The Devil’s Pawn (19 page)

He again lets me slide down along his body until he’s deep within me, but instead of letting me pull from him again, he holds me tight to him. He leans to my mouth, pushing his tongue past my lips and into the warmth of my mouth. He’s in no hurry, and with every long and slow taste of my mouth, I feel his cock flex within my body. When he’s finally finished with my mouth, he lifts my hips from his, and then pulls them swiftly back down to him. I hang on to his shoulders, letting him use my hips to fuck himself hard, and every harsh, ferocious penetration releases my pent-up tension and need. He’s panting and grunting as he nears his release, and I’m crying out as the force pushes me to the limit of what I can handle. Even with his harsh thrusting, I’m ready to come, and when he pounds my pussy through my release, his own takes over his body instantly, and he empties himself in spasms within me.

We lie collapsed against one another panting. He’s still within me, and as he pulls my mouth to his once more, I see concern in his eyes. When he breaks from my lips again, it is to apologize for being too rough with my body. The concern and worry is genuine and real. I shake off his apologies, but his guilt lingers. I ache from his intense invasion of my body, but it is the very ache I so desperately needed to feel. As he lays me gently in the master bed and crawls in next to me, I hold on to his body tightly, wanting to savor every last moment.

* * * *

When I wake, it is still dark out, and the sliding wall of windows is opened wide. The cool but comfortable breeze tickles my naked skin, and a trill of happiness and contentment courses through my body unexpectedly. I’m alone, and I don’t want to be. I’m ready for more of him, and with that in mind, I crawl from bed, walking to the open wall. I peer out along the deck and see his darkened form sitting cross-legged at the edge, in exactly the place that I’d seen him earlier, leaning against the post.

As I walk to him, his face turns toward me, but in the darkness of the night, lit only by the moon above, I can’t see his expression. He stretches his hand up to me as I approach, and I kneel beside him and see that he is holding my clothes in his lap, left abandoned from earlier in the afternoon. His eyes come into view, and I see utter sadness etched across his face, but it is fleeting. He doesn’t want me to see it, and rather than letting my gaze linger on his features, he pulls my mouth swiftly to his.

When he breaks from my lips, I take advantage of the emotional cover of darkness to find my strength and ask the question I could never have asked him only a couple of weeks ago. “Will you make love to me again?”

“You’re sure you’re not too sore?” His concern from earlier has still not faded, though the ache that stayed with me for some time after our last coupling is now dull and distant. I reassure him as best I can, and he relents.

He lays me down on the deck before pulling my legs wide apart and bent at the knee. He again moves in with his mouth, and for the next several long and amazing minutes, he does my new favorite thing in the world with his mouth. Once I’ve come with his mouth, he makes me come with his cock as he moves gently and slowly inside my body. And once we’ve both taken what we need from the other, we walk back to the bedroom together and make love twice more before the sun comes up. I’m not even sure I fully wake when we make love, and as I drift off to sleep after he’s finished with my body, it is to the most amazing and sensuous dreams that feel more real than any others in my life.

As the sunlight filtering through the trees makes its way in through the wall of windows to us, curled in one another’s arms, he makes love to me for the last time before we have to leave to return to the city. It’s more sex than any decent person needs, but I drink him in, wanting to keep him with me for the long night ahead.

Chapter 21

The trip back to the city is not nearly as pleasant as the trip to Vermont, but knowing I have him to myself for the next six hours is a relief. We stop for a late lunch in some quaint little town, and as we eat, he starts grilling me.

“Why were your parents killed?” I look at him in stunned silence, saying nothing. “I mean you saw it happen. Do you know why?”

Yes!
But as I look in his eyes, I hold it all back from him. I lie, and I hate myself for doing it. I shake my head, and he watches me closely with narrow eyes. He’s gauging whether I’m telling him the truth or not, and I can’t tell if he’s convinced, but as the waitress appears and refills my coffee, he lets it slide. I, however, waste no time jumping right back into the danger zone, where I apparently enjoy being.

“Why are you at Trimbles? I mean you have a career … a real career.”

“Had,” he corrects quietly with a nearly embarrassed look on his face. “It doesn’t concern you, Ash. Drop it.”

But I’m on a roll… “Well, you’re allowed to ask me anything and everything you want to know about my past, so why can’t I ask you the same?” I hold his gaze steadily, accusing him with my eyes and challenging him to respond.

His response is harsh and irritated. “I said it’s none of your business.” Then his voice softens quickly as he continues. “Besides, I’m quite certain you’re holding plenty back from me as well.”

My eyes flit from his quickly as this truth hits with the smack of guilt. But they return to his dark gaze just as easily when he reaches a hand over to cover mine. He’s not angry, just resolute. We will not be delving any further into his past today.

I’m nervous the entire meal, waiting for the inquisition to strike again, but he remains silent, thoughtful. As our check is paid and we stand to leave, he takes my hand in his and squeezes it gently. His eyes are soft and as gentle as his hand, but he doesn’t owe me his pity, even though it shows clearly in his eyes. The rest of the trip home is silent, and each mile brings mounting tension, not only for tonight, but for the chance that we’ll run into Mr. Grayson before we can escape to the gaming hall. How truly ridiculous is it that I should prefer taking my chances in the gaming hall than with Mr. Grayson?

When we reach the city, his hand finds mine, and he doesn’t let it go any more than he absolutely must. When the SUV is back in its place within the parking garage, he turns to face me and gently pulls my mouth to his. It is many long minutes later that he lets go of my cheeks, and with a deep exhale, he opens the door. He keeps my hand in his until we are out of the parking garage and within view of Trimbles.

As he leaves me at my door, it is with a warning. “Don’t open this door to Mr. Grayson. If he comes to your room before you and Liz come downstairs, you call me, and you stay put.”

His eyes travel down the hall to ensure we’re alone, and he leans to my mouth for one last sweet kiss.

Chapter 22

“I’m gonna fuck that sweet ass of yours, baby.”

This wasn’t supposed to happen. I thought my second night would be easier than my first, but as he whispers in my ear, as though his words are some sort of seduction, my eyes flash to Derek’s, and he looks away quickly. When he returns his eyes to mine and sees my fear, dread, absolute horror, he moves toward us. As he reaches us, he leans to my ear and apologizes. He had no excuse to refuse the man, and with Mr. Grayson watching our every move, he had no choice. I know this is true, but I’m stung anyway. As the handsome man that has purchased my time this evening leads me from the room, I glance back at Derek, only to see that he’s leaning against the wall with his head down and his hand raking roughly through his dark hair. I sense his pain, and I see it clearly in the set of his body, but at the moment, I can think only of my own mounting terror.

As we enter my room, he repeats his phrase of earlier. “I’m gonna fuck that sweet ass of yours, baby.”

And at his words, my brain starts screaming,
the fuck you are!,
at the top of my internal dialogue’s lungs, but the only visible sign of my horror is the tight set of my jaw, and wide eyes that feel as though they’re going to pop from their sockets at any moment. I can’t do this. I cannot do this. And yet, I have absolutely no choice but to do it. Where are Derek’s damn pills when I need them? I need a lobotomy to do this with him. I don’t know this man, and while he’s not at all unattractive like the pudgy romantic, he’s still not Derek, and I don’t want him touching me in this way. The second night was supposed to be easier! And yet, it’s turning into a bloody nightmare!

I keep holding his eyes, frozen like a rabbit ready to bolt, and as he senses that I’m not going to be the one leading this game, he orders me to turn around. I do, inhaling slow deep breaths, willing myself not to pass out. He orders me onto all fours on the bed, and I comply. He then orders me to lift the back of my dress, and awkwardly, I do. The dress is long and trapped under my knees from my crawl to the bed, but once free, I pull it up to my waist. I stay still, breathing as calmly as I can. My brain is still screaming, and I’ve still not come to terms with how I’m going to get through this, but for the moment, I’m frozen in place. The fear is mounting inside my body, and as it continues to mount, creeping through my body, I’m struck when I’m very literally struck. On my bottom, hard. I fall forward to my chest as the sting of it resonates through my body. What the fuck! Now I want to punch the asshole, and as I spin to face him, he grins at me.

“I didn’t tell you to look at me. Turn around.”

His words aren’t mean. If anything they are playful, but I’m terrified, and I can’t do this. When I feel his hand on the cheek of my bottom, groping and massaging the tender skin, I panic at the touch. I pull away from him quickly, stealing myself to cower at the head of my bed.

And I start to apologize. “I’m sorry … sorry. I can’t do this. I can’t … I’m so sorry.” My eyes are down, and I can’t manage to meet his glare.

He’s apparently not an understanding man, and as he starts to yell at me, I cower more. “What the fuck do you mean you can’t do this? You’re a fucking whore. You do what I want you to do!” Holy fuck, he’s mad.

He starts walking toward me, still yelling about what a rotten excuse for a whore I am, and I try to disappear through the glass of my wall. He’s going to hit me. He’s going to hurt me, and oh God, I can’t stop him, and I have nowhere to go. But as I pull myself as close to the window as possible, wishing desperately for it to open up and allow me to fall away from him, my door is thrown open.

Derek storms across the room and pulls the man by his collar back away from me. The man turns to him in rage, but stops cold when he sees Derek’s cold, harsh glare. Moments after that, two security guards enter my room and take their place by Derek. As the men all glare at one another and I move across the bed to the far wall, Frederick enters as well. He seems to be the only calm male in the room as he takes in the situation.

He orders the guards to leave, and with a hand on Derek’s shoulder, he speaks to him as well. “She’s okay, Derek. Just be cool.” His words are calm and without an ounce of the tension that courses through everyone else in the room.

When Frederick takes in the butt man, it is with a calm, appraising eye, and when he speaks, it is in the same calm manner. “What happened?”

“Stupid bitch wouldn’t do her fucking job. I paid to fuck her ass, and I expect to get what I pay for.” He’s glaring at Derek as he speaks.

But it is obvious that Frederick has taken over this conversation. “You must realize you’re not allowed to hurt our women. I just happened to be in the security surveillance room when I saw you move toward Ms. Monroe as though to strike her. Mr. Pennington disciplines his women, not you, and if you have a problem with how one of his women is behaving, then you take it up with Mr. Pennington. Not her. Do I make myself clear?”

Frederick is calm and reserved as always, as Derek stands by with his nostrils flaring and his jaw clenching. Were it not for Frederick’s timely appearance, I’m not at all sure I wouldn’t be staring at a shattered window wall and butt man’s dead body twenty-five floors down.

When Frederick finishes speaking to the man, he turns to Derek. “I’ll speak with Mr. Archer about how he’d like to proceed with Ms. Monroe. Why don’t you speak to her privately about her obligations to Mr. Archer?”

With a very audible and deep exhalation of his breath, Derek moves to me and pulls me by the wrist into the bathroom, slamming the door behind us. I’m relieved to be alone with him again, but as I start to apologize to him, he whips around and pins me to my spot with his harsh glare. He’s pissed.

“What the fuck were you thinking? He paid for this, and you agreed to do this. If you can’t hack it, then you have no business being here!”

My mouth is slack, and I am shocked. I’m not sure why I expected comfort from him, but I stupidly did. He’s right. This is what I signed up for, and I’ve just made a target of us both. The last thing either of us needs is negative attention, not with Mr. Grayson downstairs as we speak. What was I thinking? As his words sink in, my tears start to fall.

“I’m sorry. I just got scared. I can’t…”

I’m shaking my head in frustration and anger at myself, but my words are the truth. I panicked. I can’t do this with the man out there. I just can’t, and while I know I’m supposed to, there is no possible way in hell for me to give myself to him in that way. The idea is revolting and terrifying, and if that means I get fired, then I’m going to get fired. My life will be over, and I’ll be on the run again … at least for as long as it takes the thugs to find me and kill me. What have I done? I shake my head as the tears continue to fall, and Derek watches me with his harsh, cold eyes that only earlier this morning held mine so tenderly and carefully. I’m in hell, the most depressed I’ve been since being at Trimbles.

Derek looks at me long and hard as I look at his chest. I’m afraid to make eye contact. I know he’s going to kick me out the moment I do. He has no other choice. I’ve given him no other choice, and it breaks my heart. I don’t want to lose him. I so desperately don’t want to lose him that I want to will myself to give in to butt man’s wishes, but I just can’t. Every time my brain considers it for even a moment, my internal breaks are hit hard and joltingly fast. I just can’t, and that is a depressing fact. Because it seals my fate.