His Nasty Virgin

JESSE

3:00 a. m.

I was most productive at night. I didn’t buy into this modern-day notion that you had to be an early riser and get straight to the hustle. I knew my body, and what I was capable of. I’d prefer working late into the evening over dragging myself out of bed any day.

Except today was different. Today my mind was foggy, and my eyelids were heavy. I was on my fourth cup of tea, but it didn’t help much to stave off the threat of sleep. I couldn’t go to bed, though. Not when I was juggling a million things at once. A part of me was worried that if I relented and took a breather -just as Devin had been telling me to- I’d never find the strength to start back up again.

It was better this way. I’d rather barrel through, full steam ahead.

Between managing things at the firm, dealing with my son’s acts of rebellion, and constantly checking in on the perimeter of my penthouse turned safehouse, I also found myself distracted by memories of Vivian.

The smell of her hair. The silky softness of her skin. The taste of her lips. The way she threw her head back and sighed in contentment when she came.C0ntent © 2024 (N/ô)velDrama.Org.

The look of disappointment she gave me.

I huffed, rubbing my eyes. I had a nasty headache thanks to the glare of my laptop’s screen.

I wasn’t sure why it bothered me so much, Vivian looking at me like that. But what else was I supposed to do? I needed to put my foot down for Wally’s sake. I found no joy in being the strict parent, but he would thank me later.

I knew firsthand just how hard life could be without a good education and a secure job. I watched my father toil away, day in and day out, struggling to scrape together enough funds to keep food on the table. We lived paycheck to paycheck, barely getting by. It was no way to live. There was no freedom in it. I was only trying to make sure that my son was set up for a comfortable future.

Why couldn’t he understand that?

It would be too easy to blame Melissa for Wally’s behavior. She’d always been a free spirit. The fun mom. The good cop in all our disciplinary scenarios. She was the first one he’d go to when he wanted something, or when I told him no. Melissa never had any qualms about being the favorite.

I rubbed my temples. The pressure behind my eyes was excruciating, but I still had several emails to draft and a day of plans to approve for my security teams out in the field on active details. It was hard doing this from home. I had none of the resources I needed to do my job.

Confidential files stayed at the office. I could access them remotely on my laptop, but only after jumping through several hoops to make copies and destroying them the second I was done.

I made a mental note to ask Devin to make a work portal of sorts for remote work. It could prove beneficial for my employees. I sent him a quick text before I could remember what time it was. My phone pinged a second later.

Go the fuck to sleep.

Maybe he had a point. I wasn’t sure when it happened, but I somehow hit the point where my efficiency rate dropped off and took a steep skydive into nothing. As much as I hated to admit it, I was exhausted. I could keep working, but the chances of making mistakes were exponentially proportional to how tired I was.

Behind me, shuffling footsteps caught my attention.

I closed my laptop and turned, spotting a familiar bun of shiny black hair. Vivian yawned wide, stretching her arms as she did. A simple white tank top and a pair of neon pink shorts caught my eye. Individually, they were harmless articles of clothing. On her, it was enough to give me a heart attack. No amount of tofu and a healthy diet could prepare me for the way my pulse spiked. “What are you doing up?” I asked.

She smirked. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

“Work. You?”

“Anxious.”

I frowned. “Talk to me.”

Vivian shrugged, walking toward me. “I don’t know. If you told me a week ago that I’d be on the run from a powerful cartel, I would have laughed and told you to ease up on the sauce.”

“I call that a regular Tuesday.”

She laughed softly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m scared for Molly. Can’t stop thinking about her. I hope she’s alright. I think I feel guilty, too, because I’m safe here with you and she’s-” Her voice choked, a mixture of anger and sadness in her eyes. “We were placed in the same foster home. We were both seventeen, about to age out of the program. I think that’s why we got along so well.

Kindred spirits, about to brave the unknown.” “Foster home?” I echoed, curiosity piqued.

Vivian nodded, leaning against my arm slightly. “My parents weren’t… the best people. Scumbags, to tell you the truth. Addicts, though I’m not sure what they were addicted to. Whatever they could get their hands on, I guess.”

A boiling rage brewed in the pit of my stomach. The thought of Vivian, young and helpless, clawed its way through my mind. All alone. Nobody to take care of her, to protect her.

“Did they ever hurt you?” I asked through gritted teeth.

She took my hand and squeezed my fingers. “No. Don’t worry, Jesse.”

“It’s inexcusable.”

“And that’s why social services took me away.”

She said it so simply, without a hint of emotion. Just another boring fact like the sky being blue and that birds could fly and bad parents had their children taken away to live elsewhere.

“How old were you?” I asked.

“Eight. Spent the next ten years going from home to home.” Vivian smiled gently. “It wasn’t so bad. Some families were nice. Three square meals a day. They let me go to school. I bought myself new clothes when I outgrew my old ones. Almost got adopted by a family once.”

I held her hand tight. “What happened?”

“They wound up getting pregnant. They’d been trying for years. And, well… there was no longer any need to keep me in the picture. With their miracle baby on the way, they didn’t feel like they had the space to take care of me anymore, so I was shipped off to the next place.”

The air in my lungs burned. How could someone do that to her, to any child?

“Stop.”

I blinked. “What?”

“I know that look. I don’t want you pitying me.” “It’s not pity,” I insisted.

“Then what is it?”

I didn’t have an answer. There were no words to describe what I was feeling. Frustration. Horror. An overwhelming need to protect her.

I settled for pulling her into a hug instead. Vivian settled against me, burying her face in the crook of my neck. She smelled divine, as always. Warm like the summer sun.

I wasn’t sure how long we were locked in each other’s embrace. A few seconds. A few minutes. A whole hour. It didn’t matter. What did matter was that she felt so unbelievably right in my arms. Deceptively small and soft, but I knew better. She was a firecracker with a sharp tongue and a quick wit, which made it even more fascinating to see her so vulnerable. Just for me.

“Do you think we can watch a movie or something?” she murmured against my skin, her breath hot against my neck.

I was about to tell her that it was too late for that sort of thing. If anything, the stimulation of all the colors dancing off the screen would keep her awake. There was also the added issue of noise. I didn’t want to risk waking Wally, even though I knew for a fact that my son was a deep sleeper.

But she peered up at me with her doe eyes and I realized I was overthinking. For her, I’d make an exception. All the exceptions.

I took her hand and guided her to the living room. She curled up against me when we sat down on the couch, pulling her knees close to her chest while fitting in the crook of my arm. She frowned at the far wall.

“Uh, where’s your TV?” she asked.

I picked up the remote from off the coffee table and pressed a button. The projector screen lowered, unfurling from the mount on the ceiling. The projector suspended above our heads flicked on, specks of dust glittering in its light beam.

“Fancy,” Vivian commented. I couldn’t tell if she was genuinely impressed or being sarcastic.

“What do you feel like watching?”

“Something where I don’t have to think too hard.”

I surfed the channels until we found a late-night run of a nature documentary, the British narrator’s low voice commentating as various animals traversed the length of the frame.

This was all so strange, and at the same time, not at all.

I couldn’t remember the last time I sat down to watch TV. I was so used to my rigid routine that something as simple as a documentary made me feel restless. I had things to do, work to take care of, and security cameras to check. What was I doing watching giraffes eating leaves off tall branches when I could be-

“I can hear you thinking.” Vivian watched me intently, an almost studious level of concentration in her gaze.

“I wasn’t thinking about anything,” I insisted.

“Liar.” She snuggled even closer. “Just try to relax.”

“I am relaxed.”

“Do you want to know what your tell is?” Vivian grinned. “Whenever you lie, your voice gets flat. Like you’re afraid your intonation will give you away.”

“Have you been studying me?”

“Maybe.”

I leaned in a little closer. “You think you’ve got me all figured out, don’t you?”

Vivian nibbled her bottom lip. “I have a pretty good idea.”

“Enlighten me.”

“When you’re stressed, you hold your breath. I don’t think you’re aware of it. You clench your jaw and carry all the tension in your shoulders.”

“Most people tend to.”

“And when you’re happy or when something pleases you, you have this crooked little grin.” Vivian brought a hand up to trace the corner of my mouth, the caress soft and fleeting. “I think it’s cute.”

I swallowed, hypnotized by her sweet scent. “What else?” I whispered.

“When you’re turned on…” she said softly, eyes searching my face. “When you’re turned on, your pupils blow wide. Your throat gets dry, so you swallow more, and when you look at me…” “What?” I urged.

She placed a hand on my knee, sliding her palm up the inside of my thigh. “You look at me like you want to devour me whole,” she mumbled against my lips. Not quite a kiss, yet somehow so much sexier.

I held back a groan. “Vivian, we can’t.”

She shrank away, small and defeated. “Is it because you don’t want me?”

“Because I won’t be able to stop myself.” I cupped her face to keep her from retreating any further. “Because…”

“What?”

I sighed. “Because I want to bend you over the back of this couch and have my way with you. I want to pin you to the wall and make you scream with pleasure. I want to rip those fucking shorts off and live between your thighs until you’re sick of me.”

Vivian bit her bottom lip, her cheeks and neck flushed with heat. “Then do it.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking, Vivian.”

“Yes, I do.”

We were at a standoff, but we both knew the truth. I was hanging on by a thread. I wanted her, and she knew it. She wanted me, and I knew it.

On the screen, a lioness was prowling her territory, her lion circling nearby.

“Get up,” I ordered, not a hint of regret for caving in so easily.