Virgin for Sale Page 8

  “Well, my name’s Anna and I’m eighteen,” I said, my voice quiet and even. “I was born on November 23rd in New Jersey, that’s where I’m from.”

  Mr. Fire’s brows quirked.

  “That’s good. Keep going,” he prompted.

  “Well, the year I was born, November 23rd was Thanksgiving,” I said slowly. “So I guess you could say that I’m a Thanksgiving baby. My mom always calls me that, says I’m her Turkey Baby, just in private of course,” I said hastily. “She calls me Annie in front of everything else.” Why oh why had I thought to share this? It was boring, and I didn’t want to talk about my family, not here, now with all these men listening.

  But Mr. Fire merely nodded again.

  “Tell us about your parents,” he said. “Are you close with them?”

  I shook my head. This was not the direction that I wanted the conversation to go. Suddenly, I realized just how futile this entire situation was, I was like a baby in front of a huge lion, completely out of my element, about to be devoured. But I had to answer him, had to say something.

  “My parents are good folks,” I began slowly, not wanting to give too much away. “They work at a factory nearby, and my dad hasn’t missed a day of work in thirty years. They’re good, hardworking people, we just came upon some trouble which is why I’m here.”

  “Trouble?” repeated Mr. Fire, one black brow raised. “What kind?”

  And I didn’t want to say, really didn’t want to say, but there was no point in lying. Maria had compiled a dossier on me, they’d done background checks, run my ID, so the billionaires already knew everything. There was no sense in hiding.

  “My mom got laid off a couple months ago,” I said bluntly. “We were still okay when that happened, but then my dad got laid off too and we can’t survive for long, there are too many expenses. My grandma was sick last year so they blew their savings on her medical treatment. And I’m in college,” I added slowly, “and even though I have a scholarship, it’s not enough. It’s not a full scholarship so there are still tens of thousands owing.”

  Mr. Fire was silent.

  “I see,” was all he said, musing. “I see.”

  “No you don’t,” I shook my head furiously. “You couldn’t possibly understand. You have so much, you just spent five million dollars on a whim,” I added quickly. “Do you know what my parents would do if they had even five thousand dollars? They’d fall on their knees, praying, so relieved, glad that we had another chance, even if it was only a temporary reprieve. You can’t possibly understand what it’s like to be us,” I said bitterly, turning my face away.

  I could hardly believe I was saying this, that I was filled with righteous fire on what was supposed to be a sex-filled evening, discussing my parents, our financial situation with my buyer, a bunch of his friends looking on. I clamped my mouth shut, determined not to say anymore. God, this was so embarrassing and tears began to well in my eyes. This was a thousand times worse than losing my virginity, this was a thousand times more humiliating, like my skin was being peeled off, my soul revealed to strangers.

  But Mr. Fire just kept looking at me, his blue eyes taking in everything. I hated how this was happening, I hated how I was telling him my life story, that these shameful, hurtful matters were rolling off my tongue like water. Before, I’d bared my body and it hadn’t hurt nearly as bad. Now, baring my soul was so much harder, admitting that my world wasn’t peachy keen, that I had problems, real problems that extended far beyond the compound walls.

  But Mr. Fire merely continued to look at me contemplatively, as if weighing matters in his hands.

  “I’ll fix it baby girl,” he said gently, that deep voice smooth and rolling. “You’ll get seventy five percent of your purchase price, not fifty. I’ll make sure it happens.”

  I gasped. Seventy five percent of five million? My mind whirred. That was six three point something million dollars, I couldn’t do the math in my head exactly, but the number was staggering for sure. But Mr. Fire didn’t understand me, didn’t realize that I was from honest, working-class people.

  “Thank you,” I said quietly, looking him in the eye. “I appreciate it, but you don’t have to.”

  I could hardly believe the words from my mouth. Was I really turning down good money? A lot of money at that? I wasn’t in a position to turn down five dollars if it came my way, that’s how hard up we were.

  But I shook my head again.

  “I’m here to earn my keep fair and square,” I continued quietly. “And the bargain was always half of my selling price, so we can stick to that, it’s fine.”

  Mr. Fire cocked his head at me again.

  “You sure baby girl?” he drawled. “Not many women would say no to an additional one point two five million.”

  I shook my head again. Clearly, the alpha male had no problem with math, he was able to manipulate huge numbers in his head at the drop of a hat. And I choked a little. One point two five million was a lot, there was no two ways to look at it. But I stuck to my guns.

  “No, I’m okay,” I said quietly. “The deal is what it is, I don’t expect any extras. So should we start now?” I asked again, looking up at him swiftly. The big male form still leaned indolently against the wall, relaxed, toying with me. “I’m ready.”

  And Mr. Fire tipped his head back and laughed then, showing off those even white teeth, the movie star smile.

  “Honey, I’ve never met a woman less ready to fuck,” he said wryly. “I’ve never met a woman so ill at ease, looking like she’s about to come apart at the seams, so no, we’re not gonna fuck now. And I’m gonna let you in on a secret,” he smiled wickedly then. “There’s no one behind these windows. There’s been no one watching, no one listening. Look,” he said, flicking a switch on the wall.

  And the lights in the booths came on, showing that they were empty, a dozen empty chairs looking at a dozen consoles, all of them still, silent. There had been no witnesses to my blabbering, to the sad story of my family.

  “But why did you tell me there were then?” I asked him, brown eyes swift on his, looking for answers. “Why did you make me think that your friends were gonna watch us?”

  And Mr. Fire’s smile grew wider.

  “Because we are gonna fuck in public at some point,” he said casually, like it was no big deal. “I want people to know that I own that sweet body, that that beautiful, virginal pussy has my dick inside. But right now, it’s not a good time. You’re clearly not ready.”

  And my cheeks flushed hotly. Holy shit, I was failing once more. If I’d been a D before, now I was a certified F. Was he going to return me? Could you even do that? So I burst into a flurry of motion. Limbs straightening in a flash, I scrambled off the bed to hurl myself into his arms, throwing myself against that hard, male form.

  “No, I’m ready,” I panted, locking my arms around his neck. “I can do it, I can do it,” I begged before pressing my lips against his, desperately to show how willing I was, my body hot, ready for him, even if we were in front of his friends, even if he wanted me outside, indoors, in the cold, in the heat, anywhere. I had to make this work.

  And for a moment, I thought I’d won. I thought Mr. Fire was going to ravish me then. His lips devoured mine, insistent, his tongue pushing deep into me, owning me, making me sigh as those big hands ran over my form, slipping between the velvet to caress a big breast, to stroke my tummy lightly.

  “Yes,” I breathed against him, my head dropping back limply, awash on a sea of sensations as he touched me everywhere, my breasts quivering, letting him take his fill. “Yes,” I breathed again.

  And the big man groaned slightly then, his mouth letting out a low rumble against my soft skin.

  “Fuck you’re so beautiful,” he rasped, those blue eyes bright, harsh, fixed on my parted lips, the way my throat was bared invitingly to him. “Fuck you’re so fucking gorgeous,” he ground out again before seizing a nipple in his mouth, suckling at my white flesh, swirling his tongue around my
nipple as a hand unerringly slid between my thighs, testing my pussy.

  “And wet too,” he ground out, before licking my nipple then, alternating between licking and sucking on the proud, pink tip, making me squeal and moan as a big finger found my clit, stroking the hardness, my pussy jolted to life, creaming even more.

  Because yes, within two seconds, the tables had turned. I was so aroused by this big man, so attuned to his every mood, his power over me so strong that I’d lost all my inhibitions once again. I’d once again transformed into wanton Annie, ready to do his bidding, opening my body for him, permitting him to touch, to rub, to kiss anywhere he wanted.

  And oh god, it felt so good. My pussy spilled wetly, a gush of cream spurting hotly into his hand and he rumbled with satisfaction, lightly biting at the underside of my breast, testing the soft flesh, how edible and ripe it was.

  “Fuck you’re beautiful,” was all he ground out again, still crouched in front of me, enjoying my pussy and tits, letting himself taste the cream. But with a resolute shake of his head, the big man straightened once more, drawing away, popping his finger into his mouth while holding my eyes with his own.

  “Mmm, you taste good baby girl,” he ground out, lightly licking the glossiness from his digits. “You taste good.”

  And I flushed. Because he had to be talking about my nectar, the ambrosia that flowed from my secret space. I wanted him so badly then, I was ready to throw myself at him, to impale myself on his penis if that’s what it took, grinding myself deep. But Mr. Fire shook his head once more, reading my mind.

  “Naw baby, you’re ready now physically, but this isn’t the time,” he said. “I don’t want my girl doing it out of desperation, I want you so hot, so fucking willing, that you beg me to put my dick in you.”

  My mind whirled.

  “But I am ready,” I pleaded. “I’m ready to beg now. Please, Mr. Fire, please.”

  Andrew just shook his head once more.

  “Naw baby, this is the wrong place, the wrong time. I miscalculated, honey, it’s my fault, I’m sorry. We’ll take up soon again, I promise,” he said, kissing me softly on the lips once more.

  And that kiss was almost my undoing. Because we’d already gotten nasty, I’d danced for him, I’d put things in myself, I’d thrown myself at him, let him taste my titties and cunt, manipulate them at will. But that one soft kiss spoke volumes, more than all the rest combined. It said that he cared about me, that he wasn’t going to take my virginity now, when I was on edge and terrified, still shocked from the prospect of doing it in front of his friends. He’d wait. Although the alpha male had every right to ravish me now, to force me onto his dick, he wasn’t going for the easy kill. Despite the fact that the billionaire had every right, Mr. Fire wanted to make this right for me too … and I was moved to the deepest recesses of my soul.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Andrew

  I couldn’t fuck her that night. Annie was delectable, sure, but she was like a pendulum, one minute a shivering, scared bunny, the next minute a sensuous Jezebel, throwing herself at me, ready to let me do whatever I wanted. And I appreciated it, sure. As a man who loves women, I never take anything for granted, I appreciated the brunette’s curves, her willingness, the many facets of her personality. But she was too on edge, Annie was overly sensitive to everything at the moment, the bright lights, the prospect of people watching us, even the confines of the chamber, the scene of the auction.

  And it happens sometimes. Sometimes the girl takes a while to come down from the sale itself, she’s too hyped, the adrenaline still running fast through her veins. That’s part of the purpose of Prep, it’s to help a female relax, get them cleaned up and ready, sure, but also to mentally help them come down from the high of an auction.

  Because Annie wasn’t the only girl who danced sensuously, who did all sorts of dirty things. It’s actually pretty common. Sure, some girls stand there and just let guys look her over, turning to the right, to the left, bending over when the voice instructs. But most girls get into it, letting their curves jiggle, playing it up a bit because again, these females are here of their own free will. They’re here to get a good price, to walk out with a fistful of money, and the more they sell themselves, the higher price they get.

  So Annie wasn’t the sluttiest, the horniest, the craziest woman I’d ever seen, strutting her stuff under the lights. I’ve seen a lot, and the brunette wasn’t any of those adjectives. But she was the most interesting. Even in the half hour we’d had together just now, she’d shown she was capable of many things. Of fear, yes. Of reluctance, yes, she hadn’t wanted to have her first time in front of a bunch of strange men. But also of innocence, of sweetness, of a certain decency that you couldn’t find very often anymore. She’d almost been old-fashioned in a way, she wanted her first time to be in private, with a man who’d take care of her.

  And I could take care of her, sure. No, I wasn’t going to be her Prince Charming, her Prince Valiant on a white horse who saved the day. But I could make the brunette feel good, make sure that little body shuddered with release, stroking her breasts, making that pussy come hard and fast. I could make sure that she enjoyed herself, that it wasn’t some horrific experience, legs spread, teeth gritted as a man senselessly humped her body from up above. Naw, that’s not my style, that’s for guys with no finesse, who are no better than dogs rutting with a bitch. Who would do that anyways?

  Because I adore women, I worship the female form, and I want my woman warm, wet, and wiling beneath me. I want her to spread her legs of her own accord, to hold her pussy open and beg me to fuck it. I want her gasping, panting, body and mind lost as I take her deep, as I stuff her cunt full, my fuckrod the only thing on her mind. In short, I want her to love it, my name on her lips, my everything becoming her everything. I like to own my women, and Annie James is no exception.

  So yeah, I’ve decided to bide my time. I deposited the girl back in her quarters, big brown eyes still wide, beseeching me, lips trembling, and almost lost it again. It would be so easy, so fucking easy to take her right here, to rip off that cloak and sink my dick in deep. And she’d be ready, that soft, quivering flesh would welcome me, cushioning me even as I tore through her hymen, the pain and pleasure melding into an unstoppable force.

  But it was too easy, it was taking candy from a baby, and frankly, it just wasn’t right. The easy road is never the right one, and in this case, I wanted her to be mine. Anne James would belong to me one hundred percent … absolutely, thoroughly, completely mine.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Annie

  I gasped a bit as he plopped me on the bed.

  “Mr. Fire?” I said dumbly, watching as his big form retreated. “Mr. Fire?”

  But the big man merely shot me an inscrutable glance, expression giving nothing away.

  “In the morning, honey, I’ll be back in the morning,” he growled, those blue eyes blazing. He looked at me hard once more, like he was contemplating something, but then turned away resolutely. And with two long strides the man was gone, the door sliding shut behind him with a gentle hiss.

  I took a deep breath, a huge whoof of air exiting my chest. It was like a hurricane had passed through, a force field of magnetic energy had come and was gone now, that male animal charisma amping everything up and now its absence was palpable. The air was quieter, the sudden frenetic charge dissipated, and I could breathe easy for the first time in an hour. I looked around my quarters, stupefied, eyes open but not seeing, numb. Because I’d been auctioned for five million dollars, and yet my buyer hadn’t taken my virginity. Instead, he’d left me here, telling me to get a good night’s sleep before the sun rose again, like we had all the time in the world. Stunned, I sat motionless, the facts sinking in. What the hell was going on?

  But I couldn’t be a lump forever, so slowly, I heaved myself off the bed and wandered to the closet, pulling open the mahogany door mindlessly, not sure what I expected. And surprisingly, it was filled to the brim. On eac
h hanger was a beautiful item of clothing, skirts, jackets, blouses, everything a woman could possibly need. I fingered one sleeve absentmindedly and the material was fine, a slippery silk, something I could never afford in my real life. Who’d picked all this out?

  With mindless fingers, I opened some of the drawers and was overwhelmed once more. Inside were countless female fripperies, lacy bra and panty sets, teddies, sheer stockings, even bra inserts as if I needed those. The rubber chicken cutlets were soft and gelatin-like and I snorted a little. At least whoever had put this together had gotten the boob part wrong, I was a full DD and there was no way I’d ever need these, my bosom was bountiful as it was.

  But curiously, everything else was just right. All the clothes were in my size, almost like they’d been tailor made. And suddenly my cheeks flushed. Because Maria had taken my measurements, there’d been one session where I’d held my arms out and she’d held a tape rule up, measuring my arms, legs, the size of my hands, my shoe size, the size of my rump, everything. I’d protested.

  “Is this for the auction?” I asked. “Do they need to get my stats, are my measurements gonna be put on a comp card for buyers to see?”

  Maria leaned back, her mouth full of pins like a real seamstress.

  “Why do you ask?” she said curiously.

  “Well, I feel like an animal kind of, my measurements out there. Like ‘This horse is fifteen hands tall with a brown swishy tail.’ Except my description would read, ‘This girl is five four with a 24 inch waist and 36 inch bust.’”

  Maria laughed then, her eyes empathetic behind big tortoise-frame glasses.

  “Some of the measurements will go to the buyers, yes, but if you’re thinking they’re interested in things like you’re shoe size, then you’re wrong,” she said. “No man is interested in that,” she added wryly.