Boss's Virgin - A Standalone Romance (An Office Billionaire Boss Romance)

by Claire Adams

  “No, it’s all right. I want to.”

  He brought his hand up to my chin and tilted my head up. “I don’t know if anyone that I’ve been with before has been a virgin,” he said.

  “The first person you slept with wasn’t?” I asked, surprised.

  He laughed. “Oh, hell no. I was thirteen; she was almost eighteen. Definitely not a virgin.”

  “Oh,” I said. “I guess I just thought ... I don’t know, virgins slept with virgins.” I realized how stupid that sounded once I’d said it out loud.

  He took a step closer to me and leaned his head down. I let my eyes close as his mouth pressed against mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck and let my body sink into the contour of his. He had his hands around my waist, and he slowly moved them down over my ass.

  And it was like as long as I didn’t think, I would know what to do. The second I started to pay any attention to my thoughts, I was barraged with things like: You don’t know what you’re doing! Am I doing this right? Does he want you to put your hand there?

  But when I tuned all that mental chatter out, it was as though my body knew exactly what to do, exactly how to respond to his touches. As we kissed, I ran my hand through his hair, felt the smooth muscles and ropy tendons of his neck.

  We took a few, shuffling sidesteps toward the bed. Before we sat down, though, he pulled his t-shirt off, revealing a sculpted torso and large, black-and-white tattoos. They weren’t images, but intricate Celtic and tribal designs.

  “Those are beautiful,” I said, running my fingertips across one of them. “They almost make you look like a sculpture.”

  He pulled my shirt over my head and tossed it on the ground next to his. His hands were warm against the small of my back, and he kissed slow circles on my neck. I had to bite my lip not to laugh because it tickled, but that just heightened the sensation of his mouth against my skin. His hands moved up slowly and I felt him unclasp my bra, the straps sliding slowly down my arms.

  He undid his pants and pushed them down, revealing more tattoos across his thighs. He undid the button on my shorts and pushed them down and I stepped out of my underwear, and then we were both there, naked. I could feel the thoughts trying to push their way back in, thoughts that were trying to convince me I should feel awkward right now that I was standing here in front of this guy I barely knew, but I ignored them and started to kiss him again. He brought his hands up to my breasts, squeezing them, gently tweaking my nipples between his thumb and forefinger. It felt so good I let out a gasp as our tongues explored each other’s mouths.

  We lay down on the bed on our sides, facing each other. I could feel his cock pressing against me. I reached down and wrapped my hand around it, surprised at how silky smooth the skin was. I moved my hand slowly up and down. He let out a long exhale and buried his face into my neck, nipping gently at my collarbone. He traced his fingers down my torso, over my hip bone, then lightly through my pubic hair. He stopped for a second, only to bring his fingers up to his mouth, get them wet with saliva, and then bring them back down. I spread my legs apart and felt a chill shoot up my spine as he slowly slid a slick finger into me.

  “Tell me if I’m going too fast,” he whispered.

  I shook my head, rocking my hips against his hand. No, I wanted to say, you’re not going fast enough! I couldn’t describe the feeling; I just wanted more. I wanted him in me, deeper, faster, I wanted that feeling to last for as long as it could. My whole body quivered. I was so wet down there; no way it was just from the saliva from his fingers.

  “That feels so good,” I said, a pleading note in my voice begging that he not stop what he was doing. “I didn’t know it was going to feel so good.”

  He brought his wet fingers up to my clit and moved them in slow circles before sliding them back into my pussy. My breath came in heaving gasps and a building sensation of almost unbearable pleasure was threatening to completely overwhelm me. I couldn’t control the sounds I was making and almost didn’t feel like I was in control of my own body anymore. I didn’t care; I just wanted him to keep doing what he was doing. I squeezed my eyes shut and bucked my hips against his hand and let myself be overtaken.

  The feeling was centralized in my pelvis and radiated out, reaching every single cell in my body. It kept building and building, like there was no cap for the amount of pleasure a person was capable of experiencing. Could someone die from having an orgasm? It was like an earthquake or some other cataclysmic event where you know the outcome is going to be completely earth-shattering and you are not sure you’re going to be able to survive it.

  I felt his mouth against my breast, the tip of tongue swirling around my nipple. And that did it—it sent me over, the sensation peaked, I saw stars, I almost started crying. My thighs were wet and my muscles ached in a most delicious way. I kept saying Oh my god, in between heaving breaths, and I knew I sounded like a fool but I didn’t care.

  He kissed my forehead and then reached over and pulled something from his bedside table. A condom, which he put on deftly, and then positioned himself between my legs. My entire body was still buzzing as he lowered himself down on his forearms above me. I could feel his cock between my legs.

  “I’ll stop if you want me to,” he said, looking into my eyes. “All you need to do is say so.”

  “That’s the last thing I want you to do.” I smiled. “I don’t think I have ever felt so good in my entire life.”

  He moved slowly, though, just pressing the head of his cock against me but not pushing it in. I was so wet though, it felt like it would be able to easily just slide in, and I moved my thighs apart even wider. I tried to slide my butt down a little the next time I felt him press against me, and this time, the head of his cock slid in. It was much bigger than his two fingers had been, and there was a stretching sensation that was not uncomfortable, just foreign. I relaxed and he moved his hips forward slowly, sliding in further and further, until he was all the way in and our pelvises were pressed against each other.

  “Is this okay?” he asked. I nodded, and he let his eyes fall closed, a tiny smile on his face. “Good, because you feel fucking incredible.”

  I ran my hands all the way down his back, squeezed his muscular ass while he moved his hips, not just back and forth, but side to side and in languid figure 8 motions. He started to move faster, and I when I looked up at him, his eyes were closed and there was almost a pained expression on his face. His eyes were squeezed shut, his teeth clenched, the tendons in his neck prominent. And I began to feel that sensation start to build again in my own pelvis, gaining momentum against his thrusts. I brought my arms up around his neck and wrapped my legs around his waist. The expression on his face didn’t change; it just deepened, if anything, and then he let out a shout as he pushed his hips against me hard.

  After a minute, he rolled off and lay next to me. We were both panting and slick with sweat. He reached over and grabbed my hand, squeezed it.

  “I hope that was everything you imagined it would be,” he said, and I could hear the joking note in his voice, but there was also a part of him that sounded completely sincere. I rolled to my side and nestled myself next to him.

  “If I had known sex was like that,” I said, “I might have started doing it a whole lot sooner.”

  He laughed. “Oh, boy. Well, I’m glad to hear that. I think. Really, though, I should’ve done this the proper way and taken you out on a date first.”

  “Will you stop it!” I whacked his shoulder playfully. “You don’t have to treat me like I’m some sort of princess or something.”

  He gave me a pretend hurt look. “You don’t want me to take you out?”

  “I’m not saying that! I think that would be a lot of fun, actually, and of course I would love to. But I only want you to do it if that’s what you want to do, not just because you think you need to create some sort of special scenario for me.”

  “We can do things backward,” he said. “What are you doing tomorrow afternoon? Let me t
ake you out. To a restaurant. You know, like an actual date. The thing that two people usually do before they sleep together”

  I grinned. “That would be lovely. But do we get to sleep together afterward?”

  “Hell yeah we do.”

  19.

  Graham

  I’d never been one to kiss and tell, but of course Todd wanted details after I told him that I’d been hanging out with Chloe. We were out on another training ride, and when we should’ve been pedaling hard enough that talking would’ve been next to impossible, we were riding at a leisurely pace while Todd harassed me for details.

  I gave him a few, but not many, which obviously wasn’t going to satisfy him. “Come on, man,” he said. “I’m hitting like, oh-for-three in the women department. It’s fucking pathetic. I’m just off my game as of late. I don’t know what the fucking deal is. I mean, here you are, getting pussy despite declaring yourself celibate for the whole summer—what the hell happened with that, anyway?—while I’m actively out there trying to score and getting repeatedly turned down. What is up with that?”

  “Maybe you too need to take a vow of celibacy and then women will start to find you irresistible.”

  “So, is that it for you? Your summer of no sex is officially over?”

  “Well, seeing as I’ve had sex ... yeah.”

  Todd grinned. “Bring on the ladies.”

  “Nah, it’s not like that. I’m still not looking to get involved with a bunch of other women. Just this one.”

  He widened his eyes. “What? Am I hearing you correctly? In all the years I’ve known you, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that you were interested in just being with one girl. In fact, I think the only time you tried anything even close to resembling that it was with that psycho Danielle.”

  “You don’t need to remind me,” I said, grimacing. “But Chloe is nothing like Danielle. She’s sweet. She still sees the good in people, in things, she hasn’t been all fucked over by the world yet.”

  “She’s sheltered, is what you mean,” Todd said. “She’s a sheltered, rich girl.”

  “Her parents have money, yeah.”

  “So she hasn’t been all fucked over by the world yet, because people like that never are. You know how it is—they just get shit handed to them on a silver platter. The world is their oyster. Which is a totally messed up saying, if you ask me, because oysters are fucking disgusting.”

  “Supposedly they raise your libido.”

  Todd shuddered. “Fuck that shit. I’d become celibate before I’d eat an oyster. A raw one, anyway. Who the hell wants to bite into something that’s still alive?”

  I personally liked oysters a great deal, though they weren’t something I indulged in very much.

  “Anyway,” he said. “I’m not even going to attempt to disguise my envy that you are getting laid and I currently am not.”

  “It’s not a competition.”

  “Everything is a competition. Life is a competition, and one I feel I’m completely sucking at, big time. Help a bro out. You must know someone.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” I said.

  After the ride, I went home, showered, and then hopped in my truck to meet up with Chloe for our date. I’d told her she could choose where we went, figuring that it would probably be somewhere I’d never been before, somewhere fancy that might even require me to wear a tie. But no; she ended up suggesting this little hole-in-the-wall place that I was a little surprised she knew about, right on the outskirts of town, not too far away from The Finery. Lorraine’s, it was called. It had a homey feel, with calico curtains and pine-paneled walls that were mostly obscured by the hundreds of decorative plates that the proprietress—Lorraine—had adorned them with.

  Fine dining it was not, but the food was good and I sure as hell wouldn’t have to be concerned with whether or not I was dressed appropriately.

  She was just getting there as I pulled in, and I parked right next to her car. “Hey, you,” I said. She looked great, in a fraying pair of cut-off jean shorts and an old, white t-shirt she’d cut the sleeves off of, her hair pulled back in one of those messy buns.

  “Hi,” she said. She came right over to me and gave me a quick kiss. “I’m starving. This place has the best burgers.”

  Any sort of food after a ride tasted good, but there was something particularly satisfying about a burger, especially one loaded with bacon and cheese. We went in and got seated at a corner table.

  “I’m surprised you knew about this place,” I said, glancing at the menu even though I already knew what I was going to get.

  She had the menu in front of her, obscuring all of her face but her eyes, which flickered over to me. “I’ve never actually been here before,” she said.

  “Yeah? How’d you know about it?”

  “I ... looked it up online.”

  Before I could say anything, our waitress, Denise, came over, a girl I’d actually gone to high school with. She’d been one of Trisha’s friends, actually, and had supposedly been the person Trisha called immediately after calling the police after Kurt had left that night.

  I could tell Denise hadn’t realized it was me until she was already at our table. We didn’t dislike each other, but things had always been awkward after Kurt and Trisha had broken up, even all these years later.

  “Oh, um, hi. Hi, Graham.” She looked at Chloe. “Hi there. What can I get you to drink?”

  Denise didn’t really look my way again as she wrote down Chloe’s request for a lemonade and mine for an iced tea.

  “Do you know what you want to eat?” I asked. Chloe nodded. “Maybe we should just order our food now, too.” I figured this would at least save Denise an additional awkward encounter.

  “So, you two obviously know each other,” Chloe said after Denise had left. “What’s the story there?” She leaned forward, a smile on her face. I imagined she expected me to tell her some funny story about a date that didn’t go quite right.

  “That’s Denise,” I said. “We went to high school together. Never dated.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “She must’ve liked you then. I think she still might! Did you see the way she blushed when she came over here?”

  “I can say with one hundred percent certainty that she does not like me like that.”

  I hoped that she’d drop it after that, because I’d have to make up some story to tell her if she didn’t. No way in hell I was going to tell her about Kurt.

  But my answer seemed to satisfy her, or at least she didn’t ask me about it any further. She looked over my shoulder, taking the room in, the people. The place was fairly busy, and random snippets of people’s conversation floated over.

  Chloe leaned across the table toward me again. “I want to talk to you about something.” There was a serious note in her voice.

  “Okay. What’s up?”

  “I know this is going to sound a little weird. So, please don’t take it the wrong way.” She brushed a few wisps of hair back from her face. “But I’d like it if we could maybe keep this ... just keep it sort of between the two of us.”

  Denise appeared then, with our drinks.

  “Here you are,” she said, looking only at Chloe. Chloe kept looking at her then at me, as if trying to say, See? She likes you so much she can’t even make eye contact!

  “Thanks,” I said. Denise ignored me and walked off. I looked at Chloe. “So, what is it you want to keep a secret?”

  She fiddled with the wrapper on her straw. “Us. You and me.”

  “You want this to be a secret?”

  “Um, something like that.”

  I nodded. “Okay. Are you embarrassed by me?”

  I asked it as a joke, but Chloe widened her eyes and shook her head vehemently. “No!” she said. “Oh my god, please don’t think that. It’s just ... my parents have been giving me a hard enough time about art school as it is, and I’m just not sure how they’re going to react to me seeing someone. I don’t want to give them any
more reasons to give me shit.”

  “Fair enough,” I said. I decided not to mention that it would actually save me from getting shit from my own family and friends as well.

  No sooner had the thought crossed my mind, though, than the door opened and my mother and Wade walk in. I looked down at the table, hoping we were sitting far away enough from the entrance that they might not notice me, but no such luck. My mother saw us and made a beeline for the table. Wade looked far less enthused.

  “Well would you look at that!” my mother said, loud enough for most of the people in the restaurant to stop what they were doing and look over, as though they might actually see something worthwhile.

  “Oh, hey,” I said.

  Chloe looked at my mother and then at Wade, who had slowly made his way over. He grunted at me in way of greeting. Chloe had a smile on her face, waiting for the introduction.

  “Chloe, this is my mother, Janice,” I said. “Janice, this is Chloe.”

  “May we sit? So nice to meet you, Chloe. Graham hardly ever introduces us to his friends.” Chloe had slid over in the booth and my mother sat down beside her, leaving me with the choice of sliding over for Wade, and him with the option of actually sitting down next to me. We both thought better of it though, and neither of us budged. “Now, Chloe,” my mom was saying, “I don’t think I’ve heard anything about you. Tell me everything!”

  “Well,” Chloe said, looking only the slightest bit uncomfortable, “there’s not a ton to tell.”

  “Oh, stop being modest. I can tell, a girl like you, you’ve probably had quite the life now, haven’t you? What do you do? Do you work?”

  “I’m in school.”

  “School! Now that’s wonderful. What are you going to school for?”

  “I’m going to art school.”

  My mother could be hard to read sometimes; now was one of them. Sure, her tone sounded friendly and luckily she hadn’t gotten started on her own personal career choices—yet—but I couldn’t be completely certain that this line of questioning was benign.