Page 6 of Taking The Virgin

I want to ask if she was the one who thought I would be a good fit for Owen after she went through all the girls on the website, but I can’t. It would almost make her sound like a pimp, and she’s far fromit.

But I really want to ask why Owen goes to Highest Bidder. And why did he want a virgin likeme?

Nat nods, as if to herself. “Based on the information you did provide, I had the feeling that you really needed the money. So I was happy when youwere…”

“Chosen?” I risk asking.

Nat’s look doesn’t tell me anything, but at the possibility that Owen did choose me himself, my pulse flutters.

Yet I don’t push my luck with Nat. Instead I say, “My parents were never wealthy people, and after the storm, there was no life insurance payout for us to fall back on after their deaths. Even worse, our home was also damaged by the hurricane.” I shake my head. “I didn’t want to put this in my application, but I found out afterward that Mom and Dad had been in arrears on their mortgage payments, so the house is due to be foreclosed on soon. It wasn’t covered by insurance at the time of the storm, so we were out ofluck.”

But the very worst of it is that my brothers and sisters are in foster homes, split up and separated for now. Until I can show the state that I’m financially able to take care of them again.

Nat comes over to pat me on the arm then squeeze it. “Sweetheart, your luck has changed. For one wonderful night, just be a princess in this house. Take a lovely bath and eat some exquisite food. Then…” She smiles reassuringly. “Then do what you came here todo.”

She lets go of me. I don’t see her expression as she leaves the room, closing the door behindher.

As I wander into my marble bathroom and look over the ritzy bath soaps, oils, and lotions that are here for my pampering pleasure, my nerves tickle me. Aside from the modest kissing and caressing I’ve done with other boys, I don’t know what to expect tonight. I mean, I know what to expect, thanks to all the reading I’ve done and gossiping I’ve engaged in with my friends in the past. But I don’t know how it’ll feel or if I’ll do it right.

What if Owen ends up disappointed?

What if I’m too nervous to pleasehim?

I blow out a breath, draw a bath, and use plenty of mandarin orange-scented bubble gel. I stroll back out to the walk-in closet while stripping off my dress, panties, and bra. It doesn’t take me long to select a silky cream chemise accentuated with delicate lace. It comes with a sexy matching robe, so I lay that on the bed, too.

Will he like me in this lingerie? Or, more to the point, will he like me out ofit?

I go back to the bath and stop the water, then ease myself into the velvety warmth. As I soak, the water and bubbles flirt with my skin, and I part my legs under the surface. I shift so that the water slides against my pussy, stroking over my clit. When I do it again, a thrill travels from my sex to my belly, making it flip. A decadent, fuzzy feeling takes me over, and I slip my hand between my legs, pressing, trying to make the ache goaway.

But as the image of Owen possesses me, the ache only grows. I think of his long fingers caressing me, and I wiggle, feeling the heat rising in my belly. I dip a finger into my opening, then bite my lip as I withdrawit.

He’s going to be so much bigger than my finger when he enters me. Will I cry out? Will ithurt?

As I ease my finger back in, feeling the slick walls of my sex, I close my eyes and imagine Owen inside me, pushing in, pulling out, getting me hotter and hotter with everypump…

Dammit, I think as I stop. It’s no use. My fingers are no substitute for what he’s going to do to me tonight. And in spite of the fact that he frightens me, angers me, and makes me almost queasy with nerves, I want him and him alone.

And if I admit to my deepest, naughtiest desires, I want to be fucked by him so desperately that it almost hurts.

I get out of the bath and wrap myself in a thick towel that smells like fresh air, but my breath is choked in my lungs. The man I’m going to be with is mysterious, maybe even cruel, yet there’s a depth I saw in his eyes that hints at something else going on with him. Something more complex than I can explain or even comprehend…

After I dry off and soothe myself with the mandarin orange-scented oil and lotion, I go back into the bedroom, dropping my towel on the floor and weaving through the dress, bra, and panties I’ve also left scattered. I slip on the chemise and robe then go to the bed and turn on theTV.

I’m too darn nervous to eat anything, and as night falls outside the window, I watch one movie, then another. I take off my robe, toss it to a nearby chair, and crawl underneath the bed sheet.

As the hours tick down and I put on another movie, I start to wonder if Owen has had second thoughts about our arrangement. Dread spikes me as I think of the language in our contracts that allows either one of us to back out and pay a penalty.

Then, somehow I fall asleep, haunted by doubts, restless with fright, and when a sound eventually wakes me up with a start, I look at the digital clock on my nightstand that tells me it’s nearly midnight.

Then I hear another sound. A knock on mydoor.

I sit up, my pulse hammering at me, my stomach somersaulting as my door slowly opens, revealing Owen in all his powerful, dominating glory.

In the blue light from the TV, I can see that he’s still dressed in his designer suit, as immaculate as always, his wide frame taking up the entire doorway. But it’s the look on his face that shocks me, because it’s obvious that he’s famished, his gaze taken over with blatantlust.

He’s finally come home to claim his virginal prize.

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