by Lexie Ray
I didn’t like the way this was going. To hide my unease, I turned to the fridge to start gathering ingredients for breakfast. When I glanced back at Andrew, I stopped. He was practically leering at me.
I swallowed and flipped a switch inside of myself, one I’d used many a time at Mama’s nightclub. “Like what you see?” I said suggestively, turning around and bending down deliberately to retrieve a skillet from a low shelf.
“I think you know the answer to that question,” Andrew said, his erection making a tent in his pants.
“I do know the answer to that question,” I said sweetly. “But I’d like to hear you say it, all the same.”
I turned the burner on and heated a little olive oil, doing my waiting trick. It drove men nuts.
All the same, I jumped when he pressed himself into me, putting his arms around me and squeezing my tits as if they were ripe fruit. I hadn’t heard him approach.
“Yes, I fucking like what I see,” he rasped in my ear, his voice low, needy. “You flaunt that ass around here all the time. I have to look at it at every moment, crave it from afar. I want you so badly that I’d bend you over the table now if you just said the word.”
“No,” I said, knowing that I was playing with fire. I turned in his arms, by back against the stove, and stared up at his black eyes. “You’ll wait.”
Andrew was obviously a man who didn’t hear the word “no” very often. His face darkened for a terrifying second before he grinned.
“I like a girl who plays hard to get,” he said, his face very close to mine. “It just makes me want you even more, Pumpkin.”
I realized that I could be screwing myself as he stepped back. I learned that at Mama’s nightclub. I could whip anyone up into a frenzy, but I had to deal with the consequences of when they finally did get to have me.
Andrew rubbed the wet patch of my arousal on his cotton pants and brought his fingers up to his nose, inhaling deeply. I felt a stirring between my legs that had nothing to do with my act.
“I’m looking forward when I can experience this firsthand,” he said, waving his hand in my face. I could faintly smell my own scent on him.
“Me, too,” I said softly.
“I’m going to go get cleaned up while you’re cooking breakfast,” he said. “And maybe I’ll take care of this while I’m at it.” He grabbed his cock through his cotton pants to show me—as if I hadn’t already been aware of it. Maybe Cream hadn’t been exaggerating when she modeled the size for me.
When he left the kitchen, I let out a quiet sigh. I couldn’t figure out my feelings about Andrew Steele. He worried me deeply, frightened me occasionally, and made me unbearably aroused more often than before. What was I thinking with him? Why wasn’t I being cautious, like I usually was?
I cut some onions and peppers up and added them to the oil, the tender slices sizzling. Frowning, I stepped away from the stovetop after I heard a strange sound. There it was again. I walked into the hallway and blanched. Andrew’s version of “taking care of” his erection had been to wake Cream up with it. She was yowling loudly from the master bedroom, the door slightly ajar.
I bit my lip. It was a little bothersome to think about him having sex with Cream after I’d just gotten him so aroused. I hoped he wasn’t hurting her.
It was kind of unfair for her, too. Andrew was likely thinking of what he’d do to me and exacting it on Cream.
My curiosity got the better of me and I edged down the hallway. Just a peek, I told myself. I just wanted to observe what was happening. I’d use the information to my advantage.
The door was at just the perfect angle for me to see the bed. Andrew must have left it open in his haste to relieve his arousal. Maybe he’d been heading to the shower and Cream had woken up, tempting him to take care of it inside her.
I edged closer and saw them together. A warmth bloomed in my stomach and between my legs. Andrew and Cream made an extremely attractive couple. They were both naked and in profile to me, Andrew fucking Cream doggy style. He had a handful of her hair and was yanking her head backwards in a way that had to be painful, though you couldn’t tell by listening to her. Cream was crying out incoherently, babbling, really, her breasts jiggling wildly from the force of his thrusts.
The hand that wasn’t pulling her hair was spanking her mightily, the cracks of the blows ringing out in the room. How was that not hurting her? I checked my judgments. Cream had taken a lot of sexual partners. She surely had different tastes in bed. I didn’t like it rough. That’s why I had taken such care in vetting my potential customers. I didn’t even like doggy style.
But seeing Andrew and Cream doing it, right in front of me, was incredibly erotic. The sight of them made me crave it. I realized I’d do doggy style if that’s what Andrew wanted—when the time came.
I dragged my eyes from Cream and covered my mouth with my hand, stifling a gasp. Andrew was staring at me. How long had he known I was there, looking at them? I glanced back at Cream, but she was oblivious, screaming as he slammed into her.
Andrew watched me, not slowing in his thrusting or his spanking. Cream’s ass was red from the blows.
“Do you like what you see?” he asked.
“Yes,” Cream shouted, her eyes squeezed shut. She probably didn’t even understand what he was saying, only responding to some question. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”
But he wasn’t talking to her. He was talking to me.
“I want to hear you say it,” he said, raising his voice and spanking Cream even harder.
This was exactly what had happened in the kitchen right now. He was twisting my own words back against me. I suddenly realized that he had wanted me to hear him fucking Cream, had wanted me to come down the hall to investigate, had left the door ajar for the sole purpose of tempting me into taking a peek.
The string of revelations turned me cold, making any trace of arousal I’d felt vanish, blown away by a frigid breeze. Andrew was a much more formidable foe than I had realized. He knew exactly what game I’d been playing in the kitchen. And now he was playing me.
It rocked me to my core and I backed away from the door, my eyes never leaving his.
Playing with fire? No. I wasn’t. This was much more serious. This wasn’t a game.
The onion and hot peppers had just started to smoke a little when I got back to the kitchen, but I was able to salvage most of them. I flipped the exhaust fan on, sucking away the burned smell and tendrils of smoke. My heart was racing as I cracked the eggs and whisked them in a bowl before pouring some into a second skillet and transferring some onions and hot peppers into the middle of the liquid. I willed myself to calm down as I spread some other spices into the omelet, then some cheese as the egg firmed up.
Andrew had meant for me to see him fucking Cream like that. I couldn’t lie to myself about that. But maybe he’d intended it as a turn-on. Maybe he wanted to push me into making a decision to sleep with him sooner.
I swallowed, flipping the omelet. It had been darker than that. Much darker than a simple game of seduction. I wasn’t vanilla about sex. I’d done—and seen—many, many different things at Mama’s nightclub, even after being so careful about vetting my customers.
What Andrew had done wasn’t all in good fun. There was a warning behind it.
You’re not in charge of this situation, it told me. Andrew Steele was in charge of this situation.
He’d only been pretending that I had even a chance at being in control. He could take me whenever he wanted. That’s what he wanted me to know.
“Morning,” Cream said, her voice hoarse. “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?” I asked innocently, turning the exhaust fan off. “Ooh, that thing is loud.”
“Yum, omelets,” Cream said, forgetting about what she was saying. “These look awesome.”
“Thanks,” I said, giving her the first one done. “Eat up, while it’s still hot.”
“I’ll take it to the table, but I’ll wait for you and Andrew,�
�� she said. “Want some juice?”
“That’s my glass on the table,” I said. “Mind refreshing it?”
“Not at all.”
“Smells delicious in here,” Andrew said, coming into the kitchen. He was already dressed in his suit and shirt, tightening his tie. Looking at the scorched skillet, he gave me a half smile. “You didn’t burn breakfast, did you?”
“Not the important part,” I said, sliding another omelet onto a plate and handing it to him. “I might’ve gotten a little distracted by other things while I was sautéing the onion and peppers.”
“Oh, dear,” Andrew said mildly, his fingers brushing mine as he took the plate. “What could’ve possibly caused that?”
“I’m a little absentminded sometimes,” I said, making my eyes meet his. His black eyes were tinged with curiosity. “Just one of many things you’ll get to know about me.”
His lips quirked up in a smile and he took the plate to the table to join Cream.
“Please, go ahead and eat,” I said over my shoulder. “It’s better hot. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“If you insist,” Andrew said.
What was I doing? Andrew was shaping up to be a man who wasn’t to be trifled with. Why did I continue to play this dangerous game—teasing him? He was clearly manipulative. I didn’t want to push him over the edge. We had to live with him, after all.
But maybe—just maybe—I was making a stand. Maybe I was telling him that I wasn’t going to be easily cowed. Back at Mama’s nightclub, Blue had been surprised at me for being courageous around the same time most girls would run screaming away from Mama, who was firmly entrenched in alcoholism. I’d been about as surprised as her.
I didn’t think I had the spine for such things.
I finished the final omelet and turned the burner off before going to join Andrew and Cream at the table.
“This is spicy, girl,” Cream said, smacking me lightly on the butt. Andrew and I both flinched and glanced at each other as I sat down.
“Spicy like me,” I said, holding Andrew’s gaze for longer than I was comfortable with. He was the one who looked away, which felt like a tiny victory to me.
“It’s very good,” he said, putting a bite in his mouth and chewing. “I hope to get more and more tastes, in the future.”
The innuendo didn’t slip past Cream. “She’s pretty juicy,” she said, winking. “Why, Andrew, I think I’ve had more of a taste of Pumpkin than you have.”
“Oh, really?” he asked, raising his eyebrow. “If that’s true, I’ll be very jealous.”
“We get pretty lonely here without you,” she said flirtatiously. “Would you blame us if we found comfort in each other?”
Andrew relaxed, I was surprised to see, his shoulders sagging a little.
“Not at all,” he said easily, draining his espresso. “I would be sad to miss it, though.”
He left right at eight and Cream gave me a grin as soon as the security system beeped.
“You should’ve been there, Pumpkin,” she crowed. “He’s never fucked me like he did this morning. Oh my God! I thought for sure that you’d hear us. It was all I could do to scream and hold on to the bed.”
I had been there, but I didn’t feel like that was something I should share with Cream. Not until I understood what we were dealing with.
“That’s nice,” I said.
“Pumpkin, you belong in a nunnery,” she scoffed, helping me with the dishes. “I swear. How long has it been since you had an orgasm?”
Last night, I wanted to say, but I didn’t.
“Since Mama’s, I guess,” I mumbled.
Cream made a clucking noise and shook her head. “I could never go that long without sex,” she said. “You’re either strong, or bereft. Why are you holding out? We’re living in a sex god’s house. He wants you, Pumpkin.”
I shrugged nonchalantly. “In my own time,” I said simply, focusing on scraping the scorched skillet. I just didn’t know how much time I had left.
With Andrew’s methodical, constant schedule, it was easy to slip into a routine. We cleaned the same things every day, but we put music and danced around, or turned the television on, a soap opera narrating our chores. The hero and heroine would be together while I was scrubbing the kitchen sink, but they’d be broken up again by the time I got to fluffing the pillows on the couch.
Cream shared Andrew’s bed every night for a week and a half. That was how much time I ended up having before things came to a head.
I woke up hot and sticky, my teddy bunched up around my waist. I noticed that Cream was sleeping with me, which was unusual. She generally spent her nights in Andrew’s bed. I hoped everything was all right between the two of them. Her unexpected presence was probably why I was so warm—I wasn’t used to sharing my bed.
I went to the kitchen for a drink of water. When I closed the refrigerator door, he was standing there.
“You scared me,” I gasped. “What are you doing up?”
“I could ask you the same question,” Andrew said, leaning against the fridge as I tried to hide my nervousness by chugging the water in my glass.
“Thirsty,” I said, trying to catch my breath.
“I’m thirsty, too,” he said, his meaning different from mine. He put one hand on either side of me, effectively trapping me against the appliance.
I had a few choices here, my brain said, separating itself from my situation and helping me not panic. This was the calculating Pumpkin, the girl who scared me. I could see myself pressed against the refrigerator, staring up at Andrew with my wide eyes—even though I was looking directly into his pitch black eyes.
I could knee him in the crotch and make a run for it, praying that the door would open for me, my brain told me. I could try to fight him off. I could tell him no, though it was obvious that he wouldn’t listen this time.
Or, I could take his power away from him by asserting mine.
“I know just what you mean,” I said, squeezing his cock through his cotton pants.
That wasn’t the response he’d expected. I was afraid he had wanted me to try to deny him. He wanted to take me against my will. He wanted to make me feel the reality of my situation—that I belonged to him.
It was as easy as flipping a switch.
I slowly, slowly sank down to my knees, holding his gaze the entire time. I dragged his cotton pants down with me as I went, letting them pool around his ankles. He wasn’t wearing boxers or briefs beneath them, so I faced his erection for the first time. It was very large. Cream hadn’t been lying. It was large enough to present a challenge, but one that I had faced before.
“I hope you can quench my thirst,” I said, not breaking my eye contact with him as I swallowed him whole. I had to concentrate on controlling my gag reflex as his head pushed into my throat, but I managed, my eyes watering with the effort.
Andrew hissed between his teeth, groaning as I worked my tongue up and down his long, long shaft. I hefted his balls in my palm, feeling the weight of them, as I sucked and slurped.
“Fuck,” he breathed. “Fuck.”
Yes, thought the Pumpkin who scared me. Yes, Andrew. Fuck you. Fuck you for trying to do what you tried to do. It’s game on, bitch.
I was shocked at my own thoughts, happy that Andrew couldn’t see the expression on my face in the dark kitchen—especially with his cock occupying my mouth. My knees ached from the hard marble floor, but I ignored them. I withdrew my mouth all the way to the very tip of his dick and used my hand to pump the rest of it, which was lubricated by my own saliva. Andrew rocked forward on his feet with every pump. He looked to be thoroughly enjoying himself.
I sucked for all I was worth, reveling in the small sounds he was making. They were, in reality, quiet, but in the silence of his home, they echoed over the black marble. I liked the power I felt like I had over him. I was controlling his pleasure, how he felt. I’d control the moment he came. He wouldn’t do so a second before I allowed it.
/> I knew better, though, than to back away from him and leave him hanging from the precipice of completion. I was calculating, but I wasn’t stupid. I knew when a man was pushed too far. I was afraid of finding out what Andrew was capable of doing.
I juggled his balls again, squeezing them lightly, which made him gasp. At the same time, I squeezed his shaft and sucked hard on his tip. I was rewarded with a strangled gurgling, an attempt of him trying to form words, and a rush of salty seed in my mouth. He gripped my hair with both of his hands, tangling his fingers in my curls, and held my face in place as he came and came. I drank in every drop, not having another choice. The power struggle continued, I realized. I’d controlled when he came, but he was controlling when I could pull away. He kept me in place long after he’d stopped spurting, perhaps to remind me who was in charge. Or perhaps it was just as innocent as enjoying the warmth of my mouth.
There was no way of telling, really. Not yet.
Our first tryst resulted in a truce, in my scorebook.
“Pumpkin, you are full of surprises,” Andrew said, letting go of my hair and helping me to my feet.
“I like to keep you on your toes,” I said, tugging a little bit at his cock with my hand and sending him literally up on his toes with a hiss at his still-sensitive shaft.
We both laughed, easy with each other. Something about his orgasm had mellowed him considerably, led him back from whatever dark place he’d been in when he first accosted me.
“I’m beginning to enjoy it very much,” he said. “I’ll be disappointed when there aren’t any surprises anymore.”
I cocked my head at that. “Then you’re going to have to be disappointed again,” I said sweetly. “There’ll always be surprises.”
“No, I’m afraid there won’t be,” Andrew said. “One of these days, we’re going to all wake up and realize that we know everything about one another—you, me, and Cream. Then I’m afraid that life will become very boring.”
Was it just me, or was that a threat? Was Andrew implying that there would come a point when he was bored of us? Why did I dread it so much?
