His Every Need (3 page)

Bad enough she’d agreed to have sex with him, but now he was forcing her to abandon
her sisters. Brynn had always been shy, but lately, she’d become withdrawn, sullen.
She hardly ever smiled anymore. With Allie gone, Brynn might never come out of her
room. Monica, on the other hand, had become uncontrollable after their mom died—staying
out late, skipping so much school that graduation was up in the air. If Allie wasn’t
home to keep a handle on things, there was no telling what Mon would do.

When the car pulled in front of the house, both of her sisters stepped onto the porch,
watching as the driver opened the door and offered Allie a hand. Monica, in dark skinny
jeans and a sparkly tank top, ran toward her and peered inside the car. Brynn held
back, watching from the porch.

“Whose car is this, Al? Oh my God, can I go for a ride?” Monica hopped inside and
began fiddling with the buttons. “I want to go to Amber’s house. She’ll piss herself.”
She turned on the radio, switched stations until she found a song with a thumping
bass. Then she hit the moonroof, popping her head out as she raised her hands and
swayed to the music. “This kicks ass, Al.”

Allie reached in and turned off the radio. “Get out.”

Monica looked down at Allie from her perch atop the seat and scowled. “Why are you
so against having a good time? You’re like, anti-fun.” She climbed down and scooted
out of the car. “Whose car did you say this was?”

Allie had decided to go with the truth—or as much of it as she could, without telling
her sisters she’d sold herself to a stranger. “My new boss, it’s his car. Come on.
Let’s go inside. We need to talk.”

“Shit, I hate it when you say that. Lecture time.” Her voice became a parody of Allie’s.
“Monica, you’re ruining your life. Boys are bad. Just say no. Blahdy blah blah.”

“You are ruining your life, but that’s not what this is about. Not this time.” Allie
mustered up a smile for the driver. “Thank you. I’ll be half an hour, maybe forty-five
minutes.”

He nodded. “I’ll be waiting.”

Well, the chauffeur was American, a Southerner by the sound of his accent.

Monica smiled at the cute man and gave him a finger wave. “Does he come with the job?”

Allie ignored her and strode toward the house. Brynn waited until Allie walked up
the cracked concrete steps before she began her interrogation. “What are you doing
in a limo, Al? What’s going on?”

Placing a hand on Brynn’s shoulder, Allie gently pushed her into the house. Monica
shoved her way past them and stepped inside. “Allie needs to talk.”

“Sit down a second, okay?” She waited until her sisters parked themselves on the shabby
blue sofa. Monica looked just like their mom—the same long, honey-blond hair and light
blue eyes, down to the little dent in her chin. Brynn, on the other hand, looked more
like their father, with dark hair and deep blue, almost navy eyes. And right now they
were wide and frightened.

Brynn sat huddled, arms wrapped around her stomach. “Tell us what’s going on, Al.”

“You know with Mom’s hospital bills and the cost of the funeral, things have been
pretty tight lately.”

“Yeah, no shit. Like I
need
a car. And those shoes are from last year.” Monica pointed at the green canvas shoes
in the middle of the room, their long strings trailing across the floor.

God, not again
. “Monica, we’ve been over this. You want a car? Get a job and buy one.”

Rolling her eyes toward the ceiling, she sighed. “How am I supposed to get a job if
I don’t have a car? And I thought you said this wasn’t going to be another lecture.”

Brynn pulled her knees up to her chest. “Would you two shut it? All you do is fight
and I’m sick of it.”

When Allie thought she could open her mouth without blasting Monica, she said, “Dad’s
business has taken a hit and even with my paycheck we can’t make ends meet. So, I
took a new job today. I’m an assistant to a man named Trevor Blake. He’s an investor
and he needs me to start immediately. But I have to move into his house because he
keeps such crazy hours.”

Monica smiled. “Score. Can I come over and use the pool? He’s got a pool, right?”

Allie ignored Monica and sank down on the sofa, brushing her shoulder against Brynn’s.
“It’s going to be all right. I’ll call every day and I’ll come home to check on you
all the time.”

Brynn narrowed her eyes. “No, you won’t. You’re going to leave and not come back.
And I don’t care. I’m not a kid. I can take care of myself.” She jumped up and ran
out of the room.

Guilt lodged in the middle of Allie’s chest. What was she supposed to do? If she didn’t
keep this bargain, the medical bills alone would probably bankrupt them. And Trevor
Blake would evict them.

The house itself was a relic. Old, scarred furniture. Ancient brown carpeting. A secondhand
refrigerator that made an annoying, high-pitched whine. The place was in desperate
need of a paint job and more than a few repairs. But at least it was a home.

Slouching against the back of the sofa, Monica sighed. “God, she’s such a drama queen.
It’s not like you’re dying too.”

A lance of pain shot through Allie. But she let it pass. Monica only wanted a reaction.
“It wouldn’t hurt you to be nice to her. She’s having a tough time right now.” She
sat for a moment, debated whether she should tackle the next subject. But she was
already having the shittiest day ever, why not go for the gold. “Want to tell me why
you skipped school? Where were you? Who were you with?”

Monica shook her head. “Here we go again. My life is none of your business. You’re
not Mom, all right? I don’t have to answer to you. Stop telling us what to do and
just leave already. The only reason Brynn cares if you’re here is because you do all
the shit jobs.”

“Believe me, I’m aware of that. And I could use some help.”

Monica batted her eyes. “But then you couldn’t be Allie the Perfect. Your life wouldn’t
be complete.”

These same old arguments exhausted her. “Do you ever get tired of being so bitchy,
Mon?” Allie glanced at her sister. “Because the rest of us are sick of it.”

“Maybe I’m sick of you,” Monica yelled. “You’re the bitch, not me.”

This was how it always ended—angry words, hurt feelings, and childish disagreements.
Allie ignored Monica’s parting shot as she walked to her room.

She closed her door with a quiet click. Monica and Brynn shared a room, while Allie
had the smallest bedroom to herself. She guessed one of the girls could move in here
now.

Well, maybe not. She wasn’t exactly mistress material, so maybe Trevor would get bored
sooner rather than later. Unless he felt cheated by her lack of experience and tried
to renege on their agreement.

No, it was in her family’s best interest to keep him happy. Every damn whim.

“Will these accommodations work, miss?” Arnold asked.

A charcoal duvet covered the king-sized bed. A lovely antique dressing table took
up one corner of the room. Above it all was a tray ceiling. The other side of the
room, beyond an archway, contained a small sitting room decorated in dove gray and
pale pink.

“Yes, Arnold—may I call you Arnold?” she asked.

“I’d be pleased if you would.”

“Thank you. The accommodations are beautiful.”

“Very good. The en suite is through there.” He pointed toward a door next to the bed.
“And Mr. Blake requested that you wear the dress hanging in the closet.”

Well, that couldn’t be good. She didn’t trust Trevor Blake to pick out something nice
and normal for her to wear. He probably wanted her to wear some sheer, slutty dress
that showed off her boobs. Mistress wear. She blinked and noticed Arnold waiting for
her response. “Sure, thanks.”

“If you require anything, simply dial nine on the phone next to your bed.”

“Thank you,” she repeated.

Once he was gone, Allie made her way to the closet and opened the doors. A lone black
dress hung inside the walk-in. Floor length, with a modest V-neckline and a side slit,
it was simple and beautiful. The back, however, was nonexistent. Two narrow crossing
straps held it together. There was no way she could wear a bra with it. Black satin
sling-back shoes, with wispy feathers across the toe, sat on the floor. She wondered
if any of it would fit.

Trevor Blake had bought himself a real live Barbie doll.
Freak
.

She spent the time before dinner unpacking her bags and took a quick shower in the
black marble bathroom. An hour later, Allie stood at the top of the staircase, her
back straight, head high, feeling exposed and awkward in the backless dress. As she
stepped forward, the silky material flowed over her legs.

Trevor waited for her at the bottom of the steps. She hoped to God she wouldn’t fall
on her ass in front of him. She wasn’t used to wearing such high heels.

“You look lovely, Miss Campbell.” He wore an evening suit with a black tie and a crisp,
white shirt.

Putting on one of her customer service smiles, she willed herself not to show signs
of discomfort as the slit parted with every step, revealing her bare leg almost to
her hip.

His eyes strayed there as he watched her descend. “I’m so glad it fits.”

Opening her mouth to say something clever and cutting, she forgot to kick her foot
out ahead of the dress so she wouldn’t trip on the hem. She stumbled on the last step
and stretched her arms toward him to keep from falling. He reached out at the same
time and caught her.

By the boob.

***

Trevor cupped her large breast in one hand. Definitely real. His cock twitched in
response.

He wanted to do more than simply cup it. Oh, the very dirty things he longed to do
to Allie Campbell. It was good she couldn’t read his mind. Her poor little head might
explode.

“I’m quite used to women falling for me, Miss Campbell, but you needn’t be so literal.”

She jerked herself up and stared at his hand. “You’re still touching me.”

Smiling cheerfully, he left his hand where it was. “So I am.”

She tried to smack it away, but he remained unmoved. He watched her pull herself together
and attempt to throw an apathetic look on her face. He wasn’t fooled. A hot flush
stole over her cheeks and those flashing eyes revealed everything she was feeling.
And right now, she wanted to punch him.

“When you’re through feeling me up, may we eat? I’m starving.”

He gave her points for the cool note in her voice. He assumed a serious expression.
“Yes, of course, Miss Campbell.” He gave her breast one last, gentle squeeze and winked
before letting go. Then he offered his arm to escort her to dinner.

The dining room was large, with a table that could easily seat twenty. Not that he
ever had guests. His home was a tranquil sanctuary in a chaotic world. Yellow and
white flowers from the garden made up a floral arrangement in the middle of the table,
and lighted tapers shimmered throughout the room.

Trevor led Allie to a seat next to the head of the table. When she sat, he saw the
back of the dress for the first time. He was willing to bet she hated being on display.
That made him smile.

Arnold served a salad and discreetly disappeared. Pouring them each a glass of wine,
Trevor watched her from the corner of his eye.

Allie appeared stiff and uncomfortable as she placed the napkin on her lap. He liked
it better when she was hissing at him.

“How is your room?”

“It’s fine, thank you.” She proceeded to eat a small bite of lettuce, keeping her
eyes on her plate.

“And what about your family, Miss Campbell? How did they take the news?”

“They were upset.”

“Naturally. Did you tell them the truth?”

She laid down her fork and looked up at him. “What do you think, Mr. Blake?”

His gaze captured hers as he leaned closer and lowered his voice. “I do like it when
you call me Mr. Blake. Maybe we’ll get you a naughty schoolgirl costume and I can
play headmaster.”

Pink flagged her cheeks, but she picked up her fork and resumed eating.

There. That should take care of the Mr. Blake nonsense
.

Arnold brought in the soup—lobster bisque with homemade croutons. One of Trevor’s
favorites.

After taking a bite, Allie closed her eyes. With the smooth line of her throat exposed,
those tantalizing tits peeking above the silky, black material, and it was all he
could do to keep his hands to himself. But he couldn’t tear his gaze away.

Her eyes fluttered open. “This is delicious.”

“I’ll make sure Mrs. Hubert knows how much you like it.” Sounding hoarse, he took
a sip of wine. Apparently this was going to be more difficult than he thought, living
with Allie but not touching her. Torture, really, and he had brought it on himself.

“So, you don’t have any family left?” she asked.

“No, I don’t.” At least none he cared to claim.

Sympathy filled her eyes. “I’m sorry. I know what that’s like, losing people you love.”

He gave her a cold smile. “Don’t feel sorry for me, Miss Campbell. It’s you who should
be pitied. If you didn’t care so much about your family, you’d have never agreed to
fuck me.”

She drew a sharp breath, shock and anger flashed in her eyes. “You’re right. If it
weren’t for them, I wouldn’t look at you twice. And I’d have slapped you into next
week for the things you said to me.”

Yes, this was the fiery woman from this afternoon. He was glad she’d reappeared. Much
better than the sympathetic, nervous Allie.

When Arnold served roasted game hens stuffed with wild rice, she smiled sweetly and
thanked him. She’d never smiled at Trevor like that. Not once. He raised a brow at
Arnold as the older man left the room.

“So, what’s with all the antiques and knickknacks?” She forked a piece of hen into
her mouth.

“Knickknacks?”

“The tchotchkes. The miniature vases, the lockets, all the stuff in glass cases.”

He blinked. “Tchotchkes? They’re called
objets d’art
, Miss Campbell. There are books in the library about the various collections if you
care to educate yourself.”

“How very grand,” she said in a fake British accent, her nose lifted in the air.

“That accent’s dreadful. And yes, it is terribly grand, but then so am I.”

“You really are an arrogant ass.”

“But a charming one.”

She rolled her eyes and finished her meal.

Once custard was served, Trevor turned to Arnold. “Thank you. We’ll call you when
we’re done.”

“Very good, sir.”

Trevor refilled his wine glass. “Did you enjoy dinner, Miss Campbell? I thought for
a moment you might lick the plate clean.”

Little lines near her eyes betrayed her stress, but she hid it well behind a smile
that seemed almost genuine. “The food was delicious.”

“I’m so gratified.” He leaned back in his chair and studied her.

Her body stiffened under his scrutiny, and she cast her gaze on the flickering candle.
He didn’t like it when she wasn’t relaxed with him. Even an angry response was much
better than this tense nervousness.

He rose from his seat and held out his hand. “Come, Miss Campbell.”

A look of panic raced across her features, but she quickly mastered it. Taking his
hand, she didn’t speak.

Instead of leading her out of the dining room, he walked to the terrace doors. When
she realized he wasn’t taking her upstairs, the tightness around her eyes lessened—somewhat.

As they stepped outside, Trevor turned to her. “What do you think?”

In silence, she gaped at the lighted garden before her. A traditional English garden
really, with stone paths and herbaceous borders and a profusion of flowers.

“This must cost a fortune to water,” she whispered.

Keeping hold of her hand, he led her down the steps and onto the garden path. “Yes,
I believe it does.”

The comforting smell of blooming flowers enveloped him as they strolled beneath a
dark sky, the half-moon partially visible through the clouds. “Do you like it?”

Her lips parted and she swiveled her head, taking in the trees, the roses, the purple
and pink delphiniums. “Of course, it’s beautiful. How in the world do you grow all
this here?”

“Most of the area was dug up and fresh soil brought in. You’re absolutely right though,
it’s a frivolous expense. I’ve been thinking about tearing it out and putting a tennis
court here instead.” They walked further toward the grotto swimming pool. “Do you
play, Miss Campbell?”

“Not as well as you. You’re just trying to get a rise out of me. You’re not going
to get rid of this garden. You wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble if it wasn’t
important to you.”

With a sudden movement, he stopped and faced her. He wrapped an arm around her waist,
pulling her into him. Her eyes widened and she drew in a surprised breath.

“Never presume to know me, Miss Campbell.” He reached out with his other hand and
caught a lock of her hair, rubbing it between his finger and thumb. It was just as
soft as it looked.

She stared at him warily, her hands flat on the lapels of his jacket.

He pulled her closer, his palm hot against her cool, bare back, felt her breasts press
against his chest. He wondered what her nipples looked like—pink and dusky or just
a shade darker than her pale skin? He let go of her hair and moved his thumb slowly
across one of her golden eyebrows.

Her breath quickened. Those blue eyes darkened a bit. As he slowly leaned forward
and kissed her temple, her lashes fluttered, tickling his cheek. Bloody hell, he was
rock hard and he hadn’t even kissed her properly.

Leaning his head back, he tenderly brushed his hand across her jaw, then ran his finger
over the seam of her lips. Those full, pouty lips. They parted and her eyes drifted
shut.

He dipped his finger in her mouth, then traced her upper lip with his damp fingertip.
His own breath was shallow, his heart racing. He edged the tip of his finger in her
mouth once again. “Suck,” he whispered.

Her eyes shot open, and she jerked her head away, so that his finger was no longer
touching her. “No.”

He stroked the naked skin along her spine, felt her shiver. “You’re having difficulty
with the ‘every whim’ part of the program, aren’t you, darling? If you want to end
this arrangement now—”

“I don’t.” Staring daggers at him, she grabbed his free hand and lowering her head,
licked his finger from base to tip like it was her favorite treat. Then she slid it
between her plump lips and began to suck. Gently at first. Leisurely. With a moan,
she swirled her tongue around him. Her head bobbed up and down, her eyes never leaving
his as she gave a porn-star performance. Scraping her teeth against his knuckle, she
increased the suction, pulling him further inside.

Good God.

His cock pulsed with the rhythm of her mouth and got even harder, if that were possible.
By forcing Allie to do this, he’d just fucked himself. And not in a satisfactory way.

Abruptly, she jerked the finger from her mouth with a pop and dropped his hand.

“Happy?” she asked.

***

It was getting harder to suppress her reactions to him—the anger, the anxiety. And
the attraction. That tug she felt when he took her in his arms and stroked his fingers
along her jaw. When he kissed her temple and looked at her with stormy gray eyes.
She’d almost softened toward him, too, until he reminded her yet again about their
little transaction. Every whim, her ass.

He constantly kept her off balance—cold and sarcastic one second, hot and sensual
the next. He was toying with her, and she didn’t like it.

He gazed at her with a mixture of amusement and something else she couldn’t quite
define. “Well done, Miss Campbell. Now, we need to get back. I still have some work
to do this evening.”

“More poor people to exploit?” She couldn’t manage to keep the hint of bitterness
out of her voice.

“Widows and orphans to destroy, puppies to kick.” He sighed deeply. “So much evil
to do and only twenty-four hours in a day.”

She glanced up at him. “You’re not funny.”

“You, on the other hand, are terribly amusing.”

As they walked back to the house, she let her hand trail over the velvet petals of
a yellow rose. “If you miss England so much, why did you leave?”

He stopped, that nasty smile hovering on his lips. “Wherever did you learn your sucking
skills, Miss Campbell? You’re exceptionally good at it. Had a lot of practice?”

She let go of the rose petal and twirled toward him to lash out, but when she did,
her finger caught the tip of a thorn. “Damn.” She stuck the bleeding finger in her
mouth.

“Let me see.” Taking her hand, he brought it closer to his face and squeezed.