Page 10 of Filthy Twisted Devil

ReformedJock95

I’m out. Good luck.

System Moderator

JAL29871 wins. Congratulations.

My ass falls back onto the bed as my legs go out from under me. My virginity just sold for over $1 million. This is good. Really good, by any measure, but my brain can't seem to comprehend the number. I was supposed to earn in the low six figures. It's what my research told me to expect, and it’s what I’ve been counting on.

This means I’ll have enough money to really launch my business. It would cover at least three years in Toronto, even in the worst-case scenario. If my expenses stayed low, I could last here for a decade. It’s enough that my brothers would never have leverage over my life ever again.

It’s also enough that I can’t feel my hands. It’s an insane, life-changing sum of money. I’m about to be a literal millionaire.

I close my laptop and turn off my phone, setting it face-down on my bedside table. After the insane success of the auction, I can’t process any more information tonight.

In the bathroom, I turn up the shower hot enough that steam chokes the room. I strip off my pajamas and throw them on the floor. They feel dirty already, somehow. I step into the water, hissing when it hits my bare skin. I love hot showers, so it only takes me a few minutes to relax. My skin turns rosy pink, and the steam makes every breath feel full and heavy. I close my eyes and let my thoughts run down the drain with the water.

After twenty minutes in the shower, I feel pleasantly empty. Even after I towel dry my skin it still feels damp from all the steam. I hurry back to my bedroom in the comparably cool air of the hallway. I mindlessly pull on an oversized T-shirt and some underwear and crawl under the covers. My heavy eyelids fall closed immediately.

But I don’t sleep.

Even though my body’s exhausted, my mind just won’t let go of consciousness. I stubbornly keep my eyes closed while I count to a thousand forward and backward. I try to come up with a city that starts with every letter in the alphabet. I recite Legally Blonde to myself, since I almost know it by heart. Occasionally, I drift into half sleep, but I never fully let go.

I’m exhausted when I finally open my eyes to a gray Saturday morning, my open bedroom door letting in the light from the living room. I have no idea what time it is. I grope on the bedside table for my phone and press the power button, waiting for the clock to light up.

Instead, my phone buzzes for forty seconds with missed notifications.

I groggily blink at the screen. Why do I have thirty-three missed calls? Have I even received that many calls over the past six months? There must be some kind of error.

My phone chugs to life, and I gasp when the names pop up. I've missed eleven calls from Wade and fifteen from Jasper. Reed even called once, and one call from him is like eleven from anyone else. The remaining six are from Brinley.

I don't bother listening to any of the voicemails. Instead, I head straight for my texts. There are over 400. I scan the most recent ones from Wade, and my blood runs cold when I see the words camgirl.

Shit.

They know.

I have no idea how they found out, but somehow my brothers know about my secondary income stream. Presumably, Brinley knows, too, and is calling to warn me. I don’t have the stomach to read all the texts, but at least I don’t spot the word virgin anywhere. If they don’t know about the auction yet, then I still have time.

I quickly open the CamCuties app. JAL29871 knew I was based in Toronto, and that the date would be set sometime in the three days. I just have to hope that he’ll be okay with meeting tonight, because the longer I wait, the better the odds are that my brothers will show up with a couple of shotguns.

The app’s concierge service helped me select a top-floor suite at the St. Regis. The luxurious venue isn’t just to impress the bidders. It’s the kind of place where staff come running if they hear you scream. It has security, access to a private elevator, and multiple exits from the main floor to give me a quick exit if I need one.

I select a slot tonight at 6:00 p.m. and send JAL29871 an opportunity to confirm. Thankfully, he must be awake and on his phone, because within minutes, I get a notification saying he’s accepted. I let out a long breath. That’s one thing I don’t have to worry about. I put my phone on Do Not Disturb to avoid anymore calls from my insane family members.

That gives me ten hours to get ready to lose my virginity to a total stranger who just paid me one-point-three million dollars for it.

I know that it's insane. I should be terrified, but frankly, I refuse to let fear stop me. If JAL29871 turns out to be a creep, I can handle myself. I grew up wrangling calves with three brothers who taught me how to put a man on his back if I have to. Hopefully, he isn't a creep. Then I get to lose my virginity the way I want to, on my terms, on my schedule, on my say-so.

Reed, Wade, and Jasper have stopped me from losing my virginity five times that I can count—three times by scaring the guy off before he could get close, and twice within the last inch of it happening. Once when I was nineteen, necking with a ranch hand on the bench seat of his pickup truck. Wade pulled the keys out and coolly suggested the guy get lost before he got fired without a reference.

The second time, I was twenty-one. I was at a wedding, and I pulled a groomsman into an empty spare room next to the supply closet. Reed appeared in the doorway, rolling up his sleeves like a bouncer ready to throw hands at a rowdy customer.

After that, I never got another chance. Every guy in Sundre under the age of forty got warned off me by one Locke brother or another. Determined to protect my virtue, my brothers have spent ten years standing between me and this one specific door.

This time, they can't stop me.

This is happening.