Sure, I’m glad Christine didn’t succeed in her murder attempt, but it pisses me off that sex will be tricky for a while. Now that Jessica’s mine, my sex drive has gone through the roof. All I want to do is spread her legs and dive in, all day, every day.

  The wooden floor of Jessica’s bedroom feels cool on my bare feet. What is she doing? I hear random bangs and crashes from the living room. I follow the noises down the hallway.

  When I finally see what all the commotion is about, it just creates more questions in my head. Why is she throwing random things into cardboard boxes? The living room looks like a tornado has just ripped through it.

  “It’s a little too early for spring cleaning,” I say as I lean on the doorframe leading into the living room.

  “It’s not spring cleaning,” Jessica answers without looking at me. She’s sitting in the middle of a circle of cardboard boxes, paperback books, and stacks of files, like she’s a deity in a religion for paper products.

  “Then what are you doing?”

  “Packing.”

  “Packing for what?” I frown. This is the first time I’m hearing about anything that requires such extreme packing behavior.

  “I’m moving,” she says with her eyes glued on some bits of paper. Her hands are busy sorting the mountain of paper products into the cardboard boxes around her.

  “What do you mean you’re moving?”

  “It means I’m moving.” There’s a hint of annoyance in Jessica’s voice right now, like I’m supposed to already know about this, like we have discussed this before.

  Only, we haven’t. I’d remember something like that.

  “What, like, to my house?” I raise my eyebrow and smile at Jessica, hoping a little bit of humor would improve her mood and drag her out of whatever funk she’s in.

  “No,” she says, as if there’s no explanation needed. I swear, as much as I enjoy Jessica’s sass, sometimes I wish she could be all sweet and submissive all the time, instead of just during sex.


  “So…?” I prompt her to continue.

  “What?”

  “So where are you moving, then?”

  “I don’t know. Somewhere else that’s not here.”

  “As in, somewhere else that’s not Ashbourne?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?”

  “No, it really isn’t.” I step closer toward Jessica and stop at the edge of her circle of madness. “Christine has been apprehended, so she’s not a threat to you. You can stay here safely for as long as you want because Stan isn’t going to come after you. Why are you moving?”

  “She’s going to tell everybody about how I’m a whore who used to work at a strip club. The next thing I know, I’ll be getting fired. I’d rather move before that happens.”

  “You don’t know that’s what’s going to happen.”

  “Yes, I do,” she insists. “Come on, haven’t you read the news? Ex-strippers don’t fare well in traditional professions, especially ones related to kids.”

  “You’re not moving,” I say with finality.

  “I am.” Jessica looks up at me from where she’s sitting on the floor, defiance glinting in her bright green eyes. “I’m leaving as soon as Max recovers.”

  39

  Jessica

  “You’re being crazy,” Jacob says.

  “No. I'm being the opposite of crazy. I'm being realistic.” I notice Jacob’s standing dangerously close to my favorite books, my teaching plans, and my important documents.

  “You’re just going to run away, even though things may not turn out the way you’re afraid they would?”

  “What makes you think I don’t know what’s going to happen?” I’m seriously getting annoyed here. Where does Jacob get off acting like he knows everything? What does he know about how girls like me survive anyway?