His Every Need (8 page)

She ran one finger along the length of him. His dick jerked upward in response. “All
right, but on one condition.”

“What’s that?” His voice had never sounded so gruff.

“You can’t come.”

He titled his head back, his breath merely shallow gasps. “Fine,” he gritted out.

Allie grabbed the base between her finger and thumb, then darted her tongue across
the tip.

Trevor threaded his fingers through her hair. “More.”

Taking her time, Allie licked the entire length of him. “Do you like that, Trevor?”
When he didn’t answer immediately, she said, “I can’t hear you, love.”

Using her hair as leverage, he tugged her head backward and stared down. “Careful.
You don’t want to get ahead of yourself, darling. And since you asked, I do like it.
In fact, I’d like to fuck your mouth. I’d like to shoot streams of come down that
lovely throat of yours. But I won’t. This time.”

So maybe she wasn’t as in control of the situation as she thought. Trevor was completely
unpredictable. That excited her too.

He relaxed his hold on her hair, and she leaned her head toward him once more. With
long, slow strokes, she licked his shaft, tracing the tip of her tongue over his glans.
She lowered her mouth over his head, sucked gently.

“Allison.” He groaned her name.

Encouraged, Allie took more of him in her mouth. She found she liked the taste of
him. Grasping the base, she worked her fingers in tandem with her mouth. Glancing
up, she watched Trevor. He’d closed his eyes, clenched his jaw.

Allie bobbed her head up and down, increasing the speed, before easing off. Then she
started the whole process over, licking the length of him, teasing him. As she took
more of him in her mouth, her own pussy ached. She wanted to take him to the brink
and pull back. Make him suffer just a little bit, the way she was suffering.

Trevor’s hands tightened on her scalp. “That’s enough. Stop, Allison.”

She lifted her head but kept her fingers wrapped around him. “Stop? And here I thought
you had some self-control, English.”

He grasped her chin, brushing his thumb across her lips. “Don’t push me.”

She was tempted to do just that. But she was too needy, her body ached for him.

Without turning away, he fumbled on the desk for the condom, removed it from the wrapper,
and had it rolled on in seconds. Then, grabbing her waist, he lifted her from the
chair. “Wrap your legs around me.”

She did, locking her feet behind his back. He settled on the edge of his desk while
she clung to his shoulders.

Allie closed her eyes as Trevor reached down between them. He guided himself inside
her—just the tip at first, and it wasn’t nearly enough. She craved all of him. Then,
sinking his fingers into her hips, he thrust upward and pulled her further onto him
at the same time.

The width of him stretched her. She’d wanted this, wanted to feel him inside her,
filling her. It was incredible.

Sliding her up and down his cock, Trevor simultaneously moved his hips and found a
pace. Allie just hung on and enjoyed the ride, although the sensations were almost
too much. After a four-year sexual hiatus, his large cock stung, but it felt so damn
good at the same time. Pleasure and a little pain.

Opening her eyes, she found him staring at her, closely watching every expression
on her face. God, he was gorgeous. Those cheekbones, those firm lips. She rubbed her
own across the edge of his whiskered jaw. “Trevor.” She dug her fingers into his back.
She was close. “Don’t stop,” she begged.

“Say please, darling.” He still had the haughty attitude, but the words were stilted
as he tried to catch his breath.

“Don’t fucking stop, English.” Tilting her head up, she bit his chin.

With a groan, Trevor increased the tempo, raising her hips and then slamming her onto
his shaft over and over.

When she came, every muscle in Allie’s body tightened. She scraped her short nails
across his back. “Trevor.”

When she said his name, he came too, his hands tensing on her hips as he shuddered.
Breathing hard, she continued to cling to his shoulders as he clutched her ass. His
chest was slick as it rose and fell heavily against hers.

Allie pressed her cheek to his shoulder and closed her eyes. She’d never experienced
anything like that. Would it always be this intense? If so, she could become addicted
to him.

After a few minutes, Trevor moved off the desk. Allie lowered her legs, and falling
onto the chair behind her, she continued to pant while her heart slowed to its normal
rhythm.

“You may toy with me anytime, darling.” Pushing her hair from her forehead, Trevor
bent down and gave her a scorching kiss. Just then, her stomach growled. He smiled
against her lips. “How can you be hungry? You ate less than an hour ago.” He straightened
and redressed himself.

“I was too busy to eat. Between fending off a very inappropriate interrogation from
your mother about our sexual habits and questioning her about you, I barely ate a
bite.” She stood and shoved her arms back into her dress. Turning around she presented
her back to Trevor.

He zipped her up, giving her ass a little swat when he was through. “My parents know
nothing about me. I’m surprised they remember my middle name.”

“Oh my God, you sound like Monica. ‘Nobody understands me,’” she mocked in a British
accent. “Listen, there’s a diner off the Strip that sells amazing hamburgers.” She
spun around to face him.

He’d tucked his shirt into his pants. “I’ll text Simmons for the limo. He can take
you.” He reached around her to pick up his BlackBerry from the desk.

She snatched it out of his hand and set it down. “There’s absolutely no reason to
drive to a diner in a limo unless you’re sixteen and on your way home from the prom.”
She found her shoes next to his chair and slipped into them. “By the way, why did
you tell your parents I’m your mistress? That was an asshole move.”

“My father likes to shag any female with a pulse. I did you a favor.”

“And yet…it felt like an insult. Besides, he’s marrying your mother for heaven’s sake.”

“That wouldn’t stop my father, you know. I meant what I said. The man can’t keep his
John Thomas in his trousers.” He moved around her to plop down in his chair.

“John Thomas?”

“Yes,” he said. Reaching for her, he grabbed her arm and pulled her onto his lap.
“John Thomas, cock, prick, willy. His penis.”

She rolled her eyes. “Got it. So why did you let me think your parents were dead?”

His fingers squeezed her leg, putting just enough pressure on her thigh that she almost
shivered. “Are you ready for round two?”

Allie crossed her arms, pretending that the warm pressure of his hand wasn’t making
her skin tingle or her nipples tighten. Should she feel this way right after a deliciously
powerful orgasm? Seriously—he was addictive.

Gazing out the window into the lighted garden, she cleared her throat. “I’d have thought
you’d be glad your folks are getting back together. Instead, you’re in here, pouting
like a child.”

He yanked his hand from beneath her skirt and shoved her off his lap. “You’re not
here to think, Miss Campbell. Now run along. I have work to do.”

His words stung. Not only was she back to Miss Campbell, but he had also reminded
her she was here for one reason. She’d fulfilled her obligation and now she was being
dismissed. The satisfying afterglow she’d felt a moment before dimmed to a flicker.

“Right, I’m the whore. Sorry, I won’t forget again.” She made her way to the door.

“Wait.” His command stopped her in her tracks. “I thought you were hungry.”

Without looking back, she reached forward, her hand on the doorknob. “I changed my
mind.”

“So did I. I’m feeling peckish after all.”

She dropped the handle and turned.

The look in his eyes was intense, but with a blink it was gone, and the old, sardonic
Trevor was back in place. “So, tell me, what’s so special about these hamburgers?”
He unfolded himself from the chair and grabbed his jacket.

***

The diner was a kitschy throwback to a 1950s soda fountain. Doo-wop music played from
a jukebox in the corner. Could anything scream Vegas more than Elvis movie posters
plastered to the wall and a disco ball hanging from the ceiling? Trevor hated it on
sight.

Allie munched on a double cheeseburger and onion rings. “Mmm. This is the good stuff.
My mom used to bring us here after back-to-school shopping when I was a little girl.”

“Fascinating.” He was still aggravated that she’d referred to herself as a whore.
She wasn’t a whore, far from it. She was sweet and funny and responsive to his touch.
Being inside her had been fucking fantastic. Mind-numbing.

And why was he becoming so heated about a word, anyway? She could call herself what
she liked. He had other things to worry about, like how fast he could get rid of his
parents.

Allie stole one of his fries, and he lightly smacked her hand. “What was it like for
you, growing up with only one set of parents and playing the role of big sister?”
Allie and her family were like a foreign tribe he wanted to understand, but he didn’t
know the language. His stepsiblings, temporary though they were, had been dreadful.

“It was nice,” she said. “Lots of laughter, lots of bickering with my sisters, but
not in a hostile way, like it is now. We were happy. Until my mom got sick.” Her eyes
clouded with sadness. “Your parents must have hurt you very much.”

He looked down his nose at her. “Fuck your sympathy, Miss Campbell. I don’t need it.
I’m perfectly content with my life. I doubt you can say the same. And I don’t need
you to analyze me either. You’re a hotel clerk, not a shrink. When we get home, I’ll
show you what your role is. I do hope you’re comfortable on your knees.” He hated
that she felt sorry for him, viewed him as weak. He had rubbed along very nicely without
the benefit of two competent parents, thank you very much. He’d had his grandfather,
after all.

Allie stared at him silently for several moments, her blue eyes assessing him and
eventually shrugged. “Yeah, I got the memo, I’m your whore. I’ll buy kneepads tomorrow.
But I could see they upset you. Whatever went on in the past, I think it’s kind of
nice that they want to include you in the wedding.”

There was that goddamned word again.
Whore
. Hearing it pissed him off. So did her opinion of his parents. “You don’t know what
the bloody hell you’re talking about.” He glanced down at her plate. “Are you almost
through? I still have work to do.”

“At ten o’clock at night?” she asked, munching on an onion ring.

“Foreign stock markets open at different times. There are countries other than yours,
Miss Campbell. I know it’s hard for you Americans to comprehend that.”

She sipped her shake. When she released her straw, she handed him an onion ring. “Try
one.”

He bit it in half. “Now let’s go.”

“In a minute. So, what do you invest in? Besides small businesses?”

He pushed his plate away. “Stocks, bonds, money markets, commodities. Why?”

“Just curious. Did my dad seem like a good investment to you?”

On paper, yes, Brian Campbell seemed like a very good investment. He owned a small
used-appliance business that had turned a profit, and he wanted to expand into commercial
refrigeration. All well and good. He didn’t need much capital—at least it wasn’t much
to Trevor. To Brian, it had been a small fortune. But Trevor’s gut had told him no.
And he rarely went against his gut.

But he’d been slightly—ever so slightly—moved at Brian’s optimism and his story of
three daughters, one in college. Brian was a happy family man who wanted to give his
wife and daughters a good life.

Against his better judgment, Trevor had loaned Brian enough money for tools, equipment,
and office space. It had been a mistake, not following his instincts.

But if he had, Trevor never would have met Allison. Since she breezed into his office,
she’d been playing havoc with his schedule and his libido. Still, he wasn’t sorry
she was here with him. “I loaned him money, didn’t I? I must have thought so.”

“You know the business wouldn’t have failed if my mom hadn’t…” Her voice trailed off.

“But the reality is, she did get sick. She died, and your father defaulted, and you’re
paying off his debt.” He knew he hurt her, could see it on her face. That lovely,
delicate face. But he didn’t care. She needed to toughen up, the way he’d had to.
Playing the what-if game was a waste of time. His voice softened. “It’s no good wishing
things were different, Allison. You’ll never get ahead that way. Accept what is and
use it to your advantage if you can. If not, move past it.”

She pushed her plate away and leaned toward him. “I don’t want to get ahead, English.
I just want to get my family on track. That’s the difference between us. I give a
shit about people.” She jabbed her finger at him. “You only care about yourself. And
that’s what makes you an asshole. Now, I’m ready to go.”

She stood and waited for him to do the same. When they stepped outside, her spine
was rigid beneath his touch, and she hugged herself against the cold night air. Trevor
shrugged off his jacket and dropped it over her shoulders.

“Thank you.”

They didn’t speak on the way home. Inside the house, he walked her to the bottom of
the steps, and before she could dart off, Trevor grabbed Allie’s arm. “You’re not
a whore. Don’t ever refer to yourself that way again. It offends me.”

He turned on his heel and walked away, leaving her huddled in his jacket, holding
on to the banister.

Allie walked into the breakfast room the next morning and found Trevor sitting in
his usual spot, phone in hand. He glanced up and did a double take.

“What the devil are you wearing, Miss Campbell?”

Allie almost smiled at the look of horror on his face. She stared down at her green
polyester vest and black slacks. “My uniform, Mr. Blake.”

When Arnold set a full plate in front of her, she glanced down in confusion. “Are
these baked beans?”

“Mr. Blake Senior asked for a fry-up. Very popular back home.”

Allie stared at the toast, hash browns, a tomato, bacon, sausage, a fried egg, and
baked beans.

“If you eat all that, you’ll explode,” Trevor said. “And by the way, Arnold, Mr. Blake
Senior doesn’t pay the bills around here. I do. So I’ll thank you to listen to my
breakfast orders, not my father’s.”

“Of course. When he makes his next request, shall I refer him to you, sir?”

“Just tell him to sod off.”

The butler bowed and left the room, leaving Trevor to glare after him.

“Why so pissy?” Allie asked. “What’s the big deal about your father ordering breakfast?”

“This isn’t a hotel, Miss Campbell, and speaking of which, why are you wearing that
hideous uniform?”

Allie took an experimental bite of toast and beans. A tasty combo. “Well, Mr. Blake,
my boss doesn’t like it when I show up for work wearing jeans and a T-shirt.”

He twitched a brow. “I’m your boss.”

“Well, now I have two. C’mon, Trevor, I have to give at least a week’s notice, otherwise,
I’ll leave everyone in the lurch.”

“You’re here to see to my needs. How can you do that if you’re not actually here?”
He bit out the words, his eyes dark with irritation.

“After last night, if you’re still so desperate for sex that you can’t make it through
an afternoon, you should look into a good recovery program. This town’s full of ’em.”
She patted his hand. “You’re not alone, and admitting you have a problem is the first
step.”

“Very amusing, Miss Campbell, but I made my expectations perfectly plain from the
beginning. You’re welshing.”

Allie looked up from her plate of fried goodness. “I am not welshing. I have a responsibility
to my coworkers. Besides, you’re always busy in the afternoons—buying and selling
and ruling over your little domain—far too busy for an afternoon shag.” She ate a
bite of tomato, egg, and toast. “This is good.”

Trevor gazed at her plate, his lip curled in disgust. “It’s coronary inducing.” He
stroked his smooth jaw with one hand. “Mmm, maybe I
should
let my father request it. In fact, I think I’ll encourage it.”

Allie laid down her fork. “That’s not funny.”

“What’s not funny?” Mags sashayed into the breakfast room. She wore a royal blue peignoir
with matching marabou feathers at the collar and wrists. She looked fabulous, her
face perfectly made up, her hair tousled like she’d just rolled out of bed after a
very satisfying tryst.

Trevor rose from his seat and held a chair out for his mother. “Father’s demise. I
would find it very amusing.”

Arnold walked to the sideboard.

“Just coffee and dry toast, Arnold.” She turned to Trevor. “You have a treasure in
that man, darling.”

Arnold set the coffee and toast before Mags as she examined Allie. “Why are you wearing
that very ugly clothing, dearest?”

“This is my work uniform.”

Mags’s eyes shifted from Allie to Trevor. “I thought she was your mistress. Isn’t
that enough to keep her occupied?”

Trevor tapped on his phone. “One would think so.”

“Apparently you’re doing something wrong, darling, otherwise, she’d be in bed until
noon.”

Allie pushed away from the table and stood. “Please quit talking about me like I’m
not here. It’s annoying.” Irritated, she strode through the maze of hallways and left
the house. As she walked toward the garage, she jerked to a stop.

“Good morning, Miss Campbell,” Simmons said, waiting for her. “Mr. Blake said you
have to take the limo.”

Allie rolled her eyes. “Of course he did.”

She had Simmons drive her home first. Letting herself in with a key, she walked into
the living room. “Hello,” she called.

“Al?” Her dad stepped out of the kitchen. “What are you doing here? And why are you
wearing your uniform?”

Damn, she’d forgotten about being Trevor’s assistant. She was having a hard time keeping
track of all the lies. “It’s a part-time thing. I wanted to see Brynn before she went
to school. What time did Monica come home last night?”

“She didn’t, and no phone call either.” He sighed and turned back toward the kitchen.

Allie followed. “What are you going to do, Dad? Are you going to let this go on?”
She wanted him to take the lead for once. Make a stand. Be a parent.

Leaning his hands on the counter, he sighed. “I wish I knew what the right answer
was. What’s your take on it?”

She gazed out the window. She was used to this, making decisions that affected her
sisters. But she didn’t like it. She never knew if she was doing the right thing.

It started when her dad worked crazy hours and her mom lay in bed, sick from chemo.
Allie would decide where the girls could go, coordinated schedules, and checked their
homework. Taking care of her mom on top of it had been exhausting. Some days, the
responsibilities were almost too much.

“Maybe you could invite Brad over for dinner or something? Talk to him. If he cares
about her—”

“I already suggested that.” Brian pushed off the counter and crossed his arms. “She
won’t introduce us. She comes and goes at all hours. She has no consideration.”

Allie nibbled her lip. “You could always give Monica an ultimatum.”

Brian laughed. “Yeah, ’cause that always works so well. If I paint her into a corner,
I’m going to lose her.”

Allie had a sinking feeling they’d already lost Monica. What would her mom do in this
situation? Allie didn’t have a clue.

Her father remained silent for a few minutes, then nodded. “You’re right. If she can’t
follow the rules, she can’t stay.” He stared at the floor, shaking his head. “But
I can’t tell her. Will you talk to her?”

Mutely, Allie nodded. Looked like she was going to have to play bad cop. Again.

“I need to get ready for work.” He patted her shoulder as he walked by. “At least
you’re doing okay for yourself, Al.”

But Allie wasn’t doing okay. She was floundering. She regretted having to make the
hard choices. She had virtually abandoned Brynn. And now she was stuck with Trevor.
Her life was a disaster and every time she tried to do the right thing, it got worse.

She couldn’t think about that now.
No
time
to
wallow.
Focus. First, Monica. Then make breakfast for Brynn, pack her lunch, load of laundry,
and clean up.

With a sigh, Allie set down her mug and dug her phone out of her pocket. She left
a message for Monica before grabbing a skillet and a couple of eggs. She’d finished
slathering butter on the toast when Brynn walked into the room.

“What are you doing here, Al?”

“You know Dad always overcooks the eggs.”

Brynn sat at the table. She glanced at Allie’s uniform. “I thought you quit your job?”

Allie was tired of hearing about that damn job. She set a glass of juice and the plate
in front of her sister. “It’s part-time.”

Brynn poked at her food. “So what’s it like, living with that guy?”

Allie sat across from Brynn. “I’m not really living with him.”
Liar
. “I just stay in the same house. His parents came into town last night, and they’re
a little nuts, but interesting.”

Wide-eyed, Brynn forked a bite of egg into her mouth. “What do you mean nuts?”

“They’re not crazy. I don’t think.” She glanced at the rooster clock. “More eccentric
than loony. Mags is over-the-top glamorous, and Nigel is…” She shrugged. “I’m not
sure what he is, exactly. But apparently they’re getting remarried. Oh, and I had
baked beans for breakfast.”

“Gross.” Brynn pinched off a piece of toast and crumbled it on her plate. “So, they’re
divorced?”

“Yeah.” Allie wondered how old Trevor was when his parents split and how he’d gotten
along with all of those stepfathers. Had Nigel remarried too? She felt a little sorry
for Trevor. That kind of background had to be rough. Poor little rich boy. She blinked
at Brynn’s messy plate and put the arrogant English ass from her mind. He wouldn’t
want her sympathy, in fact, he’d punish her for it, like he had last night. Dismissing
her and lashing out when she’d shown an ounce of compassion. And anyway, Trevor wasn’t
her concern. Brynn was. “How’s your government class? Did you finish your project?”

She asked Brynn questions about school and her few friends. It seemed normal and almost
comforting.

As Brynn finished getting ready for school, Allie finished her list of chores and
walked into the living room. Her dad stood by the door, keys in hand.

“Did you remember to take out the trash?” she asked.

His shoulders slumped. “Damn, I knew I’d forgotten something.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Thanks, Al. Let me know when you
hear from Monica.”

“Sure.”

***

Nigel walked into the breakfast room and gave Mags a kiss on the cheek. “I saw your
bird from the window upstairs, Trev. I’d give that little totty a right seeing to
if I were you, my boy.”

“But did you see her clothes, darling?” Mags asked.

“Hideous,” Nigel said with a little shudder as he walked to the sideboard and grabbed
a plate. “Ah, a full English.”

Trevor ground his back teeth and forced himself to remain seated. He’d made a bad
move last night, letting his parents see how they affected him. Allie had tried to
pull him out of his dark mood. She’d succeeded. In fact, he couldn’t get the memories
of her naked body out of his head. But at the diner, he’d acted like a beast to her.
She was right, he was a bit of an asshole.

Nigel grabbed the seat Allie had vacated a few moments before.

Trevor ignored them both. He sipped his coffee and continued to read his email.

“Now, Trevor,” Mags said, “we’d like to talk about the wedding.”

He didn’t bother looking up. “I can’t stop you, Mother.”

“What about being my best man, Trev?” Nigel asked.

Mags heaved a dramatic sigh. “We shouldn’t have sprung the news on you like that last
night. I know you were upset, my poor lamb.” She reached out and stroked a finger
down his cheek.

Trevor wrenched his head to the side. “Hardly.”

Nigel snorted. “Threw quite a wobbler, you did. You always were a sensitive lad. But
that’s neither here nor there. I think we should wear kilts. What say you, Mags?”

Trevor didn’t know how much more he could take. His mother’s pseudo concern made his
eye twitch, and his father’s blithe attitude made him want to punch something. Nigel’s
nose might do, for starters.

Mags closed her eyes and purred. “I love a man in a kilt. Of course, I love a man
out of a kilt.”

“You naughty minx,” Nigel said. “Perhaps we should go upstairs, and I’ll show you
exactly what one wears under a kilt.”

Trevor savagely stabbed at his phone while his breakfast threatened to make a reappearance.

“So, Son, what about it? Kilts?”

“I don’t give a damn what you do, old man. I will not be attending the wedding, so
whatever your plans”—he tossed his napkin on the plate—“make them without me.” He
pushed back from the table and walked out of the room.

Arnold hovered in the hallway, and with a sigh, Trevor stopped in front of him. “Find
out how long they’ll be here. And please, do whatever is within your power to make
them hasten their leave, yes?”

“Of course, sir.”

Trevor started walking on but stopped and turned around. “Oh, and Arnold?”

“Sir?”

“You really are a treasure.” His stoic butler’s cheeks actually turned pink. Allie’s
little blushing problem was catching. He smiled as he walked to his office.

***

“What do you mean I’m fired?” Allie had worked at The Lucky Shamrock Hotel and Casino
for four years. She’d never been late, never been rude to a customer. “I don’t understand.”
Sure she was quitting anyway, but fired? Now she’d have that on her resume.
Trevor.

Her manager, Rick—or as everyone called him behind his back, Rick the Dick, which
was not terribly original, but perfectly accurate—shifted his eyes to the maroon-colored
carpet. He took a deep breath, straining the already burdened buttons of his bright
green vest. “I don’t know what to tell you, Allie. You’ve been a great employee, but
we’re letting you go. Sorry.”

He scuttled away from her, but she hopped in front of him, blocking his exit. “He
got to you, didn’t he?”

Rick hunched his shoulders. “I don’t know what you mean,” he muttered as he brushed
by her and hightailed it to his office.

Trevor’s arrogant fingerprints were all over this. She’d come in this morning, like
she had almost every weekday morning for the past four years, only to find Rick waiting
for her with a pink slip.

Shelly walked over and put her arm around Allie, pulling her into a hug. “I’m sorry,
sweetie. I didn’t know, or I’d have given you a heads up.”

In her late forties, Shelly’s choppy, white-blond hair and gamine features made her
look a dozen years younger than she actually was. Allie was going to miss her.

“I know you would have.”

Shelly pulled back, a puzzled frown on her face. “What do you mean
he
got to Rick? Who’s he?”

“Hang on,” Allie said. She glanced at the man standing at the front counter, waiting
to be checked in. Although she was royally pissed at both Rick and Trevor, this guy
didn’t deserve to take the brunt of it. Besides, he was staying at The Lucky Shamrock,
so his day was about to get worse. This place wasn’t exactly a five-star luxury experience.
She put on her best customer service smile and attended him. After she was through,
she walked back to Shelly.