Ivanna Is A Was Virgin
Ivanna's eyelashes trembled softly as the first ray of morning light pierced through the curtains, warm and blinding.
The moment she stirred, a sharp ache rippled through her body, heavy, throbbing, and raw, like she had been rolled beneath the wheels of a relentless truck.
Every muscle protested.
Every breath reminded her of last night.
Grinding her teeth, she forced herself to sit up. Only then did her gaze fall on the sleeping figure beside her.
EUGENE.
His face... maddeningly exquisite even in slumber ... rested calmly on the pillow. Soft shadows shaped his jawline, and lashes too long for a man fanned against his cheeks.
And just like that, anger flared inside her.
She wanted to smack him.
Hard.
This is all your fault!
She still couldn't process how everything had spiraled from a tantrum to... last night.
He had taken her first kiss.
Her first time.
Her whole sanity, apparently.
And worse ... she'd let him.
Heat bloomed across her face as memories flooded back.
How could he sleep so peacefully after the chaos he caused?
She still couldn't wrap her head around the fact that a simple tantrum had spiraled into... that.
She only meant to provoke him. Push his buttons.
But she clearly underestimated the devil she married.
Her cheeks warmed as memories flashed, vivid, consuming.
His mouth claiming hers.
His hands wandering over her sensitized skin.
His voice, those deep, unrestrained moans, echoing in her ears.
She swallowed hard.
He had taken her first kiss... and everything else.
He had looked nothing like the cold tyrant she always thought him to be.
Nothing like the merciless prince she despised.
Last night... he was someone entirely different.
A man capable of tenderness that made her toes curl.
A man whose touch felt like fire trailing across her nerves.
A man who handled her like something precious even as he overwhelmed her.
At first it was painful, sharp enough to make her gasp.
But then...
His pace softened.
His voice lowered.
His eyes... those deep, intoxicated eyes... held hers like she was the only thing he could see.
Her face burned as she remembered how she clung to him, how her voice betrayed her again and again as she moaned loudly in his ears.
She slapped both hands over her face.
I can't believe I sounded like that!
What happened to her dignity?
To her neat-freak standards? To her boundaries? To her brain?
Somewhere between his kisses and the way he whispered her name against her throat, she had forgotten everything, pride, anger, rational thought.
And she let him.
Because last night...
She wanted him.
The realization sent a fresh wave of embarrassment crashing through her, her heart pounding uncontrollably.
"What kind of a person is this...?" she muttered quietly, peeking through her fingers at his sleeping form.
Handsomer than ever.
Peaceful.
As though he hadn't absolutely ruined her the night before.
Ivanna dragged both hands down her burning face.
She had never...ever...let anyone into her personal space before.
No hugs.
No kisses.
No touching.
She used to recoil if someone even breathed too close to her.
So how in the world did she go from being a neat-freak who flinched at casual contact...
...to letting Eugene kiss her until she forgot her own name?
Just remembering the way he pulled her closer, his palm firm at her waist, his breath warm against her skin, made her throat tighten.
She had expected disgust. Repulsion.
But instead?
Pleasure.
Intense, mind-melting pleasure that left her dizzy.
Everything about last night replayed in her head like a forbidden movie, his heat, his voice, his hands, the sensation of being wanted.
She curled her toes in embarrassment.
And yes... he had practically tortured her with how relentless he was.
But the shameless truth?
She wanted every minute of it again.
Her thoughts were spiraling when her stomach suddenly growled, loud, desperate, and humiliating.
Her eyes widened.
Right.
Dinner.
She hadn't eaten.
Because of him.
The shameless maniac beside her who turned her into a human pretzel all night.
She tried to sit up, but a strong arm wrapped instantly around her waist and dragged her back down.
"Ah-!"
She landed on Eugene's bare chest with a soft thud, and his arm automatically tightened around her as if his body did it without thinking.
Ivanna blinked up at him.
He looked... devastatingly handsome like this, half-asleep, hair tousled, his breathing slow and deep.
Then his lashes fluttered, and he cracked one eye open.
A lazy smirk curved his lips.
"So," he murmured, voice low and thick with sleep, "someone finally realized how handsome her husband is. You've been staring at me for quite a while."
Ivanna's cheeks burned instantly.
"I-I wasn't staring!" she snapped, pushing lightly at his chest.
He didn't budge.
Not even a millimeter.
"Can you let go?" she demanded.
"No." His voice was firm, commanding. "It's early. Sleep."
"I'm hungry!" she protested. "I didn't have dinner because of you! I need to go make food."
"No." He didn't even open his eyes this time. "Let the maids cook."
She snorted. "You mean the maids you dismissed? The ones you forced me to replace?"
"I didn't force you," he muttered, half-asleep, "I just wanted you to learn basic discipline."
"By torturing me?!"
"...More or less." He shrugged lightly.
She glared, ready to burst.
He exhaled in annoyance, finally opening his eyes fully.
"Fine. I'll bring the maids back. Happy?"
Ivanna paused, momentarily shocked by his sudden willingness.
So she pushed her luck.
"Not happy."
He stared at her. "What is it now?"
"I want that Margaret witch gone."
"No."
His answer was immediate.
She scoffed. "Of course. Of course."
He sighed. "She stays. But I'll talk to her. She'll go easy on you."
"Go easy?" Ivanna let out a humorless laugh.
"What was I even expecting... I should've known."
Eugene raised a brow, amused. "Should have known what?"
"That you're a beast disguised as a human," she snapped. "A good-for-nothing sleaze bag!"
Instead of getting angry, Eugene's grin widened, slow and wicked.
He folded his arms behind his head, watching her with an expression far too satisfied.
Her puffed cheeks, her fire, her anger, he looked like a man being entertained by the cutest show in the world.
"A sleaze bag, hmm?" His voice dipped playfully.
"That's not what you said last night." he sneezed. "Last night you called me a lot of sweet names. I keep hearing words like, oh...
Ah... That feels so good. Don't stop Eugene. Don't ever stop... Eugene this, Eugene that.
Everything you said about Eugene last night just didn't sound like a sleaze bag."
"Shut up!" she yelped, face flaming. "I didn't say anything like that!"
"Really?" Eugene tilted his head, teasing. "Because I clearly remember someone calling my name. Loudly. Very lovingly, too."
She grabbed a pillow and smacked him with it.
"And you!" she shot back. "You were moaning like-like-"
"Yes?" he drawled. "Like what?"
"Like someone who completely lost control!"
He chuckled, low and sinful.
"It's normal to moan when a sex is good. It's no big deal."
Eugene said this so casually, so maddeningly nonchalant, that Ivanna felt something inside her snap.
Just good?
That's what he called what happened?
He referred to her precious first time as a good sex that isn't actually no big deal?
Her expression darkened instantly.
"Good?" she repeated, her pride flaring like wildfire. "You call t-that poor sex good?"
Eugene smirked, slow, arrogant, provoking.
"That?" she drawled, "isn't even close to my definition of good." Ivanna lifted her chin proudly, refusing to back down.
"Not good? Coming from someone with poor kissing skills?" Eugene said teasingly as he seemed to love the way she looked when she's angry.
But this time, she scoffed loudly.
"I bet. Last night was obviously your first time kissing. You were so... sloppy." he added.
"What? That's total bullshit!" She said almost in a screech.
His brow arched, amused.
"Really? Because your kissing was way too clumsy I couldn't help but to teach you in self-defense. If anything, last night was your first kiss."
"I said no! You wish!" She denied instantly, loudly, too loudly.
"I've had my first kiss years ago. And I bet-" she added, voice dripping with false confidence,
"-you hadn't even had your first sex when I had mine!"
She puffed out her chest with bravado.
"And of all the men I've had," she pressed on, even though her lips trembled slightly,
"your sex skills are the poorest."
Eugene paused.
Then smiled.
A slow... devastating... knowing smile.
"Is that so?"
"Uh-huh!" Ivanna stuttered. "Haven't you heard about me? I-I club, and have... men. I live recklessly. So sex? It's not a big deal."
"Mm." He hummed lazily. "Yes. I'm sure you do. I can totally believe it."
Except the sarcasm in his tone was so thick she could choke on it.
Then his gaze dropped, slowly, dragging down her flushed face, her trembling lips, the marks he left on her collarbone, and finally to the way she clutched the blanket like a frightened rabbit.
Ivanna felt naked under that look.
And she panicked.
"Yes, of course!" she blurted. "I-I have sex for fun!"
"I'm sure you do," he murmured with a sinful grin, "since you look like such a very... experienced woman."
Her heart dropped.
His tone was teasingly mocking, mercilessly even.
He was enjoying watching her crumble, enjoying every stutter and lie.
Ivanna's ears burned.
That was it.
She had to escape before he stripped her dignity completely.
She wrapped the blanket around herself and jumped up...
Or rather, she tried to.
The moment her feet touched the floor, her legs gave way.
A sharp pain shot through her body and she collapsed back onto her butt with a soft thud.
Eugene's low chuckle filled the room, warm and wicked.
He gave her that infuriating smug look, the one that said I told you so without saying a word.
Ivanna's face flamed.
"I-I must have stepped on the fabric," she said quickly, forcing a brittle laugh.
"Of course you did."
He smirked, eyes glinting.
Blood rushed to her cheeks.
Oh how she hated him.
Hated him for being smug.
Hated him for being calm.
Hated him for being ridiculously handsome.
But most importantly...
She hated him for the way her body ached because of him.
Ivanna gritted her teeth, pushed through the pain, and forced herself to stand.
Every step hurt.
But she held her head high like a queen refusing to bow to an emperor.
She didn't even look back as she stormed out of his room.
The door slammed shut behind her.
Eugene stared for a moment, then chuckled softly.
Her walk, adorably stiff, painfully slow, and full of attitude, made the smirk on his face deepen.
Because he remembered exactly why she was walking like that.
He hadn't planned it.
Not at all.
He had only intended to punish her for kissing him so recklessly, for provoking him with those clumsy lips.
But the moment he kissed her...
She melted.
Completely.
The feel of her, soft, warm, breathless, made something inside him snap.
He lost every ounce of restraint.
And when she moaned, trembling beneath him...
He knew he wasn't letting her go.
He remembered the way she looked at him with those dazed, watery eyes.
The way she gasped his name, even while trying to pretend she hated him.
The memory alone made his pulse quicken again.
"Poor sex skills, huh?"
He whispered to himself, lips curving in a dark smile.
He leaned back against the headboard, the sheets still messy with traces of last night.
Everything felt strange to Eugene.
Very strange.
He wasn't the type of man who lost control easily.
He wasn't driven by impulse.
He wasn't a slave to his own desire.
He liked sex, yes, but on his own terms.
Calculated. Controlled.
He usually needed long foreplay and a slow burn before he even considered intimacy.
But with her?
With Ivanna...
just one touch from her had shattered every line of discipline he'd built for years.
He remembered the way she whimpered beneath him, soft, breathless sounds that shot straight to his core.
The way she trembled so intensely when he tried to enter her, her fingers clawing at his arms, nails sinking deep enough to sting.
At first, he'd thought she was just nervous.
But then he realized he couldn't find his way into her, no matter how gently, no matter the angle.
So when he finally forced himself deeper, her sharp yelp had stunned him.
Her whole body shook, fingers clutching him with desperation and pain, and for a moment he froze.
That wasn't the reaction of a woman who'd "had many men."
That was...
Something else.
He remembered how her tightness nearly drove him mad, how her body wrapped around him like it had never known anyone before him.
She clung to him.
Held him like she was terrified.
Like every movement hurt and thrilled her at once.
And that was when he changed.
He, who preferred roughness, who prided himself on dominance,
found himself slowing down, gentle, careful, protective.
He didn't even recognize himself.
But he loved every second.
Her hissing breaths,
her trembling thighs,
the way she buried her face into his shoulder,
the way her nails dug crescents into his back...
Everything about her was raw.
Real.
Different.
He had slept with countless women, beautiful, experienced, seductive women.
He had never touched a virgin.
He never wanted to.
But last night...
It was unlike anything he'd ever felt.
He ran his hand through his hair in frustration, exhaling sharply.
His body was already reacting just from the memory, hard, eager, needy.
And that alone annoyed him.
Why her?
Why was she the exception?
Why did he lose control with her and no one else?
He tried to shove the thoughts away.
"She said she has sex for fun," he muttered. "She goes to clubs. Drinks. Dances. Probably sleeps around."
He clung to those words.
Wanted to believe them.
Because if she was experienced...
then the way she reacted made sense.
Right?
But her behavior yesterday...
her fear of being touched...
the way she ran away this morning...
It all felt wrong.
Everything clashed.
He leaned back and shut his eyes, trying to settle the storm in his head,
but then a sudden thought flashed through his mind, sharp as lightning.
He sat up instantly.
Pulled the duvet aside.
His breath stilled.
On the bedsheet, faint but undeniable,
was a smear of deep red, definitely blood stains.
He stared at it for a long moment.
Then a slow smirk tugged at his lips.
A dark, amused, irresistible smirk.
"So much talk..." he murmured, voice low and triumphant,
"for a virgin."
