Chapter 21
Damon
I didn't plan to make her come, but she climaxed so beautifully in my arms that I don't regret it. I've never had to restrain myself this hard. My cock is throbbing painfully, hard with need for her, and it took all my willpower not to give in. I could have fucked her. I could have had her right then and there. I could have parted her wet lips when she was bent over, exposing herself for me and glistening with desire. I could see that she was ready for me before I felt it. I could tell by the way her small chest was heaving and her cheeks were flushed. She was so responsive, so willing to take what I was going to give her. Teasing her was like conducting an orchestra—every note I evoked from her produced an exquisite melody, echoing through the empty room.
She's perfect. I couldn't help but follow where her body guided me. She may feel different, but it wasn't me who led the way. It was all her. The way she reacted to me was all the guidance I needed.
As soon as her professional persona was replaced by pure and raw honesty, I was defenseless against her allure. Knowing that she has been a professional for years only increased the feeling of power when I saw her losing it under my command. Her arousal, her heavy breathing, the beautiful flush on her cheeks, the hot, silky wetness between her legs—none of it was fake, nothing an act. That was all her.
However, the way she now melts in my arms surprises me. It looks as if she may have even lost consciousness for a moment there, her muscles loosening after she tensed up during her climax, and her knees succumbing to her weight. She would have fallen to the ground if I hadn't caught her.
"Hey, hey," I say, trying to catch her gaze, but her eyes are closed as her head lolls back.
I carefully lower her down on the carpet, and I’m just about to lay her flat on her back when she gasps and her eyes fly open. Sweat pearls down her temple, and she looks utterly lost and confused, her blue eyes still foggy when she looks up at me.
"Oh, shit, I'm so s—"
"Hush," I cut her off. "You know I hate that."
She blinks hesitantly, trying to find her bearings. "Yes... yes, but... no!"
She frees herself from my embrace and makes an attempt to get back up on her feet, but I hold her back by the shoulders, forcing her to sit down on the carpet.
"Sit," I command. "Just for a moment."
She sighs and dabs at her face, trying to get rid of the beading sweat without ruining her makeup. She's shaking and looking so vulnerable that it's hard for me to believe she's been working as an escort girl for years. This look on her is so different than the one she displays when she's on duty.
Well, technically, she is on duty right now. And she knows that.
"I know you hate to hear it," she stutters. "But I still think I should apologize to you. This... this should not have happened. You're not paying to have a girl faint in your arms after you have done nothing but—"
"Shut up," I interrupt her, fury boiling within me. There it is again. Her escort persona is trying to take over, robbing me of the beautiful scene I was just honored to witness.
Fuck that.
"I got exactly what I wanted," I tell her, and she turns her face up to me, casting me a disbelieving look.
"But—"
"Stop doubting me. I hate that," I snarl at her.
She's still naked, the aftermath of what just happened still visible on her flushed face. Her marvelous body is spread out beneath me, still within reach, her pussy still hot and wet. She's still available to me, still willing to serve.
Too willing to serve.
I'm losing wood with every moment that passes now that she's returning to the person I asked her not to be. I could have her. I could tell her to lie down and spread her lean legs wide for me. She would do it without hesitation. She would offer herself like a gift, happy to please her client.
But I don't want that. And I don't want her like that.
Shit, I should have fucked her when things were still right, when we were still in the moment, and she was the girl I wanted her to be. I should have done it then. Because I no longer can. Not tonight.
"How are you feeling?" I ask her.
Her eyes are glistening when she looks up at me. Is she about to cry? Why would she cry?
"F-Fine," she stammers. Her lips are trembling and she looks like there's more she wants to say, but for some reason she doesn't. Instead, she clears her throat and looks away, trying to ignore the single tear that's rolling down her cheek.
"It's just hormones," she says matter-of-factly, wiping away the tear in a swift move. "Don't be bothered by it."
Bothered by it? What is wrong with this girl? Why is she crying?
"Are you sure you're okay?"
She nods fiercely. "Yes. I'm fine."
I don't believe her. She's lying; even an idiot can see that. Whatever it is that's bothering her, she doesn't want to share it with me. It eliminates any thoughts about doing anything else with her tonight.
"Get dressed," I tell her.
Her eyes widen in shock and her mouth opens in a soundless O.
"You didn't do anything wrong," I assure her. "It's not your fault. But we're done for tonight."
"No," she objects, regarding me with a panicked face as she shakes her head. "I can't let you go like that. Let me at least give you a blowjob!"
I huff with disgust. The fact that she thinks she owes me something is nauseating.
"Stop acting like a paid escort," I bark at her, regretting my harsh tone a moment later when I see the pain my words inflicted expressed on her face. I didn't want to hurt her. Of course she's acting like a whore, because that's all she knows and because that's what she's here for tonight.
"And let me go?" I add, hoping to lighten the mood with a chuckle. "You're adorable."
I rise up to my feet and stretch my hand out to help her up. She accepts the offer and gets back up on her feet, still shaking a little when she straightens up next to me. Strands of her platinum hair are sticking to her sweaty face, and she tries her best to get them out of the way.
"This isn't right," she says, her voice sounding weak and somewhat distant. "You didn't get anything out of this. It's like I'm the client and you're—"
"Elene," I interrupt her again, placing my index finger on her pouty lips. "You listen to me now. I got what I wanted tonight—or rather, a glimpse of what I want. You're a good girl, but you're tarnished. You have a lot to offer, but I'm not here to get a taste of your standard menu."
I pause, giving her a moment to process my words. My finger is still connected to her lips and her blue eyes are locked onto mine, wide with a mixture of confusion and curiosity.
"What are you here for then?" she asks in a whisper, her breath warming the tip of my finger as she speaks.
"You," I say. "And I will come back for you, but I want to lay down some ground rules before that happens."
"Ground rules?"
I nod. "Yes, and I will only see you again if you're willing to agree to them."
I give her a moment to reply and withdraw my finger from her lips, but she just looks at me with an expectant expression, beckoning me to continue by jerking her chin forward. All right then.
"I don't like to share," I begin. "I assume you need this job. I'm not sure if exclusivity has ever been part of your portfolio, but it's what I would ask for as long as we play with each other. I don't want you to be available to other men."
"Not even as an angel?" she asks.
"Not even as an angel," I confirm. "What I want is this: you naked, waiting for me here in this room every night starting at nine o’clock. You'll wait for me here kneeling beneath the lamp, with your hands on your thighs, palms up, eyes down, until I tell you otherwise."
The expression on her face is impossible to read. It could be anything from shock to surprise to confusion. It's most likely all of that combined.
"But I don't work every night," she says.
"You will from now on," I advise her. "I, however, won't show up every night. I won't tell you what days I'll be here, but when I am I want you here exactly in this spot just as I described. You'll be here every single night. If I haven't shown up by ten o’clock, you will get dressed, leave, and go directly home."
She furrows her eyebrows. "You want me to kneel in this room for an hour every single night and wait for you?"
"You won't have to wait that long on the days I show up."
"Then why should I wait for an hour?"
"Because I told you to," I simply say.
She huffs and crosses her arms in front of her naked chest. Her pink nipples are still hard, begging to be tortured and teased. I wonder if she's sensitive there. If all goes well, I will find out soon enough.
"Does it occur to you that I might have a life?" she asks. "There's a reason why I didn't pick up shifts every single night. Because I don't have to. I make enough by working only two or three nights a week, and—"
"Do it, or we're done," I say. "I'm not debating this with you. And I'll double whatever the madam is paying you. I know I'm asking a lot from you, and I want you to be compensated accordingly."
Her eyelashes flutter nervously as she tries to make sense of my words.
"You can't be serious," she stutters, her voice breaking on the last word. "Why does it have to be this way?"
"Because I say so," I retort, unfazed by her reaction when she rolls her eyes at me. "You can say no. I'm not forcing you to agree to this."
She glances at me, biting her lower lip, while she ponders the implications of my demands.
"I don't know if the madam will agree..."
"I'm a VIP member, and she assured me that membership includes extra privileges," I say. "I'm sure she won't argue if I'm taking advantage of that. The only one who has to agree to this is you, Elene."
She lowers her eyes, and I need a moment to realize that she's doing it because she's trying to hide another set of tears from me.
"Hormones?" I ask in a clumsy attempt to lighten the mood.
She gasps and quickly wipes away the tears in a sudden motion, making it seem as if she didn't even realize that they were even there.
"You don't understand," she mumbles, pressing her lips together to stop herself from speaking.
"Understand what?" I inquire, placing my hand on her shoulder. I only rest it there for a moment before I move on to caress her naked back, eventually pulling her into an embrace. She's cold. I can feel her shivering when I press her against my body, allowing her to seek warmth and comfort when she wraps her arms around my waist.
"What are you hiding from me?" I ask, the question stretching between us while she buries her face in my shirt. She's tensing up, trying to suppress the urge to start crying again.
"Tell me, Elene," I press. "What are you hiding from me?"
Instead of giving me a reply she erupts in a muffled cry, and I find myself wrapping both of my arms around her petite, trembling body.