His Every Need

by Terri L. Austin

  “The tchotchkes. The miniature vases, the lockets, all the stuff in glass cases.”

  He blinked. “Tchotchkes? They’re called objets d’art, Miss Campbell. There are books in the library about the various collections if you care to educate yourself.”

  “How very grand,” she said in a fake British accent, her nose lifted in the air.

  “That accent’s dreadful. And yes, it is terribly grand, but then so am I.”

  “You really are an arrogant ass.”

  “But a charming one.”

  She rolled her eyes and finished her meal.

  Once custard was served, Trevor turned to Arnold. “Thank you. We’ll call you when we’re done.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  Trevor refilled his wine glass. “Did you enjoy dinner, Miss Campbell? I thought for a moment you might lick the plate clean.”

  Little lines near her eyes betrayed her stress, but she hid it well behind a smile that seemed almost genuine. “The food was delicious.”

  “I’m so gratified.” He leaned back in his chair and studied her.

  Her body stiffened under his scrutiny, and she cast her gaze on the flickering candle. He didn’t like it when she wasn’t relaxed with him. Even an angry response was much better than this tense nervousness.

  He rose from his seat and held out his hand. “Come, Miss Campbell.”

  A look of panic raced across her features, but she quickly mastered it. Taking his hand, she didn’t speak.

  Instead of leading her out of the dining room, he walked to the terrace doors. When she realized he wasn’t taking her upstairs, the tightness around her eyes lessened—somewhat.

  As they stepped outside, Trevor turned to her. “What do you think?”

  In silence, she gaped at the lighted garden before her. A traditional English garden really, with stone paths and herbaceous borders and a profusion of flowers.

  “This must cost a fortune to water,” she whispered.

  Keeping hold of her hand, he led her down the steps and onto the garden path. “Yes, I believe it does.”

  The comforting smell of blooming flowers enveloped him as they strolled beneath a dark sky, the half-moon partially visible through the clouds. “Do you like it?”

  Her lips parted and she swiveled her head, taking in the trees, the roses, the purple and pink delphiniums. “Of course, it’s beautiful. How in the world do you grow all this here?”

  “Most of the area was dug up and fresh soil brought in. You’re absolutely right though, it’s a frivolous expense. I’ve been thinking about tearing it out and putting a tennis court here instead.” They walked further toward the grotto swimming pool. “Do you play, Miss Campbell?”

  “Not as well as you. You’re just trying to get a rise out of me. You’re not going to get rid of this garden. You wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble if it wasn’t important to you.”

  With a sudden movement, he stopped and faced her. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her into him. Her eyes widened and she drew in a surprised breath.

  “Never presume to know me, Miss Campbell.” He reached out with his other hand and caught a lock of her hair, rubbing it between his finger and thumb. It was just as soft as it looked.

  She stared at him warily, her hands flat on the lapels of his jacket.

  He pulled her closer, his palm hot against her cool, bare back, felt her breasts press against his chest. He wondered what her nipples looked like—pink and dusky or just a shade darker than her pale skin? He let go of her hair and moved his thumb slowly across one of her golden eyebrows.

  Her breath quickened. Those blue eyes darkened a bit. As he slowly leaned forward and kissed her temple, her lashes fluttered, tickling his cheek. Bloody hell, he was rock hard and he hadn’t even kissed her properly.

  Leaning his head back, he tenderly brushed his hand across her jaw, then ran his finger over the seam of her lips. Those full, pouty lips. They parted and her eyes drifted shut.

  He dipped his finger in her mouth, then traced her upper lip with his damp fingertip. His own breath was shallow, his heart racing. He edged the tip of his finger in her mouth once again. “Suck,” he whispered.

  Her eyes shot open, and she jerked her head away, so that his finger was no longer touching her. “No.”

  He stroked the naked skin along her spine, felt her shiver. “You’re having difficulty with the ‘every whim’ part of the program, aren’t you, darling? If you want to end this arrangement now—”

  “I don’t.” Staring daggers at him, she grabbed his free hand and lowering her head, licked his finger from base to tip like it was her favorite treat. Then she slid it between her plump lips and began to suck. Gently at first. Leisurely. With a moan, she swirled her tongue around him. Her head bobbed up and down, her eyes never leaving his as she gave a porn-star performance. Scraping her teeth against his knuckle, she increased the suction, pulling him further inside.

  Good God.

  His cock pulsed with the rhythm of her mouth and got even harder, if that were possible. By forcing Allie to do this, he’d just fucked himself. And not in a satisfactory way.

  Abruptly, she jerked the finger from her mouth with a pop and dropped his hand.

  “Happy?” she asked.

  ***

  It was getting harder to suppress her reactions to him—the anger, the anxiety. And the attraction. That tug she felt when he took her in his arms and stroked his fingers along her jaw. When he kissed her temple and looked at her with stormy gray eyes. She’d almost softened toward him, too, until he reminded her yet again about their little transaction. Every whim, her ass.

  He constantly kept her off balance—cold and sarcastic one second, hot and sensual the next. He was toying with her, and she didn’t like it.

  He gazed at her with a mixture of amusement and something else she couldn’t quite define. “Well done, Miss Campbell. Now, we need to get back. I still have some work to do this evening.”

  “More poor people to exploit?” She couldn’t manage to keep the hint of bitterness out of her voice.

  “Widows and orphans to destroy, puppies to kick.” He sighed deeply. “So much evil to do and only twenty-four hours in a day.”

  She glanced up at him. “You’re not funny.”

  “You, on the other hand, are terribly amusing.”

  As they walked back to the house, she let her hand trail over the velvet petals of a yellow rose. “If you miss England so much, why did you leave?”

  He stopped, that nasty smile hovering on his lips. “Wherever did you learn your sucking skills, Miss Campbell? You’re exceptionally good at it. Had a lot of practice?”

  She let go of the rose petal and twirled toward him to lash out, but when she did, her finger caught the tip of a thorn. “Damn.” She stuck the bleeding finger in her mouth.

  “Let me see.” Taking her hand, he brought it closer to his face and squeezed.

  “Ow, stop that.” She tried to yank out of his grasp, but he tightened his hold.

  “Don’t be such a baby. It’s only a scratch.” Drawing a folded white handkerchief from his pocket, he wrapped it around her finger and applied pressure.

  This time when she tried to pull away, he let her go. She clutched the handkerchief and resumed walking. She didn’t look at him, didn’t ask any more personal questions.

  With his hand on her bare back, he led her to the house, through the dining room, to the foot of the staircase, where he’d felt her up earlier in the evening. Her cheeks grew warm thinking of his hand on her breast, squeezing it like he owned it. Which, for the next two months, he did.

  But that was nothing compared to what was coming. She was going to have to show him the whole enchilada, let him touch whatever he wanted. She was on the verge of fre
aking out when he gazed down at her with a mocking smile.

  “Good night, Miss Campbell. Try not to dream of me.” He ran his fingers down her spine before striding toward his office.

  She stood alone on the bottom step, completely confused. Her heart slowed to a steady beat, and the threatening tide of panic began to subside.

  So, that was it? No sex? He must be playing another game, one that only he knew the rules to. But she was too tired to figure them out tonight.

  Grateful for a reprieve, she whisked off her shoes and, grabbing the hem of the dress with her uninjured hand, lightly ran up the stairs to the safety of her room. She shut the door behind her and locked it. It wouldn’t keep him out, but at least she might have some advance notice if decided to barge in.

  She went to the bathroom and unwrapped her scratched finger. The initials embroidered on his handkerchief read TWB. Trevor William? She scoffed, glancing at herself in the mirror.

  “You’re an idiot, Allison. Who gives a crap what his middle name is? The man was about to take over your house and kick your family out on the street.” No matter how many flowers he planted or how gently he wrapped her bloody finger, he owned her ass. And she’d better remember that.

  In the bedroom, she removed the dress, letting her hand drift over the expensive fabric before hanging it up in the closet. Then, she threw on a pair of men’s boxer shorts and an old, faded T-shirt before grabbing the phone off the side table. Allie needed to call her father and explain the situation. She could only imagine what Monica told him, and he must be worried by now.

  He answered on the first ring.

  “Hey, Dad.”

  “My God, Allie, what the hell is going on? Monica said you’re living with Trevor Blake.”

  “Sorry I couldn’t talk to you in person, but when I came to see Mr. Blake about the loan, he offered me a job,” she said, forcing enthusiasm into her voice. She didn’t want her father to suspect anything was wrong.

  “Allie, he’s throwing us out of our house. You can’t work for that man.”

  She sank down on the bed and, plucking the gray duvet with two fingers, took a deep breath. “I’m going to be his assistant, Dad, and in return, he’s going to forgive the debt you owe and pay off the mortgage and the rest of the medical bills.”

  “Why? Why would he do that, Al?”

  She hated lying to him. But it was necessary. “He liked my initiative. I’m not getting much of a salary at this point, but I have room and board and I’ll gain a lot of experience.” She winced as she said the words. She didn’t really want the kind of experience a man like Trevor Blake would give her. Hot, consuming sexual experience.

  Her father laughed. “That’s amazing, Allison. I’m so proud of you.”

  He wouldn’t be proud if he knew the truth. She closed her eyes and kept her voice light. “Can I talk to Brynn?”

  “Let me see.” He came back a minute later. “She doesn’t want to talk right now, but she’ll come around. She doesn’t like change and you left so suddenly…”

  Allie cleared her throat. “Okay. So, what are you going to do about work?”

  “When have I ever not worked?” He sounded testy, then sighed. “Sorry. I haven’t been completely honest with you. I, uh, sold off all my tools a couple of months ago. The business has been in trouble for a long time.”

  She closed her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t want to worry you.” He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “And I guess I didn’t want to admit I’m a failure.”

  “That’s not true. Don’t say that.”

  “It is true. Anyway, I’ve started doing some odd jobs for a friend, fixing up some rental properties, repairing old appliances on the side. It doesn’t pay much, but since Mr. Blake has forgiven the loan and offered to pay off the medical bills…Allie, you can’t know what a relief this is.” He let out a sob and sniffed a couple of times. “Sorry, I just can’t believe he’s doing this. Thank him for me.”

  Allie felt a lot of things toward Trevor, but gratitude wasn’t one of them. “I’ll come by tomorrow and check in.”

  “By the way, we’re out of paper towels. And coffee filters.”

  “Paper towels are under the sink and coffee filters are in the pantry, third shelf down.” She pressed her lips together. He was going to fall apart without her. This was a mistake, moving in with Trevor. But what choice did she have?

  ***

  Allie was awakened by tapping, then a rattle of the door handle. Disoriented, she rubbed her eyes and tried to figure out where she was. Right, Trevor Blake’s house. She stumbled out of bed and unlocked the door. Standing on the other side of it was a middle-aged, round-faced, cheerful bundle of energy with curly red hair.

  “Good morning, miss,” she said in an English accent. But hers wasn’t fancy, like Trevor’s and Arnold’s. “I’m Frances. Sorry I wasn’t here yesterday to greet you proper. My day off.” Clad in a black dress and black tennis shoes, she hustled into the room and pulled back the curtains, flooding the place with light.

  “Nice to meet you,” Allie said before she walked back to bed and huddled under the blankets. She couldn’t do cheerful this morning, she was too exhausted.

  “Time to rise and shine. Mr. Blake is waiting on you.”

  Allie groaned and checked the time. Seven o’clock wasn’t early, but she’d spent the night in tears. Her eyes felt swollen and grainy. “Tell Mr. Blake to stuff it.” She pulled the covers over her head.

  Frances laughed. “Oh, I won’t be doing that. Come on now, love.” She played tug-of-war with the blankets but managed to yank them out of Allie’s clutched hands. “You need to get up. Mr. Blake says you have a full day ahead of you.”

  Allie glared at Frances but stopped herself. It wasn’t Frances’s fault she was in this mess. Sitting up, she pushed a stray piece of hair out of her face. “Okay, I’ll be down in a few.”

  “I’ll have a nice cup of coffee waiting for you. How do you take it, love?”

  She was beginning to like Frances. “Lots of cream and sugar, please.”

  As Allie climbed out of bed, she had to wonder what Frances and Arnold thought about her. Did they know she was Trevor’s mistress? She was probably one in a long line of women who stayed in this room, servicing Trevor Blake. She shouldn’t care. He’d be on to the next girl soon, and Allie could get back to her family.

  She washed quickly and changed into a pair of faded jeans and a blue T-shirt. Screw the makeup. If Trevor Blake didn’t like her face in its natural state, he could suck it.

  Just like she had sucked his finger last night. He’d stroked his hand absently up and down her back as she took him in her mouth. His hand against her skin…

  No, focus. She couldn’t afford to get distracted. He was waiting on her, and she needed a clear head. She trotted down the stairs and ran into Frances.

  “I was about to come and get you. Mr. Blake is getting a mite peevish. Follow me, dear.”

  “Aren’t we going to the dining room?”

  “No, until last night, we hadn’t used it in years.” She came to a stop in front of a doorway that opened to a blue and white room. It seemed cheerful and homey—and not a knickknack in sight.

  Allie poked her head in the door and the rich smell of coffee called to her. Trevor was already seated at the table, BlackBerry in hand.

  “Don’t stand there hovering, Miss Campbell. You may have all day, but I assure you, I do not.” He never looked up from his phone as he spoke.

  She sat at the opposite end of the table, as far away from him as she could get. Arnold waited by a sideboard.

  “What would you like for breakfast, miss?”

  Trevor set aside his phone and looked up. “Give her some of everything, Arnold.”

  She glared a
t him. “Hey, English, I’m in the room, and I can answer for myself.”

  He quirked a brow. “You’re a bright little ray of sunshine this morning, Miss Campbell. And do sit next to me. We have things to discuss and I feel as if I’m looking at you from across a football pitch.”

  With a sigh, she moved down the length of the table, but before she could pull out a chair, Arnold was there, pulling it out for her.

  Frances placed a cup of steaming coffee on the table, and Arnold gave her a full plate of bacon, eggs, sausages, and toast. She smiled at them. “Thank you.”

  “That will be all for now,” Trevor said. “You’ve got quite a fan club going, you know.” He nodded toward the door that Frances and Arnold had exited.

  “I’m sure they like all your mistresses.” She didn’t look at him as she placed her white linen napkin on her lap.

  “Perhaps. And while the top of your head is as delightful as the rest of you, eyes on me.”

  Picking up a piece of toast, she lifted her head. “Yes?”

  “You need to sign these.” He set a stack of papers in front of her. “My lawyer put these helpful little pink strips to show you where.”

  She dropped the toast and wiped her hands. After eyeing the papers with suspicion, she peered up at him. “What are they?”

  “You said you wanted everything in writing. This states that I’m paying off all your family debt and in exchange, you will grant me whatever favors I desire.” Holding the pen, he smiled. “No matter how perverse.”

  Chapter 4

  Allie gasped. “It does not say that.”

  “Read it if you don’t believe me.”

  She could, but what difference would it make? That’s exactly what she was doing: giving him sexual favors in return for money. Basically, she was attesting to the fact that she was a whore. She snatched the pen from his hand and signed next to all the pink strips.

  “Excellent.” He handed her the BlackBerry he’d been fiddling with. “I’ve programmed in my numbers.” He reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a credit card. “And I have a personal shopper waiting for you. Simmons will take you anywhere else you need to go.” He scanned her Get Lucky in Vegas T-shirt. “I took the liberty of compiling a list.”