Tears prick my eyes as Derek continues to watch me intently before he speaks again. “Can’t?”

He’s eying me suspiciously, and I work quickly to rectify my slip. “Won’t. I won’t.”

He continues to eye me intently. “I see. Well then. Shelby, shall we have some fun with the new girl?”

Shelby nods excitedly beside me, and as I continue to hold Derek’s gaze, he winks tauntingly at me once before standing and moving away from me. He then instructs me to undress and lay on the ottoman. I undress slowly, resigned to whatever is to come, and I can feel his eyes move over my body from one of the side couches.

As I take my place on the ottoman, Shelby kneels on the floor between my legs, waiting for Derek’s instruction. My body trembles in fear, more fear than I’ve ever experienced. I’m ridiculously hurt by Derek’s little game, and I want to scream at him for his cruelty, but I say nothing at all. Derek stands and approaches the ottoman, sitting at my shoulder, looking down at me. He instructs me to raise my hands above my head and spread my legs. I comply while he watches, and obviously unhappy with my legs, he grabs my knees, prying them farther apart as I gasp.

He then speaks to Shelby, and I’m ignored entirely. “What do you think, Shelby?”

She peers up at him before responding. “She’s beautiful.”

“Is she?” He peers down at me, meeting my eyes before returning to Shelby. “Tits are entirely too small,” he comments blandly.

“I like her tits. They’re very pretty.”

“Are they? Would you like to taste them?”

Shelby nods, and he gives her permission to touch me. She moves up the ottoman between my legs, and my body freezes at the unwanted contact. I close my eyes as she leans toward my breast. I feel her mouth on me. Were it the right mouth, I would enjoy this thoroughly, but I don’t want this, and Derek is well aware of that fact. When she finishes with my breasts, she returns to her place between my legs.

As I open my eyes, I see that Derek is looking intently down to me. He speaks to Shelby once again. “What do you think of her pussy, Shelby?” He doesn’t take his eyes from me for even a moment.

“Incredible.”

“You think so, do you? Put your finger in her.” Shelby reaches out to me and slowly enters my body with her index finger as Derek watches. “Is she wet?”

Shelby shakes her head. I close my eyes again, doing my best to ignore what is being done to my body, but when Derek asks if she wants to taste me, my eyes bolt open, and I find his eyes watching me closely.

I don’t want this, and as desperation sets in, I start to beg. “No, please … please … please … I’m sorry … I’m sorry … please stop.” I’m whispering, looking at him imploringly, desperately. My head is shaking back and forth, and as he holds my gaze, I watch his nostrils flare and his jaw clench tight. My breath is hitching as I fight back the sobs.

Shelby is waiting for direction, and his jaw keeps clenching and releasing, clenching and releasing. He exhales a final deep breath, leans to my ear, and speaks only to me. “‘Please stop’ meaning you’re ready to turn in your resignation, or ‘please stop’ meaning you’d like me to fuck you instead?”

He stays at my ear while I struggle to breathe, struggle to think, but quitting isn’t an option, and I do want him. This is more emotion than he’s shown me in weeks, and I want this emotion. “Please fuck me.”

I’m still whispering as he pulls from my ear and looks down at me harshly with his smoldering dark eyes.

“Shelby, get out,” he speaks through a clenched jaw and gritted teeth.

My eyes close in relief, and as she starts to argue with him, he stops her swiftly and barks at her to leave. Before she even manages to reach the door, he moves between my legs and drops his pants to his knees. Thinking and caring nothing at all about a condom, he lifts my hips to his and thrusts ferociously into me. His length fills me, and my head drops to the side to make sure we’re alone. I catch Shelby’s shocked expression from the door before she moves through it, leaving us alone at last.

He pounds into me over and over. His thrusts are powerful, and he doesn’t let my eyes escape his for even a moment. The ache in my womb is building with each invasion, but in the private thoughts of my mind, I acknowledge I’m satisfied at last. He continues to pull my groin to his groin roughly, and as he finally reaches his climax, he pulls himself swiftly from me and comes on my stomach. I can feel his semen running down my stomach, but my eyes are trapped by his as he glares harshly at me.

When he finally gives up my eyes, he drops my hips, and my bottom falls to the soft surface of the ottoman. As he fixes his clothes, he walks away from me to the door. I stay in place, not wanting to move, still in shock about morning coffee turning into such a train wreck. My cheek is lying against the soft cool leather of the ottoman, and I watch him walk from the room without glancing back once.

When I stand to dress, Liz enters. I dress hastily, not wanting her to see the glistening wetness on my stomach. As my shirt passes over the skin of my stomach, I can feel the stickiness of Derek’s cum on my skin when my shirt clings to it. She approaches with concern in her eyes. She feels none of the resentment the others have toward me, and it is obvious that her concern is for me.

She speaks as we start for the door. “Shelby’s not happy. Just so you know … most of us were in Teresa’s room when she came in, and she told us what happened.” I look to her eyes nervously, and she continues. “Everyone knows. I’m sorry.” I nod as we walk, too defeated to say anything, and as we approach her door, she speaks once again. “Do you want to talk about it?” I shake my head once more, and she squeezes my hand gently before leaving me in the corridor.

When I return to my room, I lie on the bed staring up at the ceiling. I don’t leave my room for the remainder of the day, and he doesn’t summon me that evening. And as I soak in the warmth of my tub, I think of him.

I don’t understand him. It is obvious he doesn’t want me here, and part of me thinks it is oddly in favor to me, but he has no idea what drives me, and so, for all his torture and cold harshness, he fails to push me away. It’s inevitable. I have to stay. He suspected it from the moment he met me. I’m not here of my own accord. If he could only see that, perhaps he’d give up trying to fight me at every turn. There are times when his dark steely stare falters, and in the depths of his eyes, I wonder what he feels. Is he acting for my benefit, or can he truly hate me as much as he appears to? Why does he stay away from the others? It can’t possibly be in preference of me. I infuriate him far more than I please him, and yet … when he watches me, it is with an intensity I don’t understand. His body is always ready for me, and for someone that despises everything about me, I find it hard to understand what drives his arousal. Perhaps this is his brand of masochism, and he gets off on fucking that which he hates the most.

As I stand pruney and wrinkled from my bath, I give up trying to figure him out for the night. Standing naked in front of the mirror, I start the task of braiding back my thick and curly locks. Once finished, I retreat to bed naked, ready to escape into sleep. The phone rings before I can slip away, and I’m advised by administration that I have a fitting appointment with Jacob the following day. I wonder, none too enthusiastically, whether Mr. Pennington will be joining me. I’m not ready to see him again, but as I drift away thinking about him, I can’t deny that while my mind bristles with the pain he’s caused me, my body prickles in desire at his image. This morning was as much emotion as he’s shown me since the masturbation mishap, and as harsh as he was with me, it felt far better than the cold distance he’s shown me over the past two weeks.

Chapter 9

The next day when I climb into the limo, I’m glad to see I’m alone, but when we don’t pull immediately from the curb, I start to worry.

When the driver sees the questioning look on my face, he confirms my fears. “We’re waiting for Mr. Pennington, miss.”

I can feel the muscles of my face slacken and fall as the driver returns my gaze curiously.

When Derek climbs in, he takes the seat across from mine as he did the last time we were together in this car. However, unlike last time, Derek doesn’t ask me to approach him, and I know that he won’t. Oral sex may well be a part of the job, but Mr. Pennington has seemed intent on touching me as little as possible the past weeks, and such things as my mouth on his cock have simply fallen by the wayside.

Once in the fitting room, Derek takes the chair again while I start to remove my clothes. I intentionally wore ugly, stretched-out, white cotton underwear that is entirely too big on me in the event he should be here. My mouth isn’t the only thing that can get me into trouble—my sarcasm knows no bounds when I’m unhappy.

As he sees the appalling excuse for an undergarment, his eyes move up to mine, narrowing darkly at my obvious defiance. I look coolly back at him before looking away dismissively. My anger and resentment of him from the humiliation he subjected me to the previous morning, not to mention his treatment of me over the past two weeks, have charged me into a bold, fiery bitch that no longer cares what retribution I might face. While my tongue usually gets me in trouble, today I decided to let my underwear do the talking.

Jacob enters with an armful of dresses for me to try on, and he cringes as he takes in my defiant granny panties, hated the world over by men, including, apparently, gay men.

He turns to Derek, and with a scrunched-up face, he worries out loud. “The dresses aren’t going to lay right over those…” He tosses a nod in my general direction.

Derek wastes no time at all reassuring Jacob and striking back at me. “No worries. Ashton was just taking them off. She won’t be wearing underwear anymore.”

I glare defiantly back at him as I drop the loose fabric to the floor. He returns the glare for a moment before letting his gaze travel down my body to my sex, and as it lands there, smoldering with heat, I turn abruptly from him, intentionally showing him my backside instead. I look to the mirror in front of me, and I catch his eyes flit away from me in annoyance. He worries his lip with his thumb and index finger as he contemplates, and the slightest of smirks crosses over his mouth. Jacob is standing by looking from one to the other of us, obviously wondering just exactly what he’s gotten himself in the middle of.

Derek finally looks back to Jacob. “Get on with it.”

I try on one after the other of the dresses. Some are perfect; Jacob pins in additional alterations in others. Derek sits by bored, only glancing up from his cell phone occasionally. One such occasion is when Jacob remarks that I’m “just not curvy enough for this one.”

Derek looks up to Jacob, but he shifts his eyes to mine before commenting, “Yes, well, if you can figure out some way of making her look female, you let me know.”

Jacob again lets his eyes pass between us, seeming to wonder all the while what he’s missing. As I hold Derek’s eyes with my own, my anger falters, and the pain that is behind my fury pushes through. I try to wrangle my tears into submission, but it’s no use. In defeat, first one, and then another spills from my eyes and slides down my cheeks. Jacob regards my state and excuses himself from the room.

I stand on the hemming block in the center of the room, refusing to look at Derek. But he’s looking at me, and as my hurt continues to work through my entire body, I let my tongue do what it does best. “Why do you hate me so much?”

He says nothing, but stands and moves to me. Reaching around behind me, he pulls the zipper of the dress down, and then, returning his hands to my shoulders, he pulls the straps down, exposing first my small breasts, and then the rest of my naked body as it falls to the floor.

He leans in to my ear and speaks. “You don’t know anything about me.” He then takes me by the hand and pulls me to stand in front of the mirror, and leaning to my ear once more as I watch him in the mirror, he speaks gently. “Lean forward and put your palms on the mirror.”

I do as I’m told, appraising my tear-streaked face with embarrassment in the mirror as I bend over. His hand trails slowly down my back and grips me at the waist as his other moves to his zipper and slowly pulls it down. My body is responding to him once again, and I like it. As much as his words stung me, I’ve missed this feeling, this unexpected desire. When his pants hit the floor, he reaches for my pussy, finding my wetness. He strokes, he caresses, and he gives me the touch I’ve wanted, all the while holding my eyes intently with his.