His Every Need (5 page)

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.

He should send her home to her family. It was stupid, keeping her here without shagging
her senseless. But every time he thought about letting her go, he rejected the idea.
And she hadn’t cleared her debt. Besides, he liked taunting her, saying outrageous
things, watching those cheeks fill with color.

Bloody hell, when had he turned into such a rambling twat?

Reaching out, he poked her in the arm. Her brows furrowed, but she didn’t awaken.
So he grabbed a strand of white-blond hair and tickled her nose with it. Still asleep,
she brushed at her face with one hand.

“Miss Campbell,” he whispered. With the strand of hair still in his hand, he ran it
along the seam of her lips. “Oh, Miss Campbell.”

“Go away.” She shifted her bottom against the back of the sofa, making the dress ride
up further. He sneaked a peek and saw half of her peach-shaped ass hanging out, just
waiting to be palmed.

With a scowl, he poked her again. A little harder this time. “It’s midnight, Miss
Campbell. You should be upstairs in bed, before you turn into a pumpkin.”

She groaned.

Sighing, he bent and scooped her up. Her light fragrance surrounded him, making him
want to haul her up to his room and spend the rest of the night buried inside of her.
Did she smell that good all over? He’d love to find out. Instead, he shifted her a
bit and carried her out of the room. As he walked toward the stairs, she snuggled
herself more comfortably in his arms, resting her head against his shoulder. She felt
right there.

As soon as it crossed his mind, he stopped cold. That was a bloody stupid thought.
She was just new, that was all, a novelty in his life. He stared down at her beautiful
face. He would grow tired of looking at it. And it wouldn’t take two months either.

He leaned his head down and whispered in her ear, “I’m going to take you upstairs
and fuck you senseless, Allison.”

Her eyelids flickered. “Mmmkay.” Suddenly, her eyes popped open and realization crept
in. She began struggling then, her hands pushing at his chest.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” He set her on her feet.

She stood in front of him and tugged at the hem of her dress, smoothing it over her
hips as she looked up at him with sleepy eyes. “What’s going on?”

“I was carrying you to bed, Miss Campbell. But I’m glad you awakened before I had
to drag your bum all the way up the stairs. There are a great many of them, and you
were becoming quite burdensome.” He spun her around by the shoulders, reached out,
and gave her bottom a little pat. His hand wanted to linger, but he made himself pull
back. “Off you go. Nighty night.”

She looked up to the top of the stairs and back at him. “Aren’t you coming?”

Curling his lip, he thrust his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “Unfortunately,
no.”

***

When Allie opened her eyes the next morning, the sun was barely up. She glanced at
the clock next to the bed and groaned. Six-thirty and she wouldn’t be able to go back
to sleep. Not after thoughts of last night flooded her brain.

He’d sent her toddling off to bed as if she were a child. She was here for his sexual
needs, and every time he didn’t demand she meet them, anxiety filled her, ballooning
larger until she felt ready to burst. If Trevor didn’t want her, why didn’t he just
let her go? She was convinced he was playing some twisted mind game. Still, what could
she do about it?

Throwing back the covers, she headed for the shower. When she walked into the breakfast
room, almost an hour later, Trevor’s chair was empty. She gazed around the room for
a second, then Frances entered with a carafe of coffee.

“Hungry, love?”

“Just coffee, thanks.” Allie refused to ask about Trevor. If he wanted to go AWOL
during meal times, it wasn’t her business. “Frances, can I use a car this morning?
I have some errands.”

“Certainly, there’s a car in the garage at your disposal. Mr. Blake also requested
that you meet him in the foyer at noon.” Frances set a cup in front of her with a
wink and left.

As Allie sipped her coffee, the house remained eerily quiet. It was like living in
a museum. She missed the whine of her old refrigerator, the sound of her sisters’
bickering.

After jogging up to her room and grabbing her purse, Allie made her way outside and
around the corner of the house. In a garage that was larger than her own home, Simmons
cleaned the interior of the limo. He shut off the vacuum when he saw her. “Good morning.”

“Good morning. Hey, I need to borrow a car.” She eyed the six vehicles parked inside.
There was a little yellow roadster she liked the look of, but the thought of wrecking
the vintage car made her nervous.

“How about I drive you?” Simmons nodded toward the limo. “I’ll be finished in a second.”

Allie shook her head. “That’s okay.”

“Then why don’t you take the Mercedes? It’s all gassed up and ready to go.” He plucked
a set of keys dangling from a hook.

Allie took them and slid behind the wheel, adjusted the seat and mirrors. The mixture
of new car smell and expensive leather was intoxicating. Much better than the Festiva’s
odor of old burger wrappers and exhaust fumes.

She slowly and carefully drove across town. She didn’t want to add to her debt by
dinging Trevor’s car.

She pulled up to the house and parked on the curb. In the driveway, her dad was bent
in half beneath the hood of his old Ford truck. When Allie slammed the Mercedes’ door,
he lifted his head and did a double take. Grabbing a rag at his side, he wiped his
wrench as she approached.

The lines around his eyes seemed deeper, even more pronounced than they had only two
days ago. “Hey, Al. Very fancy ride.”

Allie shrugged and moved to hug him. “Mr. Blake’s letting me use it.”

He stepped back, out of reach. “No, Al, I don’t want to get you all dirty.”

She glanced down at the black-and-white sundress she wore. “Oh, right. How are things
going? Everybody doing okay? Did Brynn put the towels in the dryer yesterday?”

He tossed the wrench in the toolbox. “You better come inside, Al. We need to talk.”

“What’s wrong?” Allie trailed her father to the kitchen and watched him wash in the
sink. Her mom hated it when he cleaned up in the kitchen, but she could never break
him of the habit.

He grabbed a paper towel and wiped his dripping hands. “Monica didn’t get home until
three this morning. Wouldn’t tell me where she’d been.”

“Oh my God, this is crazy. What is she thinking?” Allie started walking out the door,
ready to confront her sister, but his voice halted her steps.

“Don’t bother. She was gone again this morning when I got up.”

Allie faced him. “And you have no idea who she’s with, where she’s gone?” She placed
her palm on her forehead and sighed. “That kid is driving me crazy.”

“Brynn thinks Monica has a new boyfriend, some guy she met at a party.”

Fear mixed with the anger churning inside her. Who knew what kind of parties Monica
had been going to? Drinking for sure. Drugs? Maybe. “At a party,” she repeated. “Do
we even know this guy’s name?”

Her dad shook his head and leaned against the counter, rubbing his bloodshot eyes.
“No. I know it doesn’t make sense, but this is how she’s dealing with your mom’s death.
She’s grieving.”

“We’re all grieving. That’s no excuse,” Allie said. “You call her friends, and I’ll
check online, see if she’s updated her status. Maybe she posted something that will
help.”

“Those friends of hers aren’t going to tell us anything. You should know that by now.”

“So we do nothing? Monica can’t keep going on like this, Dad, and you shouldn’t let
her.”

He dropped the grease-stained hand from his face. “What do you want me to do, Al?
She’s eighteen. I can’t force her to come home.” He pushed away from the counter and
sat at the kitchen table.

Allie dropped down next to him and grabbed his arm. “Dad, she’s irresponsible. She’s
going to get herself into real trouble. What would Mom say?”

He jerked his arm back, shaking off Allie’s hand. “Mom’s not here. In case you haven’t
figured it out, we’re on our own.” His deep voice boomed. “And I know I’m failing
her. I don’t need you to tell me that.” Pushing out of his seat, he stormed off, his
work boots pounding against the floor before he slammed out of the house.

Allie jumped at the sound. God, she was so tired of all this. But she couldn’t sit
there, worrying about Monica for the rest of the day. She needed to keep busy. So
Allie forced herself to get up and clean the kitchen. After she swept the floor, she
threw the neglected towels in the dryer and did another load of wash.

In the girls’ room, she found Brynn sitting cross-legged on one of the twin beds,
her laptop open in front of her. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to
be at what’s-his-name’s place?”

“Trevor.” Allie plopped down on the bed and tapped her elbow against Brynn’s arm.
“And there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. I’ve missed you.”

“Huh, right.”

“I tried calling you last night, but you never answered.”

“I know. I was still mad at you.” Brynn leaned over and rested her head on Allie’s
shoulder for a brief second before moving away. “Monica was out all night. When she
got home, World War Three started.”

Allie sat motionless. Brynn actually touched her. Voluntarily. It had been a long
time since her sister had sought any kind of comfort, and Allie wasn’t going to make
a big deal about it, but she wanted to throw her arms around Brynnie and hug her back.
Maybe this was progress. She cleared her throat. “Yeah, I heard. Any idea where she
is now?”

“No, but she’s dating some new guy. His name is Brad, and he’s a total douche.”

“Do we know the douche’s last name?” Allie asked.

“No, she unfriended me, so I can’t spy on her. I’m not even sure where they met. But
he’s older than her. Like as old as you.”

“Yeah, twenty-five is ancient,” Allie said. But it wasn’t funny. Monica was headed
down a dangerous path, and the last thing she needed was some loser leading the way.

Brynn picked at the toe of her tennis shoe. “My guidance counselor had a meeting with
Dad yesterday.”

Well, hell. Allie didn’t know how much more bad news she could take. And Brynn was
always the quiet one, she never got in trouble at school. “Why didn’t he tell me?
Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Dad said you were too busy with your new job and we shouldn’t worry you with
this stuff.”

This was exactly the type of thing she should know. She was gone for two days and
look at what happened. Monica was missing and Brynn had trouble at school. “No, honey,
I’m never too busy for you. Tell me about this counselor meeting.”

Brynn rolled her eyes. “Ms. Castor thinks I’m depressed because of Mom. Like um, hello?
She says I’m not engaged enough. I need to add some extracurriculars and start participating
in class more. Like it’s not enough that I get straight As? Now I have to talk too?”

“What did Dad say?”

“Dad totally agreed with her. He sat there staring and nodding like he was hypnotized.
Now I have to join at least one club.” She poked herself in the chest. “You know I’m
not a joiner.”

It might be good for Brynn to break out of her shell a bit, make a couple new friends,
speak up once in a while. But, if Allie sided with the school counselor, she’d further
alienate her sister. She chose her words carefully. “I know it’s unfair that she’s
forcing this on you. But maybe you can pick something that’s not too terrible? Maybe
Spanish or Math Club?”

Brynn’s eyes widened. “Do you
want
me to get beaten up on the bus?”

“No?”

“I’ll figure something out. She gave me a book to choose from. But I am not talking
in class, so she can just get over it.” Brynn was so adamant, Allie simply nodded
and kept her own mouth shut.

Then Brynn peered up at her. “Can you make me a grilled cheese or something?”

Allie couldn’t remember the last time she didn’t have to prod Brynn to eat. “Yeah,
of course. Want tomato soup with it?”

“Do we have goldfish?”

“No, but we could go get some.” Allie reached out and patted Brynn’s leg.

“Okay.” She nibbled her lip. “And maybe we could watch a movie or something?”

Allie wrinkled her brow. “I don’t know. You’re not going to make me watch another
teen vampire movie, are you?”

Brynn actually smiled. “Maybe.”

“You’re cruel, Brynnie. Very cruel.”

Allie was supposed to be back at the mistress mansion by twelve, but to hell with
that. Her sister needed her. Trevor Blake could wait.

***

Trevor stood in the foyer and glanced at his watch for the seventh time in the last
twenty minutes. He tried calling the cell phone he’d given Allie, but it kept going
to voice mail. He shouldn’t have let her go off on her own, should have had Simmons
drive her. What if she had gotten into an accident?

No, that was ludicrous. Of course she hadn’t been in an accident, she was simply defying
him. And that had him fuming.

He’d paid off her family’s debt, forgiven her father’s loan, bought her a whole new
bloody wardrobe, and kept his cock to himself. All that he asked in return was that
she be here at noon. So he could take her to fucking lunch.

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Well, she would regret this little act
of rebellion. Yes, she would very much regret inconveniencing him today.

He stalked to his office. Loosening his tie, he shoved back his chair and fell into
it as he stared blankly at one of the computer screens. Mistress, indeed. It was high
time he got what he’d paid for.

Trevor worked throughout the afternoon. By the time Allie finally got home, it was
five forty-seven. Arnold informed him the minute she arrived. Instead of demanding
an explanation immediately, he let his anger simmer as he continued to work until
dinner.

A few minutes after seven, he sauntered into the dining room and cast a glance her
way as he took his seat at the head of the table. She looked lovely in the navy dress.
He knew for a fact she would look even lovelier out of it.

She glanced up at him. “Sorry about this afternoon. Monica didn’t come home until
three this morning and now she’s missing. Brynn was upset and needed me. Her school
counselor is making her join a club. I know that doesn’t sound like a big deal, but
it is to her.”

He arched a brow. “I don’t care about your family troubles, Miss Campbell. Stop boring
me with your domestic problems. You’re here to see to my needs, and so far, you’ve
been abysmal.” He took a sip of wine and stared at her over the rim of his crystal
glass.

“I apologize, Trevor. My family problems have gotten in the way of fucking you. Would
you like me to suck you off while you eat your salad?” She smiled as she offered to
blow him, but underneath that sweet expression was rage. And he was delighted to see
it. It made things so much more interesting when Allie was losing her shit.

“No thank you, Miss Campbell, I think we can wait until after dessert.” The thought
of Allie on her knees, taking him between those lush lips had his cock hard in seconds.
He took in her stiff back and frozen smile. Her breasts were pushed up over the edge
of her dress, giving him a mouth-watering glimpse of their fullness. He wanted to
see them, touch them. He planned to make her ache just as he’d been aching. She needed
to be taught a lesson for ignoring him.

When she hadn’t made it home at the allotted time and hadn’t called to say why she
was late, he’d felt… He put down his fork and rubbed the center of his chest.

Fuck that. He wanted her. He’d paid for her. He was going to have her.

She needed to be put firmly in her place. He’d punish her for wasting his time. He
would have been more productive today if he hadn’t been worrying about her. And for
that she would pay.

***

Allie grabbed her wine and drank half the glass. Was he really going to ask her to
blow him after dessert? Could she go through with it? She’d told herself a million
times that’s why she was here in the first place, but the anticipation was making
her crazy.

As she picked at her food, Trevor seemed deep in thought, and whatever he was thinking
about didn’t make him happy. He scowled, his fingers white where he gripped the fork.
Then suddenly, he laid it down on the side of his plate and rubbed his chest.

Placing her hand on his arm, Allie leaned toward him. “Are you all right? Are you
having chest pains?” She was worried about him. Not that he deserved it.

He blinked a few times before glancing at her. Immediately, the scowl was replaced
by his taunting smile. He stared into her eyes before gazing down at her hand. “Actually,
I was thinking about you crawling under the table and taking me in your throat while
I ate my cheesecake.”

Allie snatched her hand back and smiled sweetly. “Just let me know when you’re ready.”
Like hell. She had no intention of doing any such thing and would probably poke him
with her fork if she thought he was seriously suggesting it. However, it was her fault
for stupidly bringing it up in the first place. So, maybe no fork poking. Maybe.

“I think I’m ready now, Miss Campbell. Neither one of us seems to be interested in
our food tonight. Let’s retire to the drawing room, shall we?”

She gazed into his hard, gray eyes. Her heart began to pound. This was it, time to
put out and shut up.

He stood and moved behind her, pulling her chair back before taking her hand. Leading
her out of the dining room and up the stairs, through one hallway and then another,
they reached a large room at the back of the house. This room seemed more to Trevor’s
taste—long leather couches, book-lined shelves, and tall windows that looked out onto
the lighted garden. She wandered around, nervously touching things here and there—the
inlaid cigar box on a side table, the globe in a brass base, the bust of some Greek
or Roman man with half a nose. The room was dimly lit by one large table lamp in the
corner.

Trevor moved to the wet bar by the windows. The lighting left him in the shadows,
making his cheekbones more pronounced, giving him a wicked, almost sinister look.

Allie took a deep breath and willed her heart to slow down. He wasn’t going to hurt
her. They’d made a deal. “So, what’s the safe word?” Again, she’d blurted it out.
She could usually control herself, but around Trevor, she couldn’t keep her mouth
shut.

He glanced up as he poured a bit of brandy into a snifter. “Would you like one? The
brandy, I mean, not the safe word.”

She nodded and dropped down on one of the sofas. He handed her a glass before sitting
across from her.

Swirling the brandy, he studied her. “Afraid I’ll bring out a whip and handcuffs?”

Allie took a sip of her drink, feeling the fire of it burn the back of her throat.
“How would I know? No pain though, that was our deal.”

“Right.” He nodded slowly. “So what would be an appropriate safe word, do you imagine?”

Allie shrugged. He made her feel silly for even bringing it up.

“How about ‘ouch’? Will that do, Miss Campbell?” He raised a brow and took a sip from
his glass.

“How about ‘stop what you’re doing or I’ll cut your balls off, you bastard’?”

Narrowing his eyes, he pretended to consider it. “Seems a bit wordy.”

She fought a smile. “All right, how about”—her gaze darted around the room and landed
on the globe—“Uruguay?”

Grinning, he silently toasted her with his glass. “Uruguay it is. So if I cause you
any pain—”

“Or discomfort.”

He nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. “Or discomfort.”

“Or if I feel the slightest bit uneasy.”

His lips thinned. “Now you’re reaching, Miss Campbell.”

“It was worth a shot.”

“To Uruguay.”

She toasted back and took a sip, dropping her eyes to the faded red-and-blue Oriental
rug beneath her feet. She couldn’t remember feeling this nervous, not even the first
time she had sex. Prom night—Andy Watson. Of course, she had half a bottle of strawberry
wine in her to take the edge off her nerves. She took another sip of brandy. Definitely
better than strawberry wine.