Claire: The Forced Virgin Of The Billionaire

“My life was stolen.” I pointed accusingly at him, “Stolen and I am the f*****g dumb girl who just gave it to you. You took it but you’re pissed at the man who didn’t let me escape you to save himself? And now you just want me to agree to marry you. Like it’s the most normal thing in the world. All while following your rules, two rules that will keep me on your good side. I think. But I don’t even know because you’re so unpredictable. Now you tell me my father is going to be forbidden from attending our wedding, a wedding I have no choice but to be in, because he had the audacity to be afraid of your family and do what your uncle demanded? How are you better than him?” I stopped talking and dashed the tears off my cheeks with the backs of my hands.

He put his palms on my knees and leaned close to my face, “I’m not better than anyone. I’m worse than most. Life with me isn’t gonna be a cake walk. Not even close. But here’s the thing. I’m crazy about you. I want that feeling I get, that beautiful feeling when I crawl in bed beside you every night and the feeling I get when I wake up beside you in the morning when you’re wrapped around me like you can’t get close enough to me. I think about you constantly. The happiest I’ve been ever since I can remember has been when I’m inside you, followed closely by waking up with you wrapped around me. I wake up in f*****g bliss every morning, Claire. Bliss. This is all new for me. My sleepless nights? Gone since you. I want this.” He touched my face. I flinched. He continued, “Don’t pull away. I know my Uncle had no right to force your father to betray you when you ran away from me and practically give you to me but he did and I know it makes me a bad guy that I agreed to it. But I’m not giving you back. And I’m not sorry that I took you. You’re the best thing in my life, baby. How can I feel bad about that? Try to forget how we got started and just…” He stopped talking for a moment and took a deep breath, “Let me take care of you. I’ll protect you with my own life. You know that’s the truth.”

I shook my head, determined not to let his sweet little speech penetrate my suit of armor, “What choice do I have, right? I have no choice.”

He stood up and reached for my hand, “How about you choose to forget how we started and just give this a chance.”

I shook my head, “Just bury my emotions and forget everything you’ve done? It doesn’t matter as long as I obey you, right? It doesn’t matter how I feel about it as long as I do it, right?”

I got up without taking his hand and started to walk past him but he stopped me by shackling my wrist with his hand and then he pushed me back against a tree and pinned me with his h**s, “I care about how you feel, baby. We have something,” he said, “Don’t let your anger at him take away from what you’re feeling for me. Don’t feel bad for wanting to be with me because you think you’re supposed to feel bad.”

“When did I say I wanted to be with you?”

His eyes narrowed.

“When did I ever say that?”

“You’re a damn fine actress if that’s just an act. If you expect me to believe that you haven’t warmed up to me since Mexico…”

“Well you already knew that though, didn’t you? You told me how damn fine I was at acting that night we had that date! It’s your game, man; I’m just a player.” I snapped this using mock quotes in the air at the word ‘date’.

He backed up and folded his arms, “You’re trying to provoke me. You’re trying to provoke me so that I’ll do something to give you a reason to hate me. It won’t work.” He stared deadpan at me.© 2024 Nôv/el/Dram/a.Org.

He backed up and folded his arms, “You’re trying to provoke me. You’re trying to provoke me so that I’ll do something to give you a reason to hate me. It won’t work.” He stared deadpan at me.

I huffed and narrowed my eyes, “I already hate you. Can we go? Master? I’m getting eaten alive.”

He smiled at me with a devilish dangerous smile, flaring nostrils, but holding out his hand. I didn’t take it. I walked ahead of him.

“You’re acting like a child,” he mused.

“Well why don’t you find someone to marry who’s your own age?” I snapped.

He laughed again but the laugh wasn’t jovial or hearty. He sounded dangerously close to the edge.

I was an i***t for provoking him. Soon we’d be alone and what’d he do then? What sort of punishment would he dole out? And his declaration? Those words were trying to melt me but I was refusing to acknowledge it.

Before long we were back at his bike and he was putting the helmet on my head and fastening the strap. He was staring right into my eyes and the look on his face was intimidating the heck out of me but I was trying to not crumble. My chin started to tremble, involuntarily, and I was getting mad at myself because I knew I was going to cry in front of him. Again. I cried when I was angry. I cried when I was sad, happy, frustrated. I cried too f*****g much and it never did me any good.