The bartender walked over and asked me what I wanted to drink. I asked for a glass of wine, and he laughed at me. My only options were beer or something from one of the liquor bottles behind the counter. I decided to go with a beer.
I turned around to look at the crowd—and that’s when I saw him. He was huge—almost like a behemoth—with broad shoulders, a thick chest, and beautifully inked biceps that looked like they could split his sleeve if he flexed them.
Oh my god.
I heard one of the guys he was with call him Brody when they told him it was his turn at the pool table. I felt my mouth salivating when he walked over to take his shot—washing away the bitter taste that the beer left behind. He was gorgeous. He was nothing like the guys I knew—the sons of my father’s business associates that thought a smile could melt my panties. Brody—he could have melted my panties off with a stare. He took his shot, lifted up, and his eyes locked on mine. I felt my panties getting wet when he walked towards me—it was like I was entranced—feeling things inside my body that I had never felt before.
“Hey. I’ve never seen you in here before.” He tilted his head as he spoke.
“It’s my first time.” I looked into his hazel brown eyes and felt like they could stare straight into my soul. “I’m Anabelle.”
“Is that so?” He chuckled. “Finish that beer so I can buy you another one. I’m Brody.”
I don’t know what happened exactly—it was like time stood still, then sped up all at once. I finished my drink, had a second one, and then Brody’s hand was on my knee. My body cried out for his touch—and I wanted him to move his hand further up my thigh. I was a virgin, but I didn’t feel like one—not when he touched me. I felt like a woman instead of an eighteen-year-old girl staring at a grown man. He had a filthy mouth—and he didn’t cover it like my father’s friends did when they accidentally dropped an f-bomb in my presence. The way he spoke—his mannerisms—it all turned me on and I felt like I was sitting in a pool of my own lust when he leaned forward and whispered into my ear.
“How would you like to go back to my place? It’s not far.” He slid his hand further up my thigh.
“Okay.” I nodded, caught somewhere between hesitation and unfiltered desire.
Brody took my hand and we started walking to the door—then we were walking across the parking lot and he was opening the passenger side door of his car. I climbed inside. I knew what was going to happen when he got me back to his place, but I didn’t know how to fight the urge that was burning inside me. My tutors didn’t teach me anything about that. The closest I had come to having the talk with my father was him telling me that nobody better lay a hand on me until he decided who I should marry.
“So, Anabelle—do you have a last name?” Brody looked over at me as soon as he cranked up his car.
“Prescott.” I looked at him and smiled.
“Prescott?” I saw his face tense up. “Like—Adrian Prescott?”
“That’s my father,” I nodded.
“Oh shit…” He exhaled sharply.
“Is that a problem?” I titled my head to the side.
Please say no—please don’t let my father ruin this too.
“Nah.” His face relaxed. “I guess not.”
Brody parked in his car in front of a rundown house. As soon as we walked inside, I realized we weren’t alone. There was another man there too, a man that he introduced as Rourke. Rourke was just as big as Brody, but he didn’t look like he would kill me with a stare. He barely paid attention to us after the introduction was made and Brody led me down the hallway to what I assumed was his bedroom. He slammed the door when we entered and pulled me close. His lips crushed mine—and then his tongue ravaged my mouth. It was the first real kiss I had ever had. He pulled my dress up, moved his calloused hand along my thigh, and then I felt a finger push past my panties. It went into my pussy and I winced—the penetration hurt, even though I was so wet that my panties were saturated with my lust.
“Are you a fucking virgin.” He leaned back from our kiss with a confused look on his face.
“Yes.” I nodded quickly.
“Not for long.” He grabbed me by the back of my neck and crushed my lips again.
I didn’t really know what to do, but I knew that the kiss made my head spin, so I just existed in that moment as he pulled at my dress. Brody stripped it off, tossed it on the floor, and then started removing my bra. His calloused hands were rough against my nipples, but they turned into hard nubs that reacted to his touch. His hands moved down my abdomen—to my panties, and then he slid them down my thighs. Once they were on the floor, he grabbed my ass and lifted me off the floor. I felt like I was flying in his arms, and then I crashed into the bed. He was on top of me in an instant—a growl echoing in his throat as he lifted my legs.
“Are you ready to have your cherry popped?” He rubbed a finger against my pussy.
“Yes.” I nodded quickly.
“Good.” He grabbed his cock and started to push it into me.
Oh god—that really hurts.
Anabelle
Brody was on top of me—his cock was being forced inside my virgin pussy. The head had started to disappear, and I felt a sharp pain. He was against my hymen—pushing through the thin membrane that stood as the last testament to my innocence. I was looking for adventure when I walked into O’Malley’s Pub and I found it—a lot more than I expected. My hands balled into fists as I tried to suppress the pain. I knew it would hurt, but I didn’t realize that it would feel like a ring of fire inside my pussy when his cock ripped my hymen. I couldn’t help but squirm—it hurt too much to do anything else.