The Parlour (VDB #1) (12 page)

His slightly amused voice snaps me out of my idiocy and brings me back to life so acutely that I go straight for the floor again. He’s clearly another dominant of some sort, one I know I’m scared of without any real thought on the matter. If Pascal is someone I should be wary of then this man is one I should avoid at all costs.

“I’m not. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare,” I reply quietly, nervously. He snorts at me and swirls his drink around again. That’s it, no other noise to break the silence that he seems to thrive on. It’s uncomfortable to me, and I’m not sure how he manages it but I can almost feel an evil, cold presence in the room just because he’s here. My hands automatically lift to my arms to provide some warmth for myself. He simply chuckles again, probably at my nerves, and leans forward, dangling the drink between his legs and bracing his elbows on his knees.

“He hasn’t fucked you yet, has he?” My eyes shoot up to his at the audacity, and then fly back down again as I snatch a glance at his widening smile. It’s all kinds of worrying, beautifully disturbing in its ability to draw me to him. I must keep in control. “You smell too innocent still. Shall we rectify that?” Oh fuck, no.

“I… I don’t think he’d appreciate that very much. He just told me to tidy, and–”

“He’ll appreciate anything I do to you, Lilah. Everything,” he cuts in as he swirls the glass around and clinks those ice cubes again. I watch the liquid moving and find myself entranced by it. His manly fingers grip the glass gracefully, carefully, as if he’s applying practised amounts of pressure to it to avoid smashing it to pieces. That may sound stupid, but it’s as if the whitening of his skin is overly cautious, perhaps restrained. “Do you want me to start you for him, Lilah?”

“I don’t know what you mean. No, I don’t think it’s what he would want. He’ll be here in a minute, and–”

“I asked you what
you
wanted, Lilah. Lift your head and tell me what you want.” Oh dear God. I’m positive this is not going well. At least my head’s not spinning anymore. I slowly lift my eyes to meet his again and find no smile anymore, no pleasant or attractive gaze, just those cool blue eyes burying their way inside me. I can almost feel his power over my body, commanding it for no other reason than he can. This world is more than likely full of control and domination, and he is the epitome of it. “You have pretty eyes, Lilah. When he starts, keep them focused on his. It might help you survive him.”

I try to reply but I feel my mouth gaping with nothing – no snappy comeback, no sarcasm or intelligence to show my ability to deal with yet another strange human being. Just emptiness, and a throat full of nerves and tension. My body is physically humming a death toll at me, warning me to back away, or at least back down. So I do the correct thing, exactly that. My eyes find the floor again and I slowly pull my drink up to my mouth to help me close it.

“I’ll try,” I eventually croak, having downed the rest of the whiskey.

“Mmmm, I’m positive you will,” he replies, leaning back and crossing his legs. The leather creaks in the silence and I find myself wanting to get up and leave the space. It’s oppressive with him in it, and I’m constantly fidgeting with my clothes, tugging at the hem of my dress and trying to appear calm when I’m anything but.

“Lilah, are you okay?” Elizabeth says as she comes into the room, breaking the tension with that peace she seems to exude. “Oh, you’re here,” she says as she smiles over at the man.

“I am. I got bored waiting, and Lilah here has been entertaining me in your absence,” he replies as his face lights up into the most glorious smile I’ve ever seen. Gone are all traces of the evil he portrayed only moments ago. His features are instantly softer, and there’s a sudden warmth emulating from him as he gets up and walks to her. She beams back as he reaches his hand to her throat and brushes his fingers across it gently.

“Have you been teasing the poor girl?” she says as she looks across at me.

“Why would I do that, Miss Scott? I have you for that pleasure.”

“Has he, Lilah?” I shake my head rapidly and look back at my drink again in reply.

“You have, haven’t you? Alex, you can’t just go around scaring women like this. Look at her, for God’s sake. She’s clearly not ready for any of this.”

“You were like that once, and you were ready,” he says as he picks her chin up and brushes his lips across hers. It’s very nearly the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen, such a light touch, but there’s so much promise behind his open eyes as they stare at each other.

“Who is not ready for whom?” Pascal says as he storms into the room and throws his cane on the desk, clearly angry at something. Elizabeth breaks her gaze from the man, Alex, and looks over at me again.

“Lilah. Who is also not well. Are you feeling any better?” she replies as she turns to look at him. “And be careful with that cane. Who is she anyway?”

“She’s new.” That’s all I am apparently. I could use a bit more introduction that that. I swing my head over to him and frown a little. He doesn’t look at me, just continues to look at Elizabeth with a smirk and closes the gap between them. “You smell enticing, my rose.”

“Stop it. We have company. She’s very pretty, Pascal.”

“Hmm. Yes. Now, why have you summonsed me here? I have debauchery to create. You could help me if you feel so inclined, my love. Hmm?”

“I need the files you have on my sister,” Alex replies as he crosses the floor and steps in front of her. I notice Pascal take a small step backwards and then turn for the desk again.

“Why would I have files on your sister?” he says in reply.

“Pascal.” The word is actually growled. I’ve never heard a man growl, like a wolf chastising his pack. Elizabeth giggles. She clearly has no fear of either of them. Pascal throws his hands up and spins for where his cabinet used to be. He eventually finds it on the opposite wall, raises a brow and turns back toward me again.

“Lilah, where have you put the blue file that was in here?” he asks, pointing to the edge of the cabinet. I stand up as efficiently as I can manage, given the testosterone and utter sin that are surrounding my weakened knees, and cross to the tall, lockable bookcase that’s now ordered alphabetically.

“I re-organised. What’s her name?”

“Evelyn Peters.” I swiftly remove the correct file and carry it across to Alex. He pulls the folder from me but not before running his finger across my wrist. My body jumps a little at the contact and my legs hurry me away from him to the safety of the sofa again. He simply chuckles and turns to Pascal again.

“Alex, stop it, will you?” Elizabeth says as she smiles sweetly at me, clearly trying to ease my discomfort.

“Yes, do,” Pascal says, anger starting to edge into his voice as he moves between me and the strange man.

Alex turns to him and seems to grow in size somehow. His very aura is suddenly aggressive and full of malicious intent. I sink back further and try to hide behind cushions that aren’t there.

“Or what, Pascal? Those days are long gone now. You made it so.” They stare at each other for what seems like forever, and I wish I knew what was happening between them. I flick my gaze to Elizabeth, who is watching carefully, clearly evaluating the problem at hand and deciphering her own way out of this suddenly volatile atmosphere.

“Alex, leave it, please,” she eventually says behind him as she calmly and gently puts her long, slender arm around his waist. She quietly and very smoothly manoeuvres her way in front of him until her body seems to mould to his, almost as if she’s trying to soothe him, or at the very least get him to look into her eyes. “I love you. Please, let’s just go now. Prove it to me.”

There is no explanation for what ‘Prove it to me,’ actually means, but it must mean something significant because he looks down at her and eventually runs a finger across her lips quietly. His body is still tense, still aggressive in its demeanour, but his face is softer, almost kind. Not that he is.

He slowly unwraps her body from his and nods over toward Pascal, who, quite bizarrely, bows his head and lowers his frame a little. Almost as if he’s deferring to him, some sort of ritual goodbye maybe? I don’t know. It’s all odd.

“Goodbye, Lilah,” Elizabeth says as she clasps Alex’s hand and pulls him toward the door. “It was lovely meeting you. Go get some sleep. Pascal, let her sleep first. Yes?”

“Yes, my Rose,” he replies as he watches her with a half- smile. “I will see you soon.” Alex growls again. She doesn’t giggle this time. She just tugs harder on his hand until he turns and follows her out of the door, all the time looking back at Pascal with a scowl of irritation.

“Bye,” I say quietly into the air as I stare at his retreating form and feel some warmth creep back into the room. I shake my head while pulling in a long breath to try and loosen my tense muscles, and then release my nails from where they’re embedded in my hand. I was digging them into my palm the entire time he was here. I rub my hands together slowly to bring back some blood flow and stare at the back of Pascal as I watch his body sag a little. He seems lost for a few minutes as his eyes remain transfixed on the doorway. He may even be nervous, and he’s almost certainly aggravated.

“Are you okay?” I ask, standing up and crossing to the cabinet to get him a drink, and myself another. If that’s allowed. He doesn’t answer. He just keeps staring at the door with narrowed eyes. “Pascal?”

“I have told you not to use my name,” he snaps, as I get to him with his drink. I halt abruptly and take a step away from his vicious tone. He slowly turns his head to me and notices me hovering with a drink outstretched to him.

“Sorry,” I mumble out as he takes the glass from me and I retreat a bit further. He sighs a little and glances at my face, then back at the door.

“You should get some rest, my dear. Go back to my suite. Sleep.”

“But, are you okay? Do you need to talk or…” What? I don’t know. He just seems so annoyed. Maybe I could try to soothe him the way that Elizabeth did so effortlessly.

“The thing which I am in need of, my dear, is not for you to concern yourself with as of yet. Go, rest yourself.”

“Okay, but I could… I don’t know, but maybe I could help, or–” He rounds on me and has me pinned against the wall before I can utter another word. He’s so heavy and all over me. His grip is brutal, and I find myself repeatedly pushed into the wall as he holds me firm and continues to force more of his weight into me. His hand grasps at my wrists and yanks one above my head while twisting the other up behind my back. I can hardly breathe at the onslaught as his mouth descends onto the top of my chest and begins to bite at it. All kinds of sensations assault me with every passing second as I whimper in his grasp, and I’m almost instantly panting with need for something I don’t understand. He pins my body back and wrenches at his tie until it’s pulled from him and then he hauls me over to the desk. My feet trip beneath me but I manage to keep myself upright somehow until we reach it and I’m basically thrown on top. Everything inside my brain is telling me to yell for help, or maybe to ask him to stop, but my body is screaming for him. My thighs throb as he pushes them apart, and my heart pumps rapidly as he continues to bite at my chest and collarbone. I’m desperate to get my hands to him, which he won’t allow at all. Every time I try, he yanks them away and holds them firmly out to my sides. I can feel his cock digging into my groin as he rubs it hard against me, and suddenly something is pressing against my mouth. I open it without thought and let him push his cane inside. I pant through it as he slowly leans himself away and gazes down at me from between my legs. His eyes are still narrowed, calculating.

“Stay still, my dear,” he says as he backs away a step and removes his cream jacket, folding it neatly and laying it over a chair. He wanders to the door and closes it as I peer at him from the desk. What am I doing? My mouth wants to object, but my spread legs seem uncooperative with any form of rationalism. I want him to do whatever it is he’s about to do. I think I do, anyway. As I watch him removing his cufflinks and rolling up his sleeves, I’m inwardly screaming for him to have his way with me.

He comes back and trails his fingers along my thighs, applying varying amounts of pressure to different points on my skin, testing me. Some touches are harsh, exact; others are quiet, gentle even. And when he finally makes it to the apex of my thighs, I moan out around the cane and feel my back arching away from the desk. His fingers are light in their touch across my knickers, and caressing as he draws on the sides to pull them down my legs.

“You show your stupidity, Lilah. You are being quite dense. I thought more of you than this,” he says, gently circling his finger around my clit and then lowering it to the waiting hole. My legs try to close again, but I haven’t got a hope of them actually complying. He’s right. I don’t know him for toffee. He could do anything to me – tie me, beat me, hurt me – and at the moment, there is nothing I want to do about any of it. “You should have at least asked me for a safeword. We are not all so compassionate when prompted.”

Oh, yes. Roxanne said something about … Oh, God! He swipes his finger through the length of me and I very nearly leave the table at the electrifying sensation. I can feel my juices dripping from me, and I can hear the noise as he does it again then slowly pushes them inside me. I don’t know how many. I don’t give a shit either. I’m so busy moaning and groaning around my impending orgasm that I’m not thinking at all. “Your cunt is ready for me, no? You are willing without knowing so. Do you understand? Hmm?” He continues, leaning over me and running his lips against my cheek. I can’t think at all. All I can feel are his fingers grinding into me slowly. They’re still forceful, and I’m sure if I dare to move he’ll simply hold me still and give me no choice, but I have no intention of going anywhere. I couldn’t command my body to do anything other than give into this even if I wanted to. His thumb suddenly presses onto my clit, and before I know what’s happening, I’m arching up into his face. He sweeps his tongue over my lips and lingers there, causing my own mouth to reach for him through the cane. He pulls away instantly and watches me again. “How do you taste, Lilah? Hmm? Tell me. I won’t let you come until you beg me.” More hand grinding, now rubbing the palm of his hand vigorously and stretching me wider as he pushes another finger in. “Are you sweet, sour, bitter? I think you will taste of honey. Hmm? Speak, my dear.” I can hardly think, let alone speak through the cane in my mouth. His fingers drive in suddenly. It’s overly aggressive and it shunts me up the desk. “Speak, Lilah. It will hurt far less if you amuse me.”