Elizabeth Finn - The Devil’s Pawn

His lips are glistening with my wetness, and I’m nearly ready to beg him for my release when he reaches his hand to me once again. His eyes study mine as he slides one deliciously long finger within my wet hole. He fucks me gently, now focusing his eyes on my penetration, and as he adds a finger and continues to watch, his lips part, and he starts to lick them unconsciously. He does want to taste me.

As I watch his tongue pass over his lips once more, I finally give in to the pleas that have been ringing out in my mind, and I speak, or more like beg. “Please, Derek.” My voice sounds as pleading as my words, and he wastes no time latching himself to me once again.

His fingers continue to invade my tight sheath as I contract around him. His mouth has found my clitoris again, and he pulls, sucking it into his mouth. He’s gentle, but firm and unrelenting, and as he runs the tip of his tongue over the tight nub held securely in his mouth, I lose my mind.

I come loudly and harshly as my stomach muscles contract in on themselves, and as I utter the very same words that a mere month ago sparked a backlash that haunted me for weeks after, I can see easily that this time there will be no such reprisal. “Oh God, Derek.”

He moves up my body, his own arousal still straining against his jeans, and when he leans toward my mouth, he speaks in a husky voice. “God, I love the sound of my name on your lips when you come.”

He kisses me gently. I taste my own subtle musky scent, and it makes me crave his body all the more. Having been so completely satisfied by him leaves only one desire in my mind, to completely satisfy him. When I reach for his waist, he stays my hands, and with one final quick kiss to the tip of my nose, he says, “Dinner first.”

Dinner? Well, ain’t that a bunch of bullshit! Who can eat at a time like this? Apparently Derek can, and he pulls me swiftly from the bed to his arms. My clothes are still out on the deck, but as I pull toward the sliding wall of windows to retrieve them, he pulls me back to him with a shake of the head. I guess I’ll be cooking sans clothes.

I find out soon enough that my help really isn’t needed in the kitchen. I’m apparently just ornamental. Derek can cook. He can drive. And apparently he can design homes. I wonder what else this man can do. Can he vacuum? Can he clean? Can he mow a lawn? He suddenly seems so normal, impressive of course, but normal and very human. I wonder if he can care. Can he love? He can desire me; that I no longer question. But love… Could I ever love him for that matter? And quite frankly, don’t I already? He intrigues me, without a doubt. He scares me at times, but with every passing day, I realize my fears have been misplaced. He pleasures me, duh. His concern for me makes my heart melt. His abject fear for my safety, likewise. And don’t I carry the same worries for him? The pain that Mr. Grayson has caused us both is shared between us. I as much felt Derek’s pain as my own on the evening we were forced to spend with him. Aren’t we here now to protect one another from the very same threat? So what is our connection? Mere desire doesn’t cause a desperate need to protect another. So why do we fear for one another so very much?

His arms wrap gently around me as his body moves in to close out any space between us. I’m standing naked, facing the kitchen counter and the window beyond, and his body is covering every inch of my backside. He’s taken his clothes off. I can feel the long, hard length of his cock against my back, and I wonder just how long I’ve been daydreaming with my eyes staring blankly out the window to have missed him stripping naked in the kitchen.

His mouth moves to my ear, and his tongue gently flicks the lobe of my ear. “Time to eat.”

Sadly, he really does mean food, and as I sit, I see that not only can he cook, he can cook well. He’s made chicken of some sort that has been breaded, baked, and then cut over a pasta dish with tomatoes and basil. It is delicious, and could I keep my eyes on my plate and not on him, I could likely have gotten through the meal far sooner. As it is, my body is screaming for him. I can feel my wet warmth against the hard surface of the chair. The chair is cool to my skin, and it exhilarates my body. Judging by Derek’s own dark and watchful eyes, he’s struggling with his own composure as well, and the moment our meal is finished, he pulls me by the hand to kneel in front of his chair. Within moments, he’s filling my mouth with his cock.

His hips flex upward to my mouth as I try desperately to accommodate his breadth. He tastes so very Derek, and I’m ravenously hungry for him. I want him in every way I can take him. I need him to wipe out every disturbing memory from the night before, and replace them with his own touch, taste, and kiss. I have only this time with him because, come tomorrow, I will once again be off-limits to him as I ready myself for another stranger that will use my body. I can’t stand the thought of missing one single moment with Derek tonight.

Just as hastily and quickly as he started fucking my mouth, he stops me, pulls me to my feet, and then toward him. I straddle his hips, hovering over his engorged and stiff penis. As he guides my hips down to line his cock up with my entry, he watches my eyes. When the head of his cock is nestled between the wet lips of my pussy, he kisses me once before instructing me to fuck him. I push down slowly, as he steadies my hips with his hands. His eyes narrow and he inhales a quick breath as I start to slowly take him within my tight sheath. His lips stay parted as he watches every last inch of his length disappear within my body, slowly. He flexes his hips once, driving the depth of his cock painfully farther, but I welcome this pain. It is consuming, and it claims my body as his own. Once I’ve adjusted to his thick length inside me, I slide back up along his shaft. My arousal has me as wet as I’ve ever been, and he moves tightly but smoothly within my body. I pull myself from him completely as his breath comes out in a hiss. When I sink back down and over the head of his cock, he moans a deep guttural sound.

He again lets me slide down along his body until he’s deep within me, but instead of letting me pull from him again, he holds me tight to him. He leans to my mouth, pushing his tongue past my lips and into the warmth of my mouth. He’s in no hurry, and with every long and slow taste of my mouth, I feel his cock flex within my body. When he’s finally finished with my mouth, he lifts my hips from his, and then pulls them swiftly back down to him. I hang on to his shoulders, letting him use my hips to fuck himself hard, and every harsh, ferocious penetration releases my pent-up tension and need. He’s panting and grunting as he nears his release, and I’m crying out as the force pushes me to the limit of what I can handle. Even with his harsh thrusting, I’m ready to come, and when he pounds my pussy through my release, his own takes over his body instantly, and he empties himself in spasms within me.

We lie collapsed against one another panting. He’s still within me, and as he pulls my mouth to his once more, I see concern in his eyes. When he breaks from my lips again, it is to apologize for being too rough with my body. The concern and worry is genuine and real. I shake off his apologies, but his guilt lingers. I ache from his intense invasion of my body, but it is the very ache I so desperately needed to feel. As he lays me gently in the master bed and crawls in next to me, I hold on to his body tightly, wanting to savor every last moment.

* * *

When I wake, it is still dark out, and the sliding wall of windows is opened wide. The cool but comfortable breeze tickles my naked skin, and a trill of happiness and contentment courses through my body unexpectedly. I’m alone, and I don’t want to be. I’m ready for more of him, and with that in mind, I crawl from bed, walking to the open wall. I peer out along the deck and see his darkened form sitting cross-legged at the edge, in exactly the place that I’d seen him earlier, leaning against the post.

As I walk to him, his face turns toward me, but in the darkness of the night, lit only by the moon above, I can’t see his expression. He stretches his hand up to me as I approach, and I kneel beside him and see that he is holding my clothes in his lap, left abandoned from earlier in the afternoon. His eyes come into view, and I see utter sadness etched across his face, but it is fleeting. He doesn’t want me to see it, and rather than letting my gaze linger on his features, he pulls my mouth swiftly to his.

When he breaks from my lips, I take advantage of the emotional cover of darkness to find my strength and ask the question I could never have asked him only a couple of weeks ago. “Will you make love to me again?”

“You’re sure you’re not too sore?” His concern from earlier has still not faded, though the ache that stayed with me for some time after our last coupling is now dull and distant. I reassure him as best I can, and he relents.

He lays me down on the deck before pulling my legs wide apart and bent at the knee. He again moves in with his mouth, and for the next several long and amazing minutes, he does my new favorite thing in the world with his mouth. Once I’ve come with his mouth, he makes me come with his cock as he moves gently and slowly inside my body. And once we’ve both taken what we need from the other, we walk back to the bedroom together and make love twice more before the sun comes up. I’m not even sure I fully wake when we make love, and as I drift off to sleep after he’s finished with my body, it is to the most amazing and sensuous dreams that feel more real than any others in my life.

As the sunlight filtering through the trees makes its way in through the wall of windows to us, curled in one another’s arms, he makes love to me for the last time before we have to leave to return to the city. It’s more sex than any decent person needs, but I drink him in, wanting to keep him with me for the long night ahead.

The trip back to the city is not nearly as pleasant as the trip to Vermont, but knowing I have him to myself for the next six hours is a relief. We stop for a late lunch in some quaint little town, and as we eat, he starts grilling me.

“Why were your parents killed?” I look at him in stunned silence, saying nothing. “I mean you saw it happen. Do you know why?”

Yes! But as I look in his eyes, I hold it all back from him. I lie, and I hate myself for doing it. I shake my head, and he watches me closely with narrow eyes. He’s gauging whether I’m telling him the truth or not, and I can’t tell if he’s convinced, but as the waitress appears and refills my coffee, he lets it slide. I, however, waste no time jumping right back into the danger zone, where I apparently enjoy being.

“Why are you at Trimbles? I mean you have a career … a real career.”

“Had,” he corrects quietly with a nearly embarrassed look on his face. “It doesn’t concern you, Ash. Drop it.”

But I’m on a roll… “Well, you’re allowed to ask me anything and everything you want to know about my past, so why can’t I ask you the same?” I hold his gaze steadily, accusing him with my eyes and challenging him to respond.

His response is harsh and irritated. “I said it’s none of your business.” Then his voice softens quickly as he continues. “Besides, I’m quite certain you’re holding plenty back from me as well.”

My eyes flit from his quickly as this truth hits with the smack of guilt. But they return to his dark gaze just as easily when he reaches a hand over to cover mine. He’s not angry, just resolute. We will not be delving any further into his past today.

I’m nervous the entire meal, waiting for the inquisition to strike again, but he remains silent, thoughtful. As our check is paid and we stand to leave, he takes my hand in his and squeezes it gently. His eyes are soft and as gentle as his hand, but he doesn’t owe me his pity, even though it shows clearly in his eyes. The rest of the trip home is silent, and each mile brings mounting tension, not only for tonight, but for the chance that we’ll run into Mr. Grayson before we can escape to the gaming hall. How truly ridiculous is it that I should prefer taking my chances in the gaming hall than with Mr. Grayson?

When we reach the city, his hand finds mine, and he doesn’t let it go any more than he absolutely must. When the SUV is back in its place within the parking garage, he turns to face me and gently pulls my mouth to his. It is many long minutes later that he lets go of my cheeks, and with a deep exhale, he opens the door. He keeps my hand in his until we are out of the parking garage and within view of Trimbles.