His Virgin

By: Nikki Chase

I don't know what it is about her, but every little move she makes amuses me. Maybe it's just refreshing to see a girl not kissing my ass. She puts up a bit of a fight, which makes it more satisfying when her resolve crumbles, when she inevitably has to do my bidding.

She stops a couple of feet away from me and shoves the tray full of the usual party finger foods between us without a word.

“Aren't you going to ask if I want some canapés?” I trap her gaze and watch as the fire burns within.

“You already asked me to come here. You obviously want them,” she says in a clipped tone. She's trying to stay polite, despite her anger.

“Maybe all I want is for you to come closer.”

“I’m already close enough. Now, if there's nothing else, I have other guests to serve.”

“I don't see anyone else around here.” I look around to emphasize my point. This is a large mansion, and most of the guests are lounging by the swimming pool. This hallway is deserted. “And aren't you supposed to address me more politely?”

“If there's nothing else, I’d like to go where the other guests are, Sir,” she repeats herself, adding the honorific at the end begrudgingly.


When faced with the choice between obeying me and losing her job, she chooses the option that makes her money, even if she has to sacrifice a little dignity doing so. This girl has a price, just like everybody else.

What makes her interesting is how much she seems to resent that, and how openly she displays that resentment. She's transparent.

I’d love to see her genuine reactions to my hands all over her, my fingers inside her. Fuck, I’d love to spread her legs and plunge balls deep inside her. I’d watch her face as I do, her lips parting in lust to let a breathy moan escape, her eyes begging for more even if she doesn't want to say it.

“Oh, but there is something else. I'm sure you'll want to hear this,” I say.

She continues to look back into my eyes with defiance, not knowing I’m going to crush that disobedience out of her.

I'm not done with her. Far from it. She's wrong if she thinks she's going to walk away just like that.



“Daisy, right?” He takes one step closer, fixing his piercing gaze on me like he’s a lion stalking his prey. Confident, unhurried, dangerous.

I want to step back away from him, but there's something about him that freezes me in place. He's looking at me like he's about to pounce on me if I so much as make a move in the wrong direction.

“Yes, Sir,” I say with as much fight as I can muster. My heart hammers in my rib cage. My eyes follow his movements as he inspects me like he's about to eat me alive. My insides grow warmer from his intense attention. I feel funny, like there's something stirring in my core, reacting to his presence.

I’ve never felt like this before; it's terrifying.

It doesn't help that I'm practically naked. It makes me feel vulnerable, especially when he looks so put together in his navy-blue designer suit that shows off his tall, lean physique perfectly.

I thought I was already feeling self-conscious before, walking around in skimpy lingerie while all around me, high-society ladies swish by in their dazzling gowns, their hair perfectly styled and their bodies adorned with bright, shiny gemstones. But Caine is much more intimidating than all the guests at this party combined.

There's an easy, casual grace to his every move. His gestures are so fluid they're hypnotizing. He's refined, almost feline-like. He's in his element here in this ritzy mansion, while I’m completely out of my depth.

Now I know why people keep deadly exotic animals as pets. There's something magnetic about them, something about that deadliness itself that makes you want to see if you can get close and survive, like some kind of a suicidal teenager’s idea of a bravery challenge.

“Do you know who I am?” He smirks like he already knows the answer.

A part of me wants to say no just to spite him, maybe make him see he’s not as important as he thinks he is. At the same time, I feel like he’d see right through me. I can't hurt his vanity when he’s fully aware of what a big deal he is.

“Yes, Sir,” I say without breaking eye contact.

“Who am I, then?”

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