Claire: The Forced Virgin Of The Billionaire

“Hm?”

“Some guys call all women a pet name, baby, sweetheart, sugar, you know?”

“Ah.”

“Do you, uh… do you call anyone else Angel?”

“Never. Why?”

“Never?”

“Nope. Why?”

“Maybe it’s not the awesome name I thought it was if it’s not just mine.”

“It’s just yours. You have the face of an angel. You’re trying to be a perfect one.” I felt him shrug.

“Thank you for saving me. And for giving me that name. Now that I know that it feels even more like it’s mine.”

He gave me a squeeze.

“Please keep me,” I whispered before thinking, pouring everything I had into the plea. After a too-long pause I wished I could snatch it back. So much for my long logical speech.

But then he said, “I’m thinkin’ about it. I’m beating myself up for it but gotta say, I’m tempted.”

“Then I have to keep being your angel,” I snuggled in closer, “so you won’t wanna give me up.”

He sighed, “No promises, yet, angelbaby, but you’re playing your cards right so far.”

“Okay,” I smiled.

“But I’d rather you be you,” he whispered, “Don’t be an angel just because you’re afraid. Be you.” He caressed my face.

“I’ll try,” I said.

“That’s all I can ask for,” he said.

“Hey Drake?” I asked a minute later.

“Hm?”

“Who won the hockey game?”

“They did.”

“s**t,” I grumbled.

I felt his body shake with laughter.

“What’s funny?”

“You actually gave a s**t about the game?”

“Uh, yeah.”

He gave me a squeeze and then he gave me a sweet k**s on the forehead and I fell asleep in his arms feeling amazing, feeling like I was done with the A to B, I was at C and now I was working on getting to point D. Drake. Getting Drake to keep me.

That was my next goal and if I managed that, there would be nothing else I had to sweat and toil over. I could just live my life. Maybe he wouldn’t make me sweat for it. Maybe this was it. Could it be? Maybe I could somehow find me or something close to that again.

Drake’s POV

I could justify it the same way she had. We had to look like we were together, why not give it a go? Lisa insinuated it was dangerous if I didn’t. So why not, right? Yeah, right. I was a f*****g dog looking for permission to be a f*****g dog.

No better than the scumbags that took her. A dirty scumbag taking what shouldn’t be mine. Uncle was probably looking up at me from hell with a smirk on his face.

What the hell was wrong with me? Barely a few days after I get her out of a hellhole where she’s been brainwashed to be a perfect s*x slave and I’m f*****g her brains out, watching the game with her in bed, asking her about babies for f**k sakes.

She felt so good in my arms. Too good. I didn’t deserve to feel this. I couldn’t sleep. I slipped out of bed and into my den and started up the computer and then buzzed Azriel on Skype.

Angel’s POV

When I woke up Drake was asleep and spooning me. It felt so good. So right. I hated to leave the safety and bliss of his arms but I had to go to the bathroom. I quietly got up and did my business and then decided to cook him breakfast. It had been a long while since I’d cooked anything.

I made bacon on his fancy stainless steel humongous stove and then put it in the oven’s warming drawer and then was about to get started on the eggs.

As I closed the oven drawer I felt hands on my h**s. I smiled and turned around. Drake was bare chested, sleepy, messy-haired, and totally gorgeous. He was in just a pair of denim-shaded blue boxer briefs that were the same shade as his eyes and his hands were all over me.

“Seriously? Waking up to the smell of bacon and coming out to find you bent over?”

His mouth came down on mine and then we were up against the fridge and he undid his fleece robe that I was in (I was naked underneath) and then hiked me up, hauled his beautiful c**k out and then I was impaled on it. I m****d and he carried me, my legs wrapped around his waist, his c**k inside me, and we had a spectacular morning quickie where we started out missionary style for a few minutes on his sofa and then flipped me to my hands and knees and finished doggy style on the living room floor while I played with my clit and he held a breast.

Afterwards I scrambled some eggs and put a mountain of cheese on them, which he teased me for. I made toast with peanut butter and jam, too, cutting his toast as well as mine into triangles and we ate breakfast together while watching Bugs Bunny.

He made me blush when he said, “So now I rate for triangles?”

“Oh yeah…” I’d said flirtatiously, “You rate…”

Drake’s POV

Sitting there eating breakfast with her, feeling comfortable, happy, I started getting a nagging feeling, like I was in a dream and was gonna wake up any second alone, sweating, without her. It was almost too perfect. I started to lose my appetite, started to feel sour.

Debbie and I had done a fair bit of role playing when we were together. Just about the only thing I wasn’t down for was her topping me in the bedroom. I just wasn’t built that way.

She tried, one night dressing in this pleather bodysuit and trying to boss me around, and I’d pissed her off because I wound up hog tying her and then tickling her until she begged for mercy.

Then I left her bound and f****d her while she was bent over an ottoman in her parents’ basement. She’d been pissed at me for refusing to play along. But I did not play submissive. No way, no how.

But she knew how to play me and get me extra sweet because she’d figured out early on that her roleplaying as a submissive s*x kitten was my favorite way to f**k. I liked it. I loved it. A lot. And it got her gifts, too.

She wasn’t submissive all the time but she tried that role on once in a while, particularly when she was in the dog house with me or when she wanted something that sparkled or to make me do something I didn’t really wanna do, like when I had to take her to some chick flick movie or that time she dragged me to a boy band concert. And she tried it on hard when we split up, trying to get me back.Property of Nô)(velDr(a)ma.Org.

Angel didn’t seem like she was trying to lead me around by my d**k. She was letting me lead.

My Angel was that way from the start and there was no way she could know that this is what I liked, not unless my Uncle asked Debbie and provided that information when he arranged her for me. I couldn’t see it. But suddenly I had to know, had to know if I was being played here. I asked her what coaching she’d had about me.

“What did they tell you I wanted before we met?”

She looked startled and probably because we’d been eating bacon and eggs, watching cartoons, and having a nice morning when suddenly my attitude shifted and I had my arms folded across my chest, “What exactly?”

“They…” she paused, toast in mid air, swallowed a gulp of coffee, and then continued, “They didn’t. I waited for instructions. I was waiting for instructions that never came. They talked in front of me saying we had very little information so they were sure I’d definitely be staying an extra month or two once you’d done an interview to list my deficiencies. All I was told was that you wanted a redhead with a big appetite for s*x.”

“How many redheads there?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe a dozen or so.”

“Why’d they pick you?”

“There were only three shortlisted redheads. I don’t know why they picked me.”

“What does shortlisted mean?”

“Shortlisted means I was an option on a small list of possible assets for sale. There’s a short list of women who could be sold. Only women the leadership team felt could be trusted outside the resort were on that list.

I had enough positive feedback and hadn’t had any infractions for behavior in long enough that I was on that list. I don’t know all the criteria. I guess essentially they thought I was broken enough.”

She was looking at me a little confused, looking more than a little hurt. Her last sentence hit me in the gut but I forged ahead anyway, “Why’d you have a big s****l appetite in a place like that?”

She opened her mouth in shock and then she slumped.

I waited.

Her face went red.

“Forget it.” I knew she f****d to survive and it’d had probably twisted into want out of necessity. I was dealing with an internal struggle here and it was making me be an insensitive d**k to her.

I felt like I was falling for this, falling for the idea of a girl who worshipped me, wanted me, loved to f**k the way I wanted, wanted a houseful of kids, would lay on my stomach contentedly while watching sports.

I didn’t wanna let myself get attached in case I was missing something important, like a ploy or plot, like another one of my Uncle’s games. He could certainly be playing me from the grave given the fact he’d put these wheels in motion before he died.

Besides, she could get over this hero worship s**t and what if what was left was nothing but pain for me? I became someone I hate after Debbie f****d me over and if I let myself fall in love again and got f****d over again what would I become then?

“Got s**t to do today. You need anything before I go?” I downed the rest of my coffee and then headed toward the bedroom, avoiding her face, which I knew was hurt.

“No,” she said softly as I passed her.

I changed into a suit and headed to my den to send a few emails and get some stuff in motion. When I came out she was cleaning the kitchen. She looked gorgeous, wearing a pair of black yoga pants and royal blue racerback tank. She had her hair tied up in a messy knot and she was barefoot. My eyes landed on the collar on her throat. I had to resist the urge to take her by it and haul her back to the bedroom or to the kitchen floor, or wherever. Everything that collar stood for was wrong.

But the fact that she was wearing it meant she was mine. Not only to her but it looked like it was starting to mean that to me, too.

She f*****g loved that thing. I loved that she loved that thing. But I was twisted up over the guilt I felt because of it.

I approached her and she hesitated, not meeting my eyes. She was picking up on my mood, evidently.

“I’ll be back later,” I kissed her forehead. She leaned into my lips and then tipped her mouth up, wanting my lips on hers. I hesitated and then gave her a soft l*p touch and let out a long sigh. We stared into one another’s eyes for a minute.

Then I backed away, shaking my head. She visibly deflated as I did, her eyes downcast. I left the apartment and it left an emptiness in my chest to walk away from her. But I did it anyway.

** ** **

That afternoon I worked on some s**t to do with the construction arm of the business, including a meeting with a few of the foreman who weren’t happy to be called in on a Sunday but too f*****g bad, and at 2:00 my cell made a noise alerting me to a text from Tess asking me if I was coming to the house for Sunday dinner and if I was bringing my “new girlfriend” or not. It would be just the girls and the kids as Ed had to work, covering for his backup chef who usually worked Sundays.

I didn’t know if I could handle dinner with them and the third degree about her. Obviously the ‘new girlfriend’ remark was Tess baiting me to see if I’d agree or say “she’s not my girlfriend”. I’d be the only male outta diapers in the place if I did go so I told her I had to work and couldn’t make it.

I wished I had my brother here, as much as i hated to admit it, so I could run some work s**t by him and so I could talk over this Felicia s**t.

I felt dirty even thinking of her as Felicia. But when I thought of her as Angel I thought of her as being MY Angel and that felt dangerous to me because of what it represented. Me, vulnerable.