His Dirty Virgin
Table of Contents
Epilogue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Books by Jessa James
About the Author
His Dirty Virgin
Jessa James
His Dirty Virgin: Copyright © 2017 by Jessa James
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electrical, digital or mechanical including but not limited to photocopying, recording, scanning or by any type of data storage and retrieval system without express, written permission from the publisher.
Published by Orange Poodle LLC
James, Jessa
His Dirty Virgin
Cover design copyright 2017 by Jessa James, Author
Images/Photo Credit: CanstockPhoto.com-coka
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Epilogue
Books by Jessa James
About the Author
1
Becca
I felt the blowout more than heard it. I expected a flat tire to have a huge boom or pop, but no. The wheel began to shake and my steering became erratic. Thankfully, I wasn’t going too fast and the road was straight. I was able to pull off to the side without sliding into the ditch. I sat there, heart racing, adrenaline pumping, cars whizzing by.
I wanted to scream my lungs out. A flat! I didn’t need this. I had more than enough on my plate already. I’d just come from lunch with my father, and as usual, it ended up with him telling me how much of a disappointment I was and me walking out of the restaurant. All I’d done was tell him I was taking up pre-med for my major, not that I decided not to go to college to be a carnie with the circus. No matter how uncomfortable the lunch, and his blatant disapproval, I still wasn’t – and never would – go into business.
“Others would die to be in your position!” he’d told me at the restaurant. “While your classmates are scurrying to find an entry-level job or even an unpaid internship in the hopes they can land full-time offers four years from now when college is over, I’ll put you in the fast track. You can be a manager next month. Why don’t you want that?”
“I just graduated high school!” I’d responded, raising my voice. He’d been listening but hadn’t heard me. He never had. “Can’t I just have fun for a while?”
The expression on his face had morphed. The wrinkles on his forehead deepened, and every muscle on his body stiffened. The look wasn’t new. I’d seen it countless times – sadness, disappointment, and hopelessness all mixed together – but it still always bothered me, as if I could never do right by him.
“Life isn’t about ‘having fun’. You’d know that if I didn’t hand everything to you on a gold, diamond-encrusted platter. You never had to work a day in your life, Becca. Of course, all you want to do is ‘have fun’. That’s on me…to have given you everything. I feel like I’ve failed as a father.”
Everything he’d given me came at a price and that was going into the family business. If I joined him, he’d think it all had been worth it. If I didn’t do it, then I was a slacker. A slacker who wanted to be a doctor, but still, to him, a freeloader. Spoiled. I couldn’t have sat there a minute longer, so I walked out of the restaurant.
My dad had always put himself up on a pedestal. It was infuriating. But there was still that little voice in my head, that little voice telling me that I should listen to him, that he just loved me too much and wanted what was best for me. He loved me enough to want me to take over his empire someday. And that was why he’d given me everything I needed and wanted.
There was no denying he and my mom always gave me the best. They sent me to the best private school, they gave me all the gadgets and tools I’d needed and wanted to make studying easier, they hired the best coaches and personal trainers so that I’d become a state-level athlete. Even without my father paying my tuition, I’d had multiple academic and sports scholarships to choose from. Even after my mother died eight years ago and my father remarried, the help didn’t stop. Anything I asked for, I got.
Yeah…maybe he failed as a father because he spoiled me too much, but I hadn’t wasted any of it. I’d excelled at it all. I was going to be a damn doctor.
“Fuck.” The profanity left my mouth when I realized I’d been sitting in my car for too long, and I was starting to sweat.
It was June, the middle of the day with the summer sun was beating down, and here I was with a flat tire. I had a spare in the trunk, but I was definitely not in the mood to change it. I had no choice. Tires didn’t change themselves.
I swung open the driver’s door and shut it with a bang before I went to the trunk and unlocked it. With all the strength I could muster, I did my best to pull the tire out and rolled it as close as I could to the flat. I walked back to the trunk to look for the wrench. I could feel the sun burning my back, the sweat dripping down my face and arms. I wanted to be anywhere but here, do anything but this, except maybe go back to the restaurant with my dad. As I kept complaining in my head, I loosened up the nuts. They were on so tight, I wasn’t sure if I could get them all.
“You need help?”
That voice. All male, deep and rumbly.
I dropped the tool with a clang and stood, tipped my head up, my eyes moving from muscled arms covered in tattoos to a sun-kissed angular jaw, and finally, striking pale blue eyes. I instantly stilled, my heart hammering once again. He was easily one of the most attractive men I’d ever seen, if not the most. And he had tattoos! They were a dangerous—but oh-so sexy—touch I never knew could be so hot.
“Y-yes, please,” I managed to croak out.
He moved to glance down at the tire, then at me. “I’m Jake Huntington.” He easily introduced himself, sticking his big hand out for me to shake. “Just so you can report my name to the police when I get in your car and drive off.” My eyes instantly went wide, and he took notice. A wicked grin spread across his face. “Just kidding. I can’t drive away with a flat tire.” His eyes raked up and down my figure, from my mop of brown hair and all the way down to my wedge sandals.
“Seriously, it was a joke. Ever heard of one?”
I realized I was still staring, not responding. I shook my head. “I’m sorry, but this flat hasn’t put me in a joking mood. This day’s just getting worse, and it’s barely after lunch.”
“You and me both,” he grumbled.
“I’m Becca, by the way. Becca Madison.” I noticed the look on his face—recognition. It was the same expression I had just moments ago when he introduced himself.
Jake Huntington…the name definitely rang a bell. He looked like the same Jake I’d met back at my mother’s funeral dinner years ago. The same eye and hair color. Only now, the teenager I once knew had grown into a man. Crazy for me to remember after so long, but he was…unforgettable. The Jake beside me now was all man. He was much taller, more muscular, and stood proud like he had his shit together. Maybe he did, even if he left home and turned his back on his family. Yeah, I’d heard the story because Jake’s dad was my father’s corporate attorney.
It had been big news in our small town—when Jake ran away. Well, he hadn’t run away like a five-year-old. He’d been studying pre-law when he decided he didn’t want to become a lawyer and his father had flipped. I didn’t know the details of what happened after that, but I hadn’t heard a peep about Jake
since. All I knew was that he wasn’t considered part of the family anymore.
“Whatever happened to law school?”
A slow smile spread across his face. “I’m infamous enough that a pretty girl on the side of the road knows who I am.”
I shrugged. “You know who I am by my name, just as I know you.”
He slowly shook his head. “You don’t know me. Just what you’ve heard.”
I looked him over from his boots to his very well-worn jeans to his black t-shirt which left nothing to the imagination. “You’re right. So what happened to law school?”
A smirk made its way onto his face at my repeated question. Damn, he was hot. “Nothing. I decided not to go and instead started my own business after I got my degree.”
“Oh? What business?” I guessed his life was turning out much better than mine ever would. I didn’t think I could do what he did, turn my back on my family and make it on my own. Telling my father off at lunch was one thing, but go solo? I had no idea how I’d make it. Maybe my father was right. He’d given me everything, and I didn’t know how to stand on my own two feet.
He stuck his elbow out. “Does my arm say enough?” I couldn’t miss the corded forearms, the bulging biceps. A gym? “Tattoo parlor.”
I nodded my head. “Was it your mother that steered you in that direction?”
He looked shocked at my question until a smile surfaced once again on his face. “You remember my mother?”
“Of course.” I smiled back. “I might be younger than you, but our families are pretty close. Your mom, she’s…definitely a character.”
His mother was the antithesis of what our fathers were like. They were masters of the universe. At least of this town. They were powerful and rich. They were the type of people that no one could say no to, even if their demands seemed unrealistic. People under them just had to make things happen.
“Definitely.” At that, we both shared a laugh. “But yeah, she nurtured my interest in the arts, taught me how to enjoy life and not take it so seriously. Because of that, I started drawing when I needed to de-stress. She’d bring me along when she went out with some friends sometimes. I knew I’d get bored sooner or later, so I’d always bring my sketchpad, and when they saw my art, all of them were asking me if I could tattoo my artwork.”
“Oh, wow…so your business started organically.”
We stood on the side of the road chatting until he suddenly remembered the tire. He grabbed the tire iron and knelt by the flat, got to work.
He seemed like a nice guy and he’d gotten out from under his father’s wrath. I envied him that.
“Yeah, they’d see my art, but there was always a deeper meaning whenever they chose their designs, and that—the stories and meanings behind the tattoos—turned my hobby into a passion. People sharing their experiences through art is such a great way to connect. It’s as if once they see you have a tattoo, their walls instantly come down. Even if they’re doing it as a dare or out of drunkenness, they’re still showing some kind of vulnerability—they’re giving me and everyone else the opportunity to judge, and that’s the thing—I never judge. I embrace.” I was too engrossed listening to him I hadn’t realized he was finished with replacing my tire. “There you go, princess.”
I raised my eyebrow up at him. Princess? I followed his eyes and watched as they lingered for a moment on the pearls on my ears and around my neck and then my pale pink sundress. Oh.
“Stop by sometime.” He reached in his back pocket and took a card out from his wallet. “The shop. I saw the look on your face earlier. You’re curious. Come check it out for yourself.”
“Sure,” I responded, meeting his eyes. I mustered up the courage to smile at him. God. I could stare at him all day. I was curious. Not as much about a tattoo as about him, and exactly what it would feel like to have a certified bad boy kissed me. “I will. I’ll stop by.”
2
Becca
Every time I thought about Jake, my brain was telling me ‘no’, but my pussy was giving me a big ‘yes’!
I’d been lying in bed for a good couple of hours, not wanting to get up. The morning was half gone already, but I didn’t care. I hadn’t slept much the night before, but I wasn’t tired. I was kidding myself thinking my frustration was with my father and the conversation at lunch was keeping me awake, but it wasn’t that. It wasn’t my demanding, judgmental, arrogant father. Not at all. I’d been living with his stern stares and long lectures for years. No, my mind kept picturing a certain blond-haired, blue-eyed man I barely knew.
Just thinking about Jake made me wet. He’d looked so good when he stopped to help me change my tire. Beads of sweat had run down his golden skin as we stood under the scorching midday sun. His hands had been covered in oil and grease from fixing my tire, but it did nothing to mar his looks. The truth was the dirt and grime made him look dangerously sexier. He’d been willing to get down and dirty for me like a bad boy gentleman.
But he was older. Not like a creepy father figure or something, but he was twenty-four. At least. It was as if the age difference made him off-limits, forbidden fruit. No, it was more that I was too young, a virgin just out of high school. And he’d called me a princess.
To him, I probably was. But that didn’t mean I felt like one.
He was so different from the guys in the all-boys school we usually had dances with. They always looked so kept, with not a single strand of hair on their heads out of place. The polos and blazers they wore never creased. I couldn’t help but imagine a few of my guy friends trying to change my tire, and I burst out laughing. I just couldn’t fathom them getting down and dirty. I doubted they even knew how to do it. They’d probably have their chauffeurs change my tire instead.
But Jake…
I shook my head as his name made me sigh. Nothing about the way he changed my tire was humorous. He’d been oh-so sexy, efficient, and so…manly. I laughed imagining him putting the boys in the private school to shame. He’d been one himself, graduating and then going his own way. Giving his father and the country club lifestyle the finger.
The bad boy image worked for him. Every part of him seemed to have been carved by a master sculptor, and what made it even better was that all his tattoos seemed to fit perfectly with his physique. Yes. Him. Definitely.
I should have been interested in the boys who I graduated with. Off to Harvard or Princeton and then back to work in the family law firm, just as Jake had been expected to do. I was expected to work at my father’s firm until I married, after which, I’d never use my college education for more than popping out two children and taking them to the country club pool.
No, I didn’t want that any more than Jake did. He’d walked away. I wanted to. I didn’t want any of the guys my father pushed my way. I felt no attraction. No desire. Nothing. I wanted someone who made my breath catch, my heart race, my nipples harden and my pussy ache. If I was going to fulfill the stupid virgin pact I’d made with a few of my girlfriends before graduation, it was going to be difficult with the Todds and Chads I knew. So far, there hadn’t been anyone worthy. I wasn’t going to hand my V-card over to just any guy.
My friends Jane and Mary had already done it. Snagged the right guys and given it up. From the way they looked at their men—and they were men—they’d enjoyed it immensely. Jane had been the first, snagging our Civics and Government teacher, Mr. Parker. Mary, on the other hand, had been set up with Greg, Mr. Parker’s friend. Well, it wasn’t really a setup. Mary was babysitting Greg’s niece, and things had progressed rapidly from there.
Now, both were madly in love with their respective boyfriends, and they wanted me to find the same. They were always gushing about going on dates together, and that dating older men came with certain perks…both outside and inside the bedroom. From eating in classy, expensive restaurants to experimenting with hot sex, they boasted how it was better with older men. I believed them. No one could ever go wrong with experience, but the competitive part of m
e wanted the extra challenge of finding my own…virgin taker?
I laughed at the thought. Virgin-taker sounded so…medieval, but that basically summed up what I was looking for. He didn’t have to be older like Mr. Parker or Greg. He just had to be the right guy. My thoughts immediately went to Jake. Yeah, I finally found the guy who I wanted to give my virginity to.
I’d have no issues having my first time with Jake. I remembered how effortlessly he replaced my tire. He was strong and very good with his hands. He’d probably be able to carry and throw me onto his bed with one hand. I had no doubt he knew exactly what to do. A guy that gorgeous couldn’t have been single all these years. I hoped he knew his way around a woman’s body because that would make for an excellent first time.
What was even better was what my father would think of me hooking up with the black sheep, tattoo covered rebel like Jake.
Since our fathers worked closely together, mine never failed to talk about that “rebel kid.” He never said Jake’s name. He always ranted about how ungrateful Jake was to turn his back on his family. His parents, just like mine, had paid for everything. They’d put him in the best schools, groomed him for success he’d have no problem achieving. My father had even been ready to give him a position in his company as one of the heads of the legal department.
“He just walked away from everything, from an easy life of power, wealth, and success…to what?” My father had said on numerous occasions. Back then, his words never really bothered me because I only remembered Jake as another face from the funeral, nothing more. But now, they stung because I was in a similar position. I wanted to carve out my own path, one very different from what my father had been preparing for me my whole life. If he’d been so harsh with Jake, I wondered how he’d be with me, his own daughter. I had a feeling our lunch argument was only the beginning.