His Nasty Virgin

I close my eyes. It might not be possible to die from too many orgasms, but I’m pretty sure it is possible to die from humiliation. “Please say something.”

“You need to eat.”

That surprises me enough that I lift my head to look at him. “What?”

“You passed out before we had dinner last night, and you barely had a snack for lunch. Breakfast this morning is non-negotiable.” He studies my face. “You haven’t slept much, either, since you found out what he did.”

I can feel my face heating with something like guilt. “I think I can be forgiven for having a stress response to finding out my fiance is fucking his secretary.” Not just fucking. Dating. I’d almost forgotten. My stomach twists in knots at the reminder. “For me, that means I don’t sleep much and sometimes I forget to eat. It’ll pass.”

Shane doesn’t seem the least bit happy with my response. “That’s bullshit. You choose not to take care of yourself.”

“That’s about enough of that.” I sit up, but I only make it that far before he’s got me pinned to the bed, his big body wedged between my legs. I glare at his throat, refusing to meet his gaze. “I’ll eat breakfast, okay? Let me up.”

“Lily.” He sounds so severe that I shiver. “Look at me.”

I don’t want to. I want to squeeze my eyes shut and ignore whatever he’s about to say. I can’t deny him, though. I’ve lost the ability somewhere along the way in the last two days. Slowly, oh so slowly, I meet his gaze. “Happy?”

“No, I’m not fucking happy. I see what he’s done to you and what you’re doing to yourself in response. Do you thinkMaterial © NôvelDrama.Org.

it’s going to hurt him if you hurt yourself?”

I flinch. “That’s not what I’m aiming for.”

“You sure about that?” His brows draw together. “You know what goes with sleep loss and lack of food? Things get muddled in your head. You think you’re going to be the teacher those kids need when you’re not taking care of yourself because you’re so busy crying over some guy who didn’t deserve you.”

Oh, bringing my students into this is a low blow. I can’t fight that argument, because I know he’s right, so I focus on the one thing I do have a response to. “Some guy. You sure don’t have much nice to say about your fucking son right now.”

“No, I don’t.” He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t look away. “You can throw him in my face if you want, but it doesn’t change anything.”

“I might like you being my Daddy, but I already have a father.”

His expression goes positively forbidding. “Your father might not spank you anymore, but I won’t hesitate to paddle your ass if I think you need it.”

I’m breathing hard, but I can’t tell if it’s because I’m furious or turned on. “Fuck you, Shane.”

“There goes that mouth again.” He sits back. I try to push him off, but he’s too gloriously strong. He flips me onto my stomach with ease and drags me to the edge of the mattress. Once again, I try to straighten, and just like he did yesterday morning, he pins me down with a hand at the back of my neck.

“Don’t you fucking dare!”

His hand comes down hard on my ass. I barely have a chance to process the sting when he hits my other cheek. I shriek in fury. But the pain gets all tangled up in my head and I’m fighting not to grind against the edge of the mattress as he spanks me again. A fourth time, and my breath is sobbing from my throat.

Shane massages my ass, which makes things both better and worse. “Someone has to take care of you, baby girl. You obviously can’t be trusted to do it yourself.”

I fist the comforter and bite my bottom lip hard. I’ll be damned before I beg him to touch me. But I can’t help widening my stand the tiniest bit. A silent question.

He gives a dark chuckle. “Look at you. You want my fingers inside you and you can’t even bring yourself to ask me. You’re doing a hell of a job of proving my point.”

“I am exceedingly angry with you right now,” I grind out.

“I bet.” His thumb starts at the small of my back and traces down to where I wore the plug yesterday. He circles me. “You’ll wear the plug again today.”

“Shane-”

His breath ghosts across my smarting flesh, and then he kisses the lower curve of my ass. “You want to be a good girl, don’t you, Lily?”

I want to tell him to fuck off again, but I like what he’s doing too much to risk him stopping. And, even more, something in me goes soft as he moves to my other cheek, soothing the still-stinging ass. “Yes, Daddy,” I whisper.

He rises without giving me what I want. “Get ready and meet me downstairs.”

I straighten awkwardly and stumble into the bathroom without looking at him. I have the most ridiculous urge to cry again, but I can’t even begin to say why. I’ve already come so many times this morning, that I don’t know if I can take more even if he was willing.

My pussy aches. My ass hurts. My fucking heart is a murky mess.

I take my time getting ready and take even longer in the shower as if I can wash away the very memory of him. It’s an impossible task, even if I wanted to purge the memories. He’s imprinted on my very skin.

Once I’m dried off, I turn and look at my ass in the mirror. It’s bright red and I can already tell there will be bruises. I should be angry about that, but the knowledge that I’ll wear his marks even after we’re done makes me smile a little. Complicated. This whole thing is so fucking complicated.