As his strokes continue to move deeper and deeper, he adds more lubrication to the rim of my anus. His movements are so controlled, and I can see it is a strain. He’s aroused, and his body wants to thrust and to fuck me, but he’s maintaining a very tight rein on his movements.

Once he’s buried deep inside me and his breathing is picking up, though he fights to keep his strokes even and smooth, he whispers, “I’m almost done, sweetie.”

His words send electricity through my body. I’d hated the pudgy romantic calling me “sweetie” a mere two nights before, but whispered from the lips of this man, the word is so personal and perfect—so very appropriate. I’m reminded that though terrified of what we’re doing, I’m still wet and dripping with desire for him. This act is turning out to be incredibly erotic and intimate, or maybe it’s just the way his eyes watch mine so carefully. His arousal is building, but he’s maintaining absolute control of his movements, and it is with gritted teeth and a pained look on his face that he finally comes, buried inside of me and dropping his forehead to my back. His clenching hands and shuddering breaths are the only movement of his body at all. When he’s done, he slowly pulls himself from my bottom, watching every last inch of himself leave my body. It’s done; he’s bought me two more weeks without this terror, and now butt man can’t touch me. I wouldn’t have had it any other way, and for all the discomfort, and even pain, I’d go through it all again with Derek. There is something so intensely erotic about having given him that one final part of my body. He raises his head from my back to meet my eyes. His concern is gone, and relief floods over his face.

As I stand, I stretch my back, and he picks up my dress from the floor, handing it to me. I slip it back on quickly as he dresses. I want to touch him. I want to kiss him, hold him, anything at all, but as I step toward him, he gives me a warning look. He finishes dressing, and then he leans toward my ear, reminding me that the cameras are on and security is watching.

We return to my bedroom, and as Fredrick takes in Derek’s untucked shirt, his face scrunches up, and he shakes his head. Butt man speaks first. “I want her. I want to fuck her ass, and I want you to make her.”

Derek, now replete and unfazed, responds, “I’m sorry. She wasn’t trained properly for anal sex. I’ve taken care of that, but she won’t be available for that service for another couple of weeks. I’m sure I can find another woman that will satisfy you far more than an inexperienced whore could.”

His words don’t sting in the least. They aren’t his feelings, and he’s only playing his part in this mess that, quite frankly, I created.

But butt man is pissed. “What the fuck does that mean? I paid for her, and I want her!”

“I’m sorry. I assumed you wouldn’t want her after she failed to do her job, and quite frankly, I thought a swift punishment was in order. I assure you, she won’t refuse a man her ass again. I’ve made certain she understands how to do her job. That also means she won’t be available for another two weeks. I’m so sorry.” The eat-shit look in Derek’s eyes isn’t fooling anyone, least of all butt man.

He knows full well that Derek fucked me to keep me away from him. I’m sure butt man believes this to have been out of spite. I, on the other hand, know it had far more to do with my wishes than his own. But butt man is livid, and as he yells and screams every insult he can come up with at Derek, Derek looks coolly back at him. Butt man finally storms from the room with Frederick following behind. As Frederick reaches the door, he turns around and takes us both in. With a “humph” and a shake of his head, he trails after butt man, leaving Derek and I alone.

Before Derek leaves, he asks me to wait in his room, and as he walks me across the hall, he excuses himself to do some “damage control” downstairs. He doesn’t seem mad at me, though he would have every right to be, and I wonder what damage control could possibly entail. Mr. Grayson will have, without a doubt, heard by now about my little choke, and I hate that Derek’s being forced to fix my mess. The fact that it could involve Mr. Grayson makes me feel even guiltier.

I wait for what feels like an eternity, though the clock says it’s only been fifteen minutes. I’m anxious, worrying about Derek. I want to go downstairs and fix this mess myself, but I know he would kill me. He wants me here, and I get it. It’s safe here; it isn’t downstairs. And were I able to take his place, I would in an instant. He understands that protective feeling too. It’s why he’s downstairs instead of me. He cares, and so do I. It’s an impossible mess.

There is an open bottle of wine on his kitchen counter, and I help myself. When he enters and sees me in the kitchen, I trill at being caught making myself so at home in his private space. But he walks to me instantly, pulling me into his arms. He’s definitely not mad, and he’s definitely comfortable with me being in his space. He grabs the wine bottle, a second glass, and with my hand in his, he leads me to the bathroom.

After the bath is drawn, and he’s undressed himself and then me, we settle into the warmth together, and he pulls me into his body. His hands trail gently down my back and over the round cheeks of my bottom. When he reaches the backs of my thighs, he pulls my legs to straddle his and returns his hands to my bottom. As he delves between my cheeks, he brushes lightly over the puckered skin of my anus. He rubs gently but doesn’t penetrate me.

As he reaches his other hand to my face, pulling my mouth to his, he pauses and asks, “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” I shake my head, but he doesn’t believe me. “You’re sore.” It isn’t a question.

I smile gently at his worry, and I nod. There’s no sense lying to him. He’ll know if I do. But then I close the space between our mouths and kiss him gently, savoring his lips slowly.

When I pull from his mouth, his eyes are searching mine, and I finally speak. “I wanted it to be you. I asked for this. You can’t feel bad for doing what I wanted.” I’m imploring him to see my side of this, but he holds himself so responsible for me.

“Just because it was your idea didn’t make it a good idea.” But he’s smirking, and I can see that he’s relaxing, so I decide to push him just a bit further.

“Did my bottom feel good to you? I was incredibly wet for you. Shocked the hell out me, quite frankly.” I wink a quick and hopefully seductive eye at him—very uncharacteristic for me. Must be the wine…

But he does seductive so much better than me, and his next words have me eating out of the palm of his hand. The fact that his finger is again stroking lightly over my anus doesn’t help matters. “I thought nothing could get tighter than your pussy. I was wrong. But, I’ll take that wetness now if you don’t mind.” With his own smirk, and a wink, he kisses me again.

He takes me to bed and has me on my hands and knees with my chest to the bed and my ass up high. And I wait for his touch. The lights are on, and he’s eyeing me closely. When I feel the bed move behind me, my heart starts to race in anticipation, and I know that his fingers or his cock will be the next to touch my sensitized pussy, but I’m wrong, and as his hands part the cheeks of my bottom and his mouth instantly touches my anus, I gasp and pull forward in panic. But Derek gets his way, and he just as quickly pulls my hips back to his waiting mouth. He holds me firmly in place as his tongue starts to move across the puckered skin. Holy shit!

I’m frozen in place, holding my breath, and trembling. The sensation is amazing. Could I block out the fact that it involves his mouth on my bottom, I could enjoy this immensely, but all I see is the backside view of this act. His view is beyond compromising. It is downright lewd, but it feels so damn good. His mouth is soothing on my sore entry, and as I stay still in his clutching hands, he continues to taste every inch of my soreness. His tongue passes beyond the rim of my anus, gently forcing within. It isn’t painful in the least, and instead is an intense massage to my pain. He’s passionate in his attention, and as he continues to explore every surface of me, I start to relax. He’s not afraid of seeing or tasting me this way. What has me so convinced that I should be embarrassed about this?

I don’t have time to ponder this long before his fingers find the very wetness he’s been craving, and as they plunge to my depths, I moan loudly and push back toward him. He lets go of my hip, knowing full well that he doesn’t need to still me now. I push toward him, wanting to close out any space, and he thrusts vigorously into my tight sheath with two long fingers. I’m moaning and panting like an animal. I want to be filled by him, and this isn’t enough. As I come, I’m begging him to fuck me, and he does.

He abandons my ass instantly, pulling himself to his knees, and thrusts his cock harshly into my pussy as my orgasm rages through my body. The sensation of his entering me just as I’m climaxing causes my throat to unleash another loud and vulgar moan as my orgasm re-invigorates itself and leaves me shuddering under his pounding force. As my orgasm fades slowly, he pulls from my body, flips me to my back, and takes my body once again.

As he makes love to me, my wetness continues to coat our bodies, and I’m ready for my release again within minutes. I can’t get enough of him tonight, and from the look in his eyes, he’s as insatiable as ever. The only sounds in the room are our soft moans, and the wetness of our movements smacking and sucking against one another. We come together as he clutches my face in his hands, holding my eyes harshly with his. I don’t leave his side for the rest of night.

Chapter 23

The next morning, Liz and I are sent to the spa for the day. As Derek walks us to a waiting cab, Liz asks, “Why aren’t we taking the limo?”

Derek doesn’t hesitate before answering her honestly. “I don’t want Mr. Grayson knowing where to find Ashton. The cab driver knows to wait for you, and I’ve taken care of his expense for the day. If you get done early, go shopping, out to lunch, a movie. I don’t care. Just don’t come back to Trimbles before this evening. Mr. Grayson is scheduled to fly out to Vegas this evening, so as long as you stay gone until early evening, you’ll be fine.”

He then turns to me and speaks directly to me. “I’m sorry. I’d take you myself, but if I’m here, Mr. Grayson will be less likely to try to find you.”

His eyes flit quickly to Liz’s before he leans to my mouth and kisses me gently. I look to Liz and take in her shocked, open mouth and wide eyes.

And in Liz form, she can’t keep her mouth shut; however different Liz and I are, she’s so very much like me in this regard. “Well, never thought I’d see that one. Well done, Mr. Pennington.” And before he can say a word to her, she climbs in the cab.

I stay watching Derek as he inhales deeply. His hands move to the wide black belt of my favorite gray dress, enveloping my small waist with his hands, and he leans to me, kissing me once again before speaking. “I love this dress on you. You look so beautiful. Be careful today, okay?” I nod and agree.

The cab pulls away from the curb, and he stays watching us. What sage advice that was, and perhaps had I heeded that advice better, my day would have stayed pleasant, rather than the nightmare it would turn out to be.

* * *

When the darkness is pulled over my eyes as I’m waiting for the hairstylist to arrive, it takes an eternity for my mind to register what is happening. I was relaxed in one moment, and being dragged, kicking and screaming, the next. The black bag over my head is abrasive and suffocating, but it isn’t the bag that has me most terrified; it is what lies beyond it. I’m forced into the back of a car and pushed to what feels like the middle of the back seat, given the ridge that rises up between my feet, and as two bodies move in beside me, I hear Liz screaming a short distance away. But it is useless. As her screams continue, the doors are slammed shut, dampening the terrified sound of her voice as she yells desperately for them to let me go. The tires squeal away from the curb, and my last connection to anything in this world that cares about me slips away. I’m gasping, I’m struggling, I’m pleading, but for my efforts, I get a strong fist to the stomach that leaves me sucking in desperate breaths.

After the punch to the gut, I give up struggling. I sit, trying to control my panicked breathing as the car moves through traffic. The sounds change over time, and what was the busy sound of Manhattan turns to a quieter din as the miles fade away. When at long last the car pulls off whatever highway we’re on, it is to a bumpy, gravelly road. The men surrounding me are saying nothing at all, and I’m not inclined to try to communicate with them either. I know their type, and there is no doubt these men are after a debt that belonged to my father. They must have been watching me. They must not be happy with the money I’m bringing. It makes no sense though. They have more money coming to them now than I’ve ever been able to pay them before. I’d thought if I kept the money coming they would be satisfied. Their only concern is for the money, and I’m no good to them dead, so why are they here now?