Claiming His Virgin: He's Going to Make Her Beg Read online

  Claiming His Virgin

  CHANCE CARTER

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Room Service

  Playboy Ever After

  Bad Boy Brother

  Free Story Offer!

  CLAIMING HIS VIRGIN

  CHANCE CARTER

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  Copyright © 2017 Chance Carter

  ISBN: 978-1-927947-96-8

  Chapter 1

  Jane peers at her willowy reflection in the mirror, then standing on her tiptoes, pliés around for good measure. She halts, when she notices a run in her tights going straight up the back of her leg.

  “Oh shoot,” she curses. “Everything is falling apart these days. What next?”

  A loud and intense knock sounds at the door, interrupting her musing. It startles her for two reasons. One, no one ever knocks that loudly, because two, no one ever comes to her door.

  Squinting through the peep hole, she sees Paulo the landlord. His dark, greasy hair and large face—now sweaty from climbing three flights of stairs—make him look even meaner than usual.

  Jane freezes, hoping he will just go away.

  He knocks again, even louder than before.

  Oh, not today. Just go away, Jane thinks to herself, trying desperately not to make a sound.

  “Jane Bryden, I know you’re in there. I am officially delivering your final notice to pay your rent. If you don’t pay me by next week then you are evicted from your apartment. You hear me?”

  He slides a piece of paper under the door before walking away, the loud thunk of his shoes emphasizing that this is his place and his rules.

  Jane’s breath returns to normal when she knows for sure he is gone.

  “Uggghhh, for real?” she groans. “When will the universe give me a break? I’m trying my best and it’s just never enough.”

  As she moves to reach for the paper, she stubs her toe against the tiled floor, a feat, it seems that only she could manage. She cries out in painful frustration.

  “Why did I have to move to New York, anyway? For a childish dream of ballet? Where has that got me? Absolutely nowhere. Literally, nowhere. I’m, like, days away from being homeless. This city is dirty. The people are mean. The other ballerinas don’t like me,” Jane says out loud, starting to sob. “I will never fit in here.”

  On her coffee table is a greeting card her grandmother sent her. It has a brightly colored butterfly surrounded by tiny, reflecting sparkles. She moves to pick it up and reread it another time.

  Never give up on your dreams—you were born to fly.

  It is her grandmother’s message of love, written in her most beautiful handwriting.

  Jane sighs, trying to muster the gall to keep internalizing her grandma’s message when everything around her is speaking to the contrary.

  “Oh Grandma, I really hope so. I’m about ready to give up.”

  Jane goes back into her room and flops down flat on her back on the twin size bed, grabbing her teddy bear.

  “You’re the only one who gets me, Fluffy. You’re the only one I have in my life.”

  Her soft, long, dirty blonde hair spread over the pillow, she reaches over to the other side of the bed and wishes someone was there for her. She’s never had a boyfriend. There were guys interested in her, but her mother warned her to stay away from them, saying they would just mess with her head and make her forget all about her dreams and who she is.

  She hasn’t even made out with a guy. She kissed Brian, a coworker, in the wine cellar of the restaurant where she worked part-time, but then she found out he had a girlfriend. Jane was crushed and ashamed for letting herself be duped so easily, and vowed never to do something like that again unless she absolutely, positively knows the guy and where he is in his life.

  The loneliness is so deep though, and she has no idea when all this bad luck will end. What will change everything? When will she get to feel good again? What is her lesson? What is she not getting?

  She touches her breasts, stroking them and pushing them up to see her cleavage. She feels tingles going through her body, and thinks she can take her mind off of all of this. Closing her eyes, she imagines herself in a sexy, black negligée, and someone rubbing her body with his hands. She knows she is somewhat attractive, and that her tits are appealing, even though they are only a B cup.

  What I would do right now if I knew someone wanted me. I hate always being the good girl.

  She imagines a man reaching his hands down her cleavage and rubbing over the top of her nipples, making them hard, then stroking her flat stomach and tickling her belly button while she giggles out loud, then twists and turns under his teasing touch. Reaching down to the hemline of the lingerie, he puts his fingers along the inside of her thigh, reaching in to touch her pussy and feel the dampness there.

  Thunck, thunck, thunck.

  “Oh, fudge! It’s the damn landlord again.”

  The knock snaps her out of her fantasy. Her body freezes and she breathes lightly again.

  Darn it. Can’t a girl get a little bit of time to herself? If I were desperate enough, I could ask him if I can work off the rent for sex, she thinks to herself, jokingly.

  I wouldn’t have the guts, and I wouldn’t know what I was doing anyway.

  “Jane! Jane, I know you’re in there! I see you got that piece of paper. I really mean it, Jane. I don’t have a soft spot for young pretty ladies, you know, so don’t think you can get away with not paying me,” the landlord bellows through the door.

  She pulls the covers over her partly naked body, feeling a chill. Dozing off, she wishes her dreams will be better than her reality right now. Life is sucking in a really big way.

  In a matter of minutes, Jane falls into a deep sleep.

  Chapter 2

  The al
arm goes off.

  “It’s three already? Where did the time go?”

  Jane gets dressed and packs her bag with ballet shoes, a new pair of tights, a tank top, and her toiletries. She pats powder on her face and puts on a peach tone of lipstick. Pulling her hair up into a pony tail, she takes one last look in the mirror to make sure everything looks put together. Pushing down a few stray hairs, she sighs, satisfied.

  “Ah, perfect!”

  She grabs her coat and keys, then opens the door. Looking both ways to make sure the landlord isn’t out in the hallway waiting for her, she makes a quick dash to the stairwell and runs out the back door whistling for a taxi to take her to the ballet studio.

  She arrives late. All the other ladies have started warming up by stretching their legs on the railing. When Jane walks in, they all turn to look at her with surprise and disgust.

  The teacher looks to her and says smugly, “Well, Miss Jane, it looks like you decided to join us after all. You’ve got five minutes to get changed, otherwise I’ll send you home.”

  The teacher goes back to giving orders to the other dancers for their warm-up.

  Jane feels embarrassed and wishes she could just crawl back out the door. Yet another bad experience. When will it end?

  She changes quickly and joins the rest of the group, taking the end position on the railing.

  An hour later, they take a break, and everyone goes to the changing room to get their water and veggie snacks.

  Valerie, the oldest and most experienced ballerina in the crowd, starts asking all the girls who got laid over the weekend.

  She goads Britney on.

  “Come on, you must have. I saw how George was looking at your ass! Seriously, something must have happened when the two of you left the gig that night.”

  Britney smiles and says, “Wouldn’t you like to know? Let’s just say I’m feeling a bit perkier than usual today.” Then she points at her tits.

  All the other girls laugh in unison, except for Jane, who drops her eyes while eating her carrots. She has no idea what to say, and doesn’t want them to find out she’s a virgin. She doesn’t like how they talk because she doesn’t have any stories to tell them. Valerie notices Jane isn’t laughing.

  “What’s wrong, Jane? Are you just embarrassed, or maybe you have a secret to tell us about your weekend?”

  Valerie goes up to Jane and puts her arm around her.

  “Come on, Jane, what were you up to on Saturday night?”

  She nudges Jane, trying to get her to spill some kind of beans.

  Jane is trying hard not to reveal to Valerie anything that will show she is completely inexperienced when it comes to sex.

  “Leave me alone, Valerie, I’m not in the mood for this,” she mutters.

  “Whoa, that’s not the Jane we know! Someone’s a Miss Grumpy Pants,” Valerie exclaims. “Come on, Jane. Tell us about your most exciting, sexual adventure. That’ll cheer you up. A wild ride in the car, sleeping with your best friend’s boyfriend, or sucking the football star’s cock? Come on, Jane, tell us!”

  “Just stop, Valerie, I don’t want to play this game,” Jane says, wishing she could come up with a witty line to divert the attention away from herself.

  “Oh, you’re so silly, Jane. Next thing you’re gonna do is tell us you’re a virgin or something,” Valerie chides.

  Jane is horrified. She goes totally pale and is stunned, not knowing what to say.

  “Why would you say that?” Jane asks nervously.

  Valerie looks at Jane and widens her eyes.

  “Oh my God! It’s true! Jane is a virgin! Hey, everyone, Jane is a virgin!”

  All the others laugh in disbelief.

  “Oh, sweetheart, we are going to fix you right up! You are the prize possession of all male fantasy! How the hell have you gotten away with not getting fucked with that tight ass of yours?”

  Valerie slaps Jane’s butt.

  Jane despises Valerie’s crassness and wonders how she was able to get into ballet school with the way she talks. She is so harsh and humiliating, always needing to be the center of attention.

  Jane blushes but also flushes with anger.

  Why won’t she just leave me alone?

  Jane bites her bottom lip. She gets up and walks over to the bathroom, tears welling up in her eyes. She goes into one of the stalls and bursts into tears.

  Why won’t people just leave me alone? Why do they always have to pick on me?

  She hears the girls leave the room to go back to the studio, the room now echoing in silence. She opens the bathroom door and looks at herself in the mirror, her eyes still dewy and puffy.

  Splashing cold water on her face, she is refreshed by the coolness. She stands up straight and looks at herself in the mirror. She turns around to look at her ass.

  Hmmm… I have a tight ass? Someone might want this ass?

  She looks at her face and sees a part of her that wishes she wasn’t so innocent, that wishes she had stories to tell about hot and sexy nights where guys were desiring her body, making all the women envy her.

  Instead, she is stuck in a stupid, pink, ballerina tutu that makes her look like a 12-year-old, just like her mother her to look. Innocent, pure, untouched.

  Jane decides to hold her head up high and join the troupe in the studio. She is not going to let them get the best of her. The teacher glares at her, shaking her head and clearly wondering what has gotten into Jane today.

  “One-two-spin-spin, one-two-spin-spin, one-two-spin-spin,” instructs the teacher. “Posture straight, head high, on your toes.”

  Jane tunes out the other girls and focuses on doing a good job.

  No one is going to get the best of her.

  Chapter 3

  It’s Saturday night at the Orion Ballet Hall , and time for the big performance they have been rehearsing for. Jane has been very nervous about this event, mostly because she knows she is the least experienced of the dancers. She hardly slept the night before—tossing, turning and reliving all the things that could go wrong at the performance.

  When she walks into the hall, her body shrinks with a feeling of inadequacy. The place is spacious, and the chandeliers are dripping with money. The crowd hasn’t arrived yet, and the whole place is quiet. She wonders if she should have gone through a different door.

  “Jane! Jane! Over here, dear,” motions her dance instructor. “Clearly, you are awestruck by this place. Come now, you’ll get used to it.”

  For the first time, Jane feels warmth from her instructor, genuine interest in her feelings, something she hasn’t felt since moving to New York.

  They walk together to the back stage area where will all be getting their makeup on and dressing in their ballerina outfits.

  Jane sees Valerie standing at the mirror, perking her lips and shoving her large breasts into her bra, showing off her cleavage. One thing Jane has to admit is that she is jealous of Valerie’s body—it is sexy with all the right curves, and her dark hair is thick and wavy. She looks like she knows everything when it comes to guys and sex, and she has probably done every possible position.

  She’s such a bitch, thinks Jane, and then she feels guilty for using that word.

  Jane looks in the mirror at her own, mousy, brown hair, boobs that seem flat and unappealing in comparison, and skinny legs that look like toothpicks. Jane has been invisible to guys all her life, and she understands why.

  Jane goes over to her locker and opens it up. Inside is a purple plastic bag with a card tied to it and her name on the front.

  “Weird. Who would be giving me a gift?” Jane says quietly to herself and pulls the bag off the hook.

  Opening it up she pulls out the box. By this time, three of the other dancers, including Valerie, are behind her. Jane is feeling very uncomfortable, knowing something is off.

  She looks at the box and it has a picture of a penis with the words ‘Thunder Cock’ on the outside.

  Valerie starts the gang of them laughing,
while Jane turns beet red and can’t even move.

  “We thought we’d get you started, Jane. Now you can spread those legs and start feeling some cock in you,” mocks Valerie. “Nothing like a little thunder to get that pussy wet.”

  They all laugh, and Brenda, Valerie’s sidekick, smacks Jane on her ass.

  “Well, at least you have a tight ass. Guys will like that, sweet Jane,” Brenda teases.

  Jane tries to hold her composure. Tears well up again in her eyes, but she doesn’t want to run away like she did the last time. She tries so hard to find the words for a good comeback, but she’s just not that witty. She continues to face her locker and waits for them to walk away.

  She puts the box back into the bag and stuffs it into her backpack, making sure no one sees her. She goes into the bathroom stall to get changed, because she doesn’t want anyone else to make fun of her. She is very aware that she looks like a 15-year-old girl, even though she is 19. She doesn’t need anyone to rub it in.

  Jane pulls out her leggings and tutu and at the same time quietly opens the box with the dildo in it. She pulls it out of the bag and feels how rubbery and kind of floppy it is. Weird, thinks Jane, feeling mildly terrified because it seems so big and thick. How will something this big go inside of me? She wonders if this is how big real cocks are. It grosses her out, yet fascinates her at the same time.

  Jane notices she is feeling a bit wet and somewhat turned on.

  She hears the other girls come into the washroom, turning on the taps to wash their faces. Jane quickly puts the dildo back in the box and hides it with her sweater in her bag. Quickly, she gets changed, stretching the leggings over her legs, pulling the tutu up to her waist, and pulling the tank top over her waist-less body.

  She fusses about in the stall, waiting for the girls to leave. Walking out of the stall, she looks at herself in the mirror and sees her straggly, mouse-brown hair.

  “God, I feel so plain,” she says to herself.

  The dance instructor, Martha, marches into the bathroom with a clipboard in hand.

  “Come, Jane, we don’t have much time. Get over there to get your hair and makeup done, pronto,” she orders, pulling at Jane’s arm.

  Jane follows orders and goes over to Cindy, the makeup lady, brushing by Valerie.