Once we’ve collapsed back onto the bed, he pulls my back into his body gently, and whispers in my ear, “Now tell me you didn’t enjoy that.”
I can’t, and he knows it, and as I roll back onto my back, he looks down to my eyes. I reach up to his cheek, and at my touch, he leans toward my mouth and gives in to my wager once again. Only after our mouths have stilled many minutes later do I rise to leave. But this time, for the very first time, he stills me and asks me to stay. I watch his eyes as he waits for my response, but I’m shocked by his request, and my mouth hangs slack and unresponsive.
He quickly leans up, and as he pulls me back down to his arms, he adds, “I’m not finished with you yet.” And in his arms, I drift off to sleep.
Chapter 15
I wake to silence in his room. I’m alone and just as naked as when he finished with my body. I can hear nothing, but can see the soft glow of the television from the other room. I stand and walk naked toward the light, and as I round the corner into this section of his apartment, I catch the images on the screen. There are four sections on the screen, and each shows a woman in some state of sexual activity. I can barely bring myself to look at the screen as embarrassment floods my cheeks. Derek hasn’t seen me yet, and as I watch him, he looks up to the screen and back down to a book that rests on his naked lap. His expression is blasé, and I wonder how that’s possible with so much gratuitous sex on the television in front of him.
After watching him for some time, I approach the couch, my eyes flitting to the screen as I continue to flush with embarrassment. Derek looks up to me, his eyes guarded and concerned. He’s waiting for me to say something, to give him some indication of what I’m thinking, but I’m in shock and struggling against the routine of it all. How many endless nights has he spent here watching his women work, reading a magazine or a book, bored with it? Will he watch me too? Of course he will. It’s his job, and I can barely wrap my head around the fact it will be my image on this screen in little more than a week. I don’t want him to see me this way, and it terrifies me to think what will pass through his mind as he watches as I try to please a man. Will he be bored? Will he be embarrassed for me? Will he judge my performance? Will he make notes on what I need to work on? Will he hate me for what he sees?
I sink to the couch as he watches me with a chilled look on his face. He can tell I’m struggling with this, and he doesn’t appreciate that I’ve still not said anything to him. As my eyes finally look to his, I can’t hide the shock. His eyes leave mine quickly as he registers my apprehension, and a hint of embarrassment flashes across his usually controlled expression.
When he lets his eyes find mine again, he demands, “Say something.”
I say the only thought in my head. “I don’t know what to say. I just … this life, this place is just so…” I can’t even finish my thought. I’m shocked at what I’m seeing, and confused too, and he doesn’t like my answer.
His face hardens and his jaw clenches, and when he speaks, it’s with an unmistakable defensive tone. “Did it ever occur to you that, whether I like the idea of strange men touching you and fucking you, they will anyway? You’ll lap me many times over before the year is out, dear, and don’t you forget it. Whatever distaste you have for my lifestyle or this place, try to keep a marginal amount of perspective.”
I gasp at his hurtful words, and, more than that, the truth of them. What right do I have to judge him? I’m here of my own choosing, however coerced it may be, and he doesn’t deserve my judgment.
“I’m sorry.” It’s a whisper.
He watches me with guarded eyes as my eyes flit away from his, but he’s not finished. “We all have our reasons for being here, Ashton. Mine may not be money, but they’re just as valid as yours. I’d appreciate it if you showed at least a modicum of respect for the position I’m in as well.”
At his further response, my eyes return to his. I want to ask him what position he’s in to bring him to this place, but his eyes warn me. He’s watching me intently, and judging by the dark and guarded expression on his face, he is not the least bit interested in continuing this conversation.
He finally gives up my eyes and reaches for the phone. He dials an extension, and as the other end picks up, he speaks. “You have the video feed. I’m off for the night.”
Once the phone is disconnected, he watches me for another moment before moving swiftly toward me and covering my body with his own. He’s still naked, and it takes him only a fraction of a second to push his way between my legs, and then into my body. He fucks me hard and fast before coming loudly and harshly. He doesn’t seem angry with me, but his mood has without a doubt shifted, and it shows in his pounding thrusts. He looks at my eyes after he’s finished, and he strokes my bottom lip with his thumb. I want him to kiss me again, and he seems to be considering it.
But he doesn’t, and in the silence between us, I ask the question. I’m terrified of the answer, but I have to know. “Will you watch me?” My fear must be evident on my face, as he continues to watch me carefully; his eyes soften for the first time in many minutes.
And on a deep breath, he responds, “Do you want me to?” I shake my head hastily before he’s even finished speaking the question. For the first time, his own apprehension fades.
He reaches for my face and sets my mind at ease. “Then I won’t.”
I nod as his words reassure me, but he still doesn’t kiss me. Instead, he pulls himself from my body and sits up, and before he moves away to his bathroom, he dismisses me for the night.
As I walk the few feet across the hall with my gown back on and my heels in my hand, I try to sort through the feelings racing through my mind. I’m hurt, but I’m not sure why. He’s given himself to me more thoroughly tonight than any other, and yet once I found him watching the video feed, the dynamic shifted completely. He was suddenly agitated, desperate, embarrassed even, and the same cold distance he so often embodies took over as he watched me. He dismissed me long before I was ready to leave him, but I can’t help but feel as though it was not for wanting to be rid of me, but desperation to escape his own negative feelings.
As I sit in my bath, I feel more sadness for him than anger. He’s in a “position.” Aren’t we all? But as positions go in this place, they are often laced with threat, obligation, and more than enough fear to last a lifetime. What could possibly be keeping him here, forced to suffer the constant torment of Mr. Grayson? What is this deal that they have in place? I wish I could have stayed and comforted him, but I, as well as his own secret torment, seem to be the very reason for his pain.
Chapter 16
Derek managed to recover from getting caught with his videos down, and while he’s been perhaps a little wearier than usual, he’s returned to fucking me with vim and vigor as usual. He’s not, however, kissed me again since that night. I had thought perhaps it would be a door he couldn’t so easily close after having allowed it to be opened, but I was apparently wrong on that account. The very next night after my evening in the gaming hall, he made that fact very clear.
I can’t say I intentionally kissed him, but I was perhaps more than a little relieved he seemed more himself after the way things ended the night before, and in my relief, I made the mistake of assuming he would want to kiss me again. But as soon as my lips touched his, he pulled away and looked harshly at my eyes. The shake of his head and his inability to hold my eyes sent a loud and clear message we would not be repeating that act again. As embarrassed tears pricked my eyes, I wanted to slink away and hide. At seeing my face, he let me excuse myself for the evening without having ever consummated our normal coupling.