Page 10 of Shep
In the end, I’d been bought for three thousand dollars. Me!Three thousand dollars.
While he didn’t exactly save me, because we were still in this cowboy mega-mansion, he’d pretty much claimed me and got me out of the bidding in the overheated, pseudo-brothel.
I stared at him.
He stared at me.
Why was I here? “Money,” I told him honestly, crossing my arms over my chest making me–hopefully–look tougher than I felt. When I realized it only plumped up my boobs in Jasmine’s hand-me-down dress, I dropped them.
“You really a virgin?” he asked, his gaze raking over me, as if he could tell.
“You really a guy who needs to pay for sex?” I countered. He definitely looked like the kind of guy who had panties flung at him everywhere he went.
“You really a girl who needs to get paid for sex?”
I pursed my lips. He had me there. I didn’t think I was, but this week? I had my pride, but I also didn’t have a place to live.
He sighed, ran a hand over the back of his neck. For November, his face and neck were tanned, as if he was outside a lot.
“Maybe we should start over,” he said, offering mea small smile, which perhaps was like raising a white flag. “I’m Shep.”
I finally looked up and into his eyes. They were gray. Or blue. Or green. I couldn’t tell. But they met and held mine and I felt…felt.
Tingly. Warm. Attraction. Desire.
This guy. Here, in this place. Why was my vagina perking up for a guy whoboughtme? It made no sense.
Well, maybe it did. Because he–Shep–was gorgeous. He was tall, but not ridiculously so, because in heels, we were almost eye to eye. He was packed with muscle, but not bulky. His hair color was unique, a color women would kill for. Auburn, or a gorgeous reddish brown. Cut short on the sides and long on top. He also had dark whiskers which were on the way to a beard.
He wore a black long sleeved t-shirt which was snug over his chest. Jeans were old and well worn, even had a small fray on his thigh. His boots were leather and sturdy, but scuffed and stained. He didn’t fit into this house and these Richy Rich guys any more than I did.
He seemed real. It was hard to hate him.
“Francesca.” No way was I telling him everyone called me Frankie. I might be giving him my virginity, but I didn’t have to give all of me.
He stepped close and I held my ground. With warm fingers, he tipped my chin back. Studied me. His eyes moved over my face as if he were cataloguing every inch and made my palms sweat and my heart beat faster.
“You’re into fucking virgins?” I asked, with a touch of belligerence in the tone. Yeah, it was a pointed question, but really, if we were going to get naked, then social niceties could be skipped. Besides, it wasn’t like we were meeting at a church social. The bar had to be pretty low for the guys who showed up.
His brow winged up, as if it was an ethics test.
“I’m into fuckingyou.”
That… wow, wasn’t the answer I expected. I wasn’t sure if this was the right time and place to be flattered. Again, low bar. “Me? Did you even look at the other women?”
There was no delay in his answer. “No.”
“Why not?” He confused me. “They’re all so pretty… and know what they’re doing. The only commodity I have is a hymen.”
“Trust me, those guys were imagining getting their hands on you.” He closed the few inches that separated us and I felt him. With a tip of his hips, I felt his hard length. It hit just right andoh my God…
I totally felt how big he was. I was a virgin, not anun. I’d made myself come. Since I couldn’t afford a vibrator, and until recently had shared a very small trailer with my brother, I used my fingers to get off. But no small circles compared to the pressure this guy was applying.
And we had our clothes on.
Laughter carried from the other room. “Yeah, those guys aren’t crying in their Cheerios over the remaining women,” I said.
“Those guys aren’t gonna know how wet you are. See your face when you take a dick–mydick–for the first time. See you come.”
