Claire: The Forced Virgin Of The Billionaire

“Rough or sweet?” I said into her ear, wanting, for some inexplicable reason, for her to feel in control right now. I looked into her eyes and tried to show her the tenderness I felt for her.Text content © NôvelDrama.Org.

“Rough,” she answered very softly and it made my heart soar. Her giving me control wanting rough, when she could keep it sweet, when she could keep control of me was such a gift. She was made for me.

I gave her a little smile and she must’ve read my mind because she swallowed hard and looked like she might’ve wanted to backpedal. That hesitation, the fear in her eyes, it got me hard. So hard.

Claire’s POV

I didn’t understand why I was opting for dominating Azriel when he was offering to be blindfolded-themed dinner date Azriel but I craved rough right now. I wanted him to pound me hard, to pull my hair, to spank me. What on earth was wrong with me?

Maybe I felt like I’d wanted to beat myself up after finding out Dad sold me down the river. Maybe having Azriel pull the pain out of me would help me find the release I needed, would pull it out from where it was, sitting in the middle of my gut, clawing at my stomach. I wanted to feel it fully so I could then let it go.

Was it screwed up to want the pain to be real and tangible instead of inside me? Maybe. Probably. But then I could feel it and let it out. I wanted release. And I hoped that like other times that afterwards he’d hold me and caress me, let me have a cathartic release. And he’d get something out of it, too. I tingled at the idea of pleasing him.

His grip on my wrists tightened and he started grinding his hard c**k against me. Then he let go of my wrists but grunted, “Don’t move,” into my ear. He unzipped my denim skirt and shimmied it off my h**s. Then he grabbed the waistband of my baby blue cotton panties and ripped them clean off of me, tearing them somewhere. The tearing sound startled me, making this morph from hot to sordid, dirty. I reached quickly in modesty but he warned, “I said don’t move,” his eyes changed, got even more intense. He pinned my wrists above my head with one hand. I felt so exposed out here in the open air.

Then he undid his pants and freed his c**k and in one move, rammed it into me to the hilt. I gasped. He gathered the length of my hair into his fist and used it to pull my face to his cheek and started hammering into me. His other hand went under my rear end and he held me by it, digging his fingers into my flesh and it hurt. That hurt, the ground wasn’t exactly soft, and he was pulling my hair but then the sensation inside of me, the sensation of him plunging in over and over, was good. Real good. He got my earlobe between his teeth and he wasn’t biting hard but his hot breath in my ear sent tingles over my body in waves. I willed the tension to leave my body and when I felt that moment of surrender, that moment of just giving myself over to what he was doing, it felt like a release. Even if it was sordid and dirty it was what I needed right now.

He let go of my bottom and then his fingers were between us, rubbing my clit. I opened my eyes and saw the clouds moving over us in the sky, saw birds in flight, and my nostrils were filled with scents of grass, of loam, of my arousal, of Azriel’s spicy warm scent. I was ready to climax, my breathing getting shallow and faster, but then he stopped. Just stopped. He pulled out and his fingers left me and he looked down at me with a wicked look in his eyes, “Do you want to come?”

I must’ve stared blankly at him in my shock.

“Do you?” he repeated.

I nodded a little. It felt like my heart rate was moving to a dangerously high tempo. How fast was it going? Double, triple? He arched a brow and leaned back, breaking contact completely.

“Azriel,” I croaked out, my voice hoarse. Tears stung my eyes. I wanted release. I didn’t want to be teased right now. It was like he knew how badly I needed it and was reveling in this moment where I was ready to beg for it. He grabbed my rear end and then slammed into me once and then pulled out. A tear slid down my cheek. He kissed it away.

“What do you say?” he asked.

I tried to look past him, up at the clouds.

“Look at me,” he demanded.

I met his eyes and saw a flash of tenderness but then the hardness returned, “I’ll ask you again. Do you want to come?”

I wanted to burst into tears and say No. Because suddenly I didn’t want to be here. I wanted to be somewhere else, anywhere else, somewhere alone. But I didn’t say No. I searched my brain for the right answer.

He moved his mouth closer, our noses nearly touching, “Claire,” he whispered and as much as I knew he could see the need in my eyes I could hear that same need in his voice.

“Yeah?”

“Say please.”