Revenge: A Bad Boy Romance (33 page)

My ‘no-virgins’ rule had already been in place when Naomi added her notch to my bedpost, but my experience with her led me to bumping the rule up to number one. My golden rule. No virgins.

If I’d stuck by the golden rule then the introduction to my new step-father would have been a lot less painful. He’d still be an uptight dick, but at least I wouldn’t have to look at him thinking about how I saw his daughter wince as she was penetrated for the first time.

I blame my decision last week on the toxic combination of alcohol, surprise, and a serious case of blue balls. Vicky caught me after a few drinks and I’d been so taken aback by her blunt proposal that I found myself thinking about it—or rather, my cock did—before I could remember my golden rule.

I’d also been a week without ejaculating which was almost a record for me. I hadn’t gone that long since I was about thirteen. A bad cold had kept me locked up in the penthouse so I couldn’t go out and get laid or hook up with any of my casual fuck buddies.

The temptation of masturbation had raised its purple head a few times, but I’d resisted. I liked to save up as big a load as possible for the next lucky lady. Better on some hot blonde’s face than in a tissue. That was rule number two.

Considering all those factors, I didn’t really have a choice but to fuck Vicky. Three times in one night. My cock made the decision immediately and it had taken just a few minutes for my brain to catch up. I took in the eighteen-year-old virgin in a buttoned up blouse and knee-length skirt standing in front of me; how could I resist?

Vicky had been a good fuck for a virgin. Hell, who am I kidding, she’d been a good fuck period. I’d assumed one fuck would be enough and that she would be too sore to go again, but she took me by surprise by rounds two and three later on. That girl must have watched a fair bit of porn because she knew how to ride a guy and get into the rhythm of it.

“I’m going to get a drink,” I said, standing up and rearranging my pants to hide my erection. Now my cock was stiffening in my pants and pressing against the denim. That little sweetheart had me hard when she wasn’t even in the room. “A real drink.”

I walked into the kitchen to find Vicky splashing cold water on her face. At least she was as distraught by all this as I was. She certainly hadn’t known this news was coming, so I could rule out her invitation for sex being some weird ‘welcome to the family’ thing.

“I do know how to get a woman all hot and bothered,” I said, admiring her ass in her jeans. I hadn’t fucked her from behind last week and I was beginning to regret the omission. There was a nice ass under those tight jeans. God only knows why she insisted on wearing boring, long skirts all the time.

“Piss off,” she said quietly, not turning to face me.

The little angel never cussed, so saying ‘fucking’ in front of her father and then telling me to ‘piss off’ was a big deal for her.

“I’d take you a lot more seriously if you didn’t sound like the Queen when you told me to ‘piss off,’ ” I said, emphasizing the last words in my best English accent.

She finally turned round to glare at me. Her face was red like it had been that night except now she looked mad instead of in a post-orgasmic glow. Why did I keep thinking back to that night? Had it really been that memorable? She’d been a virgin for fuck’s sake. How good could it have been?

“You knew,” she snarled. “You knew didn’t you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I replied. She looked hot when she was angry. I wanted to turn her round and carry on where we left off a week ago. I looked around the kitchen and started opening cupboards until I found Roy’s liquor cabinet.

“You can’t drink anything from there,” Vicky said. She leant over and shut the door, almost trapping my fingers inside. “That’s daddy’s alcohol. He won’t want you drinking it.”

“Daddy?” I said, laughing in her face. “You call him Daddy? Jesus Christ, you’re such a child. Please tell me you are actually eighteen. I haven’t fucked a minor have I?”

“Yes, I’m eighteen, pillock.”
Pillock?
Was that another insult? I hadn’t picked up on all the British terms yet. “Besides, the age of consent in England is sixteen. Don’t worry, you won’t be going to jail. Not unless it’s a crime to be shit in bed.”

I grabbed a hold of her hand which was still blocking my way to the liquor cabinet. “I could taste your essence on my lips for days after,” I said, looking into her eyes. “You can say what you like about that night, but your pussy can’t lie.”

She yanked her hand free and headed towards the exit but stopped when she realized that would just lead back to the living room. She didn’t want to be in there right now any more than I did.

I poured myself a large glass of scotch and took a sip. I added a few drops of water, but didn’t add ice. This whisky deserved to be drunk straight.

“Daddy… Dad’s going to be furious,” she said. “That’s about £30 of liquid you’ve poured into that glass.”

“Well, I have to hand it to your dad. He has good taste. In alcohol anyway. Women, not so much.”

“He married my mom,” Vicky said. “If you knew her, you’d know his taste in women is just fine. Besides, he’s marrying your mom and she’s a remarkable woman.”

I rolled my eyes and took another long sip of the whisky. This bottle wouldn’t last long if I had to spend much more time around Vicky.

“Please don’t tell me you’re a fan of mother dearest?” I asked. The last thing I needed was another of Mom’s adoring fans worshiping her every move.

“Of course I’m a fan,” Vicky said. “I have all of her cookbooks.” She motioned to a large collection of cookbooks in the corner of the kitchen. “Sheri’s one of my favorite celebrity chefs.”

“She’s not a celebrity,” I replied instantly. “She’s an average cook who got lucky. And you shouldn’t worship her. If you knew half the true story you wouldn’t like her either.”

“You’re as ungrateful as you are immature. I bet she’s given you everything you ever wanted and now you’re just rebelling to prove how tough you are. It’s pathetic.”

“Sheri’s done jack-shit for me except cause me no end of stress.”

“Yeah? Who’s paying for that London penthouse you’ve lived in these past few months? You know, the place with more whores going in and out than…”

“Than?”

“Than a whore house.”

“Oh, good one. I don’t know how I’m going to be able to match you in this battle of wits.”

She grabbed her glass and refilled it with water. “Just leave me alone will you. This is tough enough for me without having the constant reminder of my big mistake last week staring me in the face.”

Her
big mistake? She couldn’t have asked for a better first time than the one I had given her. How many virgins had sex three times the first night and came at least as often?  

“Which time was the mistake, sweetheart? Was it when I ate your pussy? The first fuck? Second? Third?”

“Shut up,” she yelled, pulling me away from the door to the far end of the kitchen. “Jesus, my dad is just through the door and so is your mom. Do you want them to know their children had sex?”

“I don’t care,” I lied. “Mom knows I like to spread the love around a bit. She’d be surprised if I
hadn’t
fucked you.”

“Well I’m not like that and my father thinks I’m still a virgin. I’d appreciate it staying that way for as long as possible.”

“Is that why you dress like a virgin?” I asked. My fingers reached out and quickly opened the top button of her blouse with an experienced flick of my fingers. It wasn’t enough to see any of those sweet, perky titties, but I felt my erection growing in my pants anyway.

What the hell was wrong with me? I couldn’t see much more than her collarbone and I was already getting aroused.

“Don’t touch me.” She tried to sound mad, but she didn’t do the button back up and made no attempt to push me away. She wanted me again. I could see it in her eyes.  

“Do you think about me at night?” I asked. “When you’re in bed naked?”

“No. Never.”

She leaned back against the kitchen counter to create some space between us and pushed her tits towards me in the process. I could rip that blouse open and be sucking on those titties within seconds and she’d love it. That wasn’t anger in her eyes; it was desire. She was fighting it, but I could see the passion there.

“You’re lying,” I said, leaning forward and whispering in ear. “I bet you lie in bed each night and think of me as your fingers move towards that tight wet pussy of yours. Tell me, do you prefer to rub your clit or stick your fingers inside your cunt?”

“You’re disgusting,” she said, turning her head to one side. She couldn’t look at me anymore.

“I bet you’re wet right now. God, I can practically smell your wet—”

I stopped talking when I heard a noise behind me, but I didn’t move away. Vicky reacted quicker. She pushed me back to create a gap between us. I ended up standing right next to my drink which I picked up just in time for Roy to walk into the kitchen.

“What the hell is going on in here?” he yelled. I didn’t know whether he meant my violation of his whisky or his daughter.

I’d lost her.  

Where had she gone? She was beautiful and fully deserved the opportunity to place her lips around my cock later tonight.

Somewhere in this room of lawyers and other equally boring people was an absolutely stunning young woman who’d caught my eye while I’d been stuck talking to one of the partners at my firm. By the time I’d ended the conversation, she’d disappeared.

I cast my gaze around the room, but couldn’t find her. Still, there was plenty of time and I only needed ten minutes to work my magic. Better make that fifteen. Women at networking functions always took a little more effort, and you had to pretend to be interested in their careers first.  

When did I become one of those lawyers who went to networking events?

Lawyers and potential clients mingled and partook in the weird dance that was professional networking, talking to people for long enough to get a business card and know whether they might be any use.  

This gathering was hosted by one of the large law firms right here in downtown Washington, D.C. I hated these events, but I had to get my name out there, and this function was so close to my office, I’d be an idiot to miss it.  

Nearly everyone here was in their forties, apart from the eager looking young attorneys desperate to further their fledgling careers by sucking up to some of the partners. There were even a few law students milling about hoping to make connections and land a job to help repay the six figures of debt they would have on graduation. I didn’t envy them, but that didn’t mean I could be bothered to help them either.  

I needed a drink. I headed to the bar and settled for a European lager. It was either that, or a cheap-looking wine. The firm could easily have paid for better quality, but they didn’t want people having too much to drink. Serving shitty wine was a subtle way of making sure the guests limited their intake.

A fellow M&A lawyer from another firm had cornered one of my old law school buddies and was currently boring him senseless with talk of all the deals he’d closed recently. I knew he would rather do anything other than talk about work, so I decided to help him out.