Authors: Elizabeth Finn
My eyes find his regularly as he moves through the crowd. He is nearly always already eying me, and my skin flushes the moment our eyes meet.
Liz confirms this when she comments a bit dryly, “He just can’t stop staring at you. My God, how is he going to ever let another man fuck you?”
I’m taken aback by her comment, and just as much by the honesty of it. My time is coming up sooner than I care to acknowledge, and while I can often ignore the immediacy of it, her words just smacked me in the face with the truth of it. As the night wears on, endless men approach, asking who I am and introducing themselves to me. Every time I look to Derek, he is glaring harshly back at me. Liz always refers the men to Derek if they have any questions about my availability, but as time goes by, his reception of the men approaching him becomes more and more hostile as I watch.
Fortunately, the evening moves quickly, and the room starts to thin out, but unfortunately, near the end of the night, Liz is purchased and is whisked away by a surprisingly handsome man that treats her more like a long-known friend than a man buying her time. She kisses me quickly on the cheek before exiting, leaving me alone at the bar. I stay put, not fending off the men nearly so nicely and courteously as Liz was able to, but I’m now completely nervous, terrified even, of being on my own. My anxiety is mounting with every suitor, and I’m sure it is starting to register as a desperate look on my face.
When the fifth man approaches me in under fifteen minutes, my anxiety shows, and I uncomfortably turn from him, telling him to speak with Derek. I’m starting to fear every man that moves my way, and I feel extremely vulnerable, as though I’m at risk of being abducted at any moment. I sit, praying desperately to be left alone. When a hand lands gently on my arm, I spin toward the man, ready to bolt. But as I open my mouth to excuse myself, I look up to the most comforting eyes in the world, dark and hooded as usual, and probably anything but comforting to anyone else, but exactly what I needed to see in this moment. As I look at him, I exhale an incredibly deep breath of air and I suddenly feel safe again.
Tears of an emotional overload that I don’t quite understand prick my eyes, and as he sees them, he leans swiftly to my ear and whispers, “Hush. You’re okay. It’s almost time to go.”
He takes my hand and leads me to a table where he sits beside me. I hope desperately he won’t leave my side, but moments later, a different threat appears. Mr. Grayson approaches the table as Derek glares in his direction. When he sits, Derek’s jaw clenches tight, and he refuses to look at Mr. Grayson. My skin is suddenly crawling, and my insides feel like they are rotting in disgust. Mr. Grayson starts to shuffle the cards on the table as Derek continues to ignore him. When Mr. Grayson suggests a wager, Derek’s eyes narrow instantly. He gives the man a look of warning as my body stills and goes cold.
Mr. Grayson starts to speak. “Winner gets the girl. How about it? Huh?” Grayson’s tone is taunting.
“She’s not working yet.” Derek’s tone is a warning.
“I’m the club director, not a john, and I don’t technically need your permission.” Grayson’s tone is now threatening.
The look in Derek’s eyes is painful to see. He knows that Grayson is right and that there is little he can do to protect me from Grayson should he choose to use me against him. I can easily see the powerless emotion behind his eyes. Derek gives a terse nod, knowing that refusal will only cause Grayson to exact his cruel revenge on us both, while playing at least offers a hope of protecting me. My heart warms at his compassion, and it also chills at the threat looming over us.
Finding some measure of courage from the helplessness of the situation, I manage to open my mouth and speak. “What about me? Don’t I get to play too?” I look to them both hopefully. Derek returns my gaze with confusion and worry, while Grayson looks on, amused at the turn of events.
Mr. Grayson snorts before responding sarcastically, “Very well, whore. Have your fun. And what will be your terms? You want to fuck us both at the same time if you win?” He’s mocking me and enjoying my nervousness, but I’m not afraid of this pathetic monster.
I think long and hard as both men watch me. Of course I want Derek, but I want to give Mr. Grayson no reason to retaliate should I actually manage to win, and as his annoyance at me starts to show on his face, I respond, “Perhaps I could sleep alone.”
He chuckles. “Very well. Lady’s choice … if you can be called such.”
We divvy up the chips, Mr. Grayson deals, and we start to play. I’ve been witness to a good many poker games in my life, thanks to a father who was addicted to gambling and lost his entire fortune, as well as his life, because of it, so I’m not green. And it becomes quickly understood that I’m more of a threat than perhaps I was first perceived. A small crowd gathers quickly around us as we continue to play. It’s not often they see a woman playing, least of all with a manager and director, so the interest is immediate. An hour in, when the tables turn and I’m holding a considerable advantage, Mr. Grayson’s irritation starts to show. I let nothing of my confidence show as I take the final hand and end the game. The men in the crowd chatter excitedly at my win as they start to break apart. Derek looks desperately relieved, and I sit stoically, giving nothing away.
Mr. Grayson stands to leave the table, but leans to my ear quickly. He mutters more than loud enough for both Derek and I to hear. “Have it your way, bitch. Every time you are refused to me, you make the first time I have you just that much worse. I will fuck you very soon, mark my word. How humiliating and torturous it is, is entirely up to you … and your babysitter.”
And as he walks away, Derek hastily leans and whispers in my ear, “You should go upstairs. Now.” The quick brush of his hand on my arm tells me he’s not angry; he just wants me out of there. I’m ready to be gone too.
I quickly retreat from the room and to the elevators. First night in the gaming room, done. Relief floods my body as I enter my room, and I finally relax. It is late, and I’m exhausted, but rather than changing and going to bed, I wait quietly, listening for Derek to return to his room. And shortly thereafter, I hear his door close.
Chapter 14
“Can I change my mind?”
He says nothing as he stands in his doorway taking me in. His expression is impassive, but as he watches me for many long seconds, it becomes clear he won’t send me away. He holds the door open so I can enter. When I do, he stands back, eyeing me speculatively. He waits for me to say something, refusing to break the silence.
And on a nervous and shaky breath, I speak. “I don’t want sex.”
His eyebrows rise as he contemplates my words. He’s eyeing me coolly, and I have no way to know what he is thinking. Finally, he responds, “So what exactly is it that you want?”
“I want to kiss you.”
He inhales a deep breath through his nose as his jaw clenches and his brow furrows. He’s considering my words, and I’ve obviously asked for far more than I realized, judging by the harsh expression on his face. After many more long moments, he responds again. “So, let me get this straight. You could have anything. Sex, orgasm, pretty much anything, and you want a kiss?”
“I want as many kisses as I choose,” I correct, a slight amount of boldness kicking in.
He continues to regard me with clenched jaw and all the seriousness of the world in his eyes, but eventually, he gives me his answer. “Okay. Lady’s choice.” He turns from me and walks into his kitchen.
He pours a glass of red wine for himself and offers me one as well, which I politely refuse. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was nervous, and as he takes a long pull from his glass, he watches me out of the corner of his eye.
He returns the glass to the counter, and then he speaks once more. “I’ll give you what you want, but only on my terms.” He watches me intently before continuing. “When you’re finished with my mouth, I’m going to fuck you, and I’m going to do it with my finger buried in that sweet, little bottom of yours. Now is it worth it to you?”
My eyes pop open wide, and it’s my turn to eye him speculatively. As I do, I consider his proposal carefully. It will happen regardless of whether I like it or not. The only question is whether it will be Derek who claims that entry first, or some random stranger. I’ll have to get used to far more than a finger, and quite frankly, Derek can fuck me in any way he chooses. He doesn’t need my permission, and yet he’s asking for it. I’d rather it be Derek than anyone else. So, is it worth a kiss? Without a doubt.
I nod slowly and note how he impressively managed to turn my win into a negotiation requiring me to once more submit to his wishes, not my own. But he’s not happy with my nodding head, and he demands more. “Say it.”
With my confidence and small measure of boldness left intact, I do. “Yes, Mr. Pennington. I’d like you to fuck me while your finger is buried in my sweet, little bottom, after I kiss your mouth.”
He smirks once before retreating to his bed with his glass of wine. He lies in the middle of the bed waiting for me to make my move, and my boldness suddenly shatters, and I’m nervous. I approach him as he watches me with hooded eyes from his place on the bed. His hands are under his head as he watches me. My emerald-green evening gown is still on, and I slip the straps from my shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. I’m wearing nothing underneath, and this gets another smirk as he no doubt recalls the day in Jacob’s store when he forbade me from wearing underwear anymore. I stand naked before him, and he watches, his lips slightly parted as he takes in every visible inch of my body.
When he’s done studying me, I climb to the bed at his side, sitting back on my feet. I’m not just terrified at this point; I’m paralyzed by it. After I take a few shuddering breaths, Derek sits up beside me and turns to me. He sees the terror gripping my body and the desperate panting of my breath as I will myself to calm down. Understanding my fear, he leans to my ear with a “shhh” on his breath. I turn my eyes to his, and it is he who reaches for my cheek, pulling my mouth to his, but he stops short of kissing me. Instead, he demands it from me. I close the remaining fraction of an inch between us, and he parts his lips for me as I take his top lip between mine, and he encloses my bottom lip with his. It is gentle, sweet, and incredible, and as our lips part with a light wet smacking sound, I move in for his other lip. It is equally sweet and gentle, and it is instantly worth whatever he may choose to do to my body. We claim one another’s lips repeatedly as he continues to hold my face to his, and as the kiss intensifies, he pulls back once, taking in my eyes before claiming my mouth once again.
He tastes of the red wine and very faint mint. Soon it isn’t enough to just have his lips. With uncharacteristic boldness—it is my show after all—I slide my tongue past his lips and into his mouth. He stills for a moment before meeting my tongue with his own. He touches my tongue and runs his along mine. I explore his mouth and touch every silken smooth surface I can find. When I’m finished, he enters my mouth and works his way around the inside of my mouth as well. When no spot of our mouths has been left untouched, we return to one another’s lips. It is only after my jaw begins to ache, and I realize that I can’t do this forever, that I allow our kisses to slow. We’ve been kissing for a small eternity, and it is with incredible difficulty that I separate myself from his mouth.
When our mouths finally part, he caresses the side of my cheek, and he lets go of my face. I instantly miss the intimacy and wish it could go on forever, but there are other parts of this deal that need to be fulfilled, and kissing was a very good way to start. My body is warm and ready for him, and nervous as I might be about what he intends to do with me, I’m also intrigued, excited even.
I speak in a whisper. “Your turn.”
He gives me a small smile, yes, an actual smile, small, but a smile nevertheless, before he whispers in my ear, “Turn over. Hands and knees.” But before I can make a move, he reaches back for my cheek and pulls my mouth in for another long and delicious kiss.
As he pulls from my mouth, I move. He moves to his bedside table, takes a long drink of wine, and reaches into the drawer for the tube of lubrication. He’s watching my eyes as they nervously follow him. I still at the lubrication, but he offers another small smile of reassurance. I continue to watch him, and he slowly undresses and climbs to the bed behind me. He’s now sitting behind me with an incredibly vulnerable view of my backside, and I’m terrified.
He slowly lets his fingers trail up the inside of my thigh, and now I’m nervous and wet, incredibly wet. His touch is always my undoing, and whatever terror I feel, I’m still more than capable of being turned on by him. When I hear the cap of the tube pop open, I jerk in nervousness, but he quickly places a hand on my lower back to still me.
In a quiet, soothing voice, he instructs me. “Just relax. I’m not going to do anything to hurt you, but it will be easier if you stay relaxed.”
He reaches to my wet pussy, first slowly entering me with one long, incredible finger. The penetration is so very slow as he burns a trail to my depths with his finger, and once he’s withdrawn his finger from me, he equally slowly enters me with two fingers. The fullness doesn’t compare to his cock, but it feels amazing. Before I can relax to this touch, he thrusts a third finger deep within me, and at the stretching fullness of three of his fingers, I groan loudly, and my head drops between my shoulders. He thrusts over and over while my arousal continues to build, but before I can hit my limit and come, he withdraws from me, and I’m left suddenly wanting his touch, any touch, desperately.
There is a long pause before I feel his next touch, and this is the touch that I feared. I feel the cool, smooth wetness of the lube directly on my anus and instantly pull away from his touch, but with a hand on my hip pulling me back toward him, he continues his touch. That is all it is for many long moments. He strokes over this most intimate entry to my body as I hold my breath. The touch is terrifying, but feels so good at the same time. He continues stroking slowly, over and over again as my body relaxes, and as I adjust to this touch, I start to crave more. And that’s exactly what I get. First, it is just the tip of his finger that passes beyond the rim, and my breath hitches. Each shallow thrust of his finger moves slowly deeper and deeper within my rectum. By the time his finger is fully within my bottom, I’m relaxed and enjoying this touch more than I ever imagined possible.