Free Flown By The Billionaire by Clara James Page A

years by that point, were
stoked by his persuasive arguments. He was incredibly intelligent,
charming, and witty. Falling in love with him was ridiculously
easy. It was a naïve first love, the kind most of my peers had
experienced at sixteen. But it was a fervent, fierce kind of love;
one that made me feel that I would do anything for him. However,
there was one thing he wanted that I shied away from for a time,
not because I didn’t want to give it, but because I was scared.
Thankfully, he was much more understanding than I could have hoped
for. Slowly but surely, he chipped away at my insecurities.
    After nine months of dating, and at the age
of twenty-one, I took the final step of defiance against the
religious dogma my parents had forced upon me.
    Having received absolutely no sex education,
my first time was exactly what you might expect: a little clumsy,
painful because I was so tense, and, I dare say, it didn’t rock
Greg’s world, either.
    Afterward, I felt a bizarre mixture of
emancipation, coupled with an overriding sense of guilt. Whether I
believed what my parents believed or not, I’d let them down. I knew
they’d be terribly disappointed if they ever found out.
    My relationship with Greg continued for
another year after that, but things were strained. We were having
sex regularly during that time, but I can’t say I ever really
enjoyed it. My mind was always drifting to the things I’d been
taught. As much as I wanted to disregard it all, I couldn’t—not
entirely. Eventually, once we’d drifted so far apart that neither
of us could ignore it any more, we parted amicably.
    That year, we both graduated; he moved to
California and I headed to New York, where I’d already secured an
intern position at Blue Rock. I moved up quickly, putting in more
hours than my fellow trainees. By the time I was twenty-five, I was
the fund manager’s assistant and I was content.
    My love life was sparse and I’d had two
boyfriends since Greg. Neither relationship lasted longer than a
few months, and just like before, the sex was a disappointment to
me. Frustratingly, I knew the problem was mine and not the men I
chose. Even masturbating, I found it hard to reach an orgasm, and I
would feel misplaced shame at the act. However, sexual
gratification quickly became the least of my concerns.
    Blue Rock suffered a major hit in the
economy crash, and I was one of its casualties. At first, I was
disappointed, but not overtly concerned. After all, I thought, I’d
be able to get another job without too much hassle. But as the
weeks turned to months and every application was either ignored or
responded to with a curt decline, I started to panic.
    Despite attempts to pinch pennies and beg a
little leniency from my landlord, I eventually had to admit defeat
and give up my apartment.
    That’s when I found myself back home in my
parents’ house, sitting at the kitchen table trawling through job
sites while my Mom made a batch of bread from scratch and still
found the time to lecture me about the mistakes I’d made.
    “So, you will be coming to mass tomorrow?”
she asked suddenly, ripping me from my melancholy thoughts.
    “Hmm?” I replied, lifting my head as I
realized I hadn’t been listening to a word she said.
    “You’ll be coming to mass,” she said, this
time it was phrased as an expectation rather than a question.
    “Oh,” I mumbled. “I don’t know…” I hedged
slowly. “I…umm. I don’t really think so,” I eventually uttered.
    “Mmm,” she hummed discontentedly.
    “Mom,” I began with a soft sigh. “We’ve been
over this. I told you, I haven’t been for a while and I just…I
don’t feel it’s for me.”
    “Jesus is for everybody, Melissa,” she
tossed back at me, turning her back to attend to the beeping
oven.
    “You know Michael hasn’t been to church for
years, either,” I sullenly responded. “You don’t give him the third
degree over it.”
    Michael, my younger brother,