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Buying the Virgin

The Girl Who Sold Herself - Chapter Forty-One

“So, Charlotte,” says my Master, “the choices are: “Do you want to fuck now? Or wait a while, until Michael returns, to make love?”

Did he have to say it like that?

Something inside me crumples. I swallow hard, looking down, refusing to meet my Master’s face, as my eyes well.

“Charlotte what’s wrong?” His voice is sharp, then with one finger, he tilts up my chin, forcing me to look him in the face. I fight back tears. I will not cry in front of my Master. But his face softens.

“Charlotte. What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

I don’t speak. I just stand there, chewing my lip, resisting the pricking at the back of my eyes.

He takes a breath. I can almost see him replaying the last minute or so in his head. Then he stares up at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it like that, should I?”

He releases his grip on my wrists but keeps me caged against the wall, by his body.

“Charlotte. Do you really believe, that I don’t feel anything for you?”

My voice is small. “But you never have said so, Master. Not once.”

“And I need to?” He does not smile. His eyes are depthless, dark. “Charlotte, say something. Talk to me.”

“I’m not looking for sunset and rainbows, Master. I know that was never in the deal. How could it be? I’m just the girl you bought. But….”

“But...?”

“But…. I want to feel that I’m more to you than just someone you have sex with….”

Now he looks exasperated. “Charlotte. If all I wanted, was someone to ‘have sex with’, as you put it, I’d still…. Michael and I would still… be visiting the clubs several times a week, as we did before you entered the picture. We were never short of choice. Without wishing to blow my own trumpet, l, and Michael, are pretty good at what we do, and neither of us is bad looking. We always found what we wanted, when we went looking….”

Still, I say nothing. What do I say?

“……. And these days, we don’t go looking…”

He sighs, his voice gentle, soft. “I’m sorry if I upset you. I didn’t mean to.” He strokes a lock of hair behind my ear, then, wrapping his arms around me, he pulls me to him and kisses me.

The kiss is deep, long, passionate… impassioned…. His hands curve to the small of my back, up across my spine and into my hair.

My Master has never touched me like this before. For the thousand times he has kissed me, his kisses have been sexual, or erotic, warm, loving, tender, even fatherly at times; but never, soul-searingly passionate.

The sheer fervour of his kiss sets my spine tingling, sending goosebumps skittering over my skin.copy right hot novel pub

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