The Billionaire's Virgin

My stomach still feels half empty, probably because I had trouble eating anything with all the sideways comments and underhanded dirty jokes Pierce kept throwing my way. Anytime I finally started to relax and enjoy myself, he’d make sure to trail a finger up my inner thigh, or lean over and ask if the steak we were both having went well with my first course of cum. It’s like he couldn’t stand to sit at a table with a non-blushing girl for more than ten seconds at a time.

That, or he really enjoyed making me turn bright red in embarrassment. I’m leaning toward that latter theory.

But I notice him slip the coat check girl a fat wad of cash as she helps me into my coat, so maybe he’s not an entirely horrible person after all? After my years working at the diner, I know by now that you can’t judge a book by its cover—only by its willingness to tip the help.

The nicest looking people stiff me entirely on a bill, leaving 10 cent tips on a $75 check. And then the grumpiest seeming assholes will leave me a 30% tip with a smiley face drawn in the margins. You never know.

So, against my better judgment, when Pierce rests his hand on my lower back and steers me outside, I follow him to his car. Sure, along the way I gulp a few deep lungfuls of fresh air, but that’s only to gather my courage. Because this is it. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for.

It’s time to lose my V-card, once and for all.

No limo this time. Just his personal car, a BMW, because of course it is. He holds the door for me, a true gentleman to the last. But service has taught me not to take that too seriously, either.

I slide into the front seat and perch on the edge of the leather seats like I’m about to drive a gauntlet. I do have to admit, though, his BMW is comfy as hell on the inside.

Pierce slides into the driver’s seat, and I force myself to ease back in my seat and strap on my belt. No sense getting so worked up yet. We have to drive to his place first.

“So, did you enjoy sucking my cock, Bonnie?” he asks as he turns the key. Like he’s asking about the weather.

I squirm in my seat. “Yes, sir.”

He smiles. “Good.”

Maybe he wants to fuck me in this car. The seats are roomy enough, and all the windows except the windshield are tinted. If we pulled into an alley, no one would notice.

Then again, that might go against his “I want to savor the fine meal” policy.

But to my shock, a moment later, he pulls onto the road, then glances at me. “Where do you live?”

Panic seizes me. All I can picture is Erin’s face. Erin eyeballing me as I lead this handsome, way-too-well-dressed man into the closet I call my bedroom. Erin listening through our parchment-thin walls as we fuck, and he talks about taking my virginity . . .

I tell him the cross streets, then panic as he shifts the car into motion and starts to drive. Shit. “I can’t do anything at my place though,” I blurt, cheeks red all over again. “I . . . I have a roommate. Uh . . . She’s very Catholic.” Double shit. I’m babbling. But hey, technically she is Irish Catholic, even if she doesn’t so much practice anymore . . .

And I can’t exactly admit the real problem. Which is that I’d die if anyone found out I was doing this. Selling myself. Selling my virginity, which all of my friends think I’ve long since lost anyway.

But Pierce just laughs, loudly. “Relax, Bonnie. I only want to take you home.” His pale blue eyes catch mine, twinkling with mirth as he shifts lanes. “Well, okay. I want to do more than that. But tonight I’m only dropping you off.”

“Why?” I blurt. Then I realize with a mental kick how rude that sounds. I clear my throat. “I mean, why wait? Don’t you want to, you know . . . I trail off, and he raises his eyebrows, waiting for me to finish. I clear my throat again, harder. “Don’t you want to fuck me?”

“Oh, I very much want to fuck you, Bonnie.” The simple sincerity in his voice makes me hot all over, but especially between the thighs. His eyes hold onto mine for a long moment before they flash back to the road. “But I’ve got to say, you aren’t what I expected.”

Almost unconsciously, I touch a hand to my hair. “What do you mean?” Am I unattractive compared to my pictures? But, no, I dolled myself up today. What the heck?

“You make such a big deal about never having had sex before,” he replies, and I relax slightly. But only slightly. So he still finds me hot, but suspicious. Great. “You talk about being a virgin, and yet, you seem so eager for me to fuck you right here and now. Almost desperate.”