Anything He Wants 2: All's Fair (4 page)

“So what
am I, a project?”

A tip of
his head sideways confirmed my suspicions. “You were ambitious, clever as a
college student, used to a certain kind of existence. Life dealt you a hard
hand, brought you lower than you thought possible.” He saluted me with the
glass before taking a sip. “You would never have turned down a chance to get
back on your feet, no matter what the cost.”

“So give
me a job,” I said, the sarcasm dripping off my tongue. “You didn’t need to
strip me of my dignity, make me... The elevator, the garage--”

The thump
of the glass on the serving tray shocked me out of my anger. “You rode that
elevator every morning,” Jeremiah said in a low voice, staring at the crystal
carafe, “giving me those little glances, getting close but not too close.” His
eyes met mine, and I sucked in a breath at the fire I saw there. “I knew your
scent, knew when that
need
rolled across you. Those secret little
smiles, not knowing what was going through your head...”

My breath
caught as he trailed off, the fingers clenching the top of the glass white with
strain.
I don’t believe you.
“I’m nobody,” I said, my own words driving
daggers through my heart.

His free
hand clenched into a fist against a hard thigh as his jaw tightened,
then
his body relaxed. He strode up to me and I fell back a
step, trying in vain to hold the last of my anger as a shield. Being so close
to him was intimidating; my heart thudded in my chest as I looked to the side,
unable to be strong any longer.

A finger
came under my chin and lifted my head until I was staring up at him. His face
was as implacable as ever but his voice was mild as he repeated his earlier
request.
Demand.
“Take off your robe.”

The words
reverberated through my body, his proximity doing strange things to my mind,
and I found my hands untying the belt to my robe. The soft material slid back
off my arms and onto the floor, pooling at my heels. Fully exposed to him for
the first time ever, I closed my eyes against his perusal, a tear squeezing out
between my eyelashes.

When he
put his arms around me I stiffened, but his hands stayed on my shoulders as he
turned me around. “Look at something,” he said, and when I didn’t immediately
open my eyes he repeated, “Look.”

A large
oval mirror stood in front of me, and I cringed at my reflection. “What do you
see?” he prompted.

Flabby
tummy and thighs, big hips, boobs that need a bra to look good.
“Me.” I’d always been
my own worst critic.

I saw his
frown in the mirror,
then
he tilted his head to study
my reflection. “I see a beautiful face,” he started, running a finger down my
cheek and along the side of my neck. “Soft skin, the right curves.” He leaned
in close to the side of my head and breathed deep. “You smell good enough to
eat,” he added, his words almost a growl.

My breath
caught, his words making my belly tighten. One large hand covered my breast,
fingers tweaking one nipple, and this time I gasped aloud. His grip on my
shoulder tightened as the hand circling my breast dipped lower, skimming across
my belly and leaving a trail of fire in its wake. “So beautiful,” he murmured,
and my head fell back onto his shoulder as the hand splayed over my hip,
fingers digging deep into my skin. I watched him in the mirror, my heartbeat
loud in my ears, as that hand smoothed over my mound, not sliding lower but
feeling its shape.

Abruptly
he stepped away and let me go, leaving me confused and off balance. “Don’t
move,” he said, his voice a whip, and I froze. My instinctive obedience
disturbed me but I stayed standing as Jeremiah picked up the box I'd seen him
carrying in the lobby and handed it to me. “I was going to save this for later
but now
is
a better time.”

Suspicious,
took the package and opened it, pulling back the tissue paper. My eyes widened
as I ran a finger along a pair of nylon leggings and under the satin straps of
a sheer white bustier. Speechless, I looked up at my boss then back down to the
contents of the box, not sure how to respond.

Jeremiah
took the box out of my hands gently when I didn’t do anything for several
seconds. “Turn around.”

As I did
what he said, he pulled out the skimpy articles then, to my further surprise,
began dressing me. First the white bustier which he laced up behind me; it
covered my breasts and belly, with straps that hung down to my thighs. I
stepped into the tiny panties then the thigh-high stockings to which he
connected the straps from the bustier. There was something incredibly sensual
about the whole affair despite how professional he went about it. I’d never in
my life worn lingerie like this, certainly not for a man, and it was an
interesting experience.
I’m too fair to wear white,
a cynical part of me
thought but I kept that observation to myself.

When he
was finished he took me by the shoulders and turned me around so I was facing
the mirror again. “Now what do you see?” he asked, leaning close to my ear.

I
blinked.
Wow, so this is what you get with high dollar lingerie.
The
white fabric managed to hide what I’d always hated and accentuate what I never
realized I had. My hands ran down my waist, modestly cinched by the strings
along my spine, and over my hips to finger the satin straps running down my
legs to the stockings. The whole ensemble wasn’t overly restrictive but tight
enough to pull parts in and push certain things up – namely my chest, which I’d
never considered particularly impressive.
Looking good now,
I thought,
gliding my fingers across the firm tops of each breast.

Suddenly
remembering he’d asked a question, I cleared my throat to answer but didn’t
know what to say. I locked eyes with him in the mirror and he nodded, obviously
seeing my answer there. “Glad we see eye to eye,” he murmured, running his
hands up my arms and across my shoulders. “Now that we have that squared
away...”

A hand
twisted in my hair and my head was wrenched back. I gave a small cry, my hand
covering his in surprise, as I looked back at him. His face had grown cold as
granite, green eyes intense, but his voice was smooth as silk. “I don’t like
being contradicted. When I tell you to do something, I expect it done
immediately or there will be consequences.” The hand in my hair tightened.
“On your knees.”

4

I knelt
quickly to the ground, the added pressure of the hand on my head forcing me to
my knees. The garter straps against my back thighs and butt pulled tight, an interesting
feeling but still eclipsed by the discomfort of the hand twisted in my hair. My
head was tilted back and I watched as Jeremiah examined me from high above.
“You enjoy this, don't you?” he murmured.

God
yes!
That traitorous part of my soul was on fire again, reveling in the forced
submission even as I wondered what I’d gotten myself into. His hand left my
hair and travelled down my cheek.
“So beautiful, on your
knees before me.
You must see why I'm hard thinking of your mouth around
my cock.”

I shivered
at the crude word, watching as his fingers skimmed over the bulge in his pants
only inches from my face. Rolling my head sideways, I looked at our reflection
in the large oval mirror. We weren't even doing anything -
yet
- but the
way he stood over
me,
chin high and body straight as I
knelt at his feet... My insides were melting, pooling between my legs to make
me ready to take him. I craved his touch and pushed against his hand like a
cat, and was rewarded by his thumb stroking my forehead.

“I dreamed
of you on your knees, that gorgeous mouth sucking me off.” A finger ran across
my forehead again, smoothing back the damp hair. “Would you like to help me
come, little cat?”

“Yes,” I
breathed, then grunted in shock as he grabbed my hair again.

“Yes,
what
?”

“Yes...”
I wracked my brain for an appropriate response.
“Sir?”

He made
an approving noise then his hands left me, moving to unfasten his pants and
pull
himself
free. “I won’t promise to be gentle,” he
grit out, his voice harsh with need, “as I’ve been thinking too much about
this, but I do promise to finish whatever I start.”

I wrapped
my fingers around his hard length, sliding my hand down to the base then back
up experimentally. His hips jerked so I did it again before leaning forward and
flicking my tongue over the head. I traced the ridge where it met the shaft
before sucking him into my mouth, rolling the head with my tongue. I slid my
fist down to the base, flicking the bulbous tip with my tongue and sucking at
the soft knob, then removed my top hand and pulled him deeper.

He laid
his hands on my head, not forcing me into anything but as a reminder of his
presence. I bobbed my head over him, my hand stroking his shaft as I drew him
deeper and deeper. The sounds coming from above me, low grunts and truncated
breaths, were gratifying to hear.
I can make him lose control,
I
thought, the idea giving me motivation to double my efforts. When I thought I
had a handle on my movements I released the base of his shaft and pulled him in
as far as he could go.

A choked
cry came from above, fingers digging into my skull. The thick head tickled the
back of my throat, forcing me to withdraw or risk gagging. Wrapping my hand
around the base, I began my efforts again but the hands on either side of my
head pulled at me, his hips thrusting into my hot mouth.

“Hands
behind your back.”
The words were a rough order. I paused only a moment before complying, twisting
my arms behind me and locking my wrists. I prayed he would be gentle with me.

I should
have known better.

His first
thrust hit the back of my throat and my eyes watered immediately. "Hands
behind your back," he barked again when I instinctively reached back
around, "or I'll give you no choice and tie them."

It took
every ounce of willpower I possessed but I forced my hands back into position,
interlocking my fingers and hanging on for dear life. He repeated his thrust,
this time not as deep, allowing me room to breathe. He continued like this,
pushing himself in and out of my mouth, and I slowly began to get used to the
movement. Indeed, pretty soon I was able to improvise, growing used to the
tempo enough to use my tongue. I pressed against the base as they passed over;
his plunging grew shallow, allowing me more space to maneuver and play. The
small sounds coming from above, bitten off groans and sharp intakes of breath,
were sexy as hell and a good indicator that I was doing something right. When I
flicked his tip with my tongue, forming a tight seal and sucking him deep, the
gasp I heard above me made the corners of my mouth turn up.

His
fingers dug into my skull, directing my head as his hips thrust him deep in my
mouth. Any time I felt like gagging or had difficulty breathing he slowed down
the pace, and I thanked him as best I could. My eyes flicked sideways to watch
us in the mirror and the raw need I saw on his face -
I’m doing that
-
was a powerful aphrodisiac. The throbbing between my legs increased, my tiny
panties no match for the slickness running down my inner thighs.
I need him
inside me soon or this is going to be too much.

Apparently
he thought the same because he pulled out and stepped back. My saliva glistened
on the taut skin in front of my face. "Stand up."

Not sure
whether he meant I could move my hands, I maneuvered myself upright until I was
standing, arms still locked behind my back. There may have been approval on his
face but he grabbed the back of my neck, his grip firm but not tight, and
marched me to a round marble table with a thick wood base. "
Lay
across and grab on to the sides until I say you can let
go."

I eyed
the large table dubiously. It looked solid enough but the stone had to be cold
and I wasn't wearing much. From somewhere deep inside my soul a small voice
cried out,
You
can still say no, it’s not
too late.
Body suffused with raw desire, I made my choice however and
leaned down, grabbing the far edges firmly, and was relieved when it didn't
move an inch. Jeremiah's hand left my neck, trailing down my back and across my
bottom, giving one cheek a firm squeeze. "Spread your legs."

I did as
he said and his hand trailed lower, following the line of the thong between my
buttocks. I shivered as his fingers caressed the thin panties and me beneath
them, and tilted up my hips for more contact.

"Are
you on birth control?"

The unexpected
question pulled me out of the haze of lust for a moment and I nodded. Irregular
periods more than any kind of sex life were why I still got the shots; I'd
never really needed them for any other reason.

In reward
for my answer his fingers slid beneath the band of the small panties, pressing
against my damp skin, and I moaned. He circled my entrance with deft fingers
then up toward the hard bud that throbbed with every beat of my heart. My
breaths came in pants but he didn’t go further, his hand merely exploring.
"Would you like me to make you come, little cat?"