Selling Her Virtue by Dani Wyatt

Author:Dani Wyatt [Wyatt, Dani]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-02-24T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 7

Marshall

I hold her close. Her breathing slows, her body relaxes. She’s just falling asleep and she’s muttering something that sounds like, “So much better than chicken fingers…” when my fucking phone buzzes from my pants pocket on the floor.

Goddamn it.

The noise of it startles her awake, making her jump a little.

I press a soothing kiss to her forehead, sweeping her hair aside.

“Stay here. Don’t move.”

Sleepy, sexy moans slip from her lips as she rolls off me and curls in a ball, with one sweet little foot poking out of the fluffy comforter. Pink sparky nail polish.

Such fucking adorable toes that I might develop a foot fetish. Christ.

I’m falling hard and fast. I know I fucking love her already but how that’s possible I’m still trying to work out.

My phone buzzes again and I scoop it up to silence it, resisting the legitimate urge to throw the thing right out the window. Fucking 3am and someone’s bothering me? But before I can put it down, I see a text from Lennon.

Where the fuck are you? We’re heading out. Our transactions are complete…at least those of us that indulged. We’re ready to go.

I glance back over my shoulder. She’s dozed back off to sleep, now with her hand resting in the spot where my body had been. I tap out a response.

I’m not going anywhere.

This he answers with a crying smiley—I fucking hate that emoji.

Get your ass down here. Or I’ll come find you.

Such a dick. Still, it’s worth it to me to get rid of them rather than have this little slice of heaven interrupted by his aging frat-boy bullshit. I pull my pants on and lean over her, tucking her in gently and giving her another kiss.

“I’ll be right back, baby. You sleep.”

She smiles, eyes closed, nodding into the pillow.

“Don’t be long.”

“Don’t you fucking worry.”

I jog down the hallway and then make my way to the big staircase that leads into the area where we danced earlier, taking the steps two at a time. There I find Victor, looking like he’s been drinking whiskey alone in the bar for way too long, and Lennon with a hickey the diameter of a golf ball on his throat.

“Finally.” Lennon throws his arms up. “Let’s go. Car’s out front.”

Idiot doesn’t even notice that my shirt is unbuttoned, I’m in bare feet, and I’m clearly not going anywhere. But whatever. He’s never been the sharpest knife in the set.

“You take the car. I’ll get a ride when I’m ready.”

“What? Just tell her goodbye and let’s go!” Victor slurs, waving toward the stairs.

Shit. The very mention of the word goodbye makes me feel fucking sick.

“I’m not—” I start, then grit my teeth. “I’ll say goodbye—”

I stall again.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

“Go say goodbye. Awwwww,” Lennon teases. “Pretty fucking mushy for a guy who didn’t want to be here at all.”

That was then. This is now.

I still smell her on my skin, feel her dried virgin blood and juice on my balls, and I’ve got about six more orgasms to give her before dawn.

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