Crash Into Me (7 page)

"I
want you to close your eyes and think about how it felt with my mouth on your
pussy."

An
involuntary moan escaped from my throat at the sound of his words entering my
ears. This was the most he'd ever spoken to me, other than telling me about his
plans for his house, and I loved hearing him talk like this.

"I
love the taste of your juices on my tongue, Nina. Do you want me to make you
come like that again?"

"Yes,"
I whimpered as I remembered his mouth on my body taking me to such exquisite
heights of pleasure.

"Or
would you prefer me to fuck you, my cock buried deep in your cunt?"

"God,
yes," I answered breathlessly.

"I
wish I could be there right now, Nina. I want to fuck you until you cry out in
ecstasy, loud enough for the Le Ciel women to know what I've done to you."

I
wished he could too. I wanted to feel his hands on me, his lips touching mine
as he brought me to the edge of everything my body wanted and held me as I
tumbled over that precipice.

"Since
I can't, I want you to slide your fingers inside your panties and finger that
pretty cunt for me, Nina. Will you do that for me?"

"Yes,"
I answered quietly as my hand moved down my body and below my panties. My
finger slid through my soft folds and easily found its way inside, as he'd
commanded.

"Imagine
my tongue gently dragging over your clit. I love the feel of it on the tip of
my tongue, Nina. It's swollen and eager for me to take it into my mouth and
suck on until all those tender nerve endings explode in your orgasm."

As
he spoke his sensual words, my finger rubbed in tiny circles over my excited
clit, creating soft waves of sensation that felt almost as good as his mouth
had on me.

"But
I want to feel you surrounding my cock, the soft walls of your cunt gripping me
tight as I slide in and out of your willing body. You're sitting on top of me,
riding my cock as you've never done with any other man."

"Yes,"
I whimpered as my fingers moved faster over my pussy. "Yes."

"Bend
down and kiss me, Nina. Bring that beautiful mouth to mine and let me feel your
kiss while I fuck you. You're getting close, aren't you?" he whispered low
into my ear.

"Yes."

"Not
yet, Nina. You can't come yet."

I
slowed my finger's movement against my clit to stop from coming, loving the
feel of holding off until he told me I could.

"I
slide my hands over that pretty ass and squeeze as my cock slides into your
needy cunt again. Tell me what you want, Nina. Say it."

My
finger slid over my clit again, sending a spike of pleasure through my body,
and I whispered, "Fuck me."

"Louder,
Nina."

"Fuck
me," I said in my normal voice.

"I
want to hear it louder. Tell me what you want me to do to you, Nina."

In
a voice no doubt loud enough for anyone outside the dressing room door to hear,
I said on a near sob, "Fuck me! Tristan, I want to come. Please fuck
me."

"You
feel so fucking good on my cock, Nina. Time for good girls to come. Let me hear
you come for me, Nina."

My
finger circled tightly on my swollen and needy clit as my thighs began to
tremble. I moaned softly as the first curl of pleasure came over my body,
opening my legs wider as my orgasm took over.

"Oh,
God! Yes, don't stop!" I cried as every inch of me shook from my powerful
release.

"I
love hearing you like that," he moaned as the final quakes of my orgasm
waned. "Thank you, Nina."

Feeling
almost boneless, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath in, loving how good he
made me feel. "I've never done anything like that before," I quietly
confessed as I sat up and looked around to see if anyone was standing outside
the door.

"There's
that honesty that I love in you. Maybe we'll do something like this again.
Would you like that?"

His
voice made me want to do something like that again right now. "Yes."
Needing to know what this was to him, if anything, I asked, "Tristan, this
isn't how you are with all your employees, is it?"

The
question sounded silly as soon as I heard the words out loud, but when he
chuckled on the other end, I didn't feel so stupid.

"No,
I don't have phone sex with anyone else who works for me, Nina. But you're not
like my ordinary employees. Now I want you to buy the clothes I picked out and
whatever else you like and I'll see you back at the house later."

"I
can't go back upstate, Tristan. I don't have any of my things I need if I'm
going to be away for more than one night," I protested. "I need to go
home to get some stuff."

The
phone went silent for a long time and when he finally spoke, his tone was
markedly colder than I'd ever heard from him. "Nina, you signed a contract
to work for me. For the next six months, if I tell you to do something, you do
it. Do you understand?"

His
words stung and all the frustration I'd experienced days earlier because of his
behavior bubbled up inside me. "Are you saying I have to obey you
twenty-four hours a day for six whole months?"

"Nina,
everything comes with a price. This was part of the deal clearly spelled out in
the contract that you signed."

I
sat there stunned. "What are you saying? I'm some prostitute you paid to
have for half a year?" Suddenly, all the clothes hanging around the
dressing room looked ugly, like everything about this made me feel ugly.

"Nina,
you wanted a job where you could show off your skills and love of art. I wanted
to give you that. I'm willing to make sure you have the clothes required for
the position and many other things that can make you happy, and all I ask is
that you agree to a few simple things to make me happy. I have a contract that
stipulates you're obliged to do these things, but I'd love to think that you
want to make me as happy as I want to make you."

What
was I supposed to say to that? I'd been foolish in not reading the entire contract,
and now I was going to be forced to pay the price. As I gathered up the clothes
to take them to the register, I told myself there were worse ways to spend a
few months.

At
least I'd be getting paid handsomely to be someone's indentured servant.

Chapter Six

The
driver carried the almost $10,000 worth of clothes Tristan had purchased for me
into the house and disappeared like Rogers had hours earlier. I stood in the
foyer unsure of where I was supposed to go and feeling no better after stewing
over the situation all the way home.

"Nina,
come. I have dinner waiting for you."

I
turned to see Tristan standing in the doorway of the formal dining room. He was
dressed in his suit and tie and looking like he had all the times before,
except now he was my jailer or my owner. I hadn't decided which title sounded
better.

He
extended his hand and smiled that warm smile that had never failed to charm me.
Even now, it had the desired effect and I walked toward him, almost as if my
legs were controlled by him directly.

I
attempted to walk past him into the dining room, but he stopped me short with
his arm in front of me. Turning to look up at him, I saw a look of hurt in his
eyes. As if he had something to feel hurt about!

"Did
you enjoy shopping?"

I
didn't know how to answer his question. I had enjoyed it and everything we'd
done in that dressing room until I found out I had signed my life away, even if
it was to someone as gorgeous as him.

He
tilted my chin up with his index finger and stared down into my eyes. God,
those brown eyes could just melt my heart sometimes. I wondered if he knew that
and used them to manipulate me or if they were just the windows to a soul that
was as lonely as I suspected it was.

"Nina,
I want to make you happy. Will you let me?"

I
closed my eyes to avoid looking into his as I spoke. "You don't want me to
be happy. You want someone you bought to do as you command. There's a
difference."

My
eyes still closed, I felt his lips brush mine in a tender kiss. Then he spoke
again, and my heart broke. "I can't be anything but what I am. I can give
you everything your heart desires, but I can only do it this way."

I
opened my eyes and tears slid down my cheeks. He softly swiped the pad of his
thumb under my eyes to dry my tears and kissed me again. "I had the cook
make a meal I hope you like. Let's eat."

We
sat at the end of a long dining table with him at the head and me seated to his
left next to him. In front of us were five main courses, all my favorite foods.
There was shrimp scampi, roast beef, turkey with stuffing, sausage and peppers,
and a cheese pizza. I scanned the heaping plates of food and looked over at
Tristan.

"Did
you know these are my favorite things to eat?" I asked, unsure I wanted to
know the answer.

"Yes,"
he said in that innocent tone that seeped into his voice every so often.

"How
did you know these were my favorites?"

He
smiled proudly. "I asked."

For
the first time, I asked the follow-up question I had never given voice to
before. "Asked who?"

"Jordan. I asked her to tell me what you liked when I went to see her today."

He'd
gone to my house while I was shopping? "Why?"

"Why
did I ask her to tell me what you like or why did I go to see her today?"
he teased.

"Please
give me a straight answer, Tristan."

He
knew I wasn't happy, and I saw the joy slide from his expression. "I asked
her what you liked because I wanted to make sure you were happy. I visited Jordan today to give her the rest of your portion of the rent for this year. Now what would
you like to eat?"

There
was no point in fighting him on this. Jordan would be helped by what he'd done
and I had a hard time finding fault with that. His behavior didn't seem to be
intended to be manipulative, and as I accepted that, I accepted him.

"Turkey," I said with a smile.

"Excellent
choice," he said as he pulled the platter toward him. He carved a slice of
turkey off the breast and placed it on his plate. I waited for him to pass the
plate to me, but instead he began cutting the slice into smaller pieces. He
stabbed one piece with his fork and held it in front of my mouth.

"Eat,
Nina."

The
meat was perfectly cooked, juicy and tender with just a hint of seasoning I
guessed was rosemary and thyme. He scooped up another forkful of meat and
placed it on my tongue. Turkey had never tasted as good. I swallowed my food,
and he wiped the corner of my mouth with the pad of his thumb.

"Do
you do this all the time with women?" I asked, knowing I probably didn't
want to know the answer but needing to ask anyway.

He
shook his head slowly. "No."

As
he readied another bite for me, I asked, "Aren't you planning to
eat?"

He
smiled and shook his head again. "No."

I
ate another bite of turkey, and all the while he watched me as if my happiness
was of the utmost concern to him. When I finished, he pushed the platter of
turkey away and pulled the plate of shrimp scampi toward him. Scooping up a
forkful of shrimp and rice, he turned toward me and brought another of my
favorites to my mouth.

The
scampi was just as delicious as the turkey, but all I could think of as I ate
it was that my breath would stink of garlic. Looking around the table, I saw a
pitcher of water and a bottle of wine. I reached for the water, but before I
could grab the pitcher, Tristan was filling my glass.

"You
don't have to do that. I mean, it's nice, but I can get it."

Handing
me the glass, he said, "I don't have to do anything. I want to."

I
drank all the water and placed my glass on the table. "This is very nice
of you. Thank you for doing this."

"I
just want you to be happy, Nina. Are you happy?"

He
stared into my eyes as he waited for the answer to his question, and I didn't
know what to say. No one had ever worked to find out exactly what my favorite
foods were and as he'd fed me, I was sure it was the most erotic experience I'd
ever had in my life. His gaze never left mine, and I felt like I was the most
important person in the world—the center of his universe. With each forkful of
food, I felt cared for.

"I
am happy, Tristan. I guess I'm just not used to anyone being so attentive."

He
turned away from me to pull what looked like a silver ice bucket toward him.
Taking his spoon, he sunk it into the inside of the bucket and pulled out a
spoonful of green ice cream. "Mint chocolate chip is your favorite, I
believe?"

He'd
even asked Jordan about my favorite ice cream. As I savored the sweet taste of
it on my tongue, I couldn't help but smile. "Is there anything you don't
think of?"

Shaking
his head, he scooped out another helping of ice cream and slid the spoon
between my lips. "Not if I can help it."

"Is
it just with me that you do this, Tristan?" I asked, only half-joking.

"Is
it just with me that you ask so many questions, Nina?" he asked in return,
once again not giving me a straight answer.

"I
liked the way you spoke to me this afternoon. Not only what you said but how
much you said. One of these days, I hope you'll want to say that much to me
about other things."

His
expression quickly clouded over. "You may not like what you hear."

I
reached out and squeezed his hand. "I've always asked lots of questions. I
guess you think it's a personal flaw?"

Tristan
placed the spoon in my mouth so I could have another bite. "No. It's part
of your charm."

His
attempt at making me feel good was sweet and I appreciated it. I don't think anyone
had ever thought my questions were charming, but he did. By the time I'd
finished eating, it wouldn't have mattered what he'd done. I'd have forgiven
him.

Reaching
out, I touched his hand. "This was wonderful. Thank you, Tristan."

"Nina,
I have something to show you. I hope you're happy with it."

He
led me from the dining room to a hallway on the opposite side of the house from
the room we'd slept in the night before. Stopping, he gently backed me against
the wall and kissed me. His lips were tender but insistent, taking from me what
he desired and giving me that part of him that I so wanted.

Nervous
at what it could be that he wanted to show me, I caressed his cheek with the
back of my hand. "I can't wait to see your surprise."

My
answer seemed to make him happy and he led me to a bedroom that looked just
like his. He opened the door and proudly announced, "I had everything of
yours brought here. If you need anything else, just tell me and I'll make sure
you get it."

"You
had everything from my home brought here?"

"Yes."

"Tristan,
I need to know. Am I a prisoner here?" I asked feeling fear for the first
time with him since we were racing through the city in his Jag that first
night.

His
expression hardened and he dropped my hand from his hold. Without a word, he
turned and left me standing there feeling terrible for asking a question anyone
with a brain in their head would have asked.

I
checked the closet and dresser drawers, and all my clothes were in exactly the
same spots and the same order as they'd been at my apartment. He'd transferred
my life exactly from Sunset Park to his house upstate, the only difference in
his mind that I was living with him instead of Jordan.

I
couldn't decide if I should be terrified by his behavior or touched by his thoughtfulness.

Lying
on the bed in my new room, my mind was a muddle of ideas, one more conflicting
than the other. I had the job I'd always dreamed of, yet I seemed to have
signed a deal with the devil. Tristan was everything I'd ever wanted in a man.
Gorgeous, his face was pure beauty and his eyes were gentle hints at the quiet
soul beneath who shone through far too infrequently. He was more successful
than any man I'd ever been with and seemed intent on lavishing upon me anything
I could desire, no matter the cost, yet I had to leave my home. He was
attentive to my every physical need, taking my body to places of pleasure any
woman would beg to experience even once, yet there was a distance he forced
between us. Above all, he wanted more than anything to make me happy, but it
was to be on his terms.

What
had I gotten myself into?

I
needed to clear my head, so I stripped down, hoping a nice hot shower would
help me figure out what to do. As the water steamed up the room, I stepped in
and saw every item I kept in the shower at home with Jordan was there, only
replaced new. My razor. My soap. My shampoo and conditioner. Each was there
brand new. Had he gone shopping too?

What
kind of person did this?

Standing
under the hot water as it trailed over my head and body, I wondered if I was
the one who was wrong. Tristan hadn't done anything to hurt me, and even his
attempts to make me feel at home I considered suspect. Why? What kind of person
was I to see sinister motives behind everything?

The
shower had helped me see things more clearly, so I quickly dressed in one of my
new outfits and set off to find him. I wasn't sure what I'd say, but maybe if
we could talk a little I'd be able to show him I knew he meant no harm.

But
he was nowhere to be found. Either was Rogers or the driver, so I wandered
around the house, peeking my head into every room looking for him. By the time
I made it to the pool, my spirits were crushed. I'd asked the wrong question
and he'd left, likely returning to his penthouse in the city, and I would be
left alone here in the country. I began to wonder if I really was a prisoner.

It
was a beautiful warm summer night, so I took my search outside to the grounds,
knowing he was likely nowhere nearby. The fireflies were putting on their
nightly show, one that I hadn't seen since moving from Pennsylvania. I sat down
near the front porch and watched as they illuminated the garden, my mind
traveling back to simpler times and the nights when my father would watch as I
ran around our yard with a glass jar trying to catch fireflies to keep as my
own.

Just
thinking about his death in my senior year in college still made me cry. After
my mother died when I was only five, he raised my sister and me, never having
much of a life other than us. I regretted how much he gave up for me, always
there to take me to art classes and dance lessons instead of finding someone to
share his life with. He died alone before he got the chance to see me as an
adult who so wanted him to find love again.

That
was the reality of life—loneliness was often a choice. Here I was with the
opportunity to have everything I'd ever wished for and all I could do was look
for reasons why I shouldn't accept it. Whatever it was that I was letting hold
me back—fear, mistrust—I had a chance to share my life with someone. I had a
chance to not be lonely.

Now
all I had to do was take it.

The
sound of footsteps on the porch behind me roused me from my thoughts, and I
turned my head to see Rogers. He approached me stiffly, as was his style, and
descended the porch stairs to stand in front of me. The man was oddly cryptic,
but he seemed to have something to say, so I waited.

"Miss,
do you require anything? The master instructed me to ensure you want for
nothing."

Shaking
my head, I gave him a weak smile. "No, thank you, Rogers." He stood
there a moment longer, so I added, "Actually, I do need something. Where
is Mr. Stone?"

Whatever
warmth the butler had offered disappeared at my question concerning Tristan's
whereabouts. If I had ever doubted it before, I knew now that Rogers was more
than just a mere butler. He was the protector of his employer's secrets.

"He
is gone for the evening, miss."

I
nodded, disappointed that Tristan had left me there with just this spooky shell
of a human. "Oh. Tell me, Rogers. How do you stand living out here?"