I’m left naked, staring after him in my own utter confusion and intrigue. This man is an enigma, and I want to know more. I chastise myself in my head, loudly admonishing myself for my stupidity. This can only bring me pain and disappointment, but I know that I’ll walk through the pits of hell to solve this mystery. Besides, what’s a little more disappointment and pain?
The next week passes with a whole lot more of Derek. The dynamic has shifted between us, and while he is still cold and difficult to understand, he’s given up the cruelty of our first weeks together. Perhaps he’s decided he can’t drive me away, so there is no sense trying. I look forward to my evenings with him, which happen to be every evening, and true to Liz’s account, I never leave dissatisfied. However, not true to Liz’s account, he has stopped fucking me from behind or using condoms. It is far more intimate, and the closeness of it seems to make him uncomfortable at times. Fortunately, not enough for him to push me away. Also not true to Liz’s account, I come every time I’m with him. As long as I’m willing to ask, he obliges, watching my climax with interest. It almost always leads to a round two as his arousal returns quickly once he hears my moans and cries of pleasure. I have no idea why he has so clearly diverged from his normal approach to his women, but I’m thankful for it all the same.
His cold, hard exterior is still firmly in place, but what lies hidden beneath it threatens to show itself every time he touches my body. I know now that whatever he thinks of me, it is not hatred. I can’t guess how he regards me, and while I know he may not despise me, he’s still desperate to push me away. But, he doesn’t, and that is his vulnerability. I thought my own vulnerability might get the best of me here, but I can see now he’s not without his own. He refuses to lower his guard with me, but in the dark depths of his eyes, I can see an agonized man, not without feeling and emotion, desperate to get out … but he is unreachable. So, I revel in his touch instead, knowing that to whatever degree, it pleases him.
I know it will be the most difficult thing in the world for me to give myself to another man, after so completely and unwisely giving myself to him, but this is what I signed up for. I dread the day, and yet, I yearn to be done with it. At times, I thank God I’m no longer cold and hungry on the streets and that the wolves are kept at bay by my salary slowly but steadily feeding their lust for money I don’t owe them. But in the same breath, I can say, with no doubt whatsoever, that I have never felt more threatened. Emotionally, I’m walking a tightrope every day, waiting to be destroyed by the feelings I’ve allowed myself to have for him, and it is this threat, that comes only with deep commitment to another, that brings me swiftly to my knees when I’m asked out to dinner.
Chapter 10
As Derek approaches the sectional sofa in the common room where Liz and I are deep in conversation, I turn to him without hesitation. There is never a time my eyes don’t follow him when he’s in a room, and this time is no different. He has a world of worry buried within his eyes, and I watch as his eyes meet, and then pass away from mine, until reaching out to me once again. Whatever this is, it isn’t good, and dread creeps over me as I wait for him to speak.
“We have dinner plans tonight.” He looks at me intently, and it goes without saying he’s speaking only to me. Liz watches him carefully, her own worry and wonder crossing her ever-beautiful face. As Derek makes to leave, he finishes that statement. “With Mr. Grayson.”
At the sound of his name, my body chills and my pulse quickens. I don’t like Mr. Grayson. He scares me in a way even Derek never has. There is a cruelty to him, and his intense dislike of Derek makes him all the more threatening. Derek, without a doubt, has no interest in spending time with Mr. Grayson, and I can’t imagine it will be a pleasant meal. What my part in all of this is, I can’t fathom.
I set about getting ready for our evening, and my anxiety for Derek mounts. I don’t want him to endure this man anymore than I myself want to. He is no friend to either of us, and I suddenly feel an overwhelming urge to comfort Derek, to touch him gently and reassure him that I understand. But that isn’t part of our world, our relationship. He reminded me cruelly once that he’s not my boyfriend, lover, or even friend; the words haunt me to this very moment, and whatever pattern of behavior we may have settled into over the past week, nothing has changed from this dynamic. We fuck, and while I crave intimacy, I will not find it with him. It has to be enough that he enjoys me and that he allows me to enjoy him as well. While it fills, to some degree, the void in my heart, I know, too, it will eventually hurt me. But not today. Today I’m on his side. Go team Derek. We will be forced to suffer this insufferable man together.
As Derek and I meet at the elevator, he looks me over slowly. I’m wearing my favorite gray dress, and as his eyes move over my body slowly, he swallows over a lump in his throat, and his eyes flit away from me. We climb into the waiting limousine, and he takes his usual place on the rear-facing bench seat. Before long, the door opens and Mr. Grayson climbs in, ushering me to the opposite side of the backseat, catty-corner from Derek. He smiles broadly, but wickedly at Derek as Derek returns a cool gaze back to him. I say nothing as the limo pulls out into traffic.
It isn’t long before Mr. Grayson turns to me and offers me a very contrived and artificial greeting. I politely return his comments, but don’t smile or look at him for longer than a moment, and on the drive, we are silent. My tension is painful, my body held rigid and frozen in place. Derek is in his own world of pain, and as I watch him from my place, he looks slowly up to me. His eyes soften a moment before impassivity takes them over again. When we arrive at our destination, I find that we’re not at a restaurant as I had assumed we would be. Rather, we’ve pulled up to an incredible mansion overlooking the bay. Mr. Grayson turns to me and tells me this is his home, as though I should care, and as though he cares that I know.
We enter through the grand front doors, and a gentleman meets us. He advises us dinner will be ready soon on the patio. As Derek and I follow Mr. Grayson through the house to the French doors that lead out the back of the home, Derek runs his knuckles down the back of my bare arm. My skin tingles at his secret touch, and I wish more than anything we were alone together, away from this place. The patio is as amazing as the house. It is expansive limestone paving stones, and the furniture is nicer than most people can afford in the interior of their homes, let alone an outside space.
As we are seated, a server sets our drinks down for us. I’m given white wine, and the men are given something stronger in a tumbler. Derek is seated across from me, and Mr. Grayson is seated at the head of the table, appraising us both. When he speaks first, I nearly choke on my own tongue. “So, Ashton, when Mr. Pennington fucks that cute little face of yours, does he come inside your mouth?”
As my eyes fly up to Derek’s, he looks coolly back at me. I know he’s raging inside his head, but he’s putting on the performance of a lifetime. I look from one to the other of them.
Mr. Grayson reaches out his hand to cover mine in a false gesture of sensitivity, and as I look into his cruel and cold eyes, I lie. “No.”