Don't hurt me, I'm a virgin.

Chapter 3

THIS WILL CONTAIN SEXUAL SCENES ...IF THIS ISN'T YOUR THING THEN DON'T READ IT!

I have never written anything with sex in my life... this out of pure imagination... and I know how awkward the sex scene will be...soo *cringes*

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Chapter 3

The door closes behind me and I turn around nervously to gauge his reaction. He leans against the door, staring heatedly and at the same time impassively down at me.

"Tell me, how are you a virgin?" He asks.

I'm surprised by his question, of all things he can say to me, this is what he chooses. Not even an explanation to why he lashed out at me.

I shrug at him, staring up at his intensive eyes.

"But you're a whore?" He growls angrily, making me look up at him briefly before I turn my gaze away, "Aren't you?" he asks as he sees my reaction.

After everything he's put me through, he still manages to be angry to me. I can't quite blame him, he sees me as whore because he picked me up in a "whore station".

"Today is my first time," I tell him, my voice a whisper. Ugh, I hated how my voice sounded right now.

"Your first t-time," his voice cracks in utter shock. Suddenly he's running his hands frantically through his hair as he scowls at me.

Why is he still angry at me for?

"So, what? You just thought you'd lose your virginity as a prostitute?" He frowns at me.

I shrug intimidated by his anger.

"You are not serious!" He looks at me in disbelief. "But why?" there's trace of curiosity in his voice.

"I don't have a choice," I say faintly, catching his grayish blue eyes which are now more gray and I wonder if it's due to the fact that he is angry or the due to the dim lightning of the room.

"Everyone has a choice Leyla," he says calmer now.

I shake my head, "Not me," I whisper.

He cocks his head to one side, regarding me and he frowns slightly but his frown is not aimed at me anymore.

"How old are you?" He asks, tensing up a little as he waits for my answer.

A thought tells me I should lie to him, giving that he has already thrown me out before. But then again honesty is best form of developing trust.

"Eighteen," I tell him, anxiously waiting for another hissing fit.

He breathes out a sigh of relief. His previous anger seems to have somehow fled.

"Tell me, why do you think you have no choice?" He asks, his voice softer as he moves closer to me until I feel his body heat radiating and wafting over me. I'm struck in this proximity, breathless.

He looks down at me but the frown has left his face. Its replaced by curiosity. The blue of his eyes envelope the gray and this answers my earlier speculating that his eyes turn fully gray whenever he's angry.

This is it, I'm compelled to tell him now and so I begin by, "My life is a mess--"

He snorts, "Everyone's life is a mess." He moves closer to me and I move backwards, afraid of his closeness.

"At least not as bad as mine," I say.

"Well, I doubt it," he shrugs, taking a step forward, making me take a step back until my back is against the wall.