His Every Need

by Terri L. Austin

Allie frowned. “What’s wrong with you?”

  He raised his brow. “I didn’t get laid last night.” At first, he’d been intent on punishing her for standing him up. But when he’d seen the nervousness in her eyes, when she’d asked for a safe word, all thoughts of punishment disappeared. Instead, he found himself seducing her. And she had been so sweetly enthusiastic, ripping at his shirt, asking for his touch, that all he’d wanted to do was sink inside her. He wanted to satisfy her every desire. Until Arnold’s bloody intrusion. Cock blocked by his own butler.

  After he’d left her, he swam laps in the pool for over an hour and still had a raging hard-on. In fact, his cock was rock hard when he woke up this morning. Getting all dressed up with no place to go made him pissy.

  Allie rolled her eyes. “Yes, because your dick is always the priority.” She took a sip of coffee.

  “Since it’s why you’re here, Miss Campbell, my dick is the only thing that should concern you.”

  She set down her cup and picked up a fork. “Believe it or not, Mr. Blake, my family trumps you and your little you.” She pointed her fork toward his lap. “Sorry, but that’s the way it is.”

  He clenched his jaw at the Mr. Blake reference. “Yes, well, that is unacceptable.” He passed her the small pitcher of syrup for her pancakes. “And since you and your family cannot seem to solve your own little crises, I’ll be accompanying you today.”

  ***

  During the forty-minute drive, Trevor checked his email while Allie ignored him—wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t speak to him. Other than telling him to keep his “lip zipped” around her family. He pretended like her silence didn’t bother him.

  She was angry, of course. And she’d protested his presence in her family business until she finally realized her arguments wouldn’t work. And while he hadn’t known her long, he hated it when she shut him out.

  When Simmons pulled the limo up to the crumbling driveway of the Campbell home, Trevor scanned the cracked front steps and the peeling, faded paint, marveling at its shabbiness. This was what all the fuss was over, this tiny, rundown house? Had it been like this when the mother was well, or had it gone downhill with her health?

  Trevor followed Allie to the front door, and she gave him a warning look over her shoulder before walking inside. The interior was as decrepit as the exterior. The furniture was old and worn, a faded blue blanket nearly covered a tear on the sofa. Stuffing spilled out of the ripped, faux leather chair.

  “I’m home,” Allie called.

  Her father, Brian, whom he had met on three previous occasions, stepped out of the kitchen with a tired smile. “Hey, Al.” But as soon as he caught sight of Trevor, the smile dropped. “Oh, Mr. Blake. Didn’t know you were coming too.”

  Trevor held out his hand. “Sorry for the imposition. Good to see you again, Mr. Campbell.”

  Allie’s father nodded and shook hands. “Call me Brian. And thanks for giving Allie a job. I’m very grateful.”

  Trevor glanced at Allie, saw her assume a phony smile. He could now tell the difference from the real thing, and the smile she wore was as fake as the leather on the ripped chair.

  “Please have a seat, Mr. Blake,” she said.

  “Thank you, Miss Campbell.” Trevor sat and crossed his legs. “Just ignore me.” He waved one hand.

  “Dad, where’s Monica?”

  Brian shrugged. “Still in bed. She walked in last night like nothing was wrong and made herself a sandwich. Said she’d been with her boyfriend. I don’t know who he is or what he does.” He blew out a breath.

  Allie stalked down the hall, her arms swinging at her sides like a cadet on parade. “Monica, get your sorry ass out of bed. Hey, Brynn.” The house had thin walls and he heard everything as if he were in the same room.

  Brian shifted uncomfortably and scratched his chin. “Sorry you have to be here for this, Mr. Blake.”

  “No apologies necessary.”

  Stomping down the hallway, a young girl with a mess of honey-colored hair and a long T-shirt that barely covered her ass made her way to the living room. She pulled up short when she saw him. “Who the hell are you?”

  He stood and gave her his most charming smile. “I’m Trevor. You must be Monica. I’ve heard so much about you.” He held out his hand.

  The girl looked at it as if she didn’t know whether to shake it or slap it away, but eventually took it in her own and did the former. “Hey.”

  Allie stepped into the room with a young girl hovering behind her. She was a couple years younger than the bitchy one and stared at him like he was a rare species she’d found in the wild.

  He turned the charming smile on the young girl with dark hair. She would be lovely when she was a bit older. Not as lovely as Allie, but still very pretty. “And you’re Brynn.”

  She nodded and blushed.

  “I’m Trevor. Wonderful, now we’re all acquainted.” He sat back down and graced them all with a pleasant smile.

  Allie glared at him, then turned to Brynn. “Can you make Mr. Blake some coffee?”

  Brynn scampered off to the kitchen.

  With a sigh, Allie pointed to the sofa. “Sit down, Mon.”

  “You’re not the boss of me, Allison. I’m an adult, just like you.”

  Trevor almost laughed. She sounded like a six-year-old in the schoolyard.

  “You’re acting like a spoiled ten-year-old,” Allie said.

  Brian perched on the sofa, his elbows resting on his knees. “Who is this boy you’ve been dating, Monica?”

  The girl shrugged and flopped on the sofa next to her father. The long T-shirt rode up, giving a flash of purple-striped knickers underneath. Trevor noticed. Monica watched him as she played with a strand of hair. “Like what you see?”

  Trevor’s smile turned arctic. “Not particularly, no.”

  That wiped the shit-eating grin off her face. Allie was spot-on, the girl was a brat.

  “Answer Dad, Mon. Who is this guy? We know his name’s Brad. What’s his last name?”

  Monica’s brows pulled together and she managed to look affronted that someone dared to question her. “It’s none of your business. And I’m going to kick Brynn’s ass for spying on me. God, I hate this family.”

  Brian took a deep breath. “We’re all upset about losing your mom, but you’re screwing up your life, sweetheart.”

  Monica pressed her lips together and two angry-red patches dotted her cheeks. “I’m sick of people saying that. I know what I’m doing.” She leapt to her feet. “It’s my life. And it’s not because of Mom. It’s because I’m a woman who can make my own decisions.”

  Allie gestured with one hand. “Bullshit. You’re a child who throws a temper tantrum every time you don’t get your own way. And if you skip any more school, you’re not going to graduate. Do you think Mom would be proud of you right now?”

  “Fuck you, Allie. You’re not Mom. I was as close to her as you were, but you act like you’re the only one she loved.” She ran out of the room and down the hall. She slammed the door so hard, the whole house rattled, leaving the poorly painted landscape hanging above the sofa at crooked angle.

  There was a moment of silence.

  “Well,” Trevor said, “she is a delight.”

  Allie and Brian swiveled their heads and looked at him.

  Allie wagged her finger. “Stay out of this.”

  Brian shook his head. “I’m sure Mr. Blake is trying to be helpful.”

  Trevor put on a grave expression. “I do apologize. Wouldn’t dream of intruding.”

  Allie glowered and uttered “jackass” under her breath.

  Brynn walked in with a clear, red plastic tray with three mugs. She set it on the coffee table and handed Trevor a full cup. “Is black okay?” she asked. Her gaze lifted as far as
the knot in his tie.

  “Lovely, thank you.”

  Brynn nervously tucked a strand of hair behind one ear. “What’s going to happen now?” He noticed she spoke to Allie, not Brian. Curious.

  Allie sank down on the sofa. “It’s up to Dad.”

  “I don’t know what the hell to do. God, I wish your mom were here.”

  “I’m worried about Monica. She’s doing some really stupid shit, and this Brad guy is trouble. Brynn thinks he’s in his mid-twenties.”

  “What do you think, Al?” Brian asked. “Should I ban her from seeing this guy? And what about school? I can’t force her to go.”

  For some reason, Trevor found himself becoming angry. “You are the girl’s father. Why is it Allison’s responsibility to make a decision?”

  Allie stabbed him with a look, then turned back to Brian. “I’m not sure what to do, Dad.”

  Trevor took a sip of his coffee—and almost sputtered. Good God, that was dreadful. He smiled at Brynn. “Excellent.”

  She ducked her head, her skin a fiery red.

  “Why isn’t the girl in school?” he asked.

  Allie smiled at him. He was beginning to hate that phony smile. “First of all, it’s Sunday, so no one’s in school.”

  He shot her a look.

  “Second, she’s still in high school.”

  “But she’s been skipping a lot,” Brynn said.

  Allie nodded. “She had a full ride to UNLV but decided not to take it.”

  “What are her plans, then?”

  They all shrugged their shoulders.

  “I see. Well, it’s been lovely, but Allie and I have to go now.” With a smile, he stood and held his hand out to her. She stared at it the way Monica had a few minutes before.

  “I’m going to walk Mr. Blake to his car, and I’ll be right back.” She set down her cup and stood.

  “No, afraid not,” he said. “We really have to go.”

  With narrowed eyes, Allie smiled. “I have to stay.”

  Brian stood as well. “No, it’s all right, Al. You go on.”

  Trevor turned to Brynn. “Thank you for the coffee, love.”

  “You’re welcome,” she whispered.

  His hand on her back, Trevor walked Allie to the car and waved off Simmons, opening the door himself. Once he slid in beside her, Allie faced him. She was furious, her blue eyes darker, flashing.

  “I quit.”

  “You can’t quit, my sweet, you’ve barely even started. Furthermore, you couldn’t possibly pay back all that you owe me.” He took her hand in his and, with a mocking grin, kissed the back of it. When she tried to snatch it from his grasp, he allowed her to pull away. “I think you’re suffering from too much responsibility and low blood sugar. You barely touched your breakfast. What sounds good, Asian fusion or Italian?”

  ***

  Allie didn’t say much on the way to the restaurant. It was pointless to argue with him. But she was frustrated—with her family, with Trevor, with her life. Sitting across the table from him in one of the most expensive Asian restaurants in the city, she gazed out at a fountain along the Strip.

  Trevor ordered without consulting her. Big surprise. After several minutes of silence, he leaned toward her. “They’re not helpless, you know. They’re fully capable human beings. Even the young one. She won’t perish without you.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “Then explain it to me.”

  Allie stared into Trevor’s eyes and found herself unable to look away. The spell was broken when the waiter brought a huge platter of food and set it between them.

  “Do you really want to know?” she asked once he’d gone.

  Trevor nodded. “Yes, I really do. Now hand me your plate. I’ll play Arnold, shall I?”

  She took a steadying breath. She didn’t like talking about it, but she had to make him understand. “My mom got sick five years ago. Breast cancer. I left college and came home to look after the girls. I thought it would only be one semester, maybe two. She had a mastectomy and chemo, and for nine months the prognosis was good.” She picked up her fork and ran the tines over the tablecloth. “But then they found a lump in the other breast.” Allie stopped for a second. She glanced out the window and watched the water spray toward a bright blue sky. She cleared her throat. “Eventually, it metastasized to her bones. She had radiation, hormone therapy. They even tried this experimental medicine.” She licked her lips and looked at him.

  Trevor said nothing as he handed her a plate.

  “Last Easter she broke her leg. She’d just been standing there and suddenly, she collapsed.” Allie gazed down at the platter but didn’t see the food. She saw her mom, who looked so much like Monica, wearing a bright red chenille bathrobe, asking if anyone wanted another pot of coffee, then she fell to the ground.

  “One minute she was fine, the next she wasn’t.” Allie took a sip of her wine. With a trembling hand, she set her glass down and it clinked against her plate. “She died in November, right before Thanksgiving.”

  She saw nothing but compassion in his eyes. Sardonic, self-absorbed Trevor she could handle. But a Trevor with real feelings and a bit of empathy? No way.

  She blinked back the tears that were threatening to spill over and once again cleared her throat. Talking with Trevor, telling him about her mother’s illness, made her chest feel a little lighter somehow. She rarely spoke about it with her family. Her dad would start crying and leave the room, Brynn would do the same, and Monica barely mentioned Mom anymore.

  She found Trevor staring at her, those gray eyes sharp and compassionate at the same time. “What about you?” she asked. “How old were you when your parents died?”

  His eyes became shuttered and the compassion was gone. In its place was his normal, slightly taunting gaze. He stabbed a shrimp with his fork and held it up to her. “Mmm, try the lobster sauce. It’s delicious.”

  Allie let him shovel food into her mouth. “Very good. Is it painful to talk about? Your parents, I mean?”

  His face became devoid of expression, and he fed her a piece of braised Kobe spare rib. “Not at all, I assure you.”

  He was hiding something, she could feel it. But what else was new? “Tell me something about yourself. All I know is that you’re a businessman who collects things like engraved metal biscuit tins. Which in case you didn’t know, is odd.”

  His gaze lowered to her lips. “I enjoy long walks on the beach and living each day to the fullest. My turnoffs are rude people, and I adore Virgos.”

  Allie couldn’t help it—she burst out laughing. He’d looked so serious and earnest when he’d rattled off that stupid list. “You’re out of luck then, because you don’t live near a beach, you’re the rudest person I know, and I’m not a Virgo.”

  “But I don’t love you, darling, so we can cross that off our list.” He forked a piece of duck and held it to her lips.

  Well, that sobered her up. He didn’t love her and she didn’t love him. But to hear him say it made her heart stutter.

  They finished lunch without any more personal revelations and when they hopped into the limo, Trevor instructed Simmons to take Allie to her home. But he made her solemnly swear to be back at the mansion by six.

  “I promise. And thank you, Trevor.”

  “Yes well, you were becoming tiresome.” Then he pulled out his phone and ignored her for the rest of the drive.

  ***

  Trevor spent the afternoon catching up on work. And thinking about Allie. That sad lot she called a family was dragging her down. Needy, the whole mess of them.

  As he walked through the upstairs hallway before dinner, he glanced into the glass case that held the engraved biscuit tins Allie had mentioned. Everything displayed in the house had been a part of his gra
ndfather’s collection—the old man’s obsession, really.

  Trevor often wondered what his grandfather would think of him, here in Vegas. Dragging half of England with him. Building a garden in the middle of a desert. It smacked of a sentimentality he’d never openly admit to. If Allie’s family was her weakness, this was probably his—hanging on to the past, to the grandfather who’d given him a home.

  He stopped in front of Allie’s room and knocked on the door.

  After a moment, she poked her head out and frowned at him. “What? I was back before six.” She clutched the lapels of her pink robe with one hand.

  Her skin was still damp and she smelled divine. He watched as a single drop of water slipped from the hollow of her throat down her upper chest, to hide beneath the satiny folds of material. He wanted to follow its trail with his tongue. Under his gaze, Allie’s nipples beaded. He needed some quality time with those breasts too. He’d had a sampling the night before. Now he wanted more. When his eyes drifted back to her face, her cheeks were as pink as the robe. “I appreciate your punctuality, Miss Campbell. I thought we might have a drink on the terrace before dinner.”

  “Oh.” She swallowed. “Okay.” She sounded a little breathless. Her voice was a little huskier. He wanted her to say his name with that voice.

  Trevor perused her, from the top of her blond head to her bare toes, peeking out from beneath the hem of the robe. “Or I could come in and we could delay dinner by an hour. Or two.”

  She clutched the robe tighter. “I’m not on the menu, English.” She slammed the door in his face.

  In spite of his aching cock, he smiled. Yes, this was why Allie was here. She amused him.

  He propped himself against the wall and waited. “Tick tock, Miss Campbell.”

  “Don’t rush me, Mr. Blake.” The words drifted through the door.

  Trevor studied his nails. “I’ll be sure to order a schoolgirl uniform tomorrow. I can’t wait to see you in plaid.” He knew it irritated her when he called her Miss Campbell, but he nearly gnashed his teeth when she reciprocated. “I’m coming in there to help if you don’t move it along.”

  She opened the door then and stepped out into the hallway. She looked lovely in the ivory lace dress, the V-neck displaying a delightful view of her plump breasts. Her bright, straight hair looked soft and shiny. He found himself reaching out to touch a strand but thrust his hand into his trouser pocket at the last instant.