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 hand 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?
"Elene," he whispers into my ear, stopping my train of thought. "Stay with me. Don't go where ever your mind takes you—follow me."
He bends his fingers inside me, moving in slow circle back and forth, slowly feeling my insides while he pokes into me with gentle force. I flinch when he skims a spot shortly behind my entrance, and that's when he stops.
"There we go," he breathes, pulling me closer in his embrace, while his massage on my clit intensifies. "You'll come for me now, do you hear, Elene?"
I want to shake my head no, but I know it's futile. I'm already at the edge, so close to exploding on his hand again. The idea that this is not going to happen seems ridiculous to me, just as the opposite used to hold true before I met him.
My head cocks to the side, my eyes moving up to him while I try to protest his assertion with nothing more than a look.
"Yes, you will come," he retorts, smiling with confidence. "And it will be as beautiful as it always is."
His massage on my clit intensifies, applying so much pressure that at first I think it's too much. I coil next to him, sliding even further down into the cushion and almost exposing myself to the rest of the room as the kimono is being pushed aside. He bends his fingers inside me, only slightly moving back and forth, but applying fierce pressure on that sensitive spot right behind my entrance. It only takes two or three thrusts before I can feel the first rush rolling over me. My eyes widen while I stare up at the dark ceiling above us before he hisses from the side: "Look at me!"
I obey, moving on instinct as I follow his voice while my body hums with pleasure. My eyes lock onto his and I'm panting, my chest heaving as I keep floating on an ongoing cloud that fogs my view and my senses. A deep groan escapes me while I arch my back, taking in the heaps of lust as they take a hold of me with relentless force. I melt into him, a smile spreading across my face as I ride wave after wave of bliss. I didn't know that there could be something like this, a place of true happiness.
I don't want to question it. I don't want to worry. I don't want to pull myself together. An alluring voice of ecstatic freedom is calling me to let myself go, forgetting everything and everyone around me.
Everyone but him.