Claire: The Forced Virgin Of The Billionaire

I told her I was getting married in a few weeks and that of course she needed to be my maid of honor. She was sort of awestruck and didn’t ask me a lot of questions.

She gave me s**t about not calling a few times during the conversation but I just kept saying it had to do with s**t about my Dad that I couldn’t talk about and then she’d say “Enough said!” and let me off the hook.

If it’d been Beth or Mia (Lily’s roommates who were good friends of mine) I know I’d never have gotten away with it. Mia wanted to be a journalist and Beth wanted to go into law.

They’d be tag team interrogating me, trying to understand why I just disappeared, why all the plans were suddenly out the window for a guy I’d just met.

But Lily wasn’t a skeptic; in fact, she was a lot like a Disney princess who was listening to me and envisioning the day

herExclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

prince would come. I cut her short when she told me that Mia was there and wanted her to pass the phone and said I’d call back later.

When I hung up, the bedroom door slowly swung open. Azriel was standing there. By his face I could tell he’d heard the whole thing. I wasn’t surprised he’d eavesdropped at all but couldn’t be mad because he strode in like a man with a mission and ravished me until I’d had two o*****s.

He told me that it was beautiful to hear the way I’d chosen to tell the story of us. He’d heard me tell Lily, how beautiful he was, what an amazing lover he’d been. I’d said something to the effect of him f*****g me into oblivion multiple times a day, which was pretty much true because we’d been at it like rabbits for the past few days. Vanilla rabbits, though.

After hearing that phone call he looked so moved and made love to me so tenderly I wound up crying during the first of the two o*****s. He had kissed away my tears and then brought me to climax again murmuring how much he loved me, how he wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life making love to me and making me happy but then he whispered in my ear that not only would he make love to me for the rest of our lives but that he’d f**k me for the rest of our lives, too, and that while he’d f****d before, he’d never made love to anyone before.

He would never make love to or f**k anyone but me ever for the rest of his life.

I knew that to him, sometimes he wanted to make love and sometimes he needed to f**k. Those whispers spoke to me, let me know that he would sometimes want one and sometimes need the other.

It was my job to be what he needed, to feed his s****l appetite, and I was determined that I could do it.

And I was happy…I was waking up in the morning to s*x, I went to bed and had s*x (or was woken up by it if I fell asleep first), and the day after we were home from Vegas I’d been washing a frying pan in the kitchen sink from the breakfast I’d made him and he’d come in and screwed me from behind.

Just waltzed in, lifted up my sundress, slapped my a*s super hard, and then took me with his c**k and his fingers and I didn’t even get the

way

unsexy yellow rubber gloves off. When he finished he washed his hands, grabbed an apple from the fridge, winked at me and then went back to his office.

I was just standing there, propped up by my elbows in front of the sink with the ugly yellow gloves on, skirt up, hair all mussed up, and feeling boneless and thinking that it was fairly calm for Azriel but it’d definitely been f*****g.

It’d been three days of mostly sweet beautiful vanilla s*x and cuddling and talking (but never about the serious dark stuff we eventually needed to discuss) and just enjoying one another. We did things like curl up in front of the big screen at night watching TV or movies, me cooking for him, a naked swim together (it must’ve been premeditated because he’d obviously made the bodyguards leave for a while because I never saw them).

He’d just lifted me after s*x, both of us naked, and carried me through the bedroom balcony doors down the stairs and then jumped into the pool with me. I’d said, “Hey! What about security?” and he’d answered, “Do you really think I’d allow anybody

to lay their eyes on your beautiful naked body?”

We hadn’t left the property since we got back from the drive-in. He’d spent time on the phone and in his office a lot but he spent a lot of time with me, too.

Rosita was due back and the next day we were having dinner at his Uncle’s. And I was starting to get a little bit worried because there’d been no s*x games since Vegas. He didn’t seem stressed, he seemed fine. But how long would it last? Would I see the sudden shift so I’d know it was something I needed to handle proactively or would it come out of nowhere and blindside me?

Maybe I should initiate something. Or maybe we should talk. Every time he came in the room I was in I was looking to see if his necklace was on. He’d talked about us needing to talk a few times but it never seemed to happen. I couldn’t blame him for that; I wasn’t initiating it either.

As he held me that morning after our wake-up s*x, he talked about the possibility of moving Rosita out.

“Why?” I asked, tracing the pattern of his tattoo, with my head on his chest.

“She’s gonna get in our way. I like that I can just bend you over anywhere I like without worrying about someone else coming in.”

I laughed but then turned serious, “She already warned me not to put her out of a job! She’ll be pissed at me. Put a price on my head!”