As I stand pruney and wrinkled from my bath, I give up trying to figure him out for the night. Standing naked in front of the mirror, I start the task of braiding back my thick and curly locks. Once finished, I retreat to bed naked, ready to escape into sleep. The phone rings before I can slip away, and I’m advised by administration that I have a fitting appointment with Jacob the following day. I wonder, none too enthusiastically, whether Mr. Pennington will be joining me. I’m not ready to see him again, but as I drift away thinking about him, I can’t deny that while my mind bristles with the pain he’s caused me, my body prickles in desire at his image. This morning was as much emotion as he’s shown me since the masturbation mishap, and as harsh as he was with me, it felt far better than the cold distance he’s shown me over the past two weeks.
Chapter 9
The next day when I climb into the limo, I’m glad to see I’m alone, but when we don’t pull immediately from the curb, I start to worry.
When the driver sees the questioning look on my face, he confirms my fears. “We’re waiting for Mr. Pennington, miss.”
I can feel the muscles of my face slacken and fall as the driver returns my gaze curiously.
When Derek climbs in, he takes the seat across from mine as he did the last time we were together in this car. However, unlike last time, Derek doesn’t ask me to approach him, and I know that he won’t. Oral sex may well be a part of the job, but Mr. Pennington has seemed intent on touching me as little as possible the past weeks, and such things as my mouth on his cock have simply fallen by the wayside.
Once in the fitting room, Derek takes the chair again while I start to remove my clothes. I intentionally wore ugly, stretched-out, white cotton underwear that is entirely too big on me in the event he should be here. My mouth isn’t the only thing that can get me into trouble—my sarcasm knows no bounds when I’m unhappy.
As he sees the appalling excuse for an undergarment, his eyes move up to mine, narrowing darkly at my obvious defiance. I look coolly back at him before looking away dismissively. My anger and resentment of him from the humiliation he subjected me to the previous morning, not to mention his treatment of me over the past two weeks, have charged me into a bold, fiery bitch that no longer cares what retribution I might face. While my tongue usually gets me in trouble, today I decided to let my underwear do the talking.
Jacob enters with an armful of dresses for me to try on, and he cringes as he takes in my defiant granny panties, hated the world over by men, including, apparently, gay men.
He turns to Derek, and with a scrunched-up face, he worries out loud. “The dresses aren’t going to lay right over those…” He tosses a nod in my general direction.
Derek wastes no time at all reassuring Jacob and striking back at me. “No worries. Ashton was just taking them off. She won’t be wearing underwear anymore.”
I glare defiantly back at him as I drop the loose fabric to the floor. He returns the glare for a moment before letting his gaze travel down my body to my sex, and as it lands there, smoldering with heat, I turn abruptly from him, intentionally showing him my backside instead. I look to the mirror in front of me, and I catch his eyes flit away from me in annoyance. He worries his lip with his thumb and index finger as he contemplates, and the slightest of smirks crosses over his mouth. Jacob is standing by looking from one to the other of us, obviously wondering just exactly what he’s gotten himself in the middle of.
Derek finally looks back to Jacob. “Get on with it.”
I try on one after the other of the dresses. Some are perfect; Jacob pins in additional alterations in others. Derek sits by bored, only glancing up from his cell phone occasionally. One such occasion is when Jacob remarks that I’m “just not curvy enough for this one.”
Derek looks up to Jacob, but he shifts his eyes to mine before commenting, “Yes, well, if you can figure out some way of making her look female, you let me know.”
Jacob again lets his eyes pass between us, seeming to wonder all the while what he’s missing. As I hold Derek’s eyes with my own, my anger falters, and the pain that is behind my fury pushes through. I try to wrangle my tears into submission, but it’s no use. In defeat, first one, and then another spills from my eyes and slides down my cheeks. Jacob regards my state and excuses himself from the room.
I stand on the hemming block in the center of the room, refusing to look at Derek. But he’s looking at me, and as my hurt continues to work through my entire body, I let my tongue do what it does best. “Why do you hate me so much?”
He says nothing, but stands and moves to me. Reaching around behind me, he pulls the zipper of the dress down, and then, returning his hands to my shoulders, he pulls the straps down, exposing first my small breasts, and then the rest of my naked body as it falls to the floor.
He leans in to my ear and speaks. “You don’t know anything about me.” He then takes me by the hand and pulls me to stand in front of the mirror, and leaning to my ear once more as I watch him in the mirror, he speaks gently. “Lean forward and put your palms on the mirror.”
I do as I’m told, appraising my tear-streaked face with embarrassment in the mirror as I bend over. His hand trails slowly down my back and grips me at the waist as his other moves to his zipper and slowly pulls it down. My body is responding to him once again, and I like it. As much as his words stung me, I’ve missed this feeling, this unexpected desire. When his pants hit the floor, he reaches for my pussy, finding my wetness. He strokes, he caresses, and he gives me the touch I’ve wanted, all the while holding my eyes intently with his.
He leans over my body, approaching my ear once more, and he presses two long and invasive fingers deep within me before speaking. “I want you wet like this for me every time I fuck you.”
Finding one last ounce of strength, I challenge him. “No, you don’t.”
They are the only words he needs to hear to remind him that cold, perfunctory fucking is his doing, not mine. And it stops him dead in his tracks. He swallows over his Adam’s apple. He holds my eyes for a moment before his jaw clenches harshly and his brow furrows as he considers my words. His lips are close to my ear, and it’s the first time I’ve been able to study them closely. They look warm, inviting even, and I wonder what it must feel like to kiss him. Then I remember just who he is, and kissing is definitely off limits. He sees me watching his mouth greedily, and his eyes burn into mine.
He finally leans back to my ear, and I wait for whatever harsh words he’ll use to hurt me. “You. Don’t. Know. Anything. About. Me.” His words are poignant, and with each one, his fingers invade me with a swift, deep penetration.
When he’s done speaking, he pulls his fingers slowly from my body, and without another word, he forces his cock slowly into my wet, waiting pussy. Again, he has foregone the condom and his tightly managed rules. He enters me more slowly than ever before. His eyes don’t leave mine as he fills me inch by slow inch. When this long drawn-out penetration is finally complete, he fills my tight sheath with his full breadth. He pulls from me, never taking his eyes from mine, and starts plunging faster and harder into my body, but his eyes are frustrated, and within only a few minutes of fucking me, he pulls from my body and pulls me around to face him.