by Ivy Layne
"I know it's too much to ask. But I'll do anything." I stared him in the eye, daring him to doubt my commitment.
"Anything is a dangerous promise." Jacob tilted his head to the side. It should have been endearing. Instead, it made him look like a predator studying his prey. Me. I swallowed before I spoke, my throat thick with nerves.
"Before I left, Big John said he was going to shoot me up with heroin and chain me to a bed while a gang of bikers rapes me. I'll do anything that stops short of drugs and rape." More silence. Then Jacob picked up the phone on his desk.
"Rachel, reschedule my 11:15." He hung up the phone and studied me another long minute before he spoke. "I want you. I wanted you the first minute I saw you. You know that. It's why you came to me."
"I—" I stopped speaking. Without knowing where he was going, I didn't want to dig myself a hole. I fell silent, waiting to hear what he would say.
"I have a circumstance I find difficult to handle, Abigail," he went on. "Over the years, I've tried various methods of dealing with it, and none have met with success. I've been thinking it's time to try something new. And you're going to be my something new."
My mind raced. Jacob's lips had curved into a smile at the word 'new'. His top lip was severe, the bottom lushly full. Together, they drew the eye. Especially in a half-smile with a hint of mischief. His words, the smile, all sounded like he was going to help me. Now I just had to see what being his 'something new' would entail. Unable to force my mouth to move, I lifted my chin, inviting him to continue.
"I like sex," he said. "I like a lot of sex. I like variety. Kink. You've probably never heard of half of the things I've thought about doing to you. What I don't like is inconvenience." Jacob leaned forward, his eyes locked to mine, elbows resting on the polished wood of his desk.
"Relationships are inconvenient. They involve compromise, accommodation, and time. I don't have the patience for the first two or enough of the last. I don't want to get to know a woman. I'm not interested in intimacy outside of sex. What I want is to fuck when I want to fuck. And I want to fuck a woman I'm attracted to who will let me do anything I want to her."
"Will you hurt me?" My voice was high and tight. I don't know what I was expecting, but this matter-of-fact, efficient speech wasn't it. It was, however, far less scary than Big John's proposal.
"Yes," he answered. My stomach pitched. "But I won't damage you. And the kind of hurt I'm talking about? You'll like it."
"So how does it work?"
"You move in with me. You don't leave the house. Ever. You do nothing without my permission. I'm not looking for a woman. I'm looking for a pet. An obedient, available pet. Can you do that?"
I stared, not sure I could answer. I'd walked in prepared to trade my body for my mother's safety. It wasn't honorable, but it was the only thing of value I had to offer. But this, his dehumanizing description of what he wanted from me, had shocked the speech from my brain. Lips and tongue frozen, I forced myself to nod. I couldn't afford for Jacob to think twice. No matter how terrifying this sounded, I couldn't run away. He stood, pushed back his chair, and rounded his wide desk. Standing in front of me, he rested his hands on his hips and said,
"I think, before we go any further, I need a sample."
I stared up at him in dumb confusion. If my brain had been working, I'd have known exactly what he meant. Since I was slow, he clarified.
"Suck my cock."
CHAPTER TWO
ABIGAIL
* * *
Suck my cock.
I felt my eyes flare wide. I must have looked like a virginal child in my creamy white dress, staring at the bulge behind his well-cut suit pants, my hands trembling.
"Abigail," he said, voice even and treading the edge of impatience, "I dislike asking twice for something I want."
A gracious warning, but I knew it for what it was. This was my one chance. If I blew it, or didn't blow it, he'd continue looking for his 'something new' and I would be walking down the street, praying for a miracle that wasn't going to come. Lifting my unsteady hands, I reached for his black leather belt.
Once I started moving, Jacob was silent, apparently prepared to let me work through my nerves as long as I wasn't balking at his order. Sliding to the edge of the armchair, I unfastened his belt and lowered the zipper of his pants. Beneath the gray flannel wool, he wore fine cotton boxers in a dark blue. Involuntarily, I smiled. I don't know what I'd been expecting. Maybe commando? His dick to pop out and slap me in the face? Instead, he was clothed like any other man. Easing his boxers down, it hit me.
This was Jacob Winters. I was about to suck Jacob Winters's cock. Take it in my mouth, lick it, stroke and cup his balls. If I did a good job, he'd have his hands all over me. Fuck me, and more. He'd said he'd do things to me that I'd never even heard of. I'd seen him across more than one crowded, stifling charity event and dazed out imagining all the things I'd love to do to his beautiful body, knowing I'd never get the chance because I was married to John. And now I wasn't married. I had Jacob's cock in my hand, swelling and lengthening to a full, steely erection.
Holy Christ, there was no way that was going to fit in my mouth. At the sight of him, my pussy flooded with wet heat. Apparently, my body was on board with Jacob's proposition, even if my brain hadn't quite caught up. Leaning in, I drew in a breath. His scent flooded my brain—so male, the scent of heat and sex and lust.
Unable to help myself, I rubbed my cheek along the side of his fully erect cock before licking the swollen head. His size was intimidating. When I'd peeled down his boxers, he'd been half-hard and already bigger than any cock I'd ever seen, not that I'd seen that many. None that looked like Jacob. I wrapped my fingers around his girth and stroked, realizing that my fingers didn't come close to meeting.
This arrangement wasn't about my pleasure, but I couldn't deny that part of me was melting at the idea of having this cock fucking me on a regular basis. Aware that the clock was still ticking, I devoted myself to the task at hand. There was no way I could take Jacob's cock all the way. Not without a lot of practice. But there were other things I could do. Slowly, savoring the masculine flavor of him, I licked every inch of his cock until he was wet enough for my hand to move easily. Sliding my lips down as far as I could, I sucked hard, giving his length a stroke in rhythm with my mouth. And again.
My brain clicked off as I got into the groove, allowing my saliva to escape the tight ring of my lips, keeping the movement of my hand tight and slick. He was literally mouthwatering. I'd never liked going down on John. But now, with Jacob? Maybe it was the illicit nature of what I was doing, bartering myself for his protection. Or maybe it was just that this was Jacob, the man I'd been secretly lusting after since I'd first met him four years ago.
I didn't care. The rest of the world dropped away, narrowed down to his cock in my mouth and my hand sliding over his hard flesh. I drew back, stroking again, sliding my tongue over the head of his cock, tasting the first drops of pre-cum. Above me, Jacob was silent, his hands still on his hips.
His cock didn't lie. He loved my mouth on him. I ran my tongue against his salty skin on the upstroke, eager to coax out more of his come. I had a feeling that Jacob was about control in the bedroom. I might not have many chances like this, to have him at my mercy. I wanted to give him everything I had while I could.
Leaning forward in the armchair was getting awkward. Pulling back, I released him for only a second before dropping to my knees in front of him. Tugging down his pants and boxers, I dove back in, but not before I caught the look in Jacob's flashing silver eyes. He might have been silent, but his eyes were molten, burning with lust. At his look, my nipples tightened into hard, needy beads.
I wouldn't lie to myself. I wanted this. Wanted to be his. His pet. I wanted his cock in my mouth. Wanted it in me everywhere I could get it. Greedy to touch all of him, I slipped my free hand between his legs and cupped his tight sack, squeezing it with a gentle touch.
Above me, I heard a
moan. The low, hungry sound drove my arousal higher. Heat pulsed between my legs. I sucked harder, stroking my tongue up the underside of his cock over and over as my hand slid around the length that didn't fit in my mouth, twisting and sliding, close to frenzied. I needed too much. Needed him to come for me, to make him feel the same rush of pleasure and heat that I felt having him in my mouth.
With a moan of my own, I reached behind him, sinking my fingers into the warm skin covering his perfect, tight ass, dragging him closer, driving his cock deeper into my mouth. He hit the back of my throat before I was ready and, for a second, I choked.
Jacob tried to pull back, but I wouldn't let him. I held him as deep as I could bear, my throat convulsing on the head of his weeping cock, wishing it was my empty pussy. Jacob gave up trying to pull back and gripped my head, holding me still as he stiffened in orgasm, spilling his come down my throat. I drank it, eager for the taste. I didn't know what had come over me—why I'd needed him so much when I'd never wanted a cock in my mouth before. I wasn't going to wonder about it. I was just going to be happy I'd loved every second of it.
It was a revelation. Epiphany by blow-job. I wasn't going to worry for a while. Wasn't going to be afraid. I was going to enjoy everything I could and get through what I didn't like. Good to know blow-jobs weren't going to be a hardship. Jacob released his hold on my head, easing back until his cock popped from my lips, leaving a trace of his come on my cheek.
With the same faint, mischievous smile I'd seen earlier, he wiped it off with one long finger, offering it to me. I opened my mouth and sucked it in, licking the few drops of come off his salty, sweet skin. Another thing I'd never been into before. But I liked the taste of Jacob's come. Lucky for me, given how this was going. He watched me sucking his finger, the banked heat in his eyes sending another pulse of desire between my legs. I already knew better than to ask if he was going to take care of me. That was the question of a lover. I was to be a pet. I didn't get to ask questions like that.
He withdrew his finger and gave me a pointed look, then flicked his eyes to his boxers and suit pants, slouched around his knees. I got the message and carefully slid his underwear, then his pants, back into place. He took over, tucking in his shirt and fastening his belt. Reaching out a hand, he helped me to my feet, then gestured for me to take a seat back in the armchair.
I did as he ordered, crossing my legs, conscious that my panties were soaked. Thankfully, the linen shift was lined, or I'd probably leak through my dress and leave a wet spot on the leather. My body felt like a foreign thing, disconnected from my uncertain emotions. Fear and hope were a roller coaster in my brain, but my body was on a different track. At the idea of touching Jacob, fucking Jacob, my body was all in.
"So." Jacob leaned back in his chair, watching me with eyes almost as cool as they'd been when I'd entered his office a short time before. "Terms. For every month you stay with me, I pay for your mother's care. If you stay more than a year, we'll discuss a more permanent arrangement for her. You will remain inside my home at all times, at least in the beginning. Among other things, I want to assure myself that you'll be safe. Big John won't want to let you go."
He stopped, seeming to want some kind of response from me. My head was spinning, the taste of his come on my tongue a heady distraction as he talked about terms as if we were going over a contract. Which I guess we were. I nodded, not sure I could trust myself to say anything intelligent.
"I'll arrange for you to have a laptop and a credit card. You can buy what you like, within reason."
"What's within reason?" I asked, before my brain could tell me to shut up. Definitely couldn't trust myself to say something intelligent. He raised one dark eyebrow at me.
"No diamonds or cars. Clothes, make-up, books . . . whatever you need to be comfortable is fine."
More than fair. Considering the cost of my mother's care, it was beyond generous. I nodded again. At that, he stood. I copied him, not sure what was going to happen next. Was he taking me home? Would he bend me over the desk and fuck me? The very un-demure, unladylike part of me, the part that would have appalled my very proper mother, was hoping it was the latter. Sadly, he turned toward his office door, and with his hand on my back, propelled me into the reception area. With a nod for his assistant as we passed, he pressed the button for the elevator. Over his shoulder, he said,
"I'll be back shortly, Rachel."
"Yes, sir."
I'd barely noticed the elevator on the way up, too nervous to pay attention to detail. Like Jacob's office, it had an old-world elegance, all polished wood and thick carpeting with what I was sure was an original oil painting hung on the back wall. The elevator rose in a smooth surge, surprising me. I'd assumed he was bringing me to his home. Did he live upstairs?
Taking a closer look at the panel beside the door, I saw that the button labeled with a 'P' was lit. Jacob lived in the penthouse. He probably owned the whole building. As the elevator glided to a stop, a dizzying sense of vertigo hit me. Of course he owned the building. He owned a good portion of the city. Including me.
The doors slid open to reveal the gleaming hardwood floor of a foyer, surrounded by smooth, creamy walls, the heavy, complicated moldings at the ceiling a soft white. More oil paintings like the one in the elevator. A narrow table sat against one wall with a stack of mail on top, a half-open gym bag slouching beneath. The human touch in all this elegant beauty reminded me where we were. Jacob's home. And now mine, for however long this lasted.
A long hall, lined with white wainscoting, led to the rest of the penthouse. I followed Jacob, intensely curious about the space this man would call his home. For someone who was so contained, who preferred a pet to a girlfriend, I'd expected cold and austere. Instead, his home was as warm and elegant as his office.
The long hall opened into a wide space with a kitchen and breakfast area on one side and a huge sitting room complete with couches, an armchair and an oversized television on the other. Filled with more polished antiques, except for the television, the space managed to be both impressive and welcoming.
Without a glance at me, Jacob continued through the great room and turned down another hallway. I spotted what looked like a dining room on one side, then an office behind glass French doors on the other. Another turn, and Jacob stopped to open a door. He entered the room and held the door open for me to follow.
Inside, I saw an enormous black canopy bed covered with a snow white, fluffy duvet, the dark headboard partially blocked with matching white pillows. I got the vague impression of bedside tables in the same deep black, and an armchair in the corner, but the bed had most of my attention. It was both the most inviting thing I'd seen in ages and somewhat intimidating. Not unlike Jacob himself. It didn't take much imagination to picture some of the things Jacob could do to me in that bed.
I shifted, rubbing my thighs together, suddenly aware of how aroused I'd been only a few minutes before, kneeling in front of Jacob after sucking his cock. His taste lingered on my tongue. I wasn't sure if I was hoping he'd brought me here to fuck me, or afraid he had.
My head spinning with nerves, relief, arousal and heavy exhaustion, I looked at Jacob, waiting for him to say something. That half-smile was back, giving me the uncomfortable sense that he was reading my mind.
"This will be your room for the duration of your stay. I need to get back to work, but I'll be back after six tonight."
"Would you like me to make dinner?" I asked, sounding far more wifely than I'd intended.
"I forgot," he said, a gleam of new interest in his eyes. "John used to brag about your cooking."
"I took classes," I said, feeling stupid. I was a college drop-out, but I'd been to every cooking class in a hundred-mile radius. John hadn't wanted a wife with a degree in education. He'd wanted one who could hold dinner parties with intricately folded napkins and complicated gourmet food.
"Not tonight," Jacob said. "I'll have something sent in. We'll talk about what you can cook over dinner
tonight. I wouldn't mind coming home to a hot meal once in a while."
I nodded, not sure what else to do. Normally, I was fabulous with small talk. Large groups or one-on-one, I was one of those people who always knew what to say. Even with Jacob, when we'd met during my marriage, I was never at a loss for words. But back then, I'd been the wife of a colleague. Now I was his pet. An indentured sexual servant.
On top of all the other shocks I'd experienced since John's death, this one seemed to have frozen my social skills. I felt as though I'd used every ounce of intelligence and resolve to get away from Big John. Once Jacob had agreed to my plan, I'd hit empty, run down like a wind-up toy at the end of its cycle. I glanced at the huge, fluffy bed again. It looked like heaven. Following my gaze, Jacob said,
"Why don't you relax? Take a nap. There's food in the fridge if you're hungry." He started for the door to the bedroom, not waiting for me to respond. Before he disappeared into the hall, he turned back, pinning me with those brilliant silver eyes.
"I'm glad you came to me, Abigail. I think we'll solve each other's problems nicely. Now get some rest."
"Is that an order?" I asked, the question somehow sounding both flirtatious and uncertain.
"Yes," he answered, his gaze serious. "Everything that you are is mine now. And I take care of what belongs to me."
At that scary pronouncement, he vanished, leaving me alone. I stood in the center of my new bedroom, undecided. I wasn't hungry. I knew I should be. I hadn't been eating much lately. But too much coffee early in the day, on top of the fear twisting my stomach since the moment I'd slipped from my bed before dawn, left me disinterested in food. But a shower—that was a different story. I felt like I'd been wearing these clothes for weeks. And if the bedroom was this nice, what did the bathroom look like?
I didn't wait to find out. Crossing the room, I pushed open the door to find it was about the size of the master bath in the home I'd shared with John. We'd had a very nice house, a semi-custom two-story with a basement on a few acres on the edge of the Jordans’ land. Spacious and new, it was nicer than most, though not as nice as the home I'd grown up in. Jacob's place left both my former homes in the dust.