Lexie's First Time - A Prequel to Borrowed Billionaire and Billionaire Novelist (Erotic Romance) by Mimi Strong

Lexie's First Time
Part I
    Before I met the sexy billionaire Luthor Thorne, and I mean long before , I was just your typical shy girl who masturbated a lot.
    Puberty didn't come early for me, but when it did hit, KABOOM.
    In those days, my girlfriends and I would have all-girl parties and play those sleepover games—the ones where you ask a Ouija board or a Magic 8 Ball questions, like, “When will I lose my virginity?”
    The Ouija board told me I'd be losing mine that summer, which was 2003.
    Laura, who was my best friend back then, always asked the Ouija if this guy Lars liked her, which was ridiculous, because Lars liked everyone. He even hit on me a few times, but because Laura was crushing on Lars, I didn't jump at the opportunity to ride his pink Corvette.
    We girls would stay up late at night talking about pressing teen matters, such as whether or not having anal sex took away your virginity. We concluded that giving oral sex didn't count, any more than eating a hot dog. We decided that if a guy ate you out more than two times, or you'd had anal sex at least once, you couldn't say you were a virgin without clarifying it, with the verbal equivalent of an asterisk, like so:
    I'm a virgin.*
    *In the sense that my vagina is a virgin.
    All the talk about sex usually got me worked up, and I tried to keep my hands above the sheets, but as soon as the lights went out at the sleepovers, it was party time. As the other girls slept, I'd be rubbing out a nice, blossoming orgasm to help me get through the night peacefully.
    I loved the feeling I got right after an orgasm, like I was SuperGirl, and nothing was going to get me down. Those moments offset the pain of being untouchable by boys.
    Untouchable? Yes.
    I wasn't one of those girls who said she was “such a loser” just because she knew a few internet memes. I had acne, crooked front teeth thanks to some overeager wisdom teeth coming in (three wisdom teeth in total, go figure), and I wore glasses before glasses were hip. My mother did the best she could for the two of us, but I had to pay for dermatologist visits out of my own pocket, and my pocket was tiny.
    Because the town in Ohio that I grew up in was so small, everyone went to the same high school. None of the appealing guys, rich or poor or in between, showed any interest in little spot-covered Lexie Ross, and that was the extent of my possible dating pool.
    Lucky for me, I had a vivid imagination. I had this recurring fantasy that was a mix of Disney's Cinderella and the movie She's All That . Who needed a real-life boyfriend when you could close your eyes and have Freddie Prinze, Jr.'s sensitive fingers down your panties? He knew how to touch that sensitive little nub of mine just right. I had some little tubes of men's cologne samples, and I'd dab a bit onto my pillow so I could smell my dream man as he gave me an expensive department-store makeover, then fingered me. Daily and nightly and ever-so-rightly.

    The five of us who were all best friends had one big all-girl party not long before graduation from high school. The mood was bitter-sweet, because some of us would be heading off to college in the fall, and we all knew things would change. A few of us already had boyfriends, but we'd specifically banned them from our party.
    We were at Laura's house, because her family had a huge recreation room, and her parents were so exhausted from chasing after her much-younger brother and sister that they usually crashed early and we could do whatever we wanted.
    Laura was the oldest of the bunch—nineteen—but she was still in the twelfth grade because she'd repeated the eighth grade. She was as smart as anyone I knew, but her mother had gone into a terrible post-partum depression after one of the younger kids' birth, and Laura stayed home to help both her parents. She was an amazing person, and she deserved better than Lars, which was what people kept telling her, but you can't reason with a crush.
    We baked some