The Billionaire's Unwanted Virgin(7)

By: Doris O Connor

Now there was a thing he hadn't seen in a while. An honest to goodness blush on a woman. He didn't know women still did that, not unless they wanted something, but little Alice in front of him couldn't even look at him. Every pore of her being quivered in embarrassment and confusion, and Lakota's instincts were screaming at him that on this occasion at least, this woman—this contradiction in terms—seemed genuine. How he knew that he couldn't even begin to explain to himself, and that thought made him angry.

She had to have an agenda; they all did. It was just his dick talking, that's all. Lust clouded a man's brain, and this woman ticked all the right boxes to have his long forgotten libido sit up and scream at him to take what was his. And she was his. He'd bought her after all.

"That's where you're mistaken, little Alice." He smiled at the way her blush deepened and her breathing hitched. Not in embarrassment this time, but temper. Sure enough she stamped her foot and glared at him.

"Will you stop calling me that? I am not little, and I have not followed some rabbit down a hole to get here."

Lakota laughed, and she grumbled under her breath. He'd just bet she'd sound like that in the throes of passion. He shifted his weight to ease the discomfort in his groin, and that blush of hers deepened to a bright scarlet when her gaze darted briefly to his crotch, before she wrenched her eyes upwards and pointedly stared at a spot over his left shoulder.

"Not a rabbit, no, just the proverbial carrot," he said. "Tell me, what is the minimum amount you'd have sold your virtue for? That is, if indeed you're still as intact as you claim to be."

She gasped and balled her hands into fists.

"How dare you? I had those humiliating tests to prove that I am, and you know full well what my reserve was. And I couldn't sell anything, if there weren't perverts like your brother in this world willing to pay for it." As though she realized what she'd said she clamped a hand over her mouth in horror, and Lakota smiled in grim amusement.

"Lucky for you, he was, otherwise you wouldn't be cashing in now, would you? At my expense I might add. It's my money that paid for that winning bid, and thus it's me who owns you, little Alice. And before you ask, I have no fucking clue what your reserve was, as it's not me who wanted to deflower you. I prefer my women experienced in bed, not a whimpering virgin who'll likely pass out when she sees my cock."

He was all too aware that he was overstepping the line, his words intended to wound, but something about the way she protested her innocence, as though she'd been wronged in this somehow, grated on his nerves. He wasn't a cruel man per se, though his business adversaries might disagree with that statement, but little Alice here made him wish for things that he had no business wishing for.

He wanted to believe in her innocence, and at the same time it was an unwanted complication he didn't need, even if it played right into his hands.

All the previous flush of heat drained away and left her naturally pale skin so white, for a moment he wondered whether she was going to pass out. Instead she straightened her shoulders again in that unconscious way he'd observed her doing so several times now, and took a deep breath. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, she was the image of restrained dignity.

"I am going to pretend you didn't just say that to me, Mr. …?" She raised her eyebrows and waited for him to fill her in on his name.

"Just call me Lance," he said.

"Lance? I'd have expected a more unusual name." She glanced toward the edges of his tattoo just visible above the sleeve of his shirt. "What is your tribal name? You do have one, haven't you?"

He was so flummoxed by her directness that he replied without thinking, "Lakota."

She nodded and smiled. A tight, reserved, incredibly polite smile, that made him feel lacking somehow.

"Sioux?" she asked.

At his nod, she murmured, "figures," under her breath before continuing. "So, Lakota, as I was saying, I am going to pretend you didn't just say all that to me." She glared at him again and stabbed her index finger into his chest repeatedly.

"You may be rich, you may be grieving, and I am sorry for your loss, but I did not come here to be insulted. I came here for a business transaction, that's all. So, if you are indeed now my owner as you so succinctly put it, then let's get this over with. Claim what's yours, give me what I've earned, and we never have to see each other again. Problem solved."