“I’m not even close,” I said. I could’ve gone if I’d just given up control, but that wasn’t about to happen any time soon.
“My ass,” she gasped as I pushed against her clit. “Fuck my ass, please. Anything that leaves my clit alone.”
I pulled out and she gave a half-sob of relief. I reached up and tugged on her restraints. The knots holding her gave and she dropped her arms. She rubbed at her wrists and I saw that they were red, almost raw. She’d wear the marks for a few days before they finally disappeared. But that wasn’t my concern.
“Bend your legs up to your chest,” I instructed.
She gave me a puzzled look but did as I said.
“Grab your thighs.”
She did.
“As long as you hold your legs up, I’m going to fuck your ass, but as soon as you drop them, I’m going back to your pussy and I’m going to rub your clit with my thumb until I come.” I gave her a moment to absorb it. “Did you prep yourself before you came?”
She nodded.
I always made sure the women I fucked knew to be prepared at all times. If they forgot, it was their fault if it hurt. They could always safe word and walk away. I made sure they all knew that. Nothing happened to any of them that they didn’t agree to take. If they didn’t like it but said nothing, that wasn’t my fault.
I teased the tip of my cock against her entrance before sliding down lower and positioning it at her asshole. I’d taken her ass a couple of times so I knew how much she could take at once. Tonight, however, I tested those limits and shoved myself inside with one thrust. Before she’d even stopping wailing, I was pounding into her. Her body was nearly bent in two and she begged for me to fuck her harder.
When I was close, I pulled out and earned a pained yelp. I pulled off the condom and tossed it towards the trashcan specifically positioned for moments such as this. I began to fist my cock rapidly, pushing myself towards orgasm. It didn’t take long. With a grunt, I came, spurting my semen across her belly and tits. I closed my eyes as the last of my cum dripped onto her body.
I sat back on my heels and let my breathing slow before I opened my eyes. She was watching me, licking her fingers.
“That was hot,” she said. She pushed herself up into a half-seated position, resting more on her hip than her ass.
I made a non-committal noise and climbed off of the bed. I went into the guest bathroom and wiped myself off before going back into the bedroom.
Sasha had crawled under the covers and left them pulled back on one side of the bed. She patted the mattress. “Come on, babe. I’m exhausted.”
I gave her a scornful look. “You know I don’t do the whole afterglow thing.”
Her expression tightened. She ran her fingers over her breasts. “You marked me,” she said. “Claimed me. I’m yours.”
Oh, shit. I hadn’t realized she’d gone that far. Usually, there were more warning signs and I was able to recognize them before real feelings grew.
“I marked you,” I agreed. “But I’m not claiming anything. Or anyone.”
Her eyes narrowed and she sat up straight.
“I made it perfectly clear when this began that I didn’t do relationships. We fuck for a couple weeks and that’s it. Maybe the occasional hook-up if I have an itch to scratch, but that’s it. No one is claiming anyone here.”
“Fuck you,” she snapped.
She climbed out of bed and stormed around the side to stand directly in front of me, so close that her nipples were almost touching me. If I’d been erect, my cock would’ve been pushing against her.
“I did everything for you.” She practically spat the words into my face. “I was your little fuck-toy and never said no. You need me.”
I laughed and turned away from her. “You think I don’t have a dozen women who’d take your place in a second?”
“You bastard!” she yelled.
Something hit me in the back of the head and I turned. Her eyes were blazing and there was a pillow at my feet, one of the decorative ones my interior designer had purchased for whatever reason.
“Okay, this has gone far enough,” I said, all humor gone. “Get out.”
“You can’t throw me out!” She stomped her foot like a child. “When a couple fights, they work it out and make up. One of them doesn’t throw the other one out.”
“We’re not a couple, Sasha,” I said. “What’s it going to take for you to get that? I’ll call security if I have to and I tip well enough that they won’t think twice about dragging you out of here completely naked.” I wasn’t so sure that was true, but it was a threat I doubted I’d need to follow through with.
“Fine,” she snapped.
She marched out into the living room and I followed to make sure she was actually going to go. I was starting to think if I didn’t see her walk out the door and then lock it behind her, she’d pop up in the shower later on. I was really going to have to pay better attention to other women in the future. The second they started getting too into things, I was going to have to begin looking for a time to opt out.
“This isn’t over,” Sasha said as she pulled her coat back on and pulled on her shoes. “We’re meant to be together, DeVon. You’ll see.”
“No.” I shook my head. “We’re not. You walk out that door and that’s the last time I want to see you.”
She gave me an enigmatic smile. “You don’t mean that. Not really. And when you come to your senses, I’ll be there, waiting. I won’t let you go, sweetheart.”
As I shut and locked the door behind her, I had a bad feeling that I was going to have to get a restraining order against her. At least if it came to that, it would be the end. If she violated it, she’d be arrested. A couple nights in jail and she’d forget all about me. I gave it a couple weeks, tops, and then I’d never hear from Sasha Richmond again. I was sure of it.
Chapter 11
Krissy
After having such a great time in New York, I’d expected the first full week back home, getting back in the real world routine, would be rough. I just hadn’t realized how rough. Aside from feeling like crap almost the entire time and whatever it was going on with DeVon, I also had this whole Landon thing hanging over my head. I spent the last two days of the week attempting to catch up on what I’d missed while I’d been out, but it had been difficult focusing, especially since I couldn’t seem to get DeVon alone long enough to ask him if everything was okay and where he’d been on Wednesday.
Of course, his silence worried me, which didn’t do anything to help the anxiety eating at me. I had to admit that there was a part of me that was starting to fear that he was getting bored with our relationship. I knew that this relationship was the longest one either of us had ever had. Usually, we were the fuck ‘em and leave ‘em type. He’d told me that, with the exception of Haley, he’d rarely been with a woman for more than a few weeks. For me, it was a couple months per guy. Neither one of us had lasted almost a year before now.
The longevity of our relationship scared the shit out of me, but in that good kind of way. The kind that said maybe I finally had found what everyone was always talking about, that one true love. He was the only person I’d ever been able to see a future with. When I thought about planning another trip to New York next year, it didn’t freak me out that I assumed I’d be going with him. I thought about holidays with him. The two of us growing old together. And it didn’t make me want to run for the hills. That was new.
In the past, whenever I’d looked into the future and had seen myself doing something with someone, it had always been a faceless stranger, no matter who I was with at the time. I’d always assumed I’d be with a new person by the time whatever plans I was thinking about making came to pass. And, until DeVon, it had been true.
I’d never really thought anything of it. Some of my friends, like Carrie, had always seen themselves as eventually ending up in a long-term relationship, but I never had. Honestly, I’d been blind-sided when I’d realized that’s
what I wanted with DeVon. I hadn’t started shopping for wedding dresses or baby clothes or anything, but he was the first man I’d ever thought of as being in it for the long haul.
And I’d thought he felt the same way. Now, I wasn’t so sure. He wasn’t being cruel or dropping hints that he wanted to end things, but neither of those things were really his style. Since our little misunderstanding with Carter Bilson, DeVon and I had made it a point to always be honest with each other. Did it lead to some heated arguments? Yes. But it had also led to the hottest make-up sex I’d ever had. I’d always assumed that if things were going to end with us, he would just come out and say it. I didn’t think that was the case, and I didn’t even want to consider it, but I didn’t have any evidence that it could be anything else. More than that, I couldn’t think of another reason he’d be behaving this way.
I tried telling myself it was work distracting him, but I knew that wasn’t a real possibility. DeVon worked hard, but he also played hard. For all the time he spent at the office, I’d never seen him choose work over us. It was one of the things we had in common. Sure, we put in overtime when we needed to. It was a business and sometimes stuff like that was needed, but we never let it get in the way of personal time, even if it was just an hour or two a day, and we ended up falling asleep mid-sentence.
This week, however, he’d barely spoken to me what little time we’d seen each other and he hadn’t once tried to initiate sex. At first, I’d thought it was because I hadn’t been feeling well, but even after I’d told him I was feeling better, he hadn’t tried anything. I supposed, for some people, that a week without sex wasn’t strange, but for DeVon and I, we at least spent some time in some sort of physical contact several times a week. With the exception of Monday night, he’d barely touched me.
I figured that once the weekend rolled around, I’d finally get the chance to spend some time with him and we could talk about what was going on. Except, I woke up Saturday morning and he was gone. The note said he was at the gym, and that wasn’t very unusual. What was strange, however, was that he didn’t come home around noon, smelling like a fresh shower and take me into the bedroom for other calorie-burning activities. That had been his routine on the other days when he’d gone into the gym.
Instead, I spent the day lazing about the house, trying to find something to do while I waited for him to come home. I was strangely restless, as if my body knew something was up even if my head didn’t want to admit it. I wandered from room to room, finding little things to straighten or clean even though housekeeping came through twice a week. I thought about different things I’d like to change and tried making a mental list of them, only to forget my ideas a room or two later.
When he finally came home, he looked exhausted and the smile he gave me was weak. I asked him if everything was okay and he just nodded and headed off to the bathroom. A few minutes later, I heard the shower turn on.
I sighed. I was at a loss. I wanted to talk to him about what was going on with him. I wanted to talk to him about the whole Landon situation and the proposal Mayflower had made. Every time I opened my mouth, however, he basically shut me down. I considered being blunt, but I knew DeVon. If he didn’t want to talk about it, he wouldn’t. It wouldn’t matter how things were approached. He’d just find a way to change the subject or ignore it altogether. I was willing to bet that if I asked him outright what I should do about Landon or even told him Mayflower’s proposal, he’d give me a “whatever you feel is best” kind of answer. When he was wrapped up in his head, nothing could break through.
He didn’t go anywhere Sunday, but every attempt at conversation was rebuffed. First, it was because he wanted to relax and read the paper. Next, he reminded me that I’d said I’d handle the whole Landon situation and he wanted me to do just that. As I’d assumed the night before, he assured me that he trusted my judgment in the matter. He said he had too much going on in his head to worry about Landon, too. I asked what else was happening and he didn’t answer. As far as we were concerned, the conversation was over.
By Monday morning, I was two days away from needing to give Mayflower an answer or the shit was going to hit the fan. There were only two people in the entire agency that I could trust to handle things with discretion if I presented them with my conundrum, even in hypotheticals. One was DeVon’s assistant Melissa, and I knew that involving her would put her in an awkward position because there was no way she wouldn’t figure out what was really going on, especially since she knew something was up with Landon. The other person I could trust was Tracy, my personal assistant. I knew she was loyal to the agency and to DeVon, but she was more loyal to me. If I asked her something hypothetically and told her not to talk to anyone about it, she wouldn’t feel guilty if she kept it from DeVon.
After lunch, I stopped next to Tracy’s desk instead of continuing on into my office.
“What’s up?” she asked as she looked up from her computer screen.
“That obvious?” I asked grimly. While I considered Melissa a friend, Tracy was the only woman on the West Coast I really felt comfortable confiding in. She wasn’t quite as good as having Carrie here, but I was willing to bet that once she and I knew each other for a few more years, we’d be just as close.
She nodded. “Something was up with you all last week. You and DeVon both.”
“Did you hear something about DeVon?” I asked.
She shook her head this time. “I just know that the two of you used to always be flirting with each other and finding all sorts of little excuses to see each other. Last week, I don’t think I saw the two of you together at all.” She frowned, thinking. “In fact, I’m not sure I saw DeVon at all.” She gave me a concerned look. “Are you guys fighting?”
“No,” I said. Then I sighed. “Or if we are, I don’t know about it. He’s been just as weird at home.”
“But you’re not stopping by to chat about DeVon acting strange, are you?”
“No, I have another problem I need some help thinking through solutions for.” I leaned against the edge of her desk. “I can’t give you specifics, but I have a hypothetical situation that’s similar in the aspects that matter.”
“All right.” She leaned back in her chair. “Shoot.”
“A photographer is trying to blackmail a Mirage client with pictures of said client engaged in activity that would tarnish his or her career,” I began. “The photographer wants an obscene amount of money that Mirage isn’t willing to pay. When threatened with legal action should the aforementioned photographs be released, the photographer offers to cut the amount in half – which is a much more reasonable sum – if one of Mirage’s employees performs a sexual act.”
“Well,” Tracy said, leaning forward now and placing her elbows on the desk. “If I was that employee, I’d probably punch the photographer in the nose and damn the consequences, but I’m pretty sure that’s not a legitimate option.”
“Unfortunately, it’s not,” I said with a half-smile.
“I can’t really say what the employee should do since I’m not the one being asked, and we all know how often tits and ass are used to get things done in this town,” she continued. “But, I can say that I’ve heard rumors that this wouldn’t be the first time that someone from Mirage would’ve done something like that.”
“Really?” I was surprised I hadn’t heard those rumors before. I knew Mirage’s employees were discreet, but something like that seemed like it’d be difficult to keep under wraps.
Tracy nodded. “A couple years back, there was this studio exec, some shrew of a woman, who was threatening to fire one of Mirage’s clients for some political stance the actor had taken. DeVon went in and, four hours later, the actor wasn’t fired and the executive never threatened Mirage again. The rumor is that the woman told DeVon if he had sex with her, it’d all go away.”
If this had been a recent rumor, I would’ve disregarded it because I knew DeVon would never cheat on me, but a couple years ago, he probably wouldn
’t have even thought twice. If that had indeed been the offer, I had no doubt that he’d done it, and had probably had her begging for more.
“Thanks, Tracy.” I managed a tired smile. “Anything new come in while I was at lunch?”
“Nope.” She turned back to her computer. “And your three o’clock appointment had to reschedule for next week. Something about a Botox injection gone wrong so she had to go to the ER.”
I rolled my eyes. That didn’t surprise me. Mirage encouraged their clients to stay away from ‘treatments’ not being given out by a respected practitioner, but some people didn’t listen. “Thanks.”
My rescheduled appointment faded from my mind as I refocused on the problem at hand. What DeVon had done had been before we’d gotten together, but he’d also been the one who’d told me that Hollywood ran on tits and ass. He’d hated thinking that Carter Bilson and I had slept together so much so that he’d nearly ruined everything between us – and we hadn’t officially been a couple at that point. I doubted he’d ever tell me to ‘take one for the team’ again.
I sat down in my chair and pulled up my email even though I wasn’t really looking at it. The problem was, this wasn’t just about Mirage or a single client. Landon was a friend and this could ruin him, not only professionally, but personally as well. Could I really let my friend lose everything he’d ever worked for simply because I didn’t want to perform an act I’d done hundreds of times in the past? I’d never gotten paid for sex, but I had received some nice gifts from men I’d fucked, and I’d sometimes ‘repaid a favor’ with a blow-job or hand-job. Was this really any different?
It was hard to compare the two, I knew, but it wasn’t thinking about having sex with Mayflower to protect Landon that was the problem. Sure, I found the man disgusting and the thought of him touching me made me want to vomit, but those were physical reactions.