I take a short walk outside to get some fresh air. My cock strains almost painfully in my pants. It’s rock hard and throbbing.

I was so fucking close, then I went and blew it. Maybe I should’ve done it, but that wouldn’t have been the smartest decision I could make.

She’s a fucking virgin? Why didn’t she tell me? How could I not know this?

I should’ve known better than to get involved with a virgin. She’s way too pure and innocent for someone like me. I shouldn’t be touching her, much less take her virginity.

I feel gross, like I’m taking advantage of her. I’ve put her through a roller coaster of new experiences and emotions, and I don’t think it’s wise to let her make a decision about something so important while she’s… Well, she’s not drunk because we didn’t have any of the champagne prepared in the bedroom, but her head is probably still spinning from everything that has happened over the past few days.

She has gone from a broke music student to my fake fiancée, being flown all over the world to be with me. I bet she feels like she owes me something.

Sure, I’ve been with plenty of women, but I’ve never taken advantage of anyone. With Piper, I feel like I’d be crossing that line if I fucked her virgin pussy.

She has also learned too many things about me over a short period of time. My family, my family’s wealth, my family’s history… It’s not just about my family, though. I can’t blame my criminal record on them.

The main thing is, Piper is in no condition to be giving away her virginity to someone like me, especially not when she’s confused and sleep-deprived.

Maybe I should’ve given her an explanation, but if I stayed there a second longer I wouldn’t have been able to restrain myself.

I’m not saying I won’t do it. The opposite, in fact. Her virginity is mine. I just want her to make that decision after she has had some time to process everything.

I’m going to be the first one to claim that hot little body. It’s just a matter of time now.

I guess I’ll take a cold shower and sleep in a different room tonight. I’ll let her rest tonight.

But tomorrow, I won’t let her get away.

* * *

I wake up to the sound of piano playing outside. I look around me, trying to make sense of where I am.

The Paris house. Piper. Late night flight into town.

Virgin.

My hard-on twitches at the thought of Piper’s luscious body, sprawled out in front of me, ready for me to ravage. I curse myself for being such a Boy Scout, walking away just like that, after tasting the sweet honey between her legs.

With eyes still heavy with sleep, I stumble into the bathroom to take a piss and wait for my morning wood to go away.

I walk down the hallway and reach the staircase. Holding the railing, I look down to the ground level. The sunlight coming through the skylight hits the grand piano at the bottom of the stairs.

Nobody has ever played it before and I almost forgot it was even there. The interior designer must’ve brought it in just because it fits the feel of the house or something equally dumb.

Now, though, it’s obvious just how much the piano’s potential has been wasted. I watch, mesmerized, as Piper’s fingers dance on the white-and-black keys, fill the house with beautiful music, giving it some life.

She looks beautiful. The sunlight hitting her hair makes it look like a halo. She has a look of intense concentration and enjoyment on her pretty face. I stare from the top of the stairs, afraid she’d stop if she knew I’m here.

I lose track of time as I watch her play song after song, all of them smooth, jazzy tunes. I don’t even know how many different songs she has played so far, or what songs they are, but I could just stand here and watch her for hours.

“Morning, Monsieur,” Marie greets me from downstairs, and I almost curse when the music abruptly stops.

“Morning,” I say. As Piper lifts her gaze to look at me, I give her a smile. “That was beautiful, princess.”

“Thank you,” she says with a strange smile. Her pink, plump lips curl up, but her eyes have lost the spark that they had when she was playing the piano.

What is up with that? I see she’s already dressed in a pair of skinny jeans and another oversized top, ready for the day. Maybe she’s been waiting for a while.

I forget sometimes that not everybody can just up and leave to Paris whenever they feel like it. To Piper, her time here is limited and she has probably been raring to go, and I’m the only person keeping her anchored.

“Think about where you want to go today, princess,” I say. “I’ll go get ready. Won’t be long.”