His Every Need

by Terri L. Austin

  She shook her head. “I can’t move in with you. I have to look out for my sisters. I have a job.”

  He peered at her over his teacup. “But you’ll still have a job, Miss Campbell, servicing my needs.” He tried not to smile at the blush that flamed her cheeks. Really, this was too easy.

  He surveyed the tray of treats before him. “Mmm, Jammie Dodgers, my favorite. Arnold never puts on a spread like this for just me.” He plucked a biscuit from the tray and popped it into his mouth. “These are delicious. Here.” He picked up another and held it out to her. “Try it.”

  “No.”

  “Every whim, remember? You’re not backing out of the deal already, are you? What a pity.”

  With a mutinous expression, she opened her mouth and allowed him to place the biscuit on her tongue. Snapping her mouth shut, she almost bit his finger, but he pulled away so that she only grazed him with her teeth. “What a temper you have, Miss Campbell.”

  “I still have to work,” she said once she’d finished chewing. “I told you, we have medical bills and my sisters need to eat.”

  “Another sandwich?” He gestured to the tray.

  Slamming her hands down on the table, the crockery rattled and her untouched cup spilled its contents onto the saucer. “No, I want you to listen to me.”

  She was a lovely woman, ripe, lush. But when she was angry, she was stunning. Those eyes flashed blue fire, her whole body practically vibrated. He had no doubt that she would be a passionate lover. He didn’t plan on finding out, of course. Still, he wondered if she was a moaner. Would she rake her nails down his back? Was she a screamer? If not, he could turn her into one, he was sure of it.

  Despite wanting to talk her out of this crazy scheme, Trevor was reluctant to let her slip away so quickly. If she stayed the two months, or until he grew tired of her—and really, how long would that take—she could save her family’s home and wipe out the debt that must be crippling them. She’d even thank him in the end.

  He kept his expression neutral. “I am listening, my sweet. You have medical bills, two teenage sisters who won’t make it through another day without your guidance, and an unemployed father who depends on you. Do I have that right?”

  She shifted in her chair, obviously uncomfortable with the situation, uncomfortable with him. “They need me. I can’t just leave them. You don’t understand.”

  “I’ll pay the medical bills. Without having to pay me or the hospital, your father will find some way to support your family. See? All better.”

  She sighed, looking him in the eye. “It’s more than that. I have to go home. I’ll come back every morning, every evening. Mr. Blake…Trevor. Please.”

  He stared back, mesmerized. This “please” had been sincere, not angry, not manipulative. But he wasn’t ready to let her go. Not yet. “I’ll have my driver take you home to get your things.” He rose from the table. “When you come back, Arnold can show you to your room. I’ll see you at dinner.”

  He stood, tossed a last biscuit into his mouth, and sauntered out, leaving behind a seething Allie Campbell.

  For some reason, he didn’t feel triumphant at getting what he wanted. Instead, he felt almost the slightest twinge of guilt.

  ***

  Allie sat in the back of the limousine, seething. She hated him, hated that her father had borrowed his money, and most of all hated that she wasn’t in a position to rip that perfectly pleasant smile right off his face.

  Bad enough she’d agreed to have sex with him, but now he was forcing her to abandon her sisters. Brynn had always been shy, but lately, she’d become withdrawn, sullen. She hardly ever smiled anymore. With Allie gone, Brynn might never come out of her room. Monica, on the other hand, had become uncontrollable after their mom died—staying out late, skipping so much school that graduation was up in the air. If Allie wasn’t home to keep a handle on things, there was no telling what Mon would do.

  When the car pulled in front of the house, both of her sisters stepped onto the porch, watching as the driver opened the door and offered Allie a hand. Monica, in dark skinny jeans and a sparkly tank top, ran toward her and peered inside the car. Brynn held back, watching from the porch.

  “Whose car is this, Al? Oh my God, can I go for a ride?” Monica hopped inside and began fiddling with the buttons. “I want to go to Amber’s house. She’ll piss herself.” She turned on the radio, switched stations until she found a song with a thumping bass. Then she hit the moonroof, popping her head out as she raised her hands and swayed to the music. “This kicks ass, Al.”

  Allie reached in and turned off the radio. “Get out.”

  Monica looked down at Allie from her perch atop the seat and scowled. “Why are you so against having a good time? You’re like, anti-fun.” She climbed down and scooted out of the car. “Whose car did you say this was?”

  Allie had decided to go with the truth—or as much of it as she could, without telling her sisters she’d sold herself to a stranger. “My new boss, it’s his car. Come on. Let’s go inside. We need to talk.”

  “Shit, I hate it when you say that. Lecture time.” Her voice became a parody of Allie’s. “Monica, you’re ruining your life. Boys are bad. Just say no. Blahdy blah blah.”

  “You are ruining your life, but that’s not what this is about. Not this time.” Allie mustered up a smile for the driver. “Thank you. I’ll be half an hour, maybe forty-five minutes.”

  He nodded. “I’ll be waiting.”

  Well, the chauffeur was American, a Southerner by the sound of his accent.

  Monica smiled at the cute man and gave him a finger wave. “Does he come with the job?”

  Allie ignored her and strode toward the house. Brynn waited until Allie walked up the cracked concrete steps before she began her interrogation. “What are you doing in a limo, Al? What’s going on?”

  Placing a hand on Brynn’s shoulder, Allie gently pushed her into the house. Monica shoved her way past them and stepped inside. “Allie needs to talk.”

  “Sit down a second, okay?” She waited until her sisters parked themselves on the shabby blue sofa. Monica looked just like their mom—the same long, honey-blond hair and light blue eyes, down to the little dent in her chin. Brynn, on the other hand, looked more like their father, with dark hair and deep blue, almost navy eyes. And right now they were wide and frightened.

  Brynn sat huddled, arms wrapped around her stomach. “Tell us what’s going on, Al.”

  “You know with Mom’s hospital bills and the cost of the funeral, things have been pretty tight lately.”

  “Yeah, no shit. Like I need a car. And those shoes are from last year.” Monica pointed at the green canvas shoes in the middle of the room, their long strings trailing across the floor.

  God, not again. “Monica, we’ve been over this. You want a car? Get a job and buy one.”

  Rolling her eyes toward the ceiling, she sighed. “How am I supposed to get a job if I don’t have a car? And I thought you said this wasn’t going to be another lecture.”

  Brynn pulled her knees up to her chest. “Would you two shut it? All you do is fight and I’m sick of it.”

  When Allie thought she could open her mouth without blasting Monica, she said, “Dad’s business has taken a hit and even with my paycheck we can’t make ends meet. So, I took a new job today. I’m an assistant to a man named Trevor Blake. He’s an investor and he needs me to start immediately. But I have to move into his house because he keeps such crazy hours.”

  Monica smiled. “Score. Can I come over and use the pool? He’s got a pool, right?”

  Allie ignored Monica and sank down on the sofa, brushing her shoulder against Brynn’s. “It’s going to be all right. I’ll call every day and I’ll come home to check on you all the time.”

  Brynn narrowed her eyes. “No, you won’t
. You’re going to leave and not come back. And I don’t care. I’m not a kid. I can take care of myself.” She jumped up and ran out of the room.

  Guilt lodged in the middle of Allie’s chest. What was she supposed to do? If she didn’t keep this bargain, the medical bills alone would probably bankrupt them. And Trevor Blake would evict them.

  The house itself was a relic. Old, scarred furniture. Ancient brown carpeting. A secondhand refrigerator that made an annoying, high-pitched whine. The place was in desperate need of a paint job and more than a few repairs. But at least it was a home.

  Slouching against the back of the sofa, Monica sighed. “God, she’s such a drama queen. It’s not like you’re dying too.”

  A lance of pain shot through Allie. But she let it pass. Monica only wanted a reaction. “It wouldn’t hurt you to be nice to her. She’s having a tough time right now.” She sat for a moment, debated whether she should tackle the next subject. But she was already having the shittiest day ever, why not go for the gold. “Want to tell me why you skipped school? Where were you? Who were you with?”

  Monica shook her head. “Here we go again. My life is none of your business. You’re not Mom, all right? I don’t have to answer to you. Stop telling us what to do and just leave already. The only reason Brynn cares if you’re here is because you do all the shit jobs.”

  “Believe me, I’m aware of that. And I could use some help.”

  Monica batted her eyes. “But then you couldn’t be Allie the Perfect. Your life wouldn’t be complete.”

  These same old arguments exhausted her. “Do you ever get tired of being so bitchy, Mon?” Allie glanced at her sister. “Because the rest of us are sick of it.”

  “Maybe I’m sick of you,” Monica yelled. “You’re the bitch, not me.”

  This was how it always ended—angry words, hurt feelings, and childish disagreements. Allie ignored Monica’s parting shot as she walked to her room.

  She closed her door with a quiet click. Monica and Brynn shared a room, while Allie had the smallest bedroom to herself. She guessed one of the girls could move in here now.

  Well, maybe not. She wasn’t exactly mistress material, so maybe Trevor would get bored sooner rather than later. Unless he felt cheated by her lack of experience and tried to renege on their agreement.

  No, it was in her family’s best interest to keep him happy. Every damn whim.

  Chapter 3

  “Will these accommodations work, miss?” Arnold asked.

  A charcoal duvet covered the king-sized bed. A lovely antique dressing table took up one corner of the room. Above it all was a tray ceiling. The other side of the room, beyond an archway, contained a small sitting room decorated in dove gray and pale pink.

  “Yes, Arnold—may I call you Arnold?” she asked.

  “I’d be pleased if you would.”

  “Thank you. The accommodations are beautiful.”

  “Very good. The en suite is through there.” He pointed toward a door next to the bed. “And Mr. Blake requested that you wear the dress hanging in the closet.”

  Well, that couldn’t be good. She didn’t trust Trevor Blake to pick out something nice and normal for her to wear. He probably wanted her to wear some sheer, slutty dress that showed off her boobs. Mistress wear. She blinked and noticed Arnold waiting for her response. “Sure, thanks.”

  “If you require anything, simply dial nine on the phone next to your bed.”

  “Thank you,” she repeated.

  Once he was gone, Allie made her way to the closet and opened the doors. A lone black dress hung inside the walk-in. Floor length, with a modest V-neckline and a side slit, it was simple and beautiful. The back, however, was nonexistent. Two narrow crossing straps held it together. There was no way she could wear a bra with it. Black satin sling-back shoes, with wispy feathers across the toe, sat on the floor. She wondered if any of it would fit.

  Trevor Blake had bought himself a real live Barbie doll. Freak.

  She spent the time before dinner unpacking her bags and took a quick shower in the black marble bathroom. An hour later, Allie stood at the top of the staircase, her back straight, head high, feeling exposed and awkward in the backless dress. As she stepped forward, the silky material flowed over her legs.

  Trevor waited for her at the bottom of the steps. She hoped to God she wouldn’t fall on her ass in front of him. She wasn’t used to wearing such high heels.

  “You look lovely, Miss Campbell.” He wore an evening suit with a black tie and a crisp, white shirt.

  Putting on one of her customer service smiles, she willed herself not to show signs of discomfort as the slit parted with every step, revealing her bare leg almost to her hip.

  His eyes strayed there as he watched her descend. “I’m so glad it fits.”

  Opening her mouth to say something clever and cutting, she forgot to kick her foot out ahead of the dress so she wouldn’t trip on the hem. She stumbled on the last step and stretched her arms toward him to keep from falling. He reached out at the same time and caught her.

  By the boob.

  ***

  Trevor cupped her large breast in one hand. Definitely real. His cock twitched in response.

  He wanted to do more than simply cup it. Oh, the very dirty things he longed to do to Allie Campbell. It was good she couldn’t read his mind. Her poor little head might explode.

  “I’m quite used to women falling for me, Miss Campbell, but you needn’t be so literal.”

  She jerked herself up and stared at his hand. “You’re still touching me.”

  Smiling cheerfully, he left his hand where it was. “So I am.”

  She tried to smack it away, but he remained unmoved. He watched her pull herself together and attempt to throw an apathetic look on her face. He wasn’t fooled. A hot flush stole over her cheeks and those flashing eyes revealed everything she was feeling. And right now, she wanted to punch him.

  “When you’re through feeling me up, may we eat? I’m starving.”

  He gave her points for the cool note in her voice. He assumed a serious expression. “Yes, of course, Miss Campbell.” He gave her breast one last, gentle squeeze and winked before letting go. Then he offered his arm to escort her to dinner.

  The dining room was large, with a table that could easily seat twenty. Not that he ever had guests. His home was a tranquil sanctuary in a chaotic world. Yellow and white flowers from the garden made up a floral arrangement in the middle of the table, and lighted tapers shimmered throughout the room.

  Trevor led Allie to a seat next to the head of the table. When she sat, he saw the back of the dress for the first time. He was willing to bet she hated being on display. That made him smile.

  Arnold served a salad and discreetly disappeared. Pouring them each a glass of wine, Trevor watched her from the corner of his eye.

  Allie appeared stiff and uncomfortable as she placed the napkin on her lap. He liked it better when she was hissing at him.

  “How is your room?”

  “It’s fine, thank you.” She proceeded to eat a small bite of lettuce, keeping her eyes on her plate.

  “And what about your family, Miss Campbell? How did they take the news?”

  “They were upset.”

  “Naturally. Did you tell them the truth?”

  She laid down her fork and looked up at him. “What do you think, Mr. Blake?”

  His gaze captured hers as he leaned closer and lowered his voice. “I do like it when you call me Mr. Blake. Maybe we’ll get you a naughty schoolgirl costume and I can play headmaster.”

  Pink flagged her cheeks, but she picked up her fork and resumed eating.

  There. That should take care of the Mr. Blake nonsense.

  Arnold brought in the soup—lobster bisque with homemade crouton
s. One of Trevor’s favorites.

  After taking a bite, Allie closed her eyes. With the smooth line of her throat exposed, those tantalizing tits peeking above the silky, black material, and it was all he could do to keep his hands to himself. But he couldn’t tear his gaze away.

  Her eyes fluttered open. “This is delicious.”

  “I’ll make sure Mrs. Hubert knows how much you like it.” Sounding hoarse, he took a sip of wine. Apparently this was going to be more difficult than he thought, living with Allie but not touching her. Torture, really, and he had brought it on himself.

  “So, you don’t have any family left?” she asked.

  “No, I don’t.” At least none he cared to claim.

  Sympathy filled her eyes. “I’m sorry. I know what that’s like, losing people you love.”

  He gave her a cold smile. “Don’t feel sorry for me, Miss Campbell. It’s you who should be pitied. If you didn’t care so much about your family, you’d have never agreed to fuck me.”

  She drew a sharp breath, shock and anger flashed in her eyes. “You’re right. If it weren’t for them, I wouldn’t look at you twice. And I’d have slapped you into next week for the things you said to me.”

  Yes, this was the fiery woman from this afternoon. He was glad she’d reappeared. Much better than the sympathetic, nervous Allie.

  When Arnold served roasted game hens stuffed with wild rice, she smiled sweetly and thanked him. She’d never smiled at Trevor like that. Not once. He raised a brow at Arnold as the older man left the room.

  “So, what’s with all the antiques and knickknacks?” She forked a piece of hen into her mouth.

  “Knickknacks?”