Buying The Virgin Part 1-3

I ponder Michael’s words. “You said, You and James can afford…?’ I thought….”

“You thought…. what? He’s the one with all the money?”

“Um, yes.”

“I’m not without. He just talks about it more than I do.”

“Oh… I didn’t realise.”

“Well, you never asked. In fact, I’ll admit that your complete lack of interest in money, apart from the pressing problem of paying for your college fees, is quite refreshing. If more women were like that, I might not have lived the happy life of the bachelor free for so long…”

“I don’t like taking money from you. It feels like…”

He looks at me from the side of his eyes. “Charlotte, we’re getting married. You’re entitled to take money from me.”

I digest this. “You’ve had women after you for your money?”

“There’s been a few.” He grins at me.

The grin is infectious. “Er, one of them wouldn’t have been Marcie by any chance?”

He laughs. “And she hits the gold! Yes, Marcie took a shot at me. That was before Steve of course…. and quite a few others for that matter….” He shudders. “Oh, my God, it doesn’t bear thinking about. Marcie, man’s living nightmare. It makes me itch just thinking about her.” He squeezes my shoulders, still laughing.

“I felt just like that, about that Steve of hers, but you’d better be careful. With Steve knocked out of the running, she might be after you again.”

He snorts. “Charlotte, not if she were the last woman on Earth, would I stick my cock inside Marcie.” He shudders as he chuckles.

I laugh, and he smiles at me, tracing my face with his fingers. “It’s good to see you smile.” I lean into his touch as he strokes my face, and he wraps an arm around my shoulders.

A breeze springs up and I goose-pimple. Michael feels me shiver. “Want to walk again? Warm up a bit? Perhaps down to the lake?”

turf sheep-clipped short. At the water’s edge, dragonflies zigzag, lilies spread their green pads across the shallows, framing oyster-pink flowers, seemingly carved from wax.

looks around,

are you looking

He smiles, “Privacy.”

hand. Under the cover of the trees, in an enclosed bower

ever. A hand on either cheek, he bends, brushing

running through me, smooth and warm. My lips parting, I slip fingers through his

love you,”

“I love you too.”

hear it, I want it to be because you mean it, not because you think it’s what I want to

“Michael, I….”

finger to my lips, then casts around, looking at the ground. He takes off

a shoulder. As I lie back on his jacket, I start to pull up my tee-shirt. He presses my hand down. “No, you’ll be cold. Keep it on. Um, you

the laces of

slides them down, along with my panties, leaving me naked below the waist. Kneeling between my legs, he

over my thighs, the heat of his lips on my skin. My troubles melt away in a soft haze of arousal. My magical Lover, always there,

Except….

when I say that

to mine. He doesn’t speak, but is unbelting,

more women than, I believe, you have had men. I know the difference between passion… arousal, lust… whatever you want to call it, and

kissing my neck, hands running

we

raises himself on an elbow, looking down at me, his lips pressed together, and gives a small nod of acknowledgement. “And yet, here we are…”

isn’t love, I

into mine, soft, semi-lidded. He strokes my face. “That’ll do.” And he

him in. With series of short, gasping breaths, I arch, raising my hips to meet him. He thrusts forwards slowly, in slow strokes, easing in, coating himself in my honey, before gradually,

loving me with his body,

current state of mind, I am not capable of it, and I think he understands this. But he does,

down at me. “Whatever it takes, whatever it