His Every Need

by Terri L. Austin

  “You did what?” she asked, still reeling from the sex contract. Now he was going to dictate what she wore? “You made me a shopping list?”

  He pushed back from the table. “No appreciation necessary. Seeing you in a natural fiber will be thanks enough.” He scooped up the papers she’d signed and patted her head as he left the room.

  “Wait,” she called, but he didn’t come back. Damn him.

  She rubbed the top of her head where he’d patted her. Allie was getting tired of his condescension. But what could she do about it? She’d just signed papers to make her role official. She couldn’t back out now.

  Maybe that’s why he hadn’t wanted sex last night. Maybe he was waiting to get all the details down in legalese.

  Fingering the embossed numbers on the credit card, she frowned. Some women would kill for this opportunity, to live here, to have all their expenses paid—to have sex with Trevor Blake. She wasn’t one of them.

  She tucked the card in the pocket of her jeans. Then, plucking a strip of bacon from her plate, she went to find Simmons.

  Allie had the blond chauffeur drop her off at home first. While he remained in the car, she let herself inside. Since she was rarely home by herself during the day, she stood in the living room, taking in the quiet—except for the high-pitched whine of the refrigerator. Somehow, her dad never got around to fixing it.

  Making her way to the kitchen, she surveyed the damage. A carton of milk had been left on the counter, coffee grounds were spilled in the sink, and a dirty pan sat on the stove. She hoped her dad had at least remembered to make Monica and Brynn lunch.

  Allie put the milk away and found the pork chops from yesterday still in the fridge, so she wrote her dad a quick note on how to prepare them and propped it next to the coffeepot. And she needed to remind her father that Monday was trash day. He always forgot.

  She washed a load of laundry and cleaned up the kitchen. Then, taking one last glance around, she knew she couldn’t put it off any longer. It was time to go to shopping.

  ***

  Six hours later, she was exhausted. Nancy, her nice but rather manic personal shopper, made Allie try on more clothes than any one person could possibly need. And as Simmons and Arnold made trip after trip from the car to Allie’s room, she watched the bags pile up around her. For what she’d spent at Agent Provocateur on underwear, she could have bought a used car.

  “Why don’t I bring you a cup of tea, miss?” Frances asked from the doorway. “Then you can have yourself a nice hot bath, and I’ll put these things away for you.”

  “No, that’s okay. I’ll put everything away myself.”

  With a frown, Frances looked at the dozens of bags littering the room. “But it’s my job.”

  Some of the things on Trevor’s list were pretty risqué—barely there thongs with ruffles, completely transparent teddies, and sheer waspies—corset-like bands that circled the waist with garters dangling from them. She’d never seen one before today. She was used to buying her underwear in packages of six.

  “I don’t mind,” Allie said.

  “All right, but I’m bringing your tea, and that’s that.”

  Once Frances was gone, Allie pulled out the more questionable purchases of the day and shoved them in a dresser drawer. This really was mistress wear.

  The fact that Trevor had specifically requested all this made her stomach knot in worry. The man obviously knew what he wanted, was used to women wearing this type of thing. Allie was comfortable in an old T-shirt and pajama pants. Trevor’s other women must be in a completely different sexual category. Allie would never measure up. Not that she cared what Trevor thought. If he didn’t like her lack of technique, too bad. Maybe he’d send her home.

  Frances reappeared with a tea tray. “Make sure you eat, now. You hardly touched your breakfast. I’m going to run you a bath.”

  Falling onto the bed, Allie grabbed a sandwich and ate. She had finished her second cup of tea by the time Frances reentered the room.

  “All ready. In you go, and I’ll put away the rest of your things.”

  While being waited on still made her feel like a diva, Allie gave in. With a smile of thanks, she slipped into the bathroom. Humidity from the hot water made her skin damp, and the tub brimmed over with frothy bubbles that smelled of lavender. She hadn’t had a bubble bath since she was a little girl.

  Quickly shedding her clothes, she pinned up her hair before sliding into the water. God, it felt good—soothing and warm. She’d just started to drift off when the door opened. Thinking it was Frances, she smiled and opened her eyes to find Trevor staring at her.

  Allie’s heartbeat kicked up a notch. “What are you doing in here?” Granted, it was a stupid question, but he’d taken her by surprise. She sank further into the suds and slapped an arm over both breasts as if she were a virgin in a Regency novel. She knew she was behaving like an idiot, but that didn’t stop her from covering the girls.

  “What do you think I’m doing? Taking tea with the queen? I’m here to speak with you, of course.” He’d removed the jacket and tie from this morning, undone a couple buttons at his throat, and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. With his black hair and wicked gray eyes, Trevor looked sexy and disheveled. He strolled into the room and parked on the side of the tub. Stretching out his legs, he made himself at home. “Did you have a good day, Miss Campbell?”

  “Shopping on a rich man’s dime. Oh, yes—I’ve reached the pinnacle.” Every word carried the sting of sarcasm.

  “You haven’t come close to the pinnacle, Miss Campbell. And you’ll know when you’ve reached it, because you’ll be screaming my name.” His eyes met hers as he scooped his hand into the tub, skimming her thigh in the process. She skittishly shifted her leg and watched him, her attention fixed, as he brought a palm full of bubbles to his lips. He blew them at her, and a bubble blob landed on her nose.

  He laughed when she crossed her eyes to stare at it. Swiping at it, she left an even bigger blob on her face.

  “Allow me.” Trevor bent toward her. He was so close she could see the lighter flecks of silver in his eyes. Softly, he brushed off the bubbles. “There.” He slid one finger across her jaw. “Did you get everything on my list?”

  He still didn’t move back. His clean scent teased her and mixed with the lavender. It was a compelling combination. The open collar of his shirt left a V-shaped gap, exposing the hollow of his throat. Allie’s gaze flickered to the pulse beating there, lifted over his stubble-covered chin, lingered for a brief second on his firm lips, and finally, she stared into his eyes. “Your list was ridiculous.”

  He held her gaze for a moment before brushing her lips with his own. Then, straightening, he again trailed his hand through the bubbles, but this time, he lowered his fingers into the water and found her leg. She froze when he slid his palm along her calf, rubbing down to her ankle until he held her foot. “My lists are never ridiculous. You can try everything on for me after you get out of the tub.”

  She tried to pull away, but he kept a firm grip on her heel and took it out of the water, placing it on his leg. He didn’t seem to care that his pants were getting soaked.

  “Forget it, English. I spent the whole day trying that stuff on, and I’m not going through it again.”

  He began kneading the bottom of her foot, and his soapy hand slid up the arch, to her toes, then back down to her heel. He increased the pressure right where she needed it. “So you don’t enjoy shopping?”

  “Maybe your other mistresses love it, but I don’t.”

  “You seem very preoccupied with my mistresses, Miss Campbell. Afraid you won’t measure up?”

  Again, she tried to pull her foot from his hands, but he held on and continued to massage. She wasn’t going to lie—at least not to herself—his thumbs pressing into her arch felt wonderful. She al
most sighed in pleasure but caught herself at the last second. She barely refrained from thrusting her other foot in his lap and having him rub that one too.

  “So, you do this type of thing all the time?” she asked.

  “Rub women’s feet?”

  “Pay them to have sex with you? If that’s the case, God only knows what you’ve caught. You could be a walking petri dish.”

  His face became a blank mask. “If I recall, it was your idea to barter your services.”

  “I didn’t hear you protesting.” She sank further into the water. “I want you to wear a condom. Every time.”

  “That’s terribly unfortunate, Miss Campbell. I like to ride bareback, feel every sensation as it were. No barriers. Just my skin against yours.”

  Now her cheeks were on fire. But she wouldn’t back down. “Tough. I’m not taking any chances.”

  Sighing heavily, he shook his head in mock sadness. “Though it will be a tremendous sacrifice, I suppose I could glove up. But just so you know, it won’t be the same.”

  “You’re still not funny.”

  He continued to rub her heel, edging toward her ankle. Switching up the pressure, he’d rub firm circles into her muscles one minute and use a soft caress the next. Then, with deliberate, leisurely strokes, his hands glided up her calf to circle the back of her knee. The look in his eyes dared her to stop him.

  And she should have. She should have protested, slammed her legs together, but she didn’t move. She was mesmerized by those gray eyes, the slick hands, and the skillful fingers dancing across her skin. It had been so long since anyone had touched her like this. She wanted more.

  Leaning slightly forward, Trevor’s fingers trailed even further north. When he reached her inner thigh, his grazing touch was so light it almost tickled. His hand moved closer—closer to her aching core.

  Her mouth parted. Just another inch and he’d reached it.

  Then he slowly, too damn slowly, slid one finger inside her. Closing her eyes, Allie held her breath, waited for him to move. This shouldn’t be happening. She didn’t even know him. But it felt too good to stop.

  “Open your eyes.”

  Heart pounding, she heeded his command and watched his impassive face as he slipped another finger inside her. Scissoring them, he used his thumb to trace around her clit. Back and forth, those fingers came together and slid apart, alternately stretching and filling her. She’d never felt anything so delicious.

  In only moments, an orgasm rocked through her body. Allie’s eyes drifted shut as she arched her back. With one arm still hiding her breasts, her hands clenched into fists and her toes flexed.

  “Look at me,” he said softly.

  Once again, her eyes flickered open. Trevor’s jaw tightened, his was breath choppy.

  As he continued to move within her, waves of pleasure rippled from her pussy outward. The cooling water lapped over her hips until the aftershocks subsided. But as her body relaxed, Trevor’s fingers stayed buried deep inside her. “The next time you come, Miss Campbell, you will scream my name. Count on it.” Then he gave her an arrogant grin and very gently removed his hand from her body.

  Angry at herself for being such an easy mark, for being so desperate that she virtually panted for his touch, she plunged her free hand into the water and fumbled around for the loofah. She flung it at him with her left hand, but it still managed to hit him square in the chest with a wet thud. “Get out.”

  He rose to his feet, his now-soaked white shirt transparent and plastered to his sculpted body—his defined pecs, his lean abdomen. He was every bit as hard and ripped as she’d imagined. She wanted to touch that chest and see for herself how firm it was. Skim her hands over each and every abdominal ridge.

  And then she noticed his erection. His very large erection.

  “Don’t stare, darling. Unless you’d like a closer look?”

  She should be embarrassed, but instead, she actually wanted a closer inspection. How big was it? How thick? Her heart pounding, Allie pulled her gaze away from his cock. It was more difficult than it should have been. “Get. Out.”

  With a smile, he walked to the door. “See you at dinner, Miss Campbell.”

  After he was gone, Allie took a deep breath and submerged herself beneath the bubbles. But she couldn’t wash away the memories of Trevor observing her when she was at her most vulnerable, the way he carefully watched her reaction with his heated gaze, never taking his eyes from her as his fingers moved inside her. It was more intimate than anything she’d ever experienced. And she didn’t even like him. So how was she supposed to face him after that?

  ***

  Standing at her bedroom door, Allie smoothed her hand down the front of her light blue dress. Okay, so Trevor finger banged her earlier. Hardly the end of the world. And he watched her have an orgasm. Big deal. It was a biological reaction. Like sneezing.

  And she shouldn’t be embarrassed about their condom conversation either. That was just taking care of business. True, she was on the pill. Had been for years. She started in college and kept up the habit, even though no man had been anywhere near her since…Trevor Blake. He had been near. He’d been inside her.

  She ignored the heat flooding her cheeks. Stupid blushing.

  Grabbing the door handle, she gathered her courage and left the room. But when she walked down the stairs, Trevor wasn’t waiting for her this time. He wasn’t in the dining room either.

  Holding out a chair, Arnold dipped his head in greeting. “Mr. Blake has been tied up with business. I’m afraid he will be unable to dine with you this evening.”

  Although Allie had been nervous about seeing him again, she was actually disappointed by his absence. God, what was wrong with her? Was she getting that Stockholm Syndrome thing, where she identified with her captor?

  She needed to get a grip. She didn’t have Stockholm Syndrome, and if Trevor couldn’t join her, that was a good thing.

  Arnold served her a bowl of green soup and retreated. She felt like an idiot, eating alone at the long, polished table. Though for once, she could relax. She didn’t have to be on guard with Trevor at her elbow, watching her, teasing her with that droll, sarcastic sense of humor. She was happy to eat in peace. Very happy. Ecstatic, in fact.

  After dinner, she was at a loss for what to do, so she decided to wander around the first floor and look at the antique knickknacks. And Allie didn’t care what Trevor said, an auction house was just a fancy yard sale but with older shit.

  She started at the far end of the house, nearest the dining room, and stepped into a salon…parlor? Sitting room? She didn’t know its official title, but it was wallpapered in egg-yolk yellow. It didn’t seem like Trevor’s style at all. Not that she was an expert or anything, but his office contained large, comfortable leather chairs and that huge wooden desk—warm, manly furnishings. A few expensive-looking landscapes as well. But this room was the exact opposite.

  Fussy and filled with hand-painted Chinese cabinets and porcelain bowls, an enormous Buddha watched her from the corner. So…the Asian room, then? Really, theme rooms? Well, this was Vegas.

  She walked out into the hall and glanced down at a case that held antique gunpowder flasks. Why did Trevor buy all this? Did he wake up one morning, suddenly fascinated with carved Spanish daggers? Because there were seventeen of them mounted in individual glass boxes and hanging along one wall.

  As she drifted from room to room, she saw stunning landscapes, busts of ancient Roman women, and a flock of porcelain shepherds scattered across a mantel. She hoped he had a killer security system and a hell of a lot of insurance.

  Finally, she stumbled onto a round room in the back of the house with a giant flat-screen TV and a squishy, overstuffed green sofa. Kicking off her shoes, she curled her legs under her and grabbed the remote from the coffee table.


  At least he had satellite. After the insurance company had denied the experimental treatment her mother needed two years ago, Allie’s family had dropped their cable and every other nonessential expense—not that she had much time to watch television anyway.

  Flipping through the stations, she settled on a thriller she’d already seen. Her mind wandered as she watched. She’d tried to call Brynn this evening before dinner, but no one answered at the house. And her call went to voice mail when she’d tried Brynn’s cell. She’d call again once she got back up to her room. Brynn couldn’t shut her out forever.

  With her chin propped on her palm, Allie’s eyes drifted shut.

  ***

  Trevor found her curled up on the sofa, her face lovely and relaxed. He wished he could relax. After he’d seen her lounging in the tub all pink and glowing, after caressing her soft, wet skin, he’d spent two and a half hours in the gym, punching a bag, running on the treadmill, lifting weights. He’d wanked off in the shower, but it had barely taken the edge off his aching cock. He’d finger fucked her for God’s sake. He hadn’t planned on touching her at all. His lack of self-control was bothersome. And bringing her here was a mistake, one of the worst ideas he’d had in a good, long while.

  He grabbed the remote and turned off the television. Allie didn’t move. Her legs, bent at the knee, were long and bare. The hem of her light blue dress had risen to the curve of her perfectly shaped bottom, revealing the hint of a round globe. He hadn’t seen her ass yet. Or her breasts. He’d touched her, watched her come, but hadn’t gotten so much as a glimpse of the best bits.

  Crossing his arms over his chest, he couldn’t pull his gaze away from her. With a deep breath, he forced himself to look away from that luscious ass and back to her face, her tousled hair.

  He’d made up his mind this evening. He was going to have to keep his distance. No more naked Allie. No more bathtub visits. No more touching. It was just too bloody frustrating.