Queen (Mistress & Master of Restraint) (13 page)

“I work and live here, but I do have a life outside of Whittenhower Estates
,” she smirks at me. “I met a guy down at the community outreach center-
Transcend
. Do you know the place?” 

“Yeah, it’s just a few blocks from where I live- well,
where I lived as of this evening. I used to go there before I had to work all the time.”

I take a cleansing b
reath, and then another, until I’m finally calm again.

“It was uncomfortable the first time. It didn’t really hurt. It ge
ts better after that. There’s nothing to fear. Grant is too much of a gentleman to hurt you,” she tries to reassure me.

I hear her reassurance
s and it falls on deaf ears. All I can see is this beautiful, bright girl before me falling into the same trap as the rest of the girls I grew up with.

“
You’re not in love with him or something are you? Are you safe?” I ask in real concern. I’ve only known her for minutes, but I feel a real connection to her. She’s someone who also walks the fine line between two classes- dirt poor and filthy rich.

“Nah,” she laughs. She’
s warmed to me already. “He was just my first. There have been two others. Once you start having sex it can be addictive. If it’s good sex anyway,” she teases. “I’m always safe. I won’t let a few minutes of pleasure fuck up my future. Just my luck it’d be the time it’s dull that I get knocked up. It wouldn’t be worth it.”

She reaches over and turns off the spigot. She taps a few buttons and the jets come to life creating a whirlpool.
I stare longingly at the churning water.

“You don’t have to do it tonight ya know.” She tries to dissuade me again.

“Tell him one hour,” I command. “I’ll be ready. I am ready,” I say to convince myself more so than Kristal.

I toe my sneakers off and strip
out of my thrift-shop trousers and blouse. I pull off my ratty underthings with a shrug. I’m sure she’ll see me naked many times as my pseudo-maid. She doesn’t look away. Her eyes take in every imperfection on my six-foot-tall body- my thick thighs, the paunch that developed as I sat vigil by my mother’s bedside, the excess hair all over my body because razors are a luxury I couldn’t afford, and finally she comes to rest on my wild, out-of-control, blond hair.

She hands me a fresh razor- no plastic
, disposable razor for a Whittenhower Estate resident. No, it’s stainless steel and super sharp. I idly wonder if Kristal has one like it too or if the servants have different living conditions?

I slowly sink into the whirling water and sigh out in pleasure. It’s the best sensation I’ve ever felt, warm and intoxicating. The jets of water beat against muscles that I didn’t
even know were sore.

“Ah… Kristal, this is incredible,
” I moan softly as I close my eyes in delight.

“My mom and I
always see who can beat the other to the tub every night after our duties. I usually win since she’s called out for all kinds of things at odd hours.” I can hear the smile in her voice.

I guess that answers my question: only the best at Whittenhower Estates.

“Soak for at least a half hour before you shave. It will soften the coarse hair. Here is something Miss Whittenhower picked up for you.” She hands me two bottles- real glass- Shampoo and conditioner that promise to tame frizzy hair.

“Sleek,” I say in skepticism. “We’ll see. I’d even take curly or
kinky. It does nothing but fuzz,” I make fun of myself.

“A hot iron would help. I’ll show you tomorrow.” I study her silky locks and wonder if she uses an iron on it.

“I’ll get you a nightgown and go tell Mr. Whittenhower to be here in forty-five minutes.”

I say thank you to her back as she disappears into the pocket-door to the closet. I close m
y eyes and try to push away thoughts of the duty I’ll be preforming in forty-five minutes. If I do it right he won’t last long. I just don’t know what right is.

Chapter Fourteen

I smooth my hands down the front of my virgin-white, silk nightgown. I’m embarrassed by the lack of fabric holding my breasts. My boobs are too big for the lacy bodice. I look at myself in the mirror and try not to see all my imperfections. I sigh heavily and leave the bathroom.
At first I think Grant stood me up. He isn’t on the bed lying naked and growling like a rabid animal. I don’t know what to expect, but I surely didn’t expect what I see.

Grant’
s sitting in a chair wearing a black bathrobe with black and gray striped pajama bottoms on underneath. The robe is belted tightly into place with a peek of white t-shirt at the neck.

“Hi,” I say shyly.

He returns my meek “hi” with one of his own. His cheeks turn pink and he ducks his head. He watches me through the fall of his white-blond hair. I can see his blue eyes darken as he studies me from beneath his lashes.

“We don’t have to do this tonight. We could just get to know each other better. I don’t want to rush you.” His usually smooth voice sounds rough
and raspy. He clears his throat a few times, but I stop him before he can say more.

“I’m ready.” I say
as I slowly walk to the bed.

“Regina-”

“Grant,” I retort.

“
The nightgown is gorgeous. You’re gorgeous.” He shifts in his chair. Is he ready to bolt from the room?

“
Did you pick it out?” I smooth my hands down the silky fabric as I ask. I want him to have picked it out. It would mean less if someone else had. I want to know that the silk slid between his fingers as he thought of me wearing this gown.

“Yes, I picked it out,” he says bashfully.

His response hits me between the thighs and I clench my muscles from the sensation. I nearly moan.

“We can wait, Regina.” He tries to make this right between us. It’s a wrong situation. There is no right.

“Grant,” I groan out in mystification. Can’t this man see that I’m ready?

“I wanted to seduce you into enjoying this with me,” he pleads.

I want to say that it won’t be necessary, but what comes out is, “Get on the bed, Grant.” It comes out husky and forceful. His pupils dilate as he finally reads the naked hunger on my face. No, it’s not hunger- starvation.

“Don’t forget the robe,” I say as he
drags a knee onto the mattress.

I watch as he tosses the robe to the chair he was sitting in. I gasp when I see the front of his pants. I’ve never seen an aroused guy and Grant is very aroused. I whimper from the sight.

His eyes dart down to see what I’m looking at and he swallows.

“Take off your shirt and lie down on the bed,” I command.

I don’t know where my courage is coming from, but something deep inside of me is awake and roaring for obedience. I’ll do this tonight, but on my own terms. I’ve been starving for weeks and I’m about to feast.

He’
s breathing so hard his chest is rapidly moving up and down. He looks at me making sure that this is what I want before he quickly tugs on the back of his shirt and lifts it over his head. I watch in fascination in the wake of the white fabric as it reveals his flawless skin.

In the blink of an eye I’
m breathing just as fast as he is. He’s an inch or two shorter than me, but he makes up for that in lean, corded muscle. Now I’m the one who’s swallowing.

He looks at me again
, no longer unsure, and does as I asked. As he lies down on the bed I can’t take my eyes from the front of his pants. I’m in big trouble.

He lies flat on his back and patiently watches me.
His eyes follow my every movement. I crawl up the foot of the bed and sit on my heels near his calves.

“How do you want to do this?” His voice
quivers as he asks.

“Put your hands on the headboard. I can’t have you touch me yet.”
My eyes bulge out as the commanding words spill- words that flow from my mouth that I didn’t even think. I don’t know where they’re coming from.

His looks confused and worried, but he doesn’t say anything as he wraps his fingers around a wrought-iron finial inlaid in the headboard. He bites his l
ip and looks wide-eyed at me.

“Come up here and let me taste you,” he begs
eagerly.

“No,” I say sharply.

“Never?” He arches his perfectly groomed eyebrow as he asks in surprise; surprise that is heavy with disappointment.

“No,” I say softer this time. “I don’t want to do that while I’m still a virgin. That isn’t something virgins should do.”

“How will I make you ready then if I can’t touch you at all? I don’t want to hurt you.” He lifts his head up so he can see me better, but doesn’t let go of his handhold.

“That won’t be a problem,” I assure him. I clench my thighs togethe
r on the bead of moisture that’s trickling down my skin. The more he complies, the wetter I get.

“I brought some lubricant if you’d like to use it.” He turns his head to the side and looks at the nightstand.

Watching him hang on the metal ornamentation and look so uncertain has me blooming. I want him. God, where are these thoughts coming from?

“It won’t hurt. I made sure of it. I didn’t want my first time to hurt so I took care of it.”

“What do you mean?” He asks patiently as if holding onto headboards is his favorite pastime.

“When I was fourteen I used a curling iron to take care of it.” My hand flies up to cover my mouth as my
deepest, darkest secret spills unbidden. I blush bright red against the pale white of my gown.

“I don’t understand?”
His brows draw together in confusion.

“My friends were losing their virginity in droves. I heard lots of s
tories how a guy will know you’re virgin or not by how you feel inside and whether or not you bleed. I took care of it.” I clamp my lips shut and growl. I don’t want to tell him this. Why is it coming out my lips?

“Being pure is a blessing and a curse where I come from. The
honest, good guys you want to have sex with won’t sleep with you if you’re a virgin. They think you’ll want them to take care of you for life it they have sex with you. Then there are the guys that prey on virgins; it’s what gets them off. I penetrated myself with a curling iron. It hurt like hell and I bled. I did it night after night until it started to feel good.” I bite my tongue. SHUT UP, REGINA!

He doesn’t look at me in judg
ment and it loosens my tongue.

“One day I was walking home from school and two guys from my building cornered me in the alley. Everyone knew I was a virgin and that’s what they like. One of them held me down while the other shoved his hand up my skirt. He sank his fingers inside
of me and when he didn’t meet resistance he stopped. They demanded to know who I was having sex with and I told them it was Roman and he was going to kill them. It was the best threat I could think of. After that everyone assumed that I was Roman’s and left me alone. He went along with it too.”

“So- yeah, that’s why I know it won’t hurt when we-” I swallow loudly. “When we have sex it won’t hurt. I’ve taken care of that already. I’m still a virgin
, just a hymen free one.”

I blush so brightly that my skin tightens and prickles. I think that I just caught fire.

“What happened to those men?” Grant asks so coldly that I shiver.

“They apologized to Roman and he didn’t know what they were talking about. The next day I came home from school and he called me into the alley. He held them down on the dirty pavement while I kicked them with
my penny loafers. My shoes had metal tips on the toes that were most excellent at bruising ribs. I was bothered a few more times after that, but eventually I grew up. A pissed off, six-foot tall girl in a catholic-school-girl uniform with wild hair is a scary sight.”

“I’m rat
her fond of Hillbrook’s uniform,” he murmurs softly.

He smiles grandly showing off his dimpl
e. I want to smile back, but I’m struck dumb by the sight. That smile had young debutants losing their Hillbrook uniform for years I bet.

“I’m proud of you. I don’t know how anyone couldn’t be. Your strength amazes me. Your survival instincts and your will is an incredible thing to behold.”
He looks at me so seriously that I want to cower, but I don’t. I hold his gaze back. I don’t bask in his praise. I take it as it was meant. He’s being real with me and showing me how he really feels. I won’t make it less or more than it was given.

I reach down and tug his pajama pants
at the waistband. He lifts his hips never taking his hands from the headboard and my respect for him grows. I pull the pants off him and toss them with the shirt and robe. I never take my eyes off his crotch.

He lies before me completely naked and my eyes devour the sight.
He trusts me enough to make himself vulnerable to me. He’s gorgeous. I can’t believe that he wants to have sex with me- this smart, witty, handsome, affluent man wants me. The situation is absolutely wrong, but there’s no denying the power I feel knowing that he desires me. I could get all girly and think that it’s my looks or that he wants me more than his wife and it makes me better than every woman on the planet. But I know that he just needs me. It’s illogical and has nothing to do with looks or station in life. Something unexplainable attracts me to him and him to me. Knowing that we may or may not make a child tonight adds to the thrill.