Authors: Elizabeth Finn
Jacob again lets his eyes pass between us, seeming to wonder all the while what he’s missing. As I hold Derek’s eyes with my own, my anger falters, and the pain that is behind my fury pushes through. I try to wrangle my tears into submission, but it’s no use. In defeat, first one, and then another spills from my eyes and slides down my cheeks. Jacob regards my state and excuses himself from the room.
I stand on the hemming block in the center of the room, refusing to look at Derek. But he’s looking at me, and as my hurt continues to work through my entire body, I let my tongue do what it does best. “Why do you hate me so much?”
He says nothing, but stands and moves to me. Reaching around behind me, he pulls the zipper of the dress down, and then, returning his hands to my shoulders, he pulls the straps down, exposing first my small breasts, and then the rest of my naked body as it falls to the floor.
He leans in to my ear and speaks. “You don’t know anything about me.” He then takes me by the hand and pulls me to stand in front of the mirror, and leaning to my ear once more as I watch him in the mirror, he speaks gently. “Lean forward and put your palms on the mirror.”
I do as I’m told, appraising my tear-streaked face with embarrassment in the mirror as I bend over. His hand trails slowly down my back and grips me at the waist as his other moves to his zipper and slowly pulls it down. My body is responding to him once again, and I like it. As much as his words stung me, I’ve missed this feeling, this unexpected desire. When his pants hit the floor, he reaches for my pussy, finding my wetness. He strokes, he caresses, and he gives me the touch I’ve wanted, all the while holding my eyes intently with his.
He leans over my body, approaching my ear once more, and he presses two long and invasive fingers deep within me before speaking. “I want you wet like this for me every time I fuck you.”
Finding one last ounce of strength, I challenge him. “No, you don’t.”
They are the only words he needs to hear to remind him that cold, perfunctory fucking is his doing, not mine. And it stops him dead in his tracks. He swallows over his Adam’s apple. He holds my eyes for a moment before his jaw clenches harshly and his brow furrows as he considers my words. His lips are close to my ear, and it’s the first time I’ve been able to study them closely. They look warm, inviting even, and I wonder what it must feel like to kiss him. Then I remember just who he is, and kissing is definitely off limits. He sees me watching his mouth greedily, and his eyes burn into mine.
He finally leans back to my ear, and I wait for whatever harsh words he’ll use to hurt me. “You. Don’t. Know. Anything. About. Me.” His words are poignant, and with each one, his fingers invade me with a swift, deep penetration.
When he’s done speaking, he pulls his fingers slowly from my body, and without another word, he forces his cock slowly into my wet, waiting pussy. Again, he has foregone the condom and his tightly managed rules. He enters me more slowly than ever before. His eyes don’t leave mine as he fills me inch by slow inch. When this long drawn-out penetration is finally complete, he fills my tight sheath with his full breadth. He pulls from me, never taking his eyes from mine, and starts plunging faster and harder into my body, but his eyes are frustrated, and within only a few minutes of fucking me, he pulls from my body and pulls me around to face him.
He faces me, looking down at me with dark, hooded eyes, and as he holds my gaze, he reaches gently to the inside of my thigh and lifts one leg to dangle from his arm before moving his other arm to the inside of my other thigh. He lifts me easily with his forearms to straddle him. He pushes me up against the mirror, pinning me there with his hips. He continues to support my body with his forearms to the inside of my thighs, and as he pulls his hips from me, it is only long enough to line his engorged cock up with my entry and impale me harshly with it. I cry out, clutching his shoulders at the intensity of this incredibly deep penetration, and as he starts pulling and thrusting, my sheath starts clenching around his shaft. His face is only inches from mine, and his eyes are watching mine with heady lust. I can’t help but look at his lips, and as I do, he licks his lower lip. I inhale a quick breath at the sight of those lips that I so desperately want to taste, but I don’t.
He continues thrusting into me over and over, and as he does, I fight my mounting orgasm. He’s forbidden it, and as much as I want it, I won’t take it, but the fight against it is hard. I’m practically mewling like a cat in heat by the time he pulls himself from me, pins me to the mirror with his hips, and explodes in orgasm between our bodies. His eyes close in relief, and he holds our bodies firm and still as I hold on to his strongly muscled shoulders.
As the seconds tick away, he sets me lightly down to the floor. He pulls his pants swiftly back up, and once he’s re-clothed, he grabs the offensive white cotton underwear and uses them to wipe his cum from my stomach. I watch him gently run the material over my tummy, cleaning away every last drop of evidence from my skin. When he’s finished, he drops them in the nearby waste can and calls Jacob in once again. Derek returns to his chair, and as Jacob enters, he looks us both over appraisingly. What he assumes happened in this room is anyone’s guess, but Derek doesn’t seem to be the least bit concerned with what Jacob thinks. Jacob continues through the dresses, and once we’re finally finished, I re-dress and we leave the shop for the waiting limousine.
Derek is silent on the ride back to Trimbles, and as we exit the elevator, he places a hand at the small of my back, ushering me out in front of him, and, unexpectedly, right into a group of my housemates. I freeze as Derek regards them dismissively, but as Derek pushes me past the group and I offer a genial greeting, they crane their heads and watch after us, no doubt seeing the touch that still lingers on my lower back. We enter the hall, and he says nothing to me as he leaves me for his apartment. My body is relieved to have some degree of his want returned to me, but I’m also starved of my own release, a release I’m not allowed to take. With nothing better to do than soak away my frustration, I strip and lie in the bathtub as the water fills around me.
I daydream as the water slowly inches up the side of my face, and the rush of water slowly turns to a muffled churn as my ears fill. I daydream of him. The look in his eyes, the touch of his skin, the way he fills my body so completely, and my thoughts do nothing to calm my appetite. I contemplate masturbating on my closet floor out of his sight, but I can’t oppose his wishes. Wishes? Who am I kidding? It was punishment pure and simple, and as much as I feel like telling his punishment to go fuck itself and pleasuring myself in full view of his blessed camera, I won’t break the rules. As I continue to dream about my own release, I open my eyes to see him smirking down at me from the side of the tub. Holy shit! How long has he been watching me?
His stare is penetrating and his smirk is confusing, and it is impossible to tell if he’s upset with me for some unknown reason. I watch him with a guarded expression no doubt obvious on my face, and I suddenly want nothing more than for him to join me. But he makes no move to. Slowly, I pull myself up to prop on my elbows, and he slowly unbuttons the wrist of his shirt and starts folding it up along his arm.
I’m watching, wondering, and as he finishes with his sleeve, he speaks for the first time. “Why didn’t you come today when I was fucking you?”
Duh, he must know why, but I answer anyway. “Because I’m not supposed to.”
He continues. “You could have asked. I’d have agreed.” He continues to watch me as I take his words in, a little curious where they might be leading, and not
just
a little curious about his rolled-up sleeve. Finally, he speaks again, and it becomes clear. “Ask me.”
I look hesitantly to his eyes as they look down on my wet, naked body. He sees my nervousness and doesn’t give an inch. He repeats with a cock of his head. “Ask me.”
And I do. “Can I come?”
I blush furiously as I look away, but he’s not done torturing me. “How do you intend to do that?” My mouth drops open at his words. He’s watched me before; does he really need a description? Of course he does. It’s more fun for him to see me squirm.
“Touching myself,” I whisper.
“No.” My eyes snap to his in disappointment, embarrassment, and not just a little anger, but seeing my frustration, he coaxes me further. “Why don’t you ask me to make you come?”
“Will you?” I whisper once more.
But it’s not enough, and he makes that point quite clear. “Try again. Say it, and stop being so damn shy with me.”
My eyes flit to his quickly before I exhale a deep breath and do as he asks. “Mr. Pennington, will you make me come?”
“Happily. Now get up on your knees.” I do, facing him and the front of the bathtub. He pulls my thighs farther apart as he kneels beside the tub and reaches between my legs. As his finger makes first contact with my needy and sensitive skin, I jerk, and as I adjust to his touch, he pushes first one, and then two fingers deep inside me. He uses his thumb to stroke my clit while he continues to thrust. His cheek is right next to mine, and I can feel the heat from his skin on my own.
As my panting quickens, he demands that I stand. He pulls one foot up to rest on the side of the tub as I reach for his shoulders to steady myself. He moves to sit on the side of the tub and thrusts upward into my vagina. When I’ve had about all I can take, he adds one more finger, and I moan as I’m stretched taut. It’s not nearly as much as his girth, but it’s enough to fill me. He pushes harder on my clit as he keeps thrusting faster and harder. He’s watching my face and glancing regularly to his hand that is busy with my pussy. He places his free hand on my calf that is propped on the side of the tub and grips me tightly.
When I finally come loudly and completely, my knees wobble, and he stands swiftly, using his free hand to hold my waist. His fingers are still buried deep inside me, and their thrusting has slowed, but not ceased. He watches my face closely, forcing me to hold his gaze as he removes first one finger, leaving two to thrust slowly in and out. Finally, he removes another finger, letting the last one slide gently in and out before leaving my body altogether and trailing the last finger up over my sensitized clit.
He reaches his hand to my mouth before commanding, “Open up.” As I lick my taste from his fingers, his lips part, and his own breathing becomes ragged and aroused.
Before leaving, he ends up fucking my mouth with his cock while I make myself come again, and as he empties himself into my mouth for the third time since I’ve met him, I wonder if he’ll ever keep his own rules. As he makes to leave, I stand in front of him, my wet mess of a curly mop cascading down my shoulders; he reaches inadvertently to pull a strand that is stuck to my cheek. He brushes it gently away, his thumb lingering on my jaw line. But just as quickly as he reached for my face, he recoils from my skin and shakes his head in frustration, or perhaps confusion, as he turns to leave.
I’m left naked, staring after him in my own utter confusion and intrigue. This man is an enigma, and I want to know more. I chastise myself in my head, loudly admonishing myself for my stupidity. This can only bring me pain and disappointment, but I know that I’ll walk through the pits of hell to solve this mystery. Besides, what’s a little more disappointment and pain?
* * * *
The next week passes with a whole lot more of Derek. The dynamic has shifted between us, and while he is still cold and difficult to understand, he’s given up the cruelty of our first weeks together. Perhaps he’s decided he can’t drive me away, so there is no sense trying. I look forward to my evenings with him, which happen to be every evening, and true to Liz’s account, I never leave dissatisfied. However, not true to Liz’s account, he has stopped fucking me from behind or using condoms. It is far more intimate, and the closeness of it seems to make him uncomfortable at times. Fortunately, not enough for him to push me away. Also not true to Liz’s account, I come every time I’m with him. As long as I’m willing to ask, he obliges, watching my climax with interest. It almost always leads to a round two as his arousal returns quickly once he hears my moans and cries of pleasure. I have no idea why he has so clearly diverged from his normal approach to his women, but I’m thankful for it all the same.
His cold, hard exterior is still firmly in place, but what lies hidden beneath it threatens to show itself every time he touches my body. I know now that whatever he thinks of me, it is not hatred. I can’t guess how he regards me, and while I know he may not despise me, he’s still desperate to push me away. But, he doesn’t, and that is
his
vulnerability. I thought my own vulnerability might get the best of me here, but I can see now he’s not without his own. He refuses to lower his guard with me, but in the dark depths of his eyes, I can see an agonized man, not without feeling and emotion, desperate to get out … but he is unreachable. So, I revel in his touch instead, knowing that to whatever degree, it pleases him.
I know it will be the most difficult thing in the world for me to give myself to another man, after so completely and unwisely giving myself to him, but this is what I signed up for. I dread the day, and yet, I yearn to be done with it. At times, I thank God I’m no longer cold and hungry on the streets and that the wolves are kept at bay by my salary slowly but steadily feeding their lust for money I don’t owe them. But in the same breath, I can say, with no doubt whatsoever, that I have never felt more threatened. Emotionally, I’m walking a tightrope every day, waiting to be destroyed by the feelings I’ve allowed myself to have for him, and it is this threat, that comes only with deep commitment to another, that brings me swiftly to my knees when I’m asked out to dinner.
Chapter 10
As Derek approaches the sectional sofa in the common room where Liz and I are deep in conversation, I turn to him without hesitation. There is never a time my eyes don’t follow him when he’s in a room, and this time is no different. He has a world of worry buried within his eyes, and I watch as his eyes meet, and then pass away from mine, until reaching out to me once again. Whatever this is, it isn’t good, and dread creeps over me as I wait for him to speak.