The Prince’s Virgin

by Charlize Starr

  But he couldn’t stop thinking about her body, how she had smelt, how sweet her skin had tasted, how small she was in his hands. And when he dreamed of her last night, he had pictured her naked to perfection, he had literally heard her scream with pleasure.

  Fedor jumped out of the shower and went back into the bedroom to change into fresh clothes. He tucked in his shirt, combed his hair and brushed his beard in front of the large ornate silver mirror in the room. He twirled the ends of his mustache and licked his pink lips before stepping out of his bedroom.

  He heard her voice immediately. She was laughing, out on the balcony. He walked quickly to the landing at the top of the stairs, from where he could see her.

  Sylvia was in a chair, seemingly naked except for the white fluffy bathrobe she was wearing. She had just had a shower, and her curls were damp and limply hanging around her head. He could see her in side profile. She had one of her long dark legs folded under her butt as she sat. Her legs were delicious, smooth and dark like bitter chocolate. In her hands were a bunch of grapes, and she was talking animatedly with the housekeeper. He couldn’t remember the woman’s name.

  “Boss, I’ve arranged for your breakfast in your study because the girl is on the balcony.” Pyotr appeared out of nowhere at the bottom of the stairs and interrupted his study of Sylvia.

  “I’ll take it on the balcony,” Fedor said, clearing his throat and beginning to walk down the steps.

  She was still unaware of him, still laughing and joking with the housekeeper as she popped a grape into her mouth. Her teeth were a bright white, and her lips stretched out all over her face as she laughed. Her neck was slender and long, and he remembered how he had licked a wet trail down its length.

  “There you are. Hangover?” Sylvia asked as he slid open the glass doors of the balcony. This used to be the favorite part of his day, being able to read the newspapers in silence by the sea on the balcony, with a cup of strong coffee and toasts. Now it was spoilt by her presence. Because he couldn’t think of anything else except her, and how beautiful she looked.

  Sylvia was most definitely naked under her robe, and she sat in the same position, unwilling to adjust the robe where it hung open across the top of her breasts. They were revealed, her robe just about covering her nipples. Fedor was hard again as he tried to not look. The housekeeper scurried away while Pyotr brought in his tray of coffee and buttered toasts.

  “Did you have a good night’s sleep?” he asked, ignoring her question.

  “It was refreshing, yes. I don’t know about you, but I have a massive headache,” she said, pouring herself some tea from the pot in front of her. Fedor waved at Pyotr to go away, and he sipped from his mug of coffee, avoiding Sylvia’s gaze entirely.

  “About last night…” he began to say, still not looking at her directly. He was ashamed and also angry with himself. She was Will’s daughter, he had to constantly remind himself of that.

  “We were drunk. Forget it,” she surprised him by saying. She straightened up, clutched the open folds of her robe and pulled them together, protecting her modesty.

  Fedor breathed in, surprised by her pendulum reactions. She always managed to keep him on his toes, this one.

  “Good. Forgotten, then,” he said and she smiled at him. Her face changed when she smiled, he noticed. She looked beautiful, as always, but there was a sudden innocence there when she did this.

  “I want to see the beach. Will you come with me? I don’t want to go with Pyotr,” she said, smiling at him sweetly. He couldn’t say no to that. He absolutely couldn’t. Not when she had him like that, in the palm of her hands.

  Chapter Nine - Sylvia

  They walked along the beach in silence but Fedor kept pace with her. It was a beautiful sunny day and Sylvia walked barefoot so that her feet slightly sunk into the sand with every step. She had changed into an electric blue bikini top and bottom and tied a pale blue chiffon sarong at her waist. She had caught him looking at her legs, but every time he did, he forced himself to look away.

  “This is beautiful. I can see why you run away here,” she said, after several minutes of silence. He towered over her as they walked beside each other. He walked with his hands behind his back.

  “It’s peaceful,” he said quietly and Sylvia smiled.

  “I can’t imagine any of my father’s associates to be peaceful men,” she said before she could stop herself, but thankfully, Fedor didn’t look offended. Instead, he smiled and shook his head.

  “You don’t know me at all, Sylvia,” he said and she stopped walking.

  They stood facing the clear blue waters of the ocean. The color matched Fedor’s eyes. He looked grim, like he was fighting his own demons. She wanted to touch his face, feel the coarseness of his beard against her skin.

  “I apologize for the things I said last night. You’re right, I don’t know you at all,” she said, but he wasn’t looking at her, he was looking at the waves, studying them with the same intensity with which he had studied her body last night.

  “I know why you have that opinion of me, of all your father’s associates,” he said just when she had given up on making amends with him. She moved closer to him, and he didn’t move away.

  “But you’re not like them?” she asked, unable to keep the hopefulness out of her voice. She didn’t want to know the dirty secrets, she wanted to be proven wrong about this man she was so irresistibly attracted to. The previous night had been painful. She had planned on teaching her father a lesson, but she hadn’t planned on enjoying their kiss that much.

  Fedor turned to her and smiled at her hopeful face.

  “I am not a good man, Sylvia. I haven’t been a good man and for that I am repentant,” he said after she had been holding her breath for several moments.

  The sound of a soft wave crashing gave her a sudden push of confidence and Sylvia did what she had been intending on doing from the first moment that she laid eyes on Fedor Volkov. She reached out her hand and touched the side of his face.

  He didn’t make a move, neither did he flinch. She grazed the side of his beard and parted her lips.

  “I want to kiss you again, is that so bad?” she asked, and he didn’t reply. He looked calm, unafraid, even though her heart was beating out of her chest.

  Sylvia lifted herself on her toes and when her face was barely at level with his, she tilted her face and he reached for her lips. Their lips touched and an electric wave surged through her spine. He parted her lips with his tongue and slowly explored her mouth.

  Then his hands grabbed her waist again and he pulled her closer to his body. This time there was no alcohol to cloud her brain, they were both thinking straight, and this time Sylvia could enjoy every sensation. Her breasts were pressed against his chest, a throbbing dick against her thigh.

  This kiss was less hungry, it was gentle and soft and it lasted longer. But they were both out of breath when she pulled away.

  “I’m not drunk Fedor, I want this,” she said, holding his arms as he looked back at her, directly into her eyes. He didn’t say anything.

  So she unclipped her bikini top and it fell away, revealing her breasts. His gaze dropped to her swinging breasts, and he couldn’t control himself any longer.

  He pulled her to him by the waist and bent his head so he could take one of her nipples into his mouth. He sucked hard on it, and she felt the sensation of his beard on her skin. It grazed against her breast as she held on to his arm, bending her body backward. She moaned.

  His hand found its way to the wetness between her legs and he parted her thighs.

  He kept sucking.

  She reached for his dick and felt it through the fabric of his pants. She could feel it in her hands as it grew. She unzipped his fly and he helped her by unbuckling his belt. His pants fell to the ground.

  Sylvia was out of breath. She was moaning loudly, while he switched to her other breast. He licked and sucked and then sucked again. He made a lapping sound with his mouth as he did
it, turning her on beyond her control.

  She could feel a stinging, yearning sensation between her legs. A sensation she had never actually felt for a man before. She reached for his dick again, and now it was in her hands.

  She was surprised by its size, by how big it was, and she shuddered with excitement at the thought of it being inside her. The first one. She couldn’t tell him. She couldn’t tell him now that he’d be taking her virginity any moment.

  She heard him grunt when he let go of her breasts.

  “Sylvia, what are you doing to me?” he said, whispered rather, as he looked at her face again. She bit down on her lip in response. She felt like clay being molded in his hands, and then he whipped her around.

  “On your knees,” he said and she did what she was told. She got down on her knees, in front of him as he stood over her, and she could feel her hands sinking into the sand.

  Chapter Ten - Fedor

  His body wasn’t in his control anymore. Sylvia was on her knees in front of him as he towered over her. She looked small and slender, with her face turned up towards him.

  Fedor was panting, naked from the waist down. He started unbuttoning his shirt, he wanted her to see him for who he was. He slipped off his shirt and saw the look in her eyes change when she saw his naked torso. His chest was covered in tattoos he had gotten in prison. They were mostly in black, some colored and they covered his torso entirely, and all his back. Thirty-six in all, all tattooed on separate occasions, all in prison.

  Her eyes took them in, she looked surprised and for a moment even scared as he looked down at her, waiting for her to change her mind. It was a reminder of who was going to fuck her. He was a mob boss, he had spent several years in prison. He was Russian. If she had forgotten, this was a reminder.

  Sylvia looked beautiful naked. Her breasts swung gently as she remained on her knees. And then she suddenly bit down on her lip again, and to his surprise parted her legs, prodding her ass up in the air, inviting him in.

  “Fuck me, Fedor,” she said softly and turned her face forward and closed her eyes.

  He lowered himself on his knees behind her, holding his dick in his hands. She was gorgeous, she was begging him, and she had her legs open for him. How could he walk away from this? How could he walk away from this woman who was driving him crazy? He had to have her.

  He grabbed her butt and pushed himself in, enjoying the warmth and wetness. He slid in and she screamed.

  “Harder. Is that the best you can do?” Sylvia screamed, unconcerned by who could hear her. Fedor thrust himself into her again, this time with more force so that her whole body moved.

  He heard her laughing. “That’s it?” She laughed again, and he could feel himself losing all self-control. He thrust again, this time grabbing her hair with his fist and jerking her head back towards him. Her back arched as she remained stuck to him and he thrust again. And again. Harder and quicker till she couldn’t laugh any longer. She was moaning now, screaming and calling out his name.

  She grabbed her breasts as he held on to her body, ramming into her with his rock hard dick. She was pinching her nipples and Fedor smiled. Sylvia was delicious, she was full of surprises and she had an unimaginable effect on his body.

  “More. Give me more Fedor. Harder!” she kept screaming. She was small and supple and he slid in and out of her, with an increased force. He was panting again, aware that he was going to come quite easily. Sex had never been this explosive before.

  “Oh my God!” she cried suddenly and he realized that she was going to come before him. Her body shuddered and he released her hair, grabbing her waist instead and pounding into her with all his force. She shook and screamed as she came against him, he could feel her wetness and her juices stream out against his dick.

  And then he exploded too. She was too sweet, too beautiful and her body was irresistible. He came inside her with a force he was unaware he even had inside him. His head jerked back, his eyes reeled inside his head and he groaned loudly. They were orgasming together.

  She straightened her back so that his chest was pressed against her. He wrapped his arms around her, his hands cupping her breasts tightly and they both shook together, in each other's arms.

  Then the shudders began to die down. A flood of sensations came gushing into his brain. Sylvia’s breath, her scent, her hair, her breasts… they were all in his hands.

  Fedor pulled himself out of her and stumbled back on the sand. She turned, still on her knees to look at him.

  “No!” she cried as she watched him collecting his clothes.

  Fedor was running away from her, he could hear her voice but couldn’t hear what she was saying. He was running, trying to get back into his clothes at the same time.

  He had never been afraid before. Of anybody, of any of the hundreds of people who wanted to kill him, who tried to kill him. Why was he so afraid of a girl?

  It wasn’t about Will anymore. Fedor wasn’t feeling guilty about breaking a code any longer, or at least that guilt was overpowered by a new emotion now. He was afraid of Sylvia Stern. Afraid of how she had made him feel.

  That orgasm was euphoric. The feelings that had pushed him to fuck her were complicated. He couldn’t understand himself anymore. Women had meant nothing to him before, just vessels for pleasure in his twenties, a quick weekend fuck in his thirties and now in his late forties, they meant nothing more than beautiful showpieces to him. He wasn’t even interested in sex that much anymore, or at least he had thought, till he met Sylvia.

  And now suddenly, he couldn’t keep his hands off her. All he could do was think about her.

  Fedor ran back to the villa, through the gates, past Pyotr who stared at him in shock. He had managed to dress, but untidily and he ran through the house till he reached his study.

  “Boss?!” he heard Pyotr say, as he rapped on the study door.

  Fedor stood over his desk, panting, running his hands through his graying thick dark hair. He was sensing trouble. He had done something that he couldn’t take back. He had fucked Sylvia Stern and had never felt this good before.

  Chapter Eleven - Sylvia

  When she got back to the house, there wasn’t a single human soul in sight. It was past midday, and she had spent a few hours by herself on the beach, trying to hold back tears that had threatened to appear.

  This was what she had wanted! She wanted to seduce Fedor Volkov, fuck him so that she could tell her father and make him mad for sending her here. So what did it matter if he ran away from her? She had accomplished her mission.

  He was nowhere in sight, and neither was Pyotr. Sylvia dejectedly climbed up the stairs to her room. She showered and changed into a flowing summery dress in cream with orange flowers. She looked at herself in the mirror as she did her hair. Her curls were thick and tight and she bunched them up, away from her face and clipped them to the back of her head.

  She touched her neck where he had touched her, there was a burning sensation still on her breasts, around her nipples where his beard had grazed her skin.

  She could still feel him inside her. She wasn’t a virgin anymore. She had orgasmed for the first time in her life. How had he done it? How had he made her come so quickly? It was like a drug. She wanted more of him. But he didn’t seem to want her.

  It wasn’t a surprise. Fedor Volkov was a proud man. He also seemed like the kind of man who upheld codes and moral conduct. She knew it must have made him feel guilty, that he had fucked his friend’s daughter.

  There was a knock on the door, and then Pyotr’s thick Russian accent floated through.

  “Lunch is served in dining room, Miss,” he said and then she heard his retreating footsteps.

  Pyotr’s accent reminded Sylvia of the tattoos on Fedor’s body. Till she saw his naked torso she could forget who he was. But now she knew for sure that he had served time in prison. That he was a criminal. No matter how soft-spoken and a gentle giant he might seem to be, it was all an act. Inside, he was a cold-heart
ed killer and a criminal like all her father’s friends.

  Sylvia clenched her jaw as she looked at her own reflection. Her body was still reeling. She wanted to hate him so badly, but she couldn’t. She didn’t know why she couldn’t stop thinking that there was more to Fedor than met the eye.

  She was starving. So she left the room and walked towards the dining room.

  What she wasn’t expecting was Fedor to be standing at the head of the table, behind the chair. The food was laid out, for one, just for her. Beautiful luxurious food that she wasn’t interested in eating anymore.

  All she was concerned about was him. Fedor seemed to have showered too. His dark hair was damp and neatly combed to the side, his beard was freshly brushed and neat as well. He was in a fresh green shirt and dark tailored slacks and he stood with his hands clutching the back of the chair.

  “Fedor.” His name escaped her lips when she came into the room. His eyes were a glassy blue and his pink lips were set in a grim straight line.

  “Sit down, Sylvia,” he said, and she felt the goosebumps appear on her skin. Just his voice was enough. She wanted him again, but she was also suddenly afraid of him.

  “Will you be joining me for lunch?” she asked, walking towards the chair that had been reserved for her. Fedor turned his eyes on her, and in the same flat gruff tone, he repeated himself.

  “Sit down.”

  She sat down, and turned to him in silence, looking at him with hopeful eyes again. She didn’t want him to apologize for what had just happened. She wanted him to tell her that he wanted her again, that she was irresistible to him. She felt like she could cry out of desperation for him.

  “You have to leave,” he said and she gasped. Her hand flew to her mouth. She had been expecting something else, anything else but this. The thought that he might send her away had never crossed her mind.

  “I can’t leave,” she cried. Tears had pooled around her eyes. She had tried so desperately to believe that Fedor wasn’t the cold-hearted man she knew he was.