Chapter 9

9

Maisy

Jack has to take back-to-back business calls during our drive to the city, but I don’t mind. It gives me the chance to center myself. To replay our conversation from earlier. Jack doesn’t have a mother? Where and how did he grow up? He seemed genuinely perplexed that I didn’t want to put my own mom in the poorhouse—and I find that very telling. Perhaps Jack isn’t as insensitive as he wants to portray. Maybe he is just ignorant of love.

In what world, Maisy, are you not the most fulfilling part of a person’s life?

Words spoken so matter-of-factly that they left me shaken.

But does Jack want to love me? Or possess me?

My body doesn’t seem to care which, so I need to keep my hormones in line. My body thrills to the idea of being his possession, which I think is where a lot of my doubt about Jack’s intentions stem from. I’m discovering this…this kink—and I can’t even believe I’m attributing that word to myself. But these raw needs he’s introducing to my body turn me into a plaything. Afterward, I’m fulfilled. Beyond fulfilled.

I’m also left wondering if it’s affection that drives him to give me such pleasure?

Or pure lust?

And so, the man remains an enigma. At least I know there’s a past that might give me insight into Jack Lincoln, this man who can freak out over me bumping my head, but also fire my mother and strip her income without hesitation…but will he even let me go there? When I asked him to talk about not having a mother, he totally shut down.

Maybe he needs to trust me more first.

I’ve made myself vulnerable to him physically, but what about emotionally? Maybe I can give a little more and hope he responds in kind. Lets me in. Because I find myself genuinely eager to know Jack. Every moment with him is like walking a tightrope, my breath locked in my lungs. And it’s unclear what’s on the other side of the rope…but I continue to put one foot in front of the other anyway.

There is a safety net below, right? My old life is still there. But there’s no such net for my heart if Jack turns out to be exactly who he warned me he is.

Jack’s limousine pulls up in front of a modern office building, the lobby visible through a panel of glass doors. The driver gets out and opens the door for us and I step out onto the curb, watching Jack exit after me and button his gray suit jacket with a practiced movement. The pedestrian foot traffic bottlenecks around us and I notice several women turning their heads to stare at Jack, mouths agape. A little snick of jealousy catches me off guard, but a moment later, Jack obliterates it.

“Come on.” He tucks me into his side, scowling at the passersby. “Every man that walks past us is staring at you.”

I blink at his profile. “I think you’re forgetting how we met.”

With a soft scoff, he guides me toward the entrance, his palm sliding down low and remaining on the curve of my backside. “That was different.”

“How?”

“When I’m fucking you, you’re mine. There’s no question of it.” He opens the door and we walk side by side into the cool interior. “When I’m not…”

Realizing he isn’t going to answer, I pull him to a stop. “When you’re not…?”

His throat works and he seems to be having difficulty looking at me. “When I’m not inside you, I have to rely on just me. As you’ve pointed out, we don’t know who that is yet. So I feel…I don’t know. Inadequate.” He winks. “Unlike when we’re naked and I’m a sex god.”

“You’re not inadequate, Jack,” I whisper. “Not in any way.”

A brisk laugh leaves him. “I’m a work in progress, is that it?”

I shake my head. “That implies I want to change you. I don’t.”

He searches my eyes. “What do you want to do, angel?”

“Uncover you.” I lift up on my toes and tease our lips together. “And you’re already letting me, just by telling me you feel inadequate.”

His nod is serious. “I feel horny, too. Does that earn me points?”

Several people turn to stare at my giggle. And I realize we’re standing in the middle of an extremely busy lobby, pressed up against each other with Jack’s hand caressing my butt through my flowery, lightweight skirt. I try to disengage, but he resists, drawing me tighter, tighter, until I can feel the muscles of his stomach, the thick rod pressing up between us. “Jack…” I say, breathily.

“I had a business partner. A friend from college.” Sensing he’s telling me something important, I hold my breath and wait for him to continue. “He sold shares of our company out from under me when I trusted him. More than anyone. And that trust was…really hard to give.” A muscle bunches in his cheek. “I found out about it by accident and sold the whole company overnight, leaving him with nothing. Then I dedicated five years to obliterating every startup he assembled. I made it my business to decimate him. Over and over again.”

I reel at his words, at the chill in his tone. And more, I reel over the pain it must have caused him to be screwed over by a friend. “What happened?”

“I stopped. That day six months ago, when I saw you for the first time. Ruining him didn’t seem important anymore.” I hear him swallow. “But I’m worried that, uh…level of maliciousness did something to me, baby. Maybe it’s irreversible.”

“No, it’s not, Jack. You were hurt. People lash out when they’re hurt.”

He makes a sound. “They don’t always have billions of dollars with which to do it.”

“That’s true. Then again, they don’t always have billions of dollars to fix it, either.”

His chest expands. After a beat, he pulls me closer, making it hard to breathe, and I get the sense he’s trying to absorb something from me. “Your first surprise is a recording session. In a professional sound booth.” He kisses my temple. “I might have an evil streak a mile wide, but I know what’s inside me for you is…right.”

I’m almost too dumbfounded to hear the second part of what he’s telling me. “Are you…serious? A recording session?” My throat threatens to close up. “Now?”

One side of his mouth lifts in a lopsided smile, his blue eyes hopeful. “Happy?”

In response, I throw my arms around his neck and squeal.

* * *

My two hoursin the sound booth is a dream come true.

There is a professional sound engineer who helps explain the equipment and helps position me the appropriate distance from the microphone. I take out my phone and pull up a favorite passage from my most recent five-star book and recite it into the microphone, after which the engineer gives me some advice on my pacing and tone.

“You have a great voice,” she adds. “So easy to get lost in.”

Jack meets my eyes through the glass, his nod of agreement filling me with a fluttering herd of butterflies. The two hours of training seems to speed by, the words coming easier and easier, my voice growing clearer and more confident with every take.

Recording audiobooks has always been a kind of abstract wish. A dream career that would probably never actually come true, but when the two hours is over and the sound engineer gives me the file to take home, it begins to blossom as a possibility. An actual, real possibility. And I’m so happy, I can’t stop kissing Jack in the elevator back down to the lobby.

Jack’s hands tunnel through my hair, completely ruining my bun and leaving my long hair loose around my shoulders, while his hips pin mine to the wall of the elevator, our mouths mating in a wet, frenzied dance, my hands twisting in the front of his shirt.

Obviously spoiling me is very effective, because I’m ready to go home. I’m ready to go home and let him come inside me again. I want to give him pleasure after the best morning of my life. And it’s not only the generosity, it’s the thought behind it. Doesn’t he realize how much he’s proven about his character by gifting me something that proves he pays attention? Proves that he cares about this dream of mine and wants to help me believe in it?

Jack rocks against me, groaning into the crook of my neck. “Fuck. Do you know how hot it made me, listening to you read that love scene? Hearing that innocent voice of yours saying the word cock?” His teeth rake me, tugging on the lobe of my ear. “Say it now.”

My head falls back against the wall, moaning as his tongue traces my pulse. “Cock.”

Wickedness curls his upper lip “You want mine?”

“Yes.”

He mauls my mouth long and hard, kissing me with such intensity, I cry out when he abruptly pulls away, attempting to drag him back by the lapels of his jacket. Then I realize the elevator is open on the lobby floor and several people are staring at the spectacle we make.

“We have one more surprise,” Jack rasps, peeling me off the wall of the elevator and hustling me through the lobby. “Then it’ll take an act of God to pry me off of you.”

The next stop is a clothing boutique.

Although, it’s like no shopping experience I’ve ever had. Or even knew existed.

Jack and I are met at the ornate entrance by a sleek blonde woman in her forties who carries a clipboard. With an official air, she leads us to through the shop and I’m immediately made breathless by the gorgeous creations hanging from the racks. Evening gowns, party dresses, lingerie, shoes. To call the merchandise luxury would be an understatement. There is only one other customer in the store, an actress I recognize from a recent period film. I try not to stare at her. Or the teacup poodle she’s clutching under her arm—and I fail, nearly bumping into a mannequin before Jack smoothly helps me avoid it.

We’re brought to a dressing room that is roughly the size of a studio apartment. There are two chaise lounges, mirrors taking up every wall, striped velvet wallpaper and the requisite chandelier. The light is low, creating a mood that is nothing like the awkward, overly lit dressing rooms of my experience. This space has an almost moody ambiance. Sensuous.

I assume Jack is going to wait outside, so I do a double-take when he follows me and Clipboard Lady inside, removing his jacket like he’s in his own living room and tossing it casually onto one of the lounge chairs.

“Now,” says the woman, tapping her pen. “Miss Whitaker. I can judge your sizes for myself, but if you could give me an idea of the wardrobe pieces you require, I can get started pulling options.”

“I-I mean…” My laugh is slightly high-pitched. “I don’t require anything—”

“She requires everything,” Jack interrupts in a gruff tone, coming up behind me. His breath stirs my hair against my shoulder and I shiver hotly, sucking in a quiet breath when he wraps an arm low around my hips and draws me back against his front. “Dresses and skirts. Several pairs of shoes. Panties.” His palm drags up my ribcage to pinch my nipples through my top, turning them to straining peaks. “Bras, but I’ll need to be able to see through them.”

“Yes, sir,” replies the woman, making notations on her clipboard, though I can see her glancing at us occasionally beneath her lashes, professional but curious. “We can make adjustments as we go. But are there any other notes to begin?”

“Yes.” Jacks turns us to the side, a mere three feet from the sales lady, and wraps my hair tightly in his fist. My loins coil in response, desire a prison that I can’t escape. Jack has me in a spell that I don’t want to break, no matter how wrong or scandalous. He somehow makes it all right. Makes me feel safe, even as he unravels me, exposes me, revealing this core need to be…petted. Doted on. Observed.

I’m his doll, here to be dressed up to his taste and everyone is going to know it, whisper about us. And being objectified in this manner would be less acceptable to me if he hadn’t just watched me in the sound booth for two hours with his heart in his eyes. He’s bad, but he’s so good at it. Because he’s looked inside me and learned all the right tweaks that correspond to my heart—and this darker, more illicit facet of my personality, too.

“Yes, I have another note.” My hair is wound tight around his hand and he uses that hold to bend me forward slightly, curving my bottom firmly to his lap. “I need to be able to get inside of her fast.” His free hand flips up the hem of my dress, leaving the loose material draped over my waist, my tight, white panties on display. “That means short skirts.” He works my panties down over the curve of my backside, cool air kissing the hot skin. And he fondles it roughly, giving me a little slap. “Underwear I can get off fast when I need to fuck her.”

My knees are shaking, my vision distorted under the onslaught of lust. I’m being raked down the middle by sharp claws of need so vicious, breath is clattering in and out of my lungs. The way he speaks about me, like I’m a toy to be used at his convenience, is making me so wet, I worry the evidence is going to streak down my inner thighs at any moment.

“We, um…” The sales lady has to clear her throat. “We have panties, sir, with an…opening in the crotch. They come in a variety of colors. Would you like to see some of those? You wouldn’t have to, um…pull anything down.”

“Just my zipper,” he mutters, twisting my hair tighter in his grip. “Yes. Bring lingerie, too. We’ll require a wide selection, please. See-through only. Daddy likes to see that pussy.”

I almost hit the plushy carpeted floor.

My skin is on fire, toes curled, muscles aching from the strain of need.

“Yes, sir,” chokes the woman. “Right away.”

The sales lady exits through the curtains and as soon as she’s gone, I make a wild sobbing sound, my hands groping for the walls. “Jack. I can’t…I can’t…”

“Yes, you can, little girl.” He spanks me with a firm hand. “You love it. You need it.”

“I can’t t-try on clothes like this.”

Jack walks me forward until I’m caught between him and the mirrored wall, my staccato breaths obscuring my reflection. I’ve been so overwhelmed by what he’s doing to me in front of the sales lady that I haven’t stopped to consider how it’s affecting him. But I can see his eyes now in the mirror, over the top of my head. Can see the blue smoke and heavy lids, the tension around his mouth. “Don’t worry. If you can’t try the clothes on, Maisy,” he says, pushing my skirt down to the floor, “I’ll put them on you myself.”

I try to imagine standing here, trying not to combust while this man slides elegant fabrics all over my skin and I know I won’t make it. I’ll burst into flames. “Take me home,” I beg, trying to turn around. “You can come inside me. Please.”

He doesn’t let me turn, using his much stronger body to crowd me back against the mirror, his hand capturing my jaw and angling it up. “Didn’t take you long to start begging for it, huh, baby?” His touch drags down from my jaw, all the way to the juncture of my thighs where he grabs hold of my sex. “You want some hot, messy come in this pussy, you greedy girl?”

“Yes. Yes, Jack, please.”

Tucking a long finger into the waistband of my white panties, he tugs them slowly down my thighs and my breath fogs on the mirror. Faster, faster. I can feel the enormous ridge of his erection on the top curve of my backside, his heartbeat slamming against my shoulder. “I’m going to pump you so full,” he pants, his tongue licking up the side of my neck. “You might have been mad I broke my promise, but you loved that I couldn’t help it. Couldn’t stop thrusting with those sweet little virgin muscles locking down around me.”

Yes.Until he makes the sensual accusation, I don’t realize how true it is. Despite the aftermath, the moment was drugging. Perfect. “I need you like that now, Jack.”

He strips my shirt off over my head, rendering me naked. “Soon.”

“No.” Frustration makes me sob. “Now.”

How am I supposed to wait when he devours the sight of my nude body in the mirror, shaking his head and muttering a curse? When he strokes his fingertips down the curves of my hips, his lips tracing the slope of my neck. And that heavy, hungry part of him that remains trapped behind his fly is dragged side to side against my bottom until I’m once again trying desperately to turn around, to unzip his pants and beg to be taken.

Jack doesn’t allow it, though, keeping me pinned, relentlessly assaulting my nerve endings with skilled scrapes of palms and nicks of teeth on my skin. Oh God. I’m going to have an orgasm from his touch alone, the buildup, the illicitness of being intimate in a dressing room, Jack fully dressed, me without a stitch of clothing on. Just when I’m positive the crest is happening and my bare thighs are rasping anxiously against his suit pants, the dressing room curtain opens and the sales lady breezes in with a full, rolling rack of clothing and lingerie.

My eyes meet Jack’s in the mirror. I plead with him silently, although I don’t know exactly for what. To take me home…to take me, period, no matter who is watching. I’m so hot and thirsty for fulfilment, I can barely remember my own name. Only know I need.

“Do you trust me?” Jack whispers in my ear.

I nod, no hesitation, and I don’t miss the gratitude in his eyes.

“What shall we try on first?” asks the woman, apparently not fazed by the fact that I’m completely clothing free and Jack’s hands are all over me.

Lifting his mouth from my neck, Jack presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek for a moment. “The panties you mentioned. Red, if you have it.”

“Yes, sir.”

Without taking his eyes off me, he reaches back and accepts the red, lacy panties. Then he trails his open mouth from the nape of my neck, all the way down to the small of my back, dropping into a kneel behind me. His warm breath coasts over my buttocks. My fingers curl into fists on the mirror, making a squeaking sound, and I close my eyes. Squeeze them shut. Because I know from his position, he can see the moisture on my inner thighs. Can see everything.

“Step in,” he drawls, holding the panties down near my feet. “We need to make sure these work before we buy them, don’t we?”

Oh lord.

Oh lord.

What is he going to do next?

How much more of this can I take?

I’m still wearing high heels but manage to step into each leg hole without ripping the fabric, and then Jack is dragging them slowly, slowly, up my thighs. “How wide is the opening?” Jack asks over his shoulder, while…oh my God. He takes the cheeks of my bottom in his hands and spreads them wide, ducking his head to examine the sewn-in breach of the garment. “I want to be sure I fit through it.”

In the mirror’s reflection, I watch the woman pick up a different pair—black—and hold it up to the light, scrutinizing the hole thoughtfully. “It appears to be about two inches of space to…um…fit through, sir.”

Jack makes a doubtful sound. “Sounds like they were built for average-sized men.” Straightening once again to his full height behind me, he unzips his pants. A whimper flies out of my mouth, every muscle in my body pulling taut. Fearing, anticipating, buzzing. “I’m not average sized, though,” he says, a low, thick pitch to his voice. “Am I, angel?”

“No, Daddy,” I whisper, wetting my lips anxiously.

With a nod of approval, he steps to the side, drawing the cheeks of my backside even wider, so the sales lady can see everything in between, through the thin, see-through veil of red lace. “You think she’d get this wet and horny for mediocre dick?”

She gulps. “No, sir.”

“Then you understand we need to test them out.”

“I…I…” The sales lady glances toward the heavy velvet curtain separating us from the rest of the shop, then slowly nods. “Y-yes, sir. I understand.”

Never severing eye contact with me in the mirror, Jack jerks my hips back.

Uses a foot to kick my feet wide.

Reaches into his pants and stoops down, fitting his thickness into the opening with a line of concentration between his brows…and then I feel him, huge and stiff, inching into my wet heat, inch by inch, my legs shaking the deeper he gets. I don’t even recognize my blissed-out features in the mirror. I don’t recognize anything, this world of sexual depravity and delight is so foreign to me. All I can do is feel and there is so much to feel. The ripe tightening of my nipples and Jack’s quickening breaths stirring my hair. The rush of moisture between my legs, the cinching and pulsing of my intimate muscles as he invades me, finally filling me completely, the sound of joined, soaked flesh and our wild breaths echoing in the dressing room.

“I need about five thrusts to be sure,” Jack says hoarsely, grinding upward and lifting me onto my toes. “Bend forward for Daddy, angel.”

Out of my mind, starved for friction, for impact, I scramble on my tippy toes to do what I’m told, my palms braced on the mirror. Panting, mewling, clawing at the glass.

“Christ, look at this little treasure of mine,” Jack grunts, scrubbing a hand up my spine and burying it in my hair, drawing my head back so I’m staring into my lust-drunk expression. “So eager. So tight.” Briefly, he glances back over his shoulder. “She’s also a screamer. Cover her mouth, please.”

Oh. God. I clench my teeth to resist a climax.

How does he know?

How deep has he gotten inside my head?

He keeps discovering new, unfounded territories that shock me, make me burn.

“Yes, sir,” says the sales lady, coming up beside me and clamping a hand over my mouth. And she makes no pretense of looking away, her interested gaze fixed between my legs where the thick, veiny root of Jack’s shaft disappears inside me, through the stretched red opening of the panties. “Ready.”

Jack growls, sexual pain tugging at his features.

Then he grips my hips and fucks me.

Roughly.

His teeth are bared, his tie askew, sweat dotting his upper lip.

He gives me five bone-rattling thrusts that do indeed make me scream. I let loose a strangled sound into the woman’s palm, but there’s nothing to muffle the wicked slap of flesh every time he pumps inside me, his hips clapping against my buttocks. Hard. His flesh thickens with every upward drive, his eyes growing more and more glassy.

“Maisy,” he grits out. “Fuck.”

And he stops.

Body ready to snap, he stops, swiping a sleeve across his lip.

“No, no, Jack. Don’t stop,” I whine, my voice muffled by the sales lady’s palm. “Please!”

My pleas go ignored, but as his sex leaves mine, his eyes hold a promise. Soon. “Let’s see if they worked,” he rasps, voice unsteady. The woman uncovers my mouth and steps back slightly, folding her hands at her waist. Jack reaches down and slides his grip beneath my knees. Lifting. Lifting until I’m being held in front of the mirror with my legs spread open, my knees up near my shoulders. On display. Revealing the ripped material over my drenched sex.

“We’ll take them, anyway, in every color,” Jack murmurs, his chest heaving up and down behind me. “Along with everything on the rack.”

Carefully, he sets me down, taking out his wallet and handing the woman a black American Express card. Then he sets about dressing me, urgency in every line of his body.

“We’ll be in the limousine outside. Charge me, load everything into the trunk and return the card to my driver.” He takes me by the back of the neck and guides me through the curtain. “Thank you for your help.”

“Jack,” I gasp on our way through the elegant shop.

He roughs me up against the closest wall, his hips grinding into my bottom. “Not another word or I’ll bust in my goddamn pants, little girl. Do you understand me?” He releases a shaky exhale into my neck and drags me back off the wall, towards the exit. “And after making me wait four days to come inside you again, there’s no way you’re getting off that easy.”