The Devil’s Pawn (14 page)

He continues to thrust his finger within me to the hilt, and I start to desperately crave more. I don’t have to wait long before his thumb finds the wet entry of my pussy, and he thrusts it swiftly into me. He’s now filling both of my entries, and his deep breathing tells me he’s enjoying this thoroughly. My own self-consciousness fades to the background of my mind at his arousal, and when he pushes himself up to his knees behind me, I’m ready and desperate for him to fill my body. Moments later, he withdraws from me completely, leaving me prone and empty. In no time at all, the engorged head of his cock nudges at my vagina, ready to invade me. He enters me slowly again, making me savor and crave every inch of him, and once he’s buried to his hilt, he retreats just as slowly, and upon his second entry, he makes good on his terms and slides his finger into my bottom, gently but persistently. The sensation is amazing. His cock, which always fills me and pushes me beyond the limits of my body, is suddenly more crowded by his finger in my rectum. And what is normally tight becomes exquisitely tight as he pushes past the clenching and constricting walls of my vagina.

Once he is filling me completely, he starts to thrust in and out with his finger as he remains buried, unmoving, in my pussy. After a long while of this penetration, he stills his finger and starts to fuck my pussy gently. And after another long while of this penetration, he starts to alternate his thrusting between his cock and his finger. My orgasm is mounting, and by the sound of his gasping and heavy breathing, he is reaching his own climax. It takes no time at all until I’m crying out in ecstasy as I fight to stay on my knees, now wobbly in repletion. Moments later, he comes deeply within me, his finger still buried to his knuckle within my bottom. He clutches me around my waist, pulling me back to him as hard as he can while he empties himself in me.

Once we’ve collapsed back onto the bed, he pulls my back into his body gently, and whispers in my ear, “Now tell me you didn’t enjoy that.”

I can’t, and he knows it, and as I roll back onto my back, he looks down to my eyes. I reach up to his cheek, and at my touch, he leans toward my mouth and gives in to my wager once again. Only after our mouths have stilled many minutes later do I rise to leave. But this time, for the very first time, he stills me and asks me to stay. I watch his eyes as he waits for my response, but I’m shocked by his request, and my mouth hangs slack and unresponsive.

He quickly leans up, and as he pulls me back down to his arms, he adds, “I’m not finished with you yet.” And in his arms, I drift off to sleep.

Chapter 15

I wake to silence in his room. I’m alone and just as naked as when he finished with my body. I can hear nothing, but can see the soft glow of the television from the other room. I stand and walk naked toward the light, and as I round the corner into this section of his apartment, I catch the images on the screen. There are four sections on the screen, and each shows a woman in some state of sexual activity. I can barely bring myself to look at the screen as embarrassment floods my cheeks. Derek hasn’t seen me yet, and as I watch him, he looks up to the screen and back down to a book that rests on his naked lap. His expression is blasé, and I wonder how that’s possible with so much gratuitous sex on the television in front of him.

After watching him for some time, I approach the couch, my eyes flitting to the screen as I continue to flush with embarrassment. Derek looks up to me, his eyes guarded and concerned. He’s waiting for me to say something, to give him some indication of what I’m thinking, but I’m in shock and struggling against the routine of it all. How many endless nights has he spent here watching his women work, reading a magazine or a book, bored with it? Will he watch me too? Of course he will. It’s his job, and I can barely wrap my head around the fact it will be my image on this screen in little more than a week. I don’t want him to see me this way, and it terrifies me to think what will pass through his mind as he watches as I try to please a man. Will he be bored? Will he be embarrassed for me? Will he judge my performance? Will he make notes on what I need to work on? Will he hate me for what he sees?

I sink to the couch as he watches me with a chilled look on his face. He can tell I’m struggling with this, and he doesn’t appreciate that I’ve still not said anything to him. As my eyes finally look to his, I can’t hide the shock. His eyes leave mine quickly as he registers my apprehension, and a hint of embarrassment flashes across his usually controlled expression.

When he lets his eyes find mine again, he demands, “Say something.”

I say the only thought in my head. “I don’t know what to say. I just … this life, this place is just so…” I can’t even finish my thought. I’m shocked at what I’m seeing, and confused too, and he doesn’t like my answer.

His face hardens and his jaw clenches, and when he speaks, it’s with an unmistakable defensive tone. “Did it ever occur to you that, whether I like the idea of strange men touching you and fucking you, they will anyway? You’ll lap me many times over before the year is out, dear, and don’t you forget it. Whatever distaste you have for my lifestyle or this place, try to keep a marginal amount of perspective.”

I gasp at his hurtful words, and, more than that, the truth of them. What right do I have to judge him? I’m here of my own choosing, however coerced it may be, and he doesn’t deserve my judgment.

“I’m sorry.” It’s a whisper.

He watches me with guarded eyes as my eyes flit away from his, but he’s not finished. “We all have our reasons for being here, Ashton. Mine may not be money, but they’re just as valid as yours. I’d appreciate it if you showed at least a modicum of respect for the position I’m in as well.”

At his further response, my eyes return to his. I want to ask him what position he’s in to bring him to this place, but his eyes warn me. He’s watching me intently, and judging by the dark and guarded expression on his face, he is not the least bit interested in continuing this conversation.

He finally gives up my eyes and reaches for the phone. He dials an extension, and as the other end picks up, he speaks. “You have the video feed. I’m off for the night.”

Once the phone is disconnected, he watches me for another moment before moving swiftly toward me and covering my body with his own. He’s still naked, and it takes him only a fraction of a second to push his way between my legs, and then into my body. He fucks me hard and fast before coming loudly and harshly. He doesn’t seem angry with me, but his mood has without a doubt shifted, and it shows in his pounding thrusts. He looks at my eyes after he’s finished, and he strokes my bottom lip with his thumb. I want him to kiss me again, and he seems to be considering it.

But he doesn’t, and in the silence between us, I ask the question. I’m terrified of the answer, but I have to know. “Will you watch me?” My fear must be evident on my face, as he continues to watch me carefully; his eyes soften for the first time in many minutes.

And on a deep breath, he responds, “Do you want me to?” I shake my head hastily before he’s even finished speaking the question. For the first time, his own apprehension fades.

He reaches for my face and sets my mind at ease. “Then I won’t.”

I nod as his words reassure me, but he still doesn’t kiss me. Instead, he pulls himself from my body and sits up, and before he moves away to his bathroom, he dismisses me for the night.

As I walk the few feet across the hall with my gown back on and my heels in my hand, I try to sort through the feelings racing through my mind. I’m hurt, but I’m not sure why. He’s given himself to me more thoroughly tonight than any other, and yet once I found him watching the video feed, the dynamic shifted completely. He was suddenly agitated, desperate, embarrassed even, and the same cold distance he so often embodies took over as he watched me. He dismissed me long before I was ready to leave him, but I can’t help but feel as though it was not for wanting to be rid of me, but desperation to escape his own negative feelings.

As I sit in my bath, I feel more sadness for him than anger. He’s in a “position.” Aren’t we all? But as positions go in this place, they are often laced with threat, obligation, and more than enough fear to last a lifetime. What could possibly be keeping him here, forced to suffer the constant torment of Mr. Grayson? What is this deal that they have in place? I wish I could have stayed and comforted him, but I, as well as his own secret torment, seem to be the very reason for his pain.

Chapter 16

Derek managed to recover from getting caught with his videos down, and while he’s been perhaps a little wearier than usual, he’s returned to fucking me with vim and vigor as usual. He’s not, however, kissed me again since that night. I had thought perhaps it would be a door he couldn’t so easily close after having allowed it to be opened, but I was apparently wrong on that account. The very next night after my evening in the gaming hall, he made that fact very clear.

I can’t say I intentionally kissed him, but I was perhaps more than a little relieved he seemed more himself after the way things ended the night before, and in my relief, I made the mistake of assuming he would want to kiss me again. But as soon as my lips touched his, he pulled away and looked harshly at my eyes. The shake of his head and his inability to hold my eyes sent a loud and clear message we would not be repeating that act again. As embarrassed tears pricked my eyes, I wanted to slink away and hide. At seeing my face, he let me excuse myself for the evening without having ever consummated our normal coupling.

But later that night, I woke to his naked body against mine in the dark. He entered me and gently rocked our bodies. His mouth was but a mere fraction of an inch from mine as we inhaled each other’s exhalation. His breath was warm on my lips, and my own breathing was ragged and aroused.

After he came, he gently whispered in my ear, “I’m sorry. We just can’t do that again.”

Nothing else needed to be said. I was still hurt, and try as I might, I couldn’t let go of the intimacy of his mouth. But with his words, we returned to normal again, enjoying one another in the most intimate ways that we could.

He didn’t allow me to return to the gaming hall again that last week. I have no idea if it was because of Grayson, or the men that I’d had to fend off, but he heard no argument from me on this account. I was in no hurry to return there, and with my first night looming so near in the future, I was more than content to remain upstairs and wait for him to summon me to his room for our nightly time together.

* * * *

My final week as a free woman passes far too quickly, and before I know it, Liz and I are leaving for the spa. We’re to be cut, plucked, waxed, and any other medieval form of torture they can come up with. She’s excited, and I’m nervous. I’ve never been waxed or plucked, and I’m guessing there are more enjoyable ways to spend an afternoon. As we enter the swanky spa, we’re greeted by identically dressed women waiting for us.

Liz tells the women that it’s my first time at the spa, but before she can finish introducing me, one of the women cuts her off politely. “Mr. Pennington has already called and given instructions for Ms. Monroe.”

As Liz looks to me with wonder at what these words may mean, we are quickly separated as they go to work on us. Pedicure first—love it. Manicure second—love it again. So far so good, but then the waxing room awaits.

As I lie on the table, I start fearing the worst. The wax torturer tells me that the first strip will be the worst, but by strip five, I’m no less ready to punch her in the face than I was after strip one, and I decide she’s most definitely a liar. Eventually the truth of her words can be felt as each strip turns to a dull throb rather than a burn. Every ounce of flesh from my ankles to my waist, and including my underarms, is sensitive and sore by the time she finishes. But as she starts rubbing aloe lotion into my skin, it starts to soothe, and my tension starts to fade.

I finish in the salon, and after a trim and a hasty lesson on applying makeup, I’m finally set free. My cosmetologist sends me away with a full stock of necessary cosmetics, again simple and demure, just as Derek ordered, and as I meet up with Liz again in the changing room, she asks me how it was. Aside from the waxing, it was pleasant, but as I change and she catches a glimpse of my waxed bikini region, she suddenly gasps.

Her shocked expression has me suddenly terrified that my vagina is missing, until she explains. “He wants you to keep your pubic hair? Like I’ve said before, girlfriend, that man does not want you looking anything like a prostitute.” Her eyebrows shoot up as she makes this last comment, with a warm smile flashing across her radiant face.

We exit to the waiting limo and are back at Trimbles within ten minutes. As we exit the elevator to our floor, we meet Derek in the hall on his way somewhere. When he asks how the spa was, Liz, unable to control her mouth as usual, throws him a comment as she turns, leaving us in the hall. “Great! But, uh, they may have forgotten that Ash has pubic hair.”

Her comment was meant to call out Derek, and judging by the tight set of his jaw and flared nostrils, she did just that. We stand by the elevator bank looking at one another while Liz makes her escape, and it is many long seconds later that I excuse myself and turn away from him. But just as soon as I’ve said my good-bye, I feel his hand on my elbow, and he pulls me to his room, apparently his earlier destination forgotten. Once in his room, he stands back from me and demands that I strip. I do slowly as he watches. His eyes are burning, and he looks more animal than man at the moment.

As I drop my underwear to the floor, his eyes are glued to my newly sculpted and groomed sex. Little has changed really. My pubic hair has been trimmed short but left ultimately intact. My bikini line has been taken in a bit, but overall, I look very much the same in comparison to the other shorn sheep walking around this place. But Derek seems to see far more as he stares at me openly. When he kneels in front of me, I almost choke, and when he lifts one foot to rest on his knee so he can get a closer look, I almost faint. His mouth and nose move to my suddenly wet and warm apex, but they stop short of making contact. For a moment I think he’s going to kiss me there, but instead he inhales deeply and runs his fingers over the smooth skin of my newly expanded bikini line. I’m trembling at his light touch, and when his nose and lips brush ever so gently over my remaining short pubic hair, I moan and my knees shake. I want to collapse to the floor in front of him, but he’s not finished with me yet.