Sold on Spring Break: A Virgin and a Billionaire Romance

by CA Quigg

  He smiles at me, his light brown eyes— the color of coffee with cream— twinkling as if he knows what I’m trying to silently tell him.

  “Twenty-five thousand,” he says, without waiting for the auctioneer to increase the bid.

  I expect there to be gasps or shocked reactions but everyone acts as if this is normal.

  “I hear twenty-five thousand, can I get fifty thousand?” the auctioneer continues, not missing a beat and in fact doubling the price.

  Fifty thousand?

  “Fifty thousand,” says yet a third man, holding up his sign.

  No way. Is this a dream? I try to remember what Rachel had said about the percentage that I get. I wasn’t really listening because I’m only doing this as a favor for her— not the money— and I was more worried about the particulars of the strange arrangement I was hesitant to agree to.

  But if I’m remembering correctly, I think she said I get fifty percent, plus tips. Twenty-five thousand? For having dinner with a stranger?

  I look back over at the first bidder and can’t help but add: with a rich, handsome stranger?

  Count me in.

  I can’t believe Rachel would give up all this money. No wonder she works here. She must be really into Billy. I hope he’s already proposed to her by now. Or maybe he’s waiting until after dessert.

  “One hundred thousand,” says the first bidder, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

  Although he’s seated, I can tell that he’s tall, his shoulders sit high above those of the men sitting on either side of him, and he has impeccable posture. He has a full head of dark brown, wavy hair. I don’t know very much about suits but his looks very fancy and expensive.

  He looks quite a bit older than me— old enough to be my father— but there’s also something sexy about that fact. I never thought I’d be into an older man and I get annoyed by the clichéd stereotype of all the old men and young girls in this city.

  But if they’re being paid fifty percent of one hundred thousand dollars, and if the man isn’t that old, but is a sexy kind of old, then I suppose I shouldn’t have been so harsh in my judgment. Or maybe I’m just making excuses. Because I would like to have dinner with this mystery bidder. And maybe even more than that.

  As the bidding increases— it’s up to one hundred and fifty thousand, and now two hundred thousand!— so does my heart rate. I also notice that I’m becoming noticeably wet.

  I shift the position in which I’m standing, as if other people can see. I’m a bit embarrassed that I’m so turned on by the fact that I’m being auctioned off like cattle, as I’d so sarcastically called it when I was talking to Rachel. But the first bidder continues to be the high bidder no matter who else bids, and I enjoy the fact that he wants me so badly he’s willing to pay any price.

  Finally, the bidding is up to seven hundred fifty thousand dollars. The second bidder— the short, pudgy one— seems intent on winning this bidding war.

  “Eight hundred thousand,” he calls out, rather meekly now. He’s holding his sign up, but a bit lower than he usually does, as if he’s getting tired.

  Come on , I will the first bidder. You’re almost there…

  Sure enough, he stands up, not even bothering to bring his sign with him.

  “One million dollars,” he shouts.

  Now the men in the audience— and the other women still left up on stage— react like I expected them to in the beginning: sighs and gasps can be heard all around.

  The second bidder lets out a flustered sigh.

  “Fine,” he says, shaking his head. “You can have her.”

  Thank goodness.

  As the winning bidder curves his full lips into a smile, his eyes tell me he plans to get every penny’s worth from me out of his million dollar bid. It’s becoming clear to me that he wants me to be more than just a dinner date this Valentine’s Day. And it’s also becoming clear to me that I’m just fine with that idea.

  Chapter 7 – Celeste

  As I step off the stage, the winning bidder is there to greet me.

  “Hello,” he says, holding out his arm for me to take. “I’m Maxim Drier.”

  “I’m Celeste Sheffield,” I tell him, before thinking better of it.

  I guess there’s no anonymity here at The Exchange club. And I guess there’s also no need for him to pay up front. Because he puts a strong arm around my waist and ushers me to a different room.

  It looks like a restaurant, with private booths and curtains for the patrons. I expect Maxim to signal to a waiter but instead he keeps walking and I follow him, to another room off the side.

  The room is like an enclave, with an outer area similar to what I imagine from watching movies the VIP room of a strip club looks like: a round bench made of plush fabric circling an open area with a table in the middle. There is another door leading to an inner room, and this is where Maxim finally takes me.

  What the hell?

  It looks like a torture chamber in here: with chains and hooks and whips hanging on all different areas of the wall.

  He shuts the door and I feel trapped. I know this should be a bad thing but it kind of feels like a good thing. Or at least a naughty, exciting thing.

  “Take off your dress for me,” he says, as he begins taking off his pants. “I want to make the most of the time we have. There are a lot of things I plan to do to you tonight.”

  I stare at him, unable to believe his audacity, but somehow still loving it.

  “Aren’t we going to eat?” I ask, stupidly.

  His eyes narrow as he glares at me.

  “Do I look like a man who spends a million dollars to order you overcooked meat from a sex club posing as a restaurant?”

  This time I can’t stop my mouth from dropping open, but I do my best to close it quickly.

  He’s already taken off his pants and now he pulls his underwear down too. He has the largest cock I’ve ever seen— not that I’ve really seen all that many. But this one seems unnaturally big. He holds it in his hand and gently strokes it until it swells up even bigger.

  I have to admit, I want to touch it. Taste it. Feel it inside me. He makes me want to do things I’ve never thought capable of doing.

  “Do I need to cancel my order?” he asks me. “Or are you going to do what I want?”

  “I—”

  I begin unzipping the back of my gown. I’m confused, but this man makes me want to drop my panties when he tell me to drop my panties.

  “That’s more like it,” he says. “So you were just playing coy.”

  I nod, unsure what I’m doing. All I know is that I’m getting naked with the most handsome, well-hung, richest man I’ve ever met. And why the hell not?

  I never thought I would lost my virginity this way: to a much older, more experienced, incredibly rich, devilishly handsome man whom I just met and who just happened to drop a million dollars to win a bid for me to be his Valentine’s Day treat. But I’m beginning to think it might be the hottest way for it to happen and that I’ll enjoy it more than I can possibly even imagine.

  I let my dress fall to the floor. He nods and so I take off my bra and panties too.

  Only then does he step closer to me. He smells like money. It must be his expensive cologne but it also seems to be a part of him, something as attached to him as that huge cock is.

  He walks around behind me and puts his hands around my neck.

  I tense up, wondering if this was the biggest mistake of my life. Did this guy pay a million dollars to choke me? To kill me?

  But he whispers, “Relax,” in my ear, and then he nibbles on my ear lobe. It feels so good I don’t even care if I die.

  His moves his hands down to my breasts and holds onto them tightly.

  “Do you trust me?” he asks.

  “Yes.”

  I don’t know why, but I do.

  “Good,” he says.

  He raises me up, while holding onto my breasts, until I’m standing on my tip toes to reach the floor.<
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  He nibbles my neck like he was doing to my ear and a chill runs through my entire body. “You need to trust me for this to be a good experience for both of us. If I do anything you don’t want me to do, just let me know, okay?”

  “Yes,” I tell him.

  “Great.”

  He sets me back down to where my feet are flat on the floor again.

  He reaches into a cabinet and pulls something out. It’s a small vibrator, shaped like an egg.

  “Now I’m going to find out who you are,” he says, and he lays me back on a seat that looks like a cross between a bench and a table.

  He gets some rope and ties my arms to some hooks on the wall.

  I’m lying flat on my back, with my legs spread wide, my entire body completely exposed to him in every possible way. This is not at all how I envisioned my first time would go, but I’m loving every second of it, and I can’t help but feel excited about whatever is coming next.

  Chapter 8 – Maxim

  I wasn’t intending to start off this way. I’m taking things a bit more slowly than I usually do. I look down at Celeste’s exposed, vulnerable pussy and her confused yet trusting eyes.

  I can’t believe I’m going so easy on her. I should be furious, and demanding a refund from Terri. Clearly Celeste didn’t sign up for this and she’s not the pliant submissive I thought she would be.

  And yet I feel differently about her than I do other girls I’ve taken to this room. The way that I feel different is by feeling anything at all. That’s rare, and this feeling is actually quite overpowering.

  I shouldn’t continue this session. It’s obvious that she’s in over her head, as am I. Both of us are being stupid.

  But I can’t stop looking at her beautiful pussy. I need to make it mine. But first I need to find out who this unique creature who just walked into this room— and my life— really is.

  I rub the head of my cock up against her pussy. She squirms but I can tell it’s out of delight instead of fear. I can feel that she’s dripping wet for me.

  “Do you like this?” I ask, pinching her nipple.

  “Yes,” she nods, still shy but opening up a little bit.

  Usually by now I’d have her tied up to the fucking ceiling. I should be pissed that she’s such a novice but I did want a virgin.

  About that. I’d better confirm. As far as I know, it’s only based on a rumor.

  I hold up the vibrator.

  “Has there ever been a cock inside you?” I ask her.

  She shakes her head.

  “No?” I ask, needing to hear her say it out loud.

  “Correct,” she says.

  That’s the right answer, so I place the vibrator up against her clit and let it work its magic.

  “Oh my god,” she breathes out, her whole body quivering along her pussy. “That feels good.”

  “You’re coming for daddy already, aren’t you?” I say, as she leans her head back and moans along with the humming vibrator.

  “Yes,” she says. “Yes, yes.”

  Juices run out of her, making a nice natural lube. I run my hands along the opening of her little pussy hole. Then I stick two fingers inside her.

  “Ouch,” she calls out, struggling to sit up, but being unable to do because of the ropes I’ve tied her up with.

  “Good,” I tell her, as I feel along her tight, perfect pussy. “It should hurt.”

  Yes, she’s a virgin all right. And I can’t wait to change that fact. But first, I have to find out a little more about her.

  I kneel down on the floor and take my cock in my hand. Stroking myself, I run my tongue along her beautiful clit. Then I suck on it a little bit.

  “Mmmmm,” she moans, her clit still engorged and sensitive from the way I made her come with the vibrator.

  “Why did you come to this club tonight?” I ask her.

  She tenses, obviously wanting my tongue back on her pussy.

  “Because my friend Rachel couldn’t,” she answers.

  “Were you afraid?” I ask her.

  “Yes.”

  I put my tongue back on her clit and I can feel it throbbing as I taste her delicious juices. I run it in and out of her pussy hole, tasting her sweetness.

  It’s clear she’s telling the truth. She’s a virgin, she was scared, and yet here she is letting me take her. And that begs another obvious question.

  “So why the pink bracelet?” I ask her.

  “Bianca told me it meant I just want to have dinner,” she says.

  I shake my head.

  That bitch Bianca. She clearly set Celeste up for this. Just to get my money. I’m going to demand a partial refund for procuring it under false pretenses. And then I’m going to give that to Celeste, in addition to a hefty tip.

  “So do you want to have sex with me?” I ask her, raising my head so that I can look into her eyes.

  What the fuck has come over me?

  This isn’t like me at all. I’m a take charge kind of guy. I should have her over my knee, spanking her for saying she wanted me to take her to dinner instead of letting me tie her up right away.

  But there’s something about her that just does it for me. Fulfills a deep, aching longing I didn’t even know was there. And makes me want to protect her. After I defile her, of course.

  “Yes,” she says, and I can tell that she’s sincere.

  I return to licking her pussy, which isn’t something I usually do except if I wanted her to bring her close to climax and leave her hanging, begging me for more. But right now I want her to feel pleasure. I want to taste her cum in my mouth again, but this time I want it pouring out as my tongue does all the work instead of the vibrator.

  I almost feel that I don’t even need to use any special tools or equipment. I just want it to be her and me and our naked bodies mixing and melding. I must be losing my fucking mind.

  “How come you haven’t had sex?” I ask her, not sure I want to know the answer.

  I’m getting jealous now, and I never get jealous. It’s like I’m torturing myself emotionally in the way I had planned to torture her physically. I’m sure there had to have been some close calls— with her beautiful body, her perfect pussy— and I don’t really want to hear about that.

  And yet I want her to tell me in drawn-out detail about how she’s never been with anyone like she’s about to be with me. It’s a sick sad need I don’t even know how to explain to myself.

  “It almost happened on Prom night,” she tells me, tensing up with pleasure as I lick her up and down. “But it didn’t.”

  “Why not?” I ask her, sensing that for some reason she’s embarrassed.

  I like that she’s vulnerable with me, both emotionally and physically. I can tell she hasn’t told many people what she’s about to tell me, and I love that. I want to take her, own her, claim her, make her mine in every possible way.

  “I thought it was going well, and I returned his advances. Maybe I even made a few of my own in return,” she says, as I continue licking her pussy. But now I stop because she has.

  “So what happened?” I press.

  She shrugs, which is difficult to do in the ropes I’ve tied her up with.

  “He didn’t really reciprocate… didn’t do anything much from there, and I felt really stupid.” She sighs. “We went to the same church, we were from religious families. I guess he wasn’t expecting the same thing out of Prom night as I was.”

  “Or else he felt too ashamed by his expectations,” I offer.

  I look up at her again and she’s gazing down on me as if she hadn’t ever thought of that. She nods.

  “Or that,” she says. “But he told people I was too ‘forward,’” she says. “I felt like a real slut. I never really pushed it with anyone after that.”

  I flick her clit with my tongue, playfully, to lighten the mood.

  “Well, I sure am glad it didn’t work out,” I tell her. “And any guy who says you’re forward for wanting to have sex on Prom night sounds
like he’s got real issues.”

  She laughs, and then she moans as I suck on her clit.

  “I’m glad too,” she says, “now that I found you.”

  There’s a pause, and I can tell she thinks she’s said too much. I take a break from teasing her clit to tell her, “I’m glad I found you too. Up there on stage wearing your pink bracelet not even knowing what it meant.”

  We both laugh.

  “I was wondering why you paid so much,” she giggles.

  “Apparently it was so that I could make you feel good,” I tell her, as I lightly bite her clit and then suck on it while her back arches up off the table. I think it’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.

  “That does feel good,” she tells me, as I feel and taste her juices gushing into my mouth. “I’m coming.”

  I grip her ass cheeks and bring them closer to my mouth while I continue sucking her clit.

  “I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m coming,” she says, until her breath slows and the orgasm ends.

  “That’s not really all I paid all that money for,” I tell her, and we laugh again. “Now I’m going to take your virginity.”

  Chapter 9 – Celeste

  I never thought I’d be so quick to agree that a stranger should take my virginity, but somehow Maxim doesn’t really feel like much of a stranger. I’ve just told him my most embarrassing secret and I’ve been completely intimate with him.

  He slides on a condom. Then he climbs on top of me and I can feel the head of his cock up against my pussy.

  This is it. This is how I’m going to lose my virginity.

  It’s amazing for me, but I hope it’s not going to be a let-down for Maxim. I’m sure he’s used to things being a lot kinkier.

  “Don’t you want to, like, spank me with a whip and put a ball gag in my mouth or something?” I ask, just before he enters me.

  “Yes,” he tells me. “But not right now. There’s always another day. Right now I just want to take you the old-fashioned way.”