Two Weeks of Sin: A Billionaire & Virgin Romance

by Rye Hart

  They were both still naked and she couldn’t help but take in his masculine physique. He was just so damn handsome. She blushed but sipped at her coffee as he stroked her hair. It felt nice to have him in bed with her the next morning. She felt good. She felt refreshed and she didn’t feel used. She’d almost expected to feel guilty after a one-night stand.

  “How are you feeling this morning?” he asked.

  “Better than I have in a long time,” she sighed, closing her eyes as the bitter coffee hit her tongue, waking her up almost immediately.

  “I’m glad. I really wanted to make you feel good.”

  “You did a good job.”

  He smiled and stroked her hair out of the way, his fingers gentle just like him. She cleared her throat and started to stand, covering her body as best she could. He reached up and gently pulled the covers away, exposing her.

  “You shouldn’t hide. You’re beautiful. Walk with confidence,” he urged.

  She cleared her throat, feeling the heat rise in her body once more. She nodded, deciding it was best not to argue with him. He stood with her and offered his hand.

  “Come with me.”

  Marie took it and wrapped her fingers around his, feeling surprisingly safe with this stranger. Sure they’d gone on a date, had sex and spent the night together, but in the grand scheme of things she really didn’t know much about him. Still, she followed him without hesitation and smiled when she realized they’d come to a large bathroom.

  He crossed the room and turned on the shower, motioning for her to come closer. He pulled her under the spray of the warm water and started washing her body. It felt amazing to have someone’s hands dancing over her skin. It made her feel like a goddess that was being worshipped.

  Marie glanced up at him and chewed her bottom lip. “I never would have expected this.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well,when I think of paid sex or a brothel, I imagine that you pay, you have sex and you go home,” she said, meeting his gaze.

  “We aren’t a normal brothel,” he explained, “sex is an important part of human nature and human existence, but it isn’t the most important part, especially for women.”

  She nodded in agreement. “I think you’re the first guy to ever admit that.”

  He laughed and shook his head. “We’ll just say I’m a little more mature than most men.”

  Was he saying he was old? He didn’t look a day over thirty. She didn’t press, though and just let him continue.

  “Madame Osei understands that the physical part of our services is necessary but it’s important to make the person feel empowered and confident. It builds the person up and that is what we are here to do. It’s a total package.”

  “You can say that again.”

  The both shared a brief laugh before finishing their shower. They took their time, washing each other thoroughly and enjoying the physical contact. Somehow Marie felt that this was far more intimate than the sex had been. She’d missed this more than any other part of a relationship. She missed the intimacy that didn’t revolve around sex and she was happy that Toby seemed more than eager to offer it to her.

  When they finished they returned to the bedroom, wrapped in warm, fluffy robes that felt like they’d just been pulled from a dryer. Marie went about collected her clothes and glanced back at Toby, looking a bit disappointed.

  “I hope it’s not rude, but I should be heading home.”

  She didn’t want to leave but there were quite a few loose ends at home that she needed to take care of. Now that she was leaving, this was starting to feel like business again and she hated it. She wanted the illusion to last forever.

  “Of course. I understand that you have a life you have to get back to,” he said, smiling. “I’m here at your disposal. I enjoyed that you stayed the night, but I understand you have things you need to do.”

  Marie was almost surprised at how understanding he was, though she quickly remembered where she was. She was at a brothel. This was their job. Of course he wouldn’t care if she left. Suddenly, remembering that this wasn’t just a random hookup made her a little nervous. She started going through her purse, trying to find her wallet.

  “I should tip you or something right?”

  He gently took her hands and pulled them from her bag. “Leave me with a smile. That’s good enough for me.”

  She looked up at him and smiled softly, suddenly calmed by his touch. As she pulled away he offered her dress to her and zipped her into it. Once she was dressed her turned her around and kissed her slowly, holding it a bit longer than necessary.

  “I’ll see you in your dreams,” he said with another cunning smile.

  When he released her she stared at him, trying to figure out what he meant by that. She’d figured out at this point that there was something strange about this place. There was something inhuman going on, but her logical mind wouldn’t let her accept it. She was here to enjoy herself and she just didn’t have it in her to ruin that by asking questions.

  Marie walked down the long hall on her own for the first time and sighed as she approached the large golden doors. The main lobby was empty with the exception of a few cats playing near a pond. She loved that there always seemed to be animals around. It calmed her.

  She made it through the warehouse, deciding to go through the bakery and pick up something for breakfast. A bell on the door ran as she entered and Marco turned to smile at her.

  “Welcome back. Did you enjoy your evening?”

  The question made her feel a bit guilty. She could remember the look of jealousy on Marco’s face all too clearly. “Yes. I had a wonderful time,” she didn’t need to give him all the dirty details. “But it’s about time I headed home and I was wondering if I could buy something for breakfast?”

  “Of course you can,” he said, “what can I get you?”

  “Maybe a muffin? I don’t know. What do you suggest? You’re the expert.”

  He snorted. “Hardly,” he said as he reached into the cabinet and got a fruit tart, “this is something new I made. I’d be honored if you’d be the first to try it.”

  She smiled and nodded, waiting patiently for him to hand her a slice of the tart. Instead he picked a piece up with a small fork and leaned over the case enough to feed her the bite. It was one of the most amazing things she’d ever eaten in her life. It was a bit sour at first but that quickly turned to sweetness as the crust all but melted on her tongue. She covered her mouth and nodded.

  “That is what I want.”

  He grinned brightly and bagged it up for her, handing it over the counter carefully so as not to tip it.

  “Enjoy.”

  “I always do,” she said with a smile, paying for the food.

  She could feel his eyes on her as she left and she had to admit that she liked it. Going to Mystique was a far different experience than what she’d expected. She never thought she would feel desired in a place like that. She’d always assumed that brothels were where desperate people went when they were out of options.

  As she turned the key in her ignition, she smiled and glanced back at the building silently thanking Toby and the rest for leaving her feeling confident rather than used. It was a change of pace and one she knew she could get used to.

  She pulled out of the parking lot, leaving her old self behind.

  Second Chances

  Chapter One

  Biker gangs. What comes to your mind when you hear ‘biker gangs’? I bet I can guess: Wild sex, drugs, guns, and violence, right? Well, maybe that’s how most people see it, but it’s a little different when you grow up around them.

  My name is Kisha Monroe and I am a child of one of America’s largest biker gangs. Most people assume that biker gangs are out for trouble. Movie scenes of kidnappings and dangerous drug transactions flash before their eyes.

  Now, don’t get me wrong, a lot of them are filled with sick, demented bastards ready to screw, shot and pound on anything moving,
but some of us consist of a descent group of human beings, made to be tough by our environment.

  My father was an amazing man. His name was Brian and he raised my brother and me to be strong leaders because he knew that one day we would take over the gang. Damien is my older brother, and since he was the oldest he took over leadership of the gang, but that didn’t mean I was sidelined and left to do nothing.

  Ever since I was a little girl I’d been fascinated with the weapons my dad kept around the house. I started going to the shooting range when I was ten and had my first knife collection by the time I was thirteen. My dad never stopped me either. He thought my interest in the weapons was a useful skill to have and so he let me go about my business with little to no interruption.

  Just because we were trying to do good for our community, didn’t mean we had no business being violent. Weapons and fighting were a necessity. Whoever said ‘violence is never the answer’ has obviously never dealt with a guy whose been beating his wife and kids every day for the past ten years, or a rival gang trying to take over their territory.

  The world isn’t sunshine and butterflies and the sooner people figure that out, the better off they’re going to be. The thing people often ask us is “why didn’t you call the cops?” Well because sometimes the cops can’t do anything.

  We have a silent agreement with the police in Nashville. We keep things quiet, don’t draw too much attention to ourselves, and we can take out the trash without any interference from them. We help the cops by dealing with the shit they don’t have time to deal with. It’s a pretty good system. They turn a blind eye to our activities and we clean up the town.

  And of course shit hits the fan. I’ve had to learn to take a few major punches over the years. The worst being a blow that hit me before I even turned eighteen. My father was killed by a rival gang soon after my seventeenth birthday. My brother was twenty-one at the time and took over the gang seamlessly. He didn’t think twice about it because he didn’t have a choice. Gangs are a lot like the military. There’s a strict order to things and without someone in charge, everything tends to fall apart. So Damien became the leader.

  What about me? Well, I was put in charge of all the training and weapons. I didn’t mind. Leading the gang never had any appeal to me. I was a fairly quiet person and I liked keeping to myself. Many of the men in the gang were terrified of my silence, and I was told a few times that I was intimidating. My steel eyes and jet black hair gave me an intense look and my petite stature was deceiving. I was quick on my feet and good with heavy artillery. I had been one of the snipers when Damien’s girlfriend (now wife) was kidnapped.

  My intensity and silence led to a rather lonely life. People stayed clear of me and I didn’t really interact with too many folks outside the gang. Did I mention everyone in the gang seemed to be scared of me? There was only one man who seemed brave enough to interact with me. Ryan.

  Ryan had been my best friend when we were kids. He was tall, blonde, and beautiful. His full lips and emerald eyes made me weak in the knees, though I would never admit it out loud. I always saw my attraction to Ryan as a weakness. He made me stumble on my words and drop my knives. I could have taken anyone in this damn gang, but Ryan got to me.

  We stopped being friends around the time my dad died. It hurt that someone I was so close to would abandon me at such a critical point of my life; I felt betrayed. He started flirting with the other girls in the gang and didn’t say a word to me after my dad’s death. He would toss me the occasional sideways glance but it always seemed to be more wary than a look that acknowledged someone. I hated that look. I hated that he looked at me like I was a snake in the grass. It fucking pissed me off.

  Despite the fact that everyone around me seemed to think I was a stone cold bitch who never wanted to be around anyone, I had the same desires as any other woman. I wanted a family and children, and I wanted to be in love. Even though I fought those emotions on occasion, I knew that at the end of the day, I wanted what every other woman in the world wanted.

  When Damien met Chloe and they had their first baby, those desires became even stronger. I wanted what they had and watching them achieving their dreams was making my biological clock tick. Even though I was only twenty-one, I felt like my time was running out and I didn’t like that feeling.

  Instead of confronting it head on and trying to talk to Ryan about everything that had been going on, I kept to myself, kept to my guns, and buried myself in work. I decided that I was just going to forget him and I was going to forget about those stupid wants and needs that were nagging at the back of my brain. I was just going to become the best damn fighter this gang had ever seen.

  Chapter Two

  The truck rumbled loudly and I guessed it probably needed an oil change. I had a bike like every other member of the gang, but when I traveled with other people and with my guns, it was easier to take a truck. I could take multiple weapons without risking safety, and also Chloe was with me today.

  When she first joined the gang I was rather cold to her. I was jealous of her beautiful blonde hair and smooth skin. My own arms and legs were marred with scaring; it was just something that happened when you grew up in a biker gang. When I was younger I would scuffle with the boys and wrestle with them, wanting to prove that I was just as strong as they were. It continued on into my teenage years and between the fighting training and roughhousing, I was left with scars that marked my pale skin.

  When I looked at Chloe even now, that jealousy had a tendency to crop up occasionally, but I managed to push it down far enough that we were able to become good friends. I liked spending time with Chloe. She was a good woman and a good mom. Plus, she made my brother happy and that’s always a great way to get on my good side.

  As we came to a stop in the parking lot of the shooting range, I glanced over at her and hummed. “Is Damien watching Mariana?”

  Chloe nodded and pulled out a light weigh .32 caliber handgun, glancing down the sight. “Yeah. He’s been running around all week with his friends so I told him it was my turn to get out of the house,” she said with a grin.

  I chuckled and pulled out a high powered rifle from the bed of the truck and glanced over at her. “You sure you want to start with the .32?”

  Chloe had always been rather scared of the guns and I’d only recently been able to convince her to go to the range. She understood nothing about caliber or power and I knew it was going to get her in trouble.

  She looked down at the gun, as if she didn’t understand why she might want to reconsider her choice. I watched her and knew exactly what was going through her mind. She was thinking that the gun looked small and harmless compared to the .22 rifle I’d tried to give her.

  She smiled at me and shook her head like I knew she would. “Thanks! I think I’ll stick with this!” she sang, going over to one of the booths. We put our ear protection on and she looked over at me as I started to set up the stand for my gun. I was working on accuracy today.

  “Hey, Kisha?”

  I glanced over at her and took my ear plugs out. “What’s up?”

  “Have you been okay lately?”

  Oh Christ. She wanted to talk about feelings. I picked up my gun and started fiddling with it in order to busy myself. “Yeah. Why do you ask?”

  “I don’t know…I just thought I’d check on you. You’ve been more reclusive lately and when you come to visit you always look sad when you hold Mari.”

  She was right about that. I’d been doing my best to mask that sadness, but apparently it wasn’t enough. I closed my eyes a little and sighed. Holding Mariana made me realize just how badly I wanted the things Chloe and Damien had. I wanted a family and I wanted unconditional love. Was that too much to ask? But those feelings seemed so trivial and so far out of reach.

  “I’ve just had a lot on my mind lately. I guess I look sad when I’m thinking,” I murmured, setting the gun back on the stand.

  Chloe set her gun down and walked around to my booth, t
hrowing her arms around me and squeezing me rather hard. I was a little surprised by the sudden show of affection but I wrapped my arms around her in return and sighed.

  “I’m okay, Chloe. Really, just thinking a lot,” I assured, patting her back.

  “As long as you’re sure,” she said softly.

  I nodded and she went back over to her booth, picking the gun up. I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. I liked Chloe, but I still had very little patience.

  “Safety is on,” I murmured.

  “Oh! Right! Thank you!” She clicked the safety off and held the gun back up, aiming for one of the targets.

  She fired the gun and yelped when it jerked her hand, the kickback surprising her. She missed her target completely and I poked my head around the side of the booth. “Are you sure you don’t want to use the .22?”

  “But the .22 is bigger.”

  “Bigger gun but it has less kick,” I said.

  She looked confused and I sighed. “Just wait here, okay?” I said, going back to the truck. I got the right gun and took the .32 from her. “Try this.”

  She frowned but leaned over onto the little wooden stand, steadying her weapon and taking a deep breath. I could tell that she was preparing herself for whatever kick she thought the gun would have. She fired and actually hit the target. It wasn’t a good shot, but at least it was a hit. She pulled back and looked at the gun for a moment, her eyes wide.

  “I did it,” she whispered. Suddenly she grinned brightly and pointed at the target “Look! I did it!”

  I couldn’t help but crack a smile. “Very good, Chloe. Now try and get closer to the center.”

  She did as I told her and I watched with a certain amount of pride. Chloe’s training had fallen to me and I took great pride in knowing that she was improving. I watched her carefully, helping her improve her shots one by one, but even as I helped her, I couldn’t get her words out of my head. Maybe I was depressed.