The Virgin and the Beast (Stud Ranch 1)

er who’s barely said three words to me just took my virginity.

And I… liked it. I participated, even. Shame and confusion choke me as I squeeze my eyes shut. What happens now?

Is this the part where he pulls out a cigarette and casually smokes? Isn’t that what they do in movies? At least in old movies. Now movies are just excited about the sex part—they all fade to black somewhere in the middle of it. Then it skips to the next morning or something. You rarely if ever get to see what happens right after.

Like, when the guy is still half-hard inside you and you’re blindfolded and tied up and have no idea what the hell you’re doing.

But then he quickly pulls out and withdraws completely from my body. It’s so startling after having him so close, after having him inside and surrounding me on the outside, that I’m immediately cold. Chill bumps rise all over my body.

I want to ask, what now? I want to ask, foolishly, was I any good? I want to start chattering a million miles an hour to fill the horrible empty silence that’s taken over the room in place of our moans and pleasured gasps from minutes ago.

I draw my legs together, feeling horribly exposed laid out like I am, my arms still tied over my head, body on display. Is he looking at me or like, busy checking his phone to see if he got any pressing emails while he was screwing me? What does he even do for a job that he’s able to afford this fancy house and all the land that must go with it? And what kind of connections does he—

“Don’t shower or bathe. I want you still smelling like me when I come for you in the morning.”

With that, he releases my hands. By the time I’ve scrambled to a sitting position and pulled off my blindfold, he’s gone.

Chapter 6

He had to be kidding about the shower, right? I wander back to my room in a daze and spend the rest of the evening like that.

I’m a woman used to being in charge. I see what I want and I take it. But this afternoon with him, God, that was like nothing I could have ever—

I mean, sex was something I was afraid of for so long and then for it to turn out like that. It wasn’t bad at all. It was sort of… wonderful.

My mind rejects the thought even as I think it.

No. I do not want to be here. This is all against my will.

…Isn’t it?

Because it didn’t seem like it when I was howling with pleasure earlier. What if I am my mother’s daughter after all?

Slut. Whore.

I heard the words people in the country club whispered about my mom behind Dad’s back. Because of her heritage, she was never warmly accepted in Dad’s wealthy circles—they were married in the nineties, after all, and women from Mexico were supposed to be serving the food or cleaning the place, not on the arm of one of the wealthiest members. It wasn’t fair and Dad tried to shield her from the worst of it. But then, of course, Mom went and made sure to live up to all of their worst expectations.

Still, what does it say about me that I could enjoy sex with a stranger who all but kidnapped me? How could I respond like that?

I wrap my arms around myself and drop my head. And that’s when I smell him. His scent is all over me. It’s as if he marked me as his, like an animal might. I don’t even know exactly how to describe the scent. I close my eyes and try to pick out distinctive elements. Some sort of manly scented body wash and… is that hay? Leather, too, maybe.

And the earthy smell of sweat and sex.

I want you still smelling like me when I come for you in the morning.

I shiver.

Screw that.

I can’t stand smelling like him for another second. I speed walk to the bathroom and flip the shower to the hottest I can stand it. Then I step in and scrub hard at my entire body as soon as I get under the spray of water. When I go to wash my hair, my hand stutters after grabbing the bottle. It’s the same brand of shampoo that I use at home. What the—?

I take a step back out of the shower spray and look at the rest of the items in the bathtub. It’s my brand of body wash and conditioner, too. All in full, brand-new bottles.

How could he—? Did he have people break into my apartment to figure that out? Or watch me shop?

Just how long has he been watching me?

I look around the shower and up at the ceiling. Are there cameras on me right now? I raise my arms and cover my breasts.