Ruby Ink (Clairmont Series Novel Book 1) (12 page)

“Don’t you like it?” Stefan said, his hand moving coarsely over a taut nipple, the other squarely thrust between his rock-hard cock and Vanessa’s wet pussy. She came with a roaring gasp—one that would make any query about “
liking it”
moot. From her prone position on the bed, her back arched and her arms pulled forward. But Stefan retreated, withdrawing, and straddling over her—just out of reach. He checked his Rolex and immersed himself in the view. She made due by gathering a fistful of silk sheets, her muscles quivering, still rigid from the romp. She knew better than to ask, and Stefan was well aware of what she wanted—
touch
. The kind of touch Stefan was completely unwilling to give. “That’s it, Ness… You work it out.” A few seconds passed and her eyes opened, blinking into Stefan’s face. “Now answer my fucking question. I wanted you to like it. Do you? When you arrived at the carriage house, you didn’t seem all that keen on being here.”

“I… I need to get up.” He tipped his head curiously and allowed her to move, enough to rise to a sitting position. With her hair looking… well, looking as if someone had just fucked her brains out, Vanessa took the top sheet and vacated the bed. Her gait was purposeful and sedate. But he could see her rib cage—the sheet more dragging than covering—heaving with winded, overwhelmed breaths. “What’s not to like?” she said, recovering, taking a turn around the upper floor of the carriage house. “It’s the best-decorated den of iniquity I’ve ever visited. It’s even my favorite palette.”

“You noticed,” he said, genuinely pleased.

Her hand ran over a velvet lavender chaise, the other hues complementary and the perfect contrast to a redhead.

“Good.” Stefan got out of the bed and came up behind her. His cock was still waiting its turn, as they were both well aware. He wrapped his arms around her. In Stefan’s mind, it was a complimentary gesture. Gentle touch was Vanessa’s weakness, and he used it sparingly—tease and reward. “It’s very important that you like this space, Ness. I want you to feel like it’s ours.”

She turned, the sheet pinned between the two of them. “I get it, Stefan. I’ve been relocated to the carriage house. I assume my presence will still be appropriate in the corporate areas of Abstract Enchantment.”

“Of course, don’t be absurd. I can’t run the place without you. I can’t run any of my business endeavors without you. Your head for numbers is infallible, and your imaginative skills regarding shell companies are unprecedented. But once again, Ness, I’m hearing a note of jealousy.”

“Then you must also be hearing voices if you think summoning me here, on the same day your fiancée is due to arrive, is in any way a sane idea—even in light of our arrangement.”

A low sigh hissed from his throat. “So we’re back to that. You disappoint, Ness. I thought we had this all worked out. I need to trust you.”

“And demanding I come here today was what, a test?”

“Not exactly. I have important paperwork I need you to take care of—a contract that needs to be filed with my attorney right away.”

“Don’t you have a secretary for that?”

“Not for this venture. It’s a personal contract, and I want you to take care of it. We’ll get to the details. However, if you think I was going to let you take the trip up from the city, come and go without a satisfying fuck between us… Well, my need for you
physically
won’t allow for that kind of lapse.”

Her eyes cut to his. “And maybe I had an ulterior motive in agreeing to come here.”

“Like what?”

A rail-thin shoulder shifted. “Seeing other men is certainly my prerogative. There’s a man here I’ve noticed. I thought I’d see if he’s around today and introduce myself. I’m not a bad date. I can make regular conversation.”

Stefan pursed his lips, a small smile pushing into his cheekbones. “I didn’t know blue collar was your type. Other than me, that’s all you’ll find around here at the moment. He’d probably have a hell of a time picking up the check at Masa or Daniel’s,” he said, rattling off two of her favorite New York haunts. “But let me know if I can help with an introduction. Perhaps Diego, the electrician? You fancy darker serious types—”

“You’ve no idea what I fancy.” She turned away from him and the remark.

“My assumption. My apologies.”

Vanessa turned back, her gaze cutting down him.

“And I take back my money remark. If it is Diego, for what I’m paying him, he can at least afford dessert and drinks. Or maybe the British chap, Reggie—the architect’s liaison. He’s a few years younger, but what the hell,” he said, eyes glossing over her. “I’m sure you could teach him a thing or two in bed.”

“Fuck you,” she said, clearly having abandoned any role-playing. Vanessa and the sheet moved away.

“In a minute,” he said, laughing. “Tell me first, Ness. Who is it?” Stefan’s voice softened, and he came to where she stood at the carriage house window. Her back was to him, the sheet between them. His knuckles rolled like a waterfall down her spine. He tucked her hair behind her ear, whispering. “I’m curious to know.” Stefan kissed her shoulder, his hand softly touching the other. “I need to know.”

Vanessa pirouetted, the sheet twisting around her like a candy wrapper. “I find your new right-hand man rather attractive. Aaron…”

Stefan willed his expression blank, though the words didn’t match. “You stay the fuck away from Aaron Clairmont. Do you hear me?” Stefan’s fingers locked around her jaw. “Do you?” As he let go, Vanessa’s fingers grazed her chin, Stefan seeing a red mark he did not like. He deplored uncontrolled outbursts. That was his father. Comeuppance of any kind should always be a deserved and calculated effort. “You can have the pick of the place, Ness” he said in a more controlled tone, “but I don’t want you near Aaron Clairmont.”

“Why?”

Stefan had to think fast but not too deep. “He has a criminal record. Did you know he was just released from prison?” He stepped away and grabbed his cigarette case off the table, lighting one. “I’m only thinking of you.”

“That’s not how it sounded.”

“Well, there you go,” he said, taking a long drag. “I guess I can be…
bothered
when it comes to you and other men. You’re not to have any contact with Clairmont—none. I won’t tolerate it.”

“Because it would bother you? Because you find it an unsafe situation for me?”

Stefan ground the barely smoked cigarette into an ashtray. He was going to have to give her something—a show of emotion. “Yes, if it pleases you to hear me say it, because I would worry too much about you. You can do better than someone like him.”

“Can I?” she said, her gaze gliding over his naked body. “Seriously. I had no idea you cared—not like that.”

Stefan drew a breath, considering the best way to round out the admission. “Emotions aren’t something I indulge in. You know this. Instead, why don’t I… ” he said, prying one hand from the sheet, “show you how much…”

“You care?”

“Of course.” He reached around, grabbing her ass. Vanessa had the perfect ass, the perfect body. He favored porcelain, tall, and thin—steel on the inside. “Despite needing those papers filed, getting you here today… Well, I had other reasons. I really did need to see you… touch you,” he said, his fingertips caressing her creamy smooth skin in some eye-rolling gesture.

“And you don’t you think you’re cutting it a little close? Tonight your bed in the executive suite will be filled with a different body.”

Stefan’s chin grazed Vanessa’s soft cheek. His lips tickled her neck, a deep kiss ending further objection. Vanessa melded into the moment as the sheet slipped to the plush carpeted floor. He kept kissing her, which was as good as any love potion, inching her backward, toward the bathroom.

At the door, he stopped, guiding Vanessa around so she could see the Italian-tiled interior, marble tub for two, mother of pearl finishes and designer fixtures, candles and scented oils accentuating the luxury bath. He heard the gasp—stunned pleasure. Stefan felt her struggle, wriggling against what was bothering her versus the temptation in front of her. “You didn’t answer me,” she said, her head leaning against his shoulder as his hands roughly mapped her body. But he knew she was enticed, and this altered her question accordingly. “Do we have time to properly finish what we started before
she
, um… gets here.”

“Ness, do you really doubt my time management skills when it involves us? I’ve had a picture in my head since the marble on that counter was installed.” They moved forward together, Stefan growling in a husky tone he knew Vanessa enjoyed. “Put your hands on it—hard.” She did, his eyes traveling the vertebrate that outlined her back to her small, cushy ass, which outlined his target. He grasped her hips, forcing her legs apart. “Look at me.” Her fair eyes rose to meet his in the mirror, an actual blush riding her cheeks. “Tell me you like it, all of it. Tell me you
want
all of it.”

“Pity me. More than you need to know,” she said, her voice raspier than his.

Stefan thrust into her, Vanessa making a pleasurable sound he sometimes thought about during long, boring board meetings. The movement grew more intense, faster, Stefan crushing her body between the hard of him and the hard of the sink. While making her come again was not a priority, he thought, why not? Besides, he wanted to watch in the wide mirror, which offered an ample view. She hadn’t yet noticed the one on the ceiling over the tub. “Do it for me, Ness,” he said. “You know it drives me mad.”

“She wouldn’t… do anything like that for you, would she?”

“She’s not here, and you know I don’t make comparisons. It’s not about that. Now do it.”

Vanessa obeyed, releasing one hand from the sink’s edge to touch herself, just as he’d done in the bed. The timing, as always, was pristine, Vanessa inching her legs wider as he cupped her breasts, Stefan’s other hand sliding around to cover hers as she made herself come. It took but a moment as the pressure from either side was too much for her to resist. She pushed harder into him, her chic comely features twisting with ecstasy.

“Jesus, Ness… you’re such a perfect piece of ass…” Her hand braced the vanity edge as he thrust harder, Stefan using her orgasm to finish wiring his own. But he didn’t back off, not letting up or letting go until he had his answer. “Now tell me. Do you like it?” he said, breathless and a little weary for a weekday afternoon.

“God help me, yes…” she said, turning her head as he kissed her neck. “More than anything.”

“Worth anything?”

“Yes… anything.”

“Excellent… that’s excellent, Ness.” He withdrew from her, grabbing a plush hand towel. “Because to answer your question from earlier, your presence here isn’t without risk. My darling bride isn’t on her way,” he said, tossing the towel onto floor. “She’s already here.”

One Year Earlier

There was money on the dresser and a lost look in her eyes—murky hazel irises and encroaching bloodshot edges. Underneath was a yellowish bruise, a fading reminder of on-the-job risks. A man met her gaze in the mirror. His eyes weren’t lost. Just the opposite, the client was more together than any she recalled—of course, that wasn’t saying much. Men, drugs, and sleazy hotel rooms. It wasn’t like you kept a scrapbook in her trade. Men were meant to be a way out. She would finish art school. Leave the city. But it was tough to save while feeding a habit—a vicious circle, or so the girl had learned.

This trick was high-end. He could score better than a hooker with a habit in a shabby room on Bower Street. A glance at his hands screamed professional manicure. She nearly laughed out loud. She’d once had a roommate who took a cosmetology course—nails were her specialty. Although, in the end, the roommate had ended up in a dumpster behind the cosmetology school. And this man, he wasn’t close-your-eyes ugly. He made the girl think of Gone With the Wind’s Rhett Butler—smaller ears. Dashing, that was the word. Her nana loved that movie.

The girl arched a brow and veered off memory lane. It was a stupid wrong turn with any john. At least she’d scraped what little was left of her junk into a drawer. She’d wised up to that after getting fucked and robbed and beaten her first week on the job. Soon as she had an extra buck, she was going to get a lock for the drawer. Maybe a gun. Better yet, a different life.

“It’s your hour,” the girl said, unzipping her boots and kicking one off.

“Wait.” The john held up a hand. “That’s not why I’m here.”

Her radar went up as she calmly continued to remove the other boot. If she needed to run, she needed even footing. “You gonna fuckin’ arrest me? You go talk to po-po Krebbs. That’s my corner in exchange for two freebies a month. You fuckin’ ask him—wife’s a cold bitch.”

The man loosened his tie. He needed this to go smoothly, and the surroundings had ruffled him in an unlikely way. He had memories of his own attached to a place like this. “I’m not with law enforcement,” he told her.

“Then what?” she said. “Oh, do you like to do the undressing? You need a warm-up, like this is a relationship or something?”

“I’m not here to employ you. I’m here to help you.”

“Help me?”

“Yes. I know you want out of this life.”

“Yeah. Thanks but I got representation. Silas Brikk, he owns this building. In exchange for a percent, I get the room and we’re cool. So fuck off, suit,” she said, moving toward the door.

“Wrong again. I’m not a pimp.” Her suggestion rattled him all the more. He’d never sink to such depths. In fact, the man had found a less gritty and far more profitable way to earn a living. There was no need to dirty one’s hands—not unless you had a damn good reason.

“Brikk’s no handler either. At least that’s what he’ll tell you. And so what? You’re like a fucking fairy godmother?” she said, her eyes drifting down his expensive suit.

“I see no need to label either of us. But I do know you’re in trouble. I’d like to help.” He assumed there would be an advantage in surprise. He also assumed she’d jump at the chance. There was incalculable desperation in the life that surrounded her.

With her hand on the doorknob, the girl’s body twisted around. “You’d like to help. Look, I ain’t interested in religious cults. Other than that, it would only make you the kind of sick bastard who trolls working girls, looking for something fresh to chain to your basement pipes. Thanks. But I’ll stick with Brikk. And if he finds out your messin’ with his… occupants, he won’t be too happy.”

He suspected she’d be stubborn. Brikk had warned him. He could see it. Stubbornness applied in the wrong manner could land someone in a place like this.
“Silas Brikk doesn’t concern me.”

“Brave fucker, aren’t you?”

“You’ve no idea.” The room grated on him, almost a duplicate of the dingy Hamburg flat he’d grown up in—a place where his mother scrubbed the floors and fucked the landlord for rent. “Actually,” he said, refocusing, “I’m wondering how brave you are?” From his jacket pocket, he produced an envelope and tossed it onto the bed. “There’s a plane ticket to California, all the paperwork needed for admittance to one of the best rehab facilities in the country—$1,000 in cash.”

She was having a hard time deciding between religious zealot and nut, but crossed the room and looked inside the envelope. It was exactly what he said. “What the…” A look, slightly less lost, flicked to him. “Who the fuck are you?”

“I told you. Someone who wants to help. Now,” he said, gripping her arm, “you can take what I’m offering, an all-expense paid chance at a new life. Or you can use the money, cash in the ticket, and shoot it all up your arm.” He observed the track marks that dotted her sallow skin. “Your way, I’d say you’re dead within a year. I’ve seen the results of your demons,” he said, recalling his father. The room and the girl, they evoked memories of a drunk who beat him regularly. The empty bottles aimed at his head. It had been a quiet odd morning when the son found his father doing neither, staring still and open-eyed at the peeling ceiling.

The girl didn’t know what say. The man wasn’t without a point, several in fact. She thought of the glorious week of nirvana that kind of cash would buy. She did the fast math, thinking how many cocks she wouldn’t have to fuck. It sounded sweet compared to the pain and DTs and forever battle she’d face if she took him up on it—whoever the hell he was.

At the same time, the man thought, “Take it, you fool…” Had someone offered, if he didn’t have to claw his way out… Perhaps the desire to win at all cost might have had a limit.

The girl’s bleary gaze stretched across the room. In a corner chair sat an old Teddy bear—a small piece of her life before her life was this. Every day the bear seemed to shrink smaller into the corner. Fingering the cash, her brow knotted. “What do you want in return? I’m not that stupid—and pardon me for saying, but you don’t look all that charitable.”

A low breath seeped out. He hadn’t planned on being questioned. “If and when you’re clean and sober, we’ll talk about what I want. Believe me, you’re the smallest part of any investment.”

“Okay,” she said, shrugging a skeletal shoulder. “I’ll do it.”

The response matched her background—a bright girl who made impulsive choices. Savvy enough to grab a lifeline when it was offered. “Excellent,” he said, looking at his Rolex. “I’m glad we were able to come to agreement.”

“What do I have to lose?” The girl looked at the stuffed bear. If she wasn’t half jacked, she’d swear it was smiling. “And, um, right now, you don’t want anything in return?”

“I did come a long way.” He reached again to his jacket pocket. A small plastic bag filled with cocaine emerged. “The day just keeps getting better and better, doesn’t it? I assume your treatment doesn’t officially start until you touch down in California.” He produced another crisp hundred-dollar bill, like it was Monopoly money. Ten minutes later, they’d both indulged enough to smooth any edges.

She brushed a trembling hand across her nose. She got that he needed to be high to do this, fuck a prostitute. She wondered if he ever had. “I do most anything,” she said, laying out the ground rules, of which there were none.

He undid his belt and unzipped his pants. “We’ll keep it basic.” He twisted a watch that she thought he could trade for the deed to the building. “You can start by dropping to your knees like I’m an altar. And being as I just saved your life, show your appreciation.” His stiff cock sprang into her line of vision. She went to work, giving him what he’d asked for. Most cocks, literally… anatomically, didn’t last all that long. The prospect of a sure thing had that effect. But his stamina didn’t fit the norm—or maybe the nose candy had him stuck in neutral. She’d seen that. After a solid fifteen minutes, the girl wondered if he’d OD’ed on Viagra. Her jaw ached. For as much as he professed concern, that thought seemed to have vanished. Instead, his hands burrowed hard into her skull, forcing her mouth harder and deeper.

For a few minutes, he was an ordinary john, calling her the kind of names that men like to use—whore, cunt, bitch. What did it matter? She often thought about putting them in a book—the handyman’s vernacular for getting blown. Yet, he didn’t reach the kind of earth-shattering climax that men gratefully crashed into.

“Oh, fuck it,” he muttered, yanking her to her feet. He rolled on a condom and steered her to a wall. She wore a faux leather skirt, and he shimmied it up over her ass, ripping off a G-string. “If you don’t mind, I prefer not to fuck you on your sheets. God only knows what’s lurking on them.”

It wasn’t an unlikely scene, but there was something different in the way he went about his business. Her hands braced hard against cracked plaster, his violent thrusts saying he didn’t give a shit about her. Typical behavior—just not for a guy who’d claimed to have shown up offering salvation.

He finally came, grunting, backing off as soon as she’d served her purpose. He shouldn’t have made that mistake—instead of sexual pleasure, his mind had been awash with more past. Visions of his mother performing the same deeds, acts he witnessed in horrified glimpses, peering out from the closet where she insisted he wait. He cleared his throat and the memory. That life was over, long gone—as was his mother. Never having removed his suit jacket, the man tucked his dress shirt back into his trousers and checked his watch. He reiterated his plan for the girl to get clean, like it was small talk after a board meeting. Then he left.

She darted for the envelope, making sure she hadn’t hallucinated the money and new life part. Looking at the outside, she realized something. The guy wanted more than her sobriety. Tina—that was her street name. The name Officer Krebbs knew her by, the one she always gave so johns might have something to shout besides “bitch”—though they rarely did. Written on the outside of the envelope was her real name—Tandy.