by Linnea May
She tries to fight me, a muffled yelp vibrating through my cock while she tries to push me away. When I let go of her a second later, she yanks her head back, tilting it back into her neck and casting me a mischievous grin.
"You're a naughty girl, Elene," I rebuke her.
"Spank me, then," she retorts. It's meant to be cheeky, laced with allure, but her voice is trembling, turning the words into a plea that tastes of desperation. She wants so much more but doesn't know how to ask for it, because she never had to.
I shake my head, determined not to let her take over again. "Be careful what you wish for."
Disappointment travels across her face when I step away from her, tugging away my softening length as good as I can before zipping up my pants.
"I should go," I say, without really meaning it.
Flight instinct takes over, as it always has with Elene. I don't want to go any further with her tonight because I'm afraid that it will make the drug-like effect she has on me fade. I don't want this to be over, this tension and excitement gone. If I stay, I could risk everything. I might take too much from her and lose what I have now.
"You want to leave?" she asks, her lips trembling as she looks up. "Why? Did I do something wrong?"
"Don't do that," I tell her.
"Do what?"
"Be like... that," I stutter, giving her a dismissive wave. "So needy."
"Needy?" she repeats, furrowing her eyebrows.
She gets up from the floor, her legs shaky as she rises to full height, not minding the cum still running down her delicious body. It's curling around her belly button, running down to her bare pussy as she fixates me through narrow eyes. She's clenching her fists, straightening her back and jutting her chin forward when she says: "Cum and dump—is that what you need me for?"
She's trembling, trying to look strong and confident while hurt and disappointment weaken her stance.
It fucking kills me to see her like that. And I'm responsible for it. I'm the one who makes her feel this way, the person who makes her feel like a cheap whore, easy to replace after I'm done with her. This couldn't be further from the truth.
I shake my head. "No, Elene. Please don't take this the wrong way—"
"Then what way am I supposed to take this?" she bellows at me. "You do... this to me, and as soon as you jizz all over me you want to get out of here."
She scoffs, grimacing with disgust while she shakes her head at me. "And then make me wait again for God knows how long, making me sit here on the floor every fucking night, never letting me know whether you plan to deign me with your presence or..."
Her voice breaks as tears threaten to break through.
"Fuck," she hisses. "I'm sorry, I didn't—"
"It's okay," I cut her off, closing in on her and placing my hands on her shoulders. Once again, I'm surprised at the effect her tears have on me. Seeing her cry feels like someone is jamming a dagger through my chest and then turning and twisting it to inflict an even greater amount of pain. She glares up at me, her small fists still clenching when I reach for them, closing my hands around hers in an attempt to give her a sense of assurance that I fail to verbalize.
She clears her throat and takes a deep breath, gathering herself as if she just remembered the strong and confident woman I know her to be.
"Can't we at least... have a drink before you go?" she asks, raising an eyebrow at me.
I nod. "Yes. Of course we can."
The way her face lights up is a reward I didn't expect. It's hard to ignore the comforting warmth that wraps around my chest when I see her smiling like that.
"Okay, but let me clean up first," she pipes, entrancing me even more with the cute wink she adds to her words.
Chapter 28
Damon
"A Miyazaki single malt and a Manhattan for me."
She's leaning against the bar wearing a black silk kimono to cover her nakedness and casting me a coy wink when I express surprise at her resolute order.
"That is your drink, isn't it?" she asks.
"In here it is," I say, nodding.
I place my hand at the small of her back, keeping her close as I fondle the curve of her naked ass beneath the silk. Despite the black that adorns her body, she's mine, and I want to make sure that everyone in here knows that. The Velvet Rooms are well-attended tonight, causing the area around the bar to be much louder and more crowded than it was on the other nights I was here. My hand rests on her perky ass, pulling her closer as I turn around to scan the room, searching for a more private spot for us to retreat to.
"Let's go over there," I say as our drinks are served, pointing toward a dark corner at the far end of the room. It's almost hidden behind the stage, a seating area consisting of two unoccupied love seats and a crystalline coffee table nestled between them.
She nods and follows my gesture when I beckon her to walk in front of me. She's not wearing high heels today, but shorter pumps that don't stretch her as much. But still, she's taller than most of the people we pass, walking with a poise that seems much more natural than the way she stalked on her heels. She doesn't look left or right, ignoring all the eyes on her as she crosses the room. She's the only girl wearing a kimono that covers most of the skin on her upper body, but her ass keeps peeking through with every step. With the way her nipples poke the thin material on top, it's pretty obvious that she's completely naked underneath.
My cock twitches with need, begging to be inside her. I just came on her gorgeous body, unable to resist the mesmerizing allure of her expressions when she climaxed in front of me. Still, the hunger for her doesn't recede.
Good. Very good.
I relish this feeling as it is rare.
"Here?" she asks as we reach the secluded lounge area.
I nod and beckon her to sit down, plunging into the cushions right next to her once she has decided on one of the love seats.
"You know we can't do stuff down here," she says, fixing her kimono to cover herself. "In case you were thinking—"
"I know, that's why I agreed to come down here," I interrupt her. "And whatever dirty thoughts you have on your mind will have to wait too, Elene."
She pouts playfully and sips on her Manhattan, her eyes never leaving me.
"You are strict with me," she says. "I don't think any man has ever made me wait that long."
"According to you, no man ever made you come before," I remind her. "Would you rather be fucked and miss out on your orgasms like you did before?"
She creases her eyebrows. "Touché."
I place my drink on the crystalline table in front of us and wrap my arm around her, mostly to see what it feels like. Just like her, I have little experience in just sitting and talking without an agenda on my mind.
It's... nice.
"Why did you want to leave?" she wants to know, casting a quizzical look in my direction.
"Because I thought I had to."
"Why?"
I sigh and avoid her eyes. "It felt like the safe thing to do."
She huffs. "You'll have to give me more than that for an explanation."
"No, I don't," I object.
I can feel her eyes on me, but I refuse to reciprocate the look. I can't look at her right now, because I know I'm powerless against the blue depth of her eyes, the ethereal face, those bright blonde strands framing her pretty face and giving her fairy-like features. She's so dazzlingly beautiful, looking so pure and innocent, even though I know she's anything but that.
"How long have you been working for the agency?" I ask without looking at her.
She shifts in my arms, seemingly uncomfortable at the question. "Why do you want to know that?"
"Because I do," I say, now turning to meet her azure gaze. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but I would like to know."
The expression on her face is blank when she replies: "About four years. I started right after I turned eighteen."
She's much younger than I thought she'd be. Despite her pristine and innocent looks, she's radiating a kind of wisdom that doesn't suit a twenty-two-year-old. It might come with the job and the kinds of things she's been doing for years. She has spent a lot of time with men who are significantly older than her, engaging her in conversations that are very different to the ones normal college kids would enjoy, doing things with her that went far beyond the normal sexual experiences of a young girl.
"Not what you wanted to hear?" she probes, cocking her head as a hint of insecurity scurries across her face.
I smile at her, shaking my head. "You're just younger than I thought."
Our eyes meet and for a moment I fear that she might have taken my words as an insult when she knits her eyebrows together.
"I'm not saying you look old," I assure her.
She smiles. "It's fine. You're not the first person to say that to me."
Her expression turns somber as she reaches for her drink to take another sip. I watch while she brings it her lips, wondering whether I regret my comment or not. She doesn't look hurt, but it definitely affected her.
"I guess it's this job," she says, her gaze absentmindedly traveling through the room. "It does things to you."
We're sitting in a darker corner of the guest room, partly shielded by the stage that spreads out before us. A dim red light illuminates most of the area, hiding everybody's secrets in blood-colored shadows.
My gaze follows hers before I turn to her, pulling her closer in an embrace.
"You don't look like it left traces on you," I tell her.
She huffs. "You mean I don't look used up?"
"Not in the slightest. You look oddly innocent, even in black."
The smile on her face freezes and she turns around to me, reciprocating my look.
"Is that why you don't want to fuck me?" she wants to know.
"I do want to fuck you," I say. "And I will."
"When?"
Our eyes remain fixated on each other while I try to gather a response that is neither a lie nor giving away a truth I'm not willing to share. I hate lying as much as I hate being lied to, but giving her an honest answer would inflict unnecessary pain.
The truthful answer to her question is as simple as it is daunting, and I'm not quite sure myself whether I'm ready to accept it.
I wish it were different, but I know myself well enough to know that it isn't.
I know that the moment I decide to fuck her is also the moment I decide to let her go.
Chapter 29
Elene
Instead of giving me a reply to my question, he opts for another sip of his drink. I keep myself from rolling my eyes at his dismissive and secretive behavior. If that's part of his game, fine. At least it keeps things interesting.
When he decides that enough time has passed for him to skip the question without deigning me with a reply, he leans back into the sofa away from me, catching my still-expectant gaze.
"Have you ever thought about quitting? About doing something else?" he asks, declaring my inquiry from before done and dealt with.
I reciprocate his look, lulled by his gorgeous features and the intensity of his gray eyes as he locks me into place. For a moment I ponder whether I should insist on an answer to my question before giving him one, but I'm helpless against his powerful stance. He owns me, almost literally, as he's still the paying customer while I'm being paid to entertain him. Despite the intimacy that's shared between us, I should always remember that.
"As a matter of fact, I did," I tell him. "I wanted to quit a few months ago. I made an appointment with Miss Barry, got all dressed up and professional even, and told her I wanted to quit."
"Then what happened?"
I sigh, disappointment at my own weakness crawling up my spine when I remember that day.
"She told me about The Velvet Rooms and how I could work here without having to sleep with clients anymore," I say. "The pay is good. So I stayed."
He nods with understanding. "That's why you were dressed as an angel on opening night."
"Right."
I bite my lower lip, somewhat fearful of where this conversation is headed. While my story may be true, it doesn't make me look very good. I come across weak and spineless, like someone who has no will of her own. Like my sporadic hiccups of determination are easily killed when someone dangles an easier opportunity in front of my nose.
Yes, that's what it feels like. I'm here because I'm weak, because I couldn't make the jump I needed to make. Despite all the grief that this work is giving me by now, I still consider it a comfort zone I'm not ready to leave.
"That madam has a way of convincing people to do what she wants them to do," Damon mumbles next to me, causing me to arch my eyebrows in surprise.
"Why do you say that?"
He casts me a crooked smile laced with a hint of mischief.
"It wasn't my idea to become an investor of The Velvet Rooms," he says. "I can't say I was hooked or even impressed when she first mentioned it to me. But she had something to offer that made me reconsider."
I cock my head to the side. "What?"
"You," he says matter-of-factly, sending a hot wave of excitement through my chest.
"Me?" I stutter. "But... we didn't even know each other."
"I told you, I saw you at the agency a few months ago," he says. "I had an appointment with Miss Barry because she wanted to tell me about a new opportunity at the agency—The Velvet Rooms, as it turned out."
He pauses, chuckling and shaking his head as he loses himself in the memories.
"She made me wait, and I was just about to storm into her office when the door opened and you walked out, looking like a fucking fairy in your dark blazer and that sinful skirt. Shit, you looked phenomenal."
He looks at me, lust and hunger coloring his expression as he narrows his eyes. "I wanted you so fucking badly. I wanted to fuck you right then and there, bend you over the madam's table and fuck you senseless. But you just walked right by me and barely looked at me."
My heart is racing and I know the light in here is not dim enough to hide the glow on my cheeks. A blazer, he says. I was wearing a blazer.
"It must have been the same day," I utter. "The same day I told Miss Barry that I wanted to quit."
He shrugs. "Maybe. Could very well be."
I nod, lowering my eyes. "Yes, it has to be."
Would it be right to call this fate? Would he be here if I hadn't shown up at the agency on that very day? Would I ever have met him?
"In any case, I asked about you and whether I could buy you," he continues. "And she told me that you no longer accepted new clients—but that there would be a chance for me to meet you here if I decided to become a part of this."
I look at him, my heart still pounding with excitement. He wanted to buy me. He has mentioned before that he saw me and that he wanted to see me again, but I dismissed it as an empty compliment, just a story he made up to catch my attention.
"She was very secretive about it, but she told me enough to lure me in," he adds. "I'm glad she did."
He wraps his arm around me again, pulling me closer while placing his other hand on my thigh. He skims along my skin, causing goosebumps as he moves upward. I try to tame him by crossing my legs, but he won't let me. Instead he pushes my legs apart, his fingers traveling below the black satin that covers my core.
"Not here," I whisper, placing my hand on his. "We'll get in trouble."
He regards me with a mischievous smile. "You're wearing black, Elene. I can do whatever I want with you."
"But n—"
"Isn't that why you turned into a devil after the first time we met?" he probes. "So I could have my way with you?"
I blush, taking no further efforts to stop him when he journeys further up my inner thigh, his hand now hidden beneath the kimono.
"I love it when I'm right," he says, squeezing my thigh, his ha
nd now dangerously close to my naked core.
A soft moan escapes my lips when his fingertips reach my center, pinching the inside of my thighs to beckon me to spread my legs for him. I know I shouldn't do it. No explicit play, not downstairs. Miss Barry was very adamant about keeping the first floor classy and tame, with nothing more than flirting and kissing allowed.
But my legs seem to move on their own, following his guidance. He has given me so little, but evoked a response so intense with what he was willing to give me that I'm craving his touch more than I've ever craved anyone's touch. I soak it up, relishing every sensation, every spark that's sent through my core, every little explosion that his touch sends off.
I groan with pleasure when he reaches my slick core, parting my lips with ease and sliding between them, gracing my clit as he thrusts forward with two fingers. He rearranges my silk kimono, hiding his sinful deed beneath it while he continues working on my sensitive spot.
"No harm done if no one can see it," he says in a low voice while my eyes search the guest room in panic. Miss Barry is nowhere to be seen, and as far as I can tell, no one is paying attention to us. The corner we're sitting in is quiet and secluded, but not secluded enough to completely hide in the shadows. If anyone were to turn our way, they would still be able to tell what's going on despite his efforts at hiding it.
I squirm in his embrace, moving my hips forward in a desperate attempt to get more from him, to receive more pleasure, beg for an even deeper intrusion.
"Please, we should go back upstairs," I plead, my eyes searching his. "Please."
"Begging again?" he asks, casting me a dark smile. "Elene, you're incorrigible."
I almost yelp when he adds another finger, stretching me even more. I throw my head back into the cushions of the love seat while he continues to shove into me and work my swollen nub with his thumb. It's so intense, so fucking good. Why has no one ever touched me like that? Or did they and it just didn't do the same things his touch does to me? What is different with him? Why am I always on the edge of my seat, my heart always pounding, my core always throbbing, hot and impatient with lust?
