Claire: The Forced Virgin Of The Billionaire

I wanted her to keeping feeling bold enough to reach into my pants for my c**k because she was showing me she wanted me. But I wanted her afraid, too, and eventually I wanted her to want to please me, to do whatever I wanted, even if it was out of her comfort zone, because she wanted to please me that badly.

I wanted her to want me so badly that she ached for me, ached to submit for me.

A lot of girls want to be submissive, give in to belonging to a lover. I’m not saying every woman wants it but there are a lot of women who enjoy it, who crave it and embrace it. I had no problems finding women who did but I needed the fear first and most couldn’t pull that off unless I went over the edge with them and made them afraid. And none of them made me want them like she did.

I didn’t want a submissive, no safe words putting limits on what she’d give me, I wanted a willing slave, someone willing to give me whatever I needed.

If I let her go tomorrow and she went on to live a normal life I knew I’d already ruined her for vanilla. She’d always think about s*x with me. No one would measure up because after me she’d think she had to pick some accountant in a sweater vest, the polar opposite of me.

As she laid there staring at the ceiling waiting for sweater vest to finally go limp inside her she’d be thinking about getting her hair pulled, her a*s smacked, and having my hand caress her throat, while feeling my breath against her ear as I whispered in her ear how I owned her and what I wanted to do to her.

How did I walk the line of taking what I wanted to ensure I kept wanting her without breaking her? In the beginning I’d been thrilled by the notion of breaking her spirit and bending her to my will, but now…now I didn’t know what I wanted from her.

I still wanted her to be mine but I didn’t want to extinguish that fire in her because unlike the women I had to take over the edge to make them feel real fear, I wanted Claire. The other women were a one off. I couldn’t break her or she wouldn’t be Claire anymore and I’d be married to this empty shell of a person who did what I wanted but it’d mean I wouldn’t want it anymore.

She was getting to me in a way I hadn’t expected and I wanted something else from her, too, but I didn’t know what name to give what I wanted.

I wanted her to see the real me, to want me, even if I wasn’t perfect, even if I could be a cold-hearted prick sometimes. Did I want her to love me?Content © NôvelDrama.Org.

Love was something I never had before. I got praise and respect through accomplishments. I had to earn everything I got.

Right now, before work, I needed another session with the heavy bag. When I got out of the shower I got dressed to head out but first I took off my silver chain. It was a curious thing, the way my mindset shifted when I wore it.

It had belonged to my Mother and when I had to make tough decisions, tap into my inner beast and handle the dirty s**t in my life and my line of work I couldn’t do those things as well if I was wearing it. On the other side of the coin, if I was filled with rage that I didn’t want to feel and I put it on, it usually helped me find my center, like this morning when Nino said she was in the basement I put it on before I went down.

I knew it was just an object, that it was all in my head, but it somehow helped to ground me. Right now I had a tough job to take care of before dinner at my family’s so I left the chain on the counter in the bathroom.

Claire’s POV

I had a light breakfast alone and then spent the rest of the morning sorting through the rest of my things, watching the beautiful ring sparkle every time my hand moved. I wasn’t generally a materialistic girl at all but this ring! It was just so sparkly. I kept staring at it.

My French manicure was still intact, astonishingly despite the fact that I’d brawled with him, and I couldn’t get over how my hand looked just so grown up, just so not my hand.

I brought my clothes upstairs in several armloads and I found that there were a few empty drawers in the bureau in the closet plus some shelving and rod space were cleared out for me, by the looks of things.

All I needed were my basics upstairs. The only other thing beyond clothing I took was the jewelry box. It had belonged to Azriel’s mother as he’d told me when I asked and I wanted it, no needed it, close. For what reason, I didn’t know.

I tucked the picture of my Mom and Azriel’s uncle ( I’d taken another picture of him from the album and asked Azriel who he was, surprisingly he’d told me)behind another picture in the album to hide it. I don’t know why I did this. I’d almost fainted when I saw my mother’s picture. I didn’t know whether Azriel knew there was a connection between my Mom and his uncle or not but I felt like I needed to hide this information for the moment. Of course I knew Mr. Clarke seemed to want me to know he knew who she was after his comment (he’d visited me once, and had wanted to speak to me alone, much to Azriel’s annoyance) about me looking like her but because of this picture it looked like they had been close, like they’d dated.