His Dirty Virgin(15)

Fuck. I pressed my growing erection against the chair, trying to control it, but it was futile. There was no way I could think with my head instead of my dick with a naked Becca right in front me.

For the tattoo. Finish it. I tried to kid myself. I shook my head, pushing all thoughts of sex to the back of my head temporarily. Then, I reached for a brand-new needle, stuck it into the tattoo gun, and put all my effort into focusing on getting the butterfly completed. I needed to do it justice, the art was a memory of her mother. ‘My little butterfly’ – that was her mother’s nickname for her when she was still alive. I needed to do it justice; I needed to do my best – for the woman right in front of me.

I didn’t know how long I took; I didn’t care to look at the clock. All I knew was that after being stuck in the room for so long – admittedly, partly my fault for the temptress in front of me – I finally finished the butterfly, and I couldn’t be any prouder. We spent the whole night yesterday coming up with different variations of Becca’s inspiration image. I’d shown her almost ten hand drawn butterfly designs and kept refining them until there was one she not only liked but fell in love with. She was going to have it on her skin forever; she needed to love it. Now that it was done, she had the widest smile on her face, and it made me equally ecstatic to know I was the reason for her smiling.

“Thank you…so, so much,” she said, almost losing her breath towards the end of her sentence. “Just wow…it’s even much better on my skin than on paper.”

“I’m glad you liked it,” I said, putting my equipment away and giving her my full attention. There was no way I’d let her start dressing up when I had her naked on a chair for hours. No way. “And now…”

She turned her eyes away from her hip bone to find me grinning mischievously at her. Before she knew it, I’d pulled her into my arms, her legs encircling my waist, and pushed her down on the table right beside the chair. Both of us becoming extremely impatient, our hands worked together to unbuckle and unzip my jeans. With one strong arm, she pushed my boxers all the way done, and I smirked when her eyes widened at the sight of my erection.

“Now,” she said, propping her elbows on the table and spreading her legs out wide. I was a bit shocked when she wanted to get right to it, but my questions were answered as I began to glide my dick in smoothly inside her. She was so fucking wet. There was no need to finger or tease her or start with foreplay. We’d have time for sweet and romantic in bed later. Right now, we were going to have it quick, easy, and rough – a different side to the both of us.

“F-fuck…y-you,” she tried breathing, as I pumped in and out in front of her. I felt like the table was going to give out anytime soon, but to hell with that, just her wetness was ready to make finish now. “Sex with you just keeps getting better and better.”

“It takes two,” I said, as I crashed my lips against hers and added some teeth. She moaned at the roughness and held onto me tighter.

“R-Jake…I’m gonna com-I’m gonna come…”

“Me too,” I said, biting on her bottom lip. “Together.”

And with that, I pounded into her much faster now, and she clung to me as if her life depended on it.

We were only week in. I never wanted the next three weeks to come. I wanted her, all to myself, forever.





8





Becca



This didn’t need to happen. It was the housekeeper’s fault – a hundred per cent. If she wasn’t such a tattletale and told my father I had rarely been home in the past twenty-eight days, we wouldn’t be in this situation. She was always looking for ways to get me in trouble, and I knew why. She had to slave all day and work for a spoiled, entitled princess – me.

I’d already told my dad I was sleeping over at Mary’s and Jane’s, but she just had to whip up this story of how I kept disappearing from time to time, and how on the first day I left, I brought with me a huge luggage full of clothes. Just thinking about what was happening made my blood boil. She never did this when my half-sisters were around. They were much older than I was, and so, there was no way she could tell lies to my dad, and have my father pick the help over his own daughters, my half-sisters. My dad loved them; they followed the path he carved out for them unquestioned, and they were on top of the world, heading and managing many of my dad’s ventures. I loved them too; they were always looking out for me, stood as the mother figures in my life since my mom died.

But they weren’t here right now – when I needed them. But I doubt they’d understand. The idea of a man keeping me for thirty days to have sex whenever and wherever he desired wouldn’t ease anyone’s nerves, and now my father was demanding to know where I’d been the past weeks.