The Devil’s Pawn (9 page)

“We have dinner plans tonight.” He looks at me intently, and it goes without saying he’s speaking only to me. Liz watches him carefully, her own worry and wonder crossing her ever-beautiful face. As Derek makes to leave, he finishes that statement. “With Mr. Grayson.”

At the sound of his name, my body chills and my pulse quickens. I don’t like Mr. Grayson. He scares me in a way even Derek never has. There is a cruelty to him, and his intense dislike of Derek makes him all the more threatening. Derek, without a doubt, has no interest in spending time with Mr. Grayson, and I can’t imagine it will be a pleasant meal. What my part in all of this is, I can’t fathom.

I set about getting ready for our evening, and my anxiety for Derek mounts. I don’t want him to endure this man anymore than I myself want to. He is no friend to either of us, and I suddenly feel an overwhelming urge to comfort Derek, to touch him gently and reassure him that I understand. But that isn’t part of our world, our relationship. He reminded me cruelly once that he’s not my boyfriend, lover, or even friend; the words haunt me to this very moment, and whatever pattern of behavior we may have settled into over the past week, nothing has changed from this dynamic. We fuck, and while I crave intimacy, I will not find it with him. It has to be enough that he enjoys me and that he allows me to enjoy him as well. While it fills, to some degree, the void in my heart, I know, too, it will eventually hurt me. But not today. Today I’m on his side. Go team Derek. We will be forced to suffer this insufferable man together.

As Derek and I meet at the elevator, he looks me over slowly. I’m wearing my favorite gray dress, and as his eyes move over my body slowly, he swallows over a lump in his throat, and his eyes flit away from me. We climb into the waiting limousine, and he takes his usual place on the rear-facing bench seat. Before long, the door opens and Mr. Grayson climbs in, ushering me to the opposite side of the backseat, catty-corner from Derek. He smiles broadly, but wickedly at Derek as Derek returns a cool gaze back to him. I say nothing as the limo pulls out into traffic.

It isn’t long before Mr. Grayson turns to me and offers me a very contrived and artificial greeting. I politely return his comments, but don’t smile or look at him for longer than a moment, and on the drive, we are silent. My tension is painful, my body held rigid and frozen in place. Derek is in his own world of pain, and as I watch him from my place, he looks slowly up to me. His eyes soften a moment before impassivity takes them over again. When we arrive at our destination, I find that we’re not at a restaurant as I had assumed we would be. Rather, we’ve pulled up to an incredible mansion overlooking the bay. Mr. Grayson turns to me and tells me this is his home, as though I should care, and as though he cares that I know.

We enter through the grand front doors, and a gentleman meets us. He advises us dinner will be ready soon on the patio. As Derek and I follow Mr. Grayson through the house to the French doors that lead out the back of the home, Derek runs his knuckles down the back of my bare arm. My skin tingles at his secret touch, and I wish more than anything we were alone together, away from this place. The patio is as amazing as the house. It is expansive limestone paving stones, and the furniture is nicer than most people can afford in the interior of their homes, let alone an outside space.

As we are seated, a server sets our drinks down for us. I’m given white wine, and the men are given something stronger in a tumbler. Derek is seated across from me, and Mr. Grayson is seated at the head of the table, appraising us both. When he speaks first, I nearly choke on my own tongue. “So, Ashton, when Mr. Pennington fucks that cute little face of yours, does he come inside your mouth?”

As my eyes fly up to Derek’s, he looks coolly back at me. I know he’s raging inside his head, but he’s putting on the performance of a lifetime. I look from one to the other of them.

Mr. Grayson reaches out his hand to cover mine in a false gesture of sensitivity, and as I look into his cruel and cold eyes, I lie. “No.”

I can’t guess what caused me to lie, or what benefit it could possibly have to either Derek or I, but my heart tells me that those memories belong to us, and certainly not Mr. Grayson. And as I look to Derek’s eyes, the slight flinch of his brow fleeting across his impressively impassive expression tells me we are on the same page with this.

Mr. Grayson repeats my answer back to me as a question, a smile crossing his lips as he speaks. “Well then, I think I’ll let Ricky here,” nodding to the server standing by, “fuck that mouth of yours and give you your first taste of cum. And when he’s done, I’m going to fuck you. I’ve gotten a number of complaints about Derek’s apparent lack of interest in his other women. So, I’m compelled to see for myself why Derek can’t seem to find time in his schedule to fuck anyone but you. Oh, and Derek will watch of course, just as I promised he would.”

Ricky is looking at me lasciviously as Mr. Grayson speaks, and my skin starts to flush and prickle in sick, terrified reaction to Mr. Grayson’s words. I don’t want this.

Derek is looking at me, his eyes dark and wide, but restrained as always. He’s composed, but I can see it is a fight. His breathing has quickened slightly, and he is inhaling deep breaths through his nose as his nostrils flare in fury.

It is many long seconds before he finds his voice through gritted teeth. “Why are you doing this to her?”

Mr. Grayson’s chilling reply comes without missing a beat. “Because I want to watch you sit by pretending you don’t care what we’re doing to her sweet, little body in front of you. You know how this game goes. It’s why you’re here after all … to amuse me.”

I don’t understand any of Mr. Grayson’s hatred toward Derek, but at the moment, I’m thinking only of my own emotions, and I’m horrified. My eyes flash with unwanted tears as my body continues to clench in terror.

When Mr. Grayson next speaks, it is as he rises and walks away from us. “I’ll give you a moment. Come, Ricky, shall we see if dinner is ready?”

As soon as they are through the doors, Derek rounds the table to me and sits next to me. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a pill, and holds it out to me. “Take this. It will relax you.” I shake my head and tell him I don’t want it, but he takes my hand in his, places the pill in my palm, and demands I take it. “
I
want it. I want you relaxed.”

I raise the pill to my lips, and the first of my tears starts to fall. He watches me without touching me, his jaw set in a hard line.

Minutes later, Mr. Grayson and Ricky return, and Mr. Grayson once again takes his seat at the head of the table, but Derek remains in the seat by my side. Ricky starts serving our dinner. The food is nothing more than a sick joke, expecting me to eat, all the while knowing what is in store for me. I sit numbly picking at my food, as does Derek. Mr. Grayson is the only one at the table who seems to be thoroughly enjoying the meal.

When Mr. Grayson finally wipes his mouth with his napkin and pushes his plate away, Derek speaks. “She’s still in training. She’s not ready for this.”

“But I promised Ricky a treat…” He’s taunting Derek, but Derek is holding steady, coolly eying Mr. Grayson.

His fury is well contained, though only just hiding under the surface. They glare at one another while I watch, praying for the pill to work its magic fast. My strength and resolve are fading quickly, and all I want is to be away from this grand mansion and all its nightmarish horrors. This is most definitely not what I signed up for, but I’m here, and Derek is sitting next to me. His hand is out of sight under the table on my leg, and the warmth from his touch is slowly crawling out from his hand to the rest of my frigid body. His eyes are still fighting his war with Mr. Grayson, but his touch is completely focused on me. It is the only thing keeping me from a full-on meltdown.

After an uncomfortable span of time has passed, Mr. Grayson finally breaks the silence and gives a derisive snort. “Fine. Have it your way.” Derek’s fingers curl against my skin at his words, but he remains still. And then Mr. Grayson drops the bombshell. “You can keep her cunt to yourself for the time being, but I’m going to fuck that mouth of hers, and you’re going to watch as she swallows every last bit of me. Make one more argument, and I’ll take her away from you just as easily and quickly as I gave her to you.”

My eyes don’t move from my hands that are clasped in my lap. Every muscle of my body is slack and destroyed. As I feel Derek’s hand move over my thigh to my hand, it makes me want to cry in absolute bittersweet unfairness. I’ve wanted touch, and I’ve gotten it. I’ve wanted emotion, and here it is, but I’m fading fast. The pill is finally creeping through my system, and my sadness is slowly turning to numbness. I’m lost in my own mind, feeling every emotion, and yet every emotion is oddly dull. Even the worst of my fear and pain manages to feel strangely valid and comfortable. It’s euphoric and relaxing.

Derek helps me from my seat, and I approach Mr. Grayson. When I’m kneeling in front of him on the cold limestone ground, he exposes himself to me. He isn’t Derek. He isn’t impressive, and the sight of his body revolts me. Derek has taken his seat off to the side where he is afforded the perfect view of me. And perhaps it is the blessed pill that he gave me, or the utter despair at what I must do, but I realize that I’m not afraid of Mr. Grayson. I hate him, and he disgusts me, but I don’t care about him. So I kneel and play my part in his pathetic, grotesque game.

My mind wanders as my mouth works, and I glance sideways to see Derek’s dead and distant eyes. He’s watching, just as he has too, and as he sees my eyes, his jaw clenches tightly and his nostrils flare, but he keeps his eyes trained on mine. I return to my job, hating this man, hating his scent, hating his taste, hating him for not being Derek, but he’s panting and grunting, and he must be near his end. All I want is to give myself over completely to the numbness, but I have to finish. I have to finish for my own sake, and for Derek’s. He’s as tortured by this man as I am, and all I have to do is finish. Then we can escape.

As Mr. Grayson ejaculates in my mouth, it is with his hand pinning my head to his groin. I’m smothered and I can’t breathe. However vigorous and intense Derek can be, he knows my limits and what I can handle from him. The man in my mouth at the moment simply doesn’t care enough about my well-being to give a shit if he suffocates me or not. He leaves me on my hands and knees, gasping when his cum drips from my lips and mouth as I try to regain my breath. He’s moved to the drink cart nearby, pouring himself another strong drink. I shakily make my way up to my knees, and when I have a trembling hand on the side of the table, pushing myself up to stand, he approaches me once again.

He reaches for my chin as I recoil, and he chuckles as he gives me his parting comment. “Thanks, dear. Can’t wait till next time.”

I move as quickly as my sluggish feet will take me to my chair, and Derek returns to the chair beside me. He’s as still as a statue when he’s seated, but quickly hands me the glass of wine still sitting untouched in front me.

He leans to my ear and whispers, “Drink. You’ll be asleep soon. I promise.”

I do. I guzzle, wanting to remove the contamination from my mouth. Wanting to knock myself out completely. But rather than letting us escape, Mr. Grayson has conversation in mind. How truly cruel he is. “Did you like sucking my cock, Ashton?”

He’s watching me appraisingly as my eyes fight to focus on him, but I don’t trust him, nor do I trust my mouth or what will come out of it in my drugged and drunk state. So, I stall.

But Mr. Grayson coaxes me further. “I assure you, Ashton, I don’t care enough about your opinions or feelings to give a shit what you think of me. I want you to answer me truthfully. You won’t suffer because of it. Did you like sucking my cock?”

So I speak. “No.”

“But you like sucking Derek’s cock, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Do you like fucking Derek, Ashton?”

I continue to answer his questions honestly and quickly. “Yes.”

“Do you like his cock?” He’s smiling crookedly at me as Derek breathes slowly beside me.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“He’s…” And the word comes tumbling from my mouth. “Impressive…”

“Impressive even? Huh…”

He rubs his chin as he appraises me, but my head is sinking and my eyes are closing no matter how hard I fight to keep them open. As my head hits my hand propped on the arm of the chair, I drift peacefully into another place. I’m almost upset when Derek demands that we leave. I’m too comfortable to stand, but Mr. Grayson isn’t finished talking yet, and as I continue to float in space, I listen. I understand nothing of what I hear, even though I know it means something important.

“How dare you.” It’s Derek. I don’t need to see him to know he’s speaking through clenched teeth, and his words are seething with fury.

“I own her, and I’ll do whatever I choose to her.” Grayson is taunting.

“Well, don’t get too comfortable. There’s nothing stopping me from releasing her from her obligations.”

“How quickly you forget your responsibility to Trimbles, Derek.” He’s still taunting, but his words make no sense to me.

“You needn’t worry about that. I’m not going anywhere, but Ashton will not be a part of this.”

“Oh, I think she will, and she’s not going anywhere unless you want to see our deal broken. It’s fine with me of course…” Threat. I don’t know what it means, but he’s threatening Derek.

“That wasn’t the deal we made.” Derek is seething again, and I’m still floating in the land of confusion.

“What can I say? I’m not an honest man.” I can almost hear the mocking shrug of his shoulders at this admission, and Derek’s deep breathing beside me as he fights to maintain control is equally obvious. With his final admission, Mr. Grayson dismisses us. “Now get that pathetic whore out of my house. I hope she fucks better than she gives head.”

With a final “fuck you” to Mr. Grayson, Derek stands and helps me to my feet. He walks us quickly to the limo while my feet stumble across the floor, but he’s holding me tightly, and I know he’ll get me there. I crawl in on the back seat, and rather than taking his normal seat across from me, he sits beside me as my head slowly sinks to his lap. I remember little of the ride home, and even less of what came after. But my dreams were incredible.