The Billionaire and the Virgin

By: Jessica Clare



“Oh dear,” Smith said over the microphone. “I think this ball is stuck in the hopper.” She prodded at the machine. “Sir?”

Rob stared at his card intently. “Marjorie, sweetheart, can you help her? I want to see how the card reacts when she hits the reset.”

“Of course.” Marjorie got out of her seat and headed to the front of the room, where Smith was manning the caller’s station. She leaned over and peered at Rob’s assistant and the spread before her. “What seems to be the problem?”

“There’s something stuck in the hopper,” Smith said, and gestured at the machine.

The bingo machine had all seventy-five white numbered balls bouncing around in the glass case under the electronic calling board. One by one, each ball would fly up the chute and pop out for the caller to take. But for some reason, there was something else stuck in the chute. Something blue.

Marjorie leaned forward and frowned. “What did you stick . . . in . . . there.” She gasped.

The object in the chute was a small velvet ring box, wedged in place of where a numbered ball would go.

Eyes wide, Marjorie looked out at the audience, where Rob was seated. He was pointedly staring at his card, but grinning like a loon. She made an undignified noise that might have been a cross between a protest and a squeal, and snatched up the box. With trembling hands, she flipped it open.

And stared.

An enormous square cut diamond surrounded by a cluster of smaller diamonds stared out at her. It was an engagement ring.

“Rob,” she said weakly. “How much did this cost?”

“That is not an appropriate answer,” he called back, amused. “The appropriate answer is either ‘yes’ or ‘no.’ You don’t get to ask how much your engagement ring costs.”

“Yes!” she said happily. “Absolutely, yes!” She raced back to the table where Rob had stood up, and flung herself in his arms. “One hundred times yes!”

He laughed, and then they were kissing each other wildly, and Marjorie’s heart felt so big she thought it might burst.

“Are they going to call a damn number or not?” a cranky bingo player asked.

Marjorie laughed and clung tightly to Rob’s neck, happiness radiating from her. “We’d better get out of here. There’s one absolute rule in nursing homes, and it’s that you don’t mess with the bingo.”

“Sounds dangerous,” Rob teased, holding her against him. It felt so good to be in his arms, so very right. “Good thing I happen to know a place we could meet and make out at.”

“Your penthouse, sir?” she teased.

“Meet you there in five minutes?”

“I promise to wear nothing but my shoes,” she agreed.

“And the ring.”

“And the ring,” she amended. Then, they locked hands and sprinted out the door, heading back to their apartment.

They made it home in record time, and as good as her promise, Marjorie quickly undressed and put her favorite high heels back on. She slipped the ring on her finger and stared at it in wonder. It fit her finger perfectly. “How on earth did you manage that?” Marjorie asked.

“Hmm?” Rob shucked his pants off, and then shrugged. “I just asked for the biggest ring that they had—” He laughed as she lunged at him. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding!”

“You’re a cruel, cruel man,” she said, reaching for her shoes. “And I should take these off to punish you.”

“Hell, no,” he told her. “I love my tall, gorgeous amazon. Seeing you looming over me makes my dick hard as a rock.”

She reached for his cock and sure enough, he was just as hard as he said he was. “Hard as a diamond,” she agreed, then added, “hard as my diamond. Which was probably very expensive . . . ?”

“I got it for a song,” he told her, grinning.

She groaned as he dragged her into their massive bed. “Please tell me you didn’t.”

“I didn’t,” he said, his hand sliding to her breast to caress it. “I wouldn’t cheap out on the thing that matters the most to me. You know I’d spend any dollar amount for you.”

Her smile grew soft with adoration. It was true. In the last year, he’d spent ridiculous amounts of money on anything and everything. If she said she liked a particular color, she’d come home to find three pairs of new shoes in that color. If she mentioned a particular car looked nice, he bought her one the next day. She currently had a red Corvette and a Bentley sitting in the parking garage downstairs, gathering dust. It didn’t matter to Rob. He just wanted to see her smile.

And as she’d told him so often, all he needed to do to make her smile was just to look at her.

“I love you,” she told him for the hundredth time that week. Possibly that day. They were dorky like that.

“Love you, too,” he told her, sliding between her legs and hitching one high-heeled foot onto his hip. “Let me show you how much.”

And he did.

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