The Parlour (VDB #1) (14 page)

“How would I know what the hell I’m supposed to do?” I mumble out as I grab at my top again and flick my eyes around the room for anything other than him. I can feel him staring down at me, probably debating his punishment for my stupidity. He suddenly moves off in the direction of the bathroom and I hear the bath running as he comes back out holding a red silk robe.

“Can you undress yourself?”

“Yes, thank you,” I snap back. I’m fucked if irritated Pascal is coming anywhere near me. I pull myself up and try to bear weight on my battered leg but my knee instantly gives way. From nowhere, his hands are under me again. “Thoroughly stupid, dense.” He snarls at me as he carries me over to the bathroom and tuts beneath his breath. More foreign language erupts from his mouth as he balances me on the edge of the porcelain and begins to unlace my boots. My mouth twitches in amusement as he continues to grumble at me, or himself; I’m not entirely sure which. Eventually, I can’t hold in my giggle as I watch him on his knees. It seems a ridiculous place for such a man to be as his highly skilled fingers work the long laces smoothly.

“Is something amusing you?” he snaps.

“Sorry, no, nothing. It’s just you look a bit funny down there, like you have no idea how to be on your knees for anything, which I’m absolutely sure you don’t, Sir.”

“Sarcasm does not become you, my dear. And I am far from pleased with your delinquent behaviour at present. Do not force me to change my mind.”

I sit perfectly still again and allow him to undress me slowly and very carefully. I’ve never been undressed like this before. Yes, I’ve had my clothes stripped from me in the heat of the moment and discarded in amongst passionate fumbling, but I’ve never been so meticulously de-robed. His fingers are precise and careful as he unbuttons things and eventually reaches for the back of my bra. Funny really, given the fact that he was the one who tore my dress in the first place. One very practised movement of his hand and the clasp falls open, exposing my breasts to him. He then offers support to my upper body as he pulls the dress down and tugs at my knickers. Finally, I’m left sitting stark naked, just watching him throw clothes and boots into a garbage can in the corner. I’m in shock to be honest. I’m naked in front of him, and yet there seems no air of erotic intent in his gaze. He has simply helped me get undressed, and for a moment we just continue to look at each other. His face is flat and still slightly stern as he lets me gaze into his eyes, and I watch the flicker of emerald green change and dance in the low light of the bathroom. They’re such dazzling eyes, the kind you want to linger in forever and find out what depths lie inside. I could stay in this moment for a lifetime, I’m sure, and never see all the flecks of colour lurking in there.

“Have you had your fill, my dear?” he asks, breaking me from my thoughtful moment.

“Yes, sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“I’m quite sure you did.” Yes, I suppose I did. I snort a little at him and try to swing my legs over the rim of the bath. My hip grates against it and I flinch in pain. “More stupidity, Lilah? Stay still,” he says sardonically. I frown at his comment and then smile slightly at the fact that he said my name. I look over at him to find him smirking and starting to remove his shirt. Oh God, he’s undressing? I remove my eyes from him and just listen to the rustling of fabric and his chuckles until I see his bare feet beneath me. Even they’re astonishingly beautiful. I avert my eyes for some unknown reason and lean towards the bath again to conceal my utter embarrassment at the situation. It seems I can have his cock in my mouth, let him shove his hands inside me with extreme consequences, be here butt naked in front of him, but I can’t actually look at his naked form.

He scoops me up yet again and carefully lowers himself and me into the bath until I’m resting between his legs. It seems an intimate move, one I wouldn’t have thought would ever happen with such a man. He tilts me back to him and, in an odd, unexpected move, kisses the top of my head as his hands come to rest on my stomach. We just sit like this for a long time while I feel the rhythm of his heart beating in my back. It’s so strong, not unlike the man himself. He sighs every now and then and moves his feet around, making the water swirl around us. It’s warm in here and reminds me of that serene feeling downstairs in his office, in my aftershocks. Intimate, close. I almost feel cherished as I sit here between his thighs and gaze at dark olive skin wrapping around me, yet again, protecting me from bumping into the side of the bath and causing pain. I chuckle a little at my thoughts as I feel his fingers grazing over my stomach. I could almost believe we were a couple in love. More stupidity.

“Can you tell me what I did wrong downstairs?” I say as I muse over what is actually happening in this world. I’m confused enough about what’s happening in this bathroom, but I do need to handle myself if I’m to stay here long enough to get my money. He chuckles and I watch his hands fill up a jug with bath water.

“Lean back, my dear,” he says. I scuttle forward and then tilt my head back to feel him pouring the warm water over my hair. It seems to sluice through the confusion as much as it does the dirt. It’s cleansing, and as I feel his fingers massaging shampoo into my head, I moan out gratefully.

“This noise you make is perturbing,” he grumbles as his body tenses a little behind me.

“What?”

“This little whimper that emanates from your mouth, it is disconcerting. Stop.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know it had such an effect on your highly debauched being. I shall stop forthwith, Sir. Could you just keep the hair washing going, though?”

“You are pushing the limits of acceptable with your sarcasm, young lady.”

“Am I?”

“Hmm.”

“Does it make you as nervous as my whimper?” He nearly chokes on his own laughter.

“There is only one person who makes me anxious, my dear. You are not he,” he says, catching his breath and relaxing again. “You are amusing me, though.”

“It’s that Alex chap, isn’t it?”

“How very astute of you.”

“You backed a step away from him, and then deferred with a slight bow of your head. Not something I would have imagined of you. He must have quite a hold on you.”

“Mmm. He does.” That’s all he says in reply as he tips my head back again and pours more water to remove the shampoo.

“Are you gay?” He laughs again.

“You are inquisitive as well as presumptuous. No, not gay, my dear. Gay would imply a preference one way or the other, and this would be quite limiting. I am not inclined to restriction in my sexuality.” Well that told me.

“Oh. Right. Good for you then.” He chuckles again and begins to soap the sponge as he pushes me upright carefully. He brushes the sponge across me in circular motions. Once again, it feels precise and exact in its wandering.

“You sound like Elizabeth on occasion. That is also perturbing. You should stop this also.”

“I’m entirely sure I’m nothing like her. She’s possibly the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Is that hair real? It’s stunningly red. I’ll never be anything like that. I don’t even know how people like that exist. How does she pull off that casual chic so well? You do that, too.”

“Do you always talk so much? And please do not call me casual.”

“Sorry. It’s just, well, this is all a bit odd. I tend to talk my way out of precarious situations. Why are you even in here with me?”

“You also apologize too much, and I have ulterior motives for bathing with you.” Sex? I think not. My body’s already sore enough without his idea of foreplay again, let alone the deliverance of actual sex between us. Although my body tenses in excitement at the thought.

“I’m sorry, but I think my hip’s in too much pain for that.”

“You presume that is not what I require of you, hmm?” he says in the sexiest voice I’ve heard from him yet. “You require that pain more than you know as yet, my dear.” And I might, just not at the moment given my flailing around on greasy floors in kink clubs.

“You wouldn’t be protecting me if you wanted to cause pain. What can I do for you?”

Silence descends for a few minutes as we just lie together. I don’t know if it was me talking about protection, or whether he’s questioning what he needs me to do, but as I let the warm water ease my aching bones again, I really couldn’t give a shit. It’s so nice in here, I could almost drift to a land where we are a couple, and our dinner’s out there cooking in the oven, and we’re talking about children and a life that’s normal. The type of life where I get up and go to work tomorrow in my business suit and heels. Solving the case, being the hero in some major court decision. Being happy. His soft sigh behind me pulls me back to the present as his leg swirls the water around again.

“My wounds still require attention,” he says, quietly.

So I just lay there, staring at the ceiling and listening to his breathing again. Maybe I’m just trying to draw the moment out a little longer before I have to admit to myself I’m just a whore again. Before I remember it all and try not to allow him another moment inside my head.

“Did you help me because of that? To get your ulterior motives dealt with? You could have just asked, you know. And what wounds, anyway? And also, while we’re at it, why didn’t you help me sooner? You obviously watched the show.”

“I did, quite enticing indeed.”

“I was in trouble.”

“And handled your misfortune appallingly. I will teach you the correct way to extricate yourself from such a problem in the future. It will be my highest priority.” Now it’s his turn to use sarcasm, although it’s quite lovely to hear him so relaxed and amused by me.

“He was an arsehole.”

“He is a dominant, a relatively vicious one, and he expects you to yield regardless of your situation, or who you belong to. There is an order in our world. It is a mechanism which deserves respect and careful consideration when dwelling within it.”

“But I didn’t want to go with him.” God, I sound like a whinging child for fuck’s sake.

“So you should have knelt when he asked you to, and then apologised for not being able to meet his requirements, rather than protesting and humiliating him. He would have released you from your obligation at that point.”

“But you told him to leave because of his actions. He must have done something wrong, or–”

“Do be quiet for five minutes, my dear. It is becoming tedious. I made him leave because he dishonoured me, not you. You were in the wrong, Lilah James. Although I should have escorted you. I may feel some hint of regret for that. This is also a perturbing feeling. I am perturbed,” he says, pushing me forward again and removing himself from the bath immediately. “It may also be why I am tending your wounds. Do not get used to the sensation. It is not generally my disposition to be so… obliging.”  The water sloshes around me as I stare into it and wonder what the hell he’s just said. My fault? I distinctly remember saying no, and also saying please on quite a few occasions. I turn my head to snap some kind of question at him and find him in his all his glory, looking back at me as he towels off his hair. My eyes fly back to the water again. Good God, I have never seen a more attractive vision of torture. Long, lean, and covered in a dusting of dark hair. His muscles are dense and articulate as they accentuate every part of his form. I may be looking at the water, but the vision is firmly embedded. I don’t think I’ll ever witness something so beautiful again. Unless I turn around again, which I’m trying desperately not to do. His hand suddenly appears at my side.

“Do you need removing?” Do I? I try to move my body and find the pain has lessened in the heat of the bath. The bruising feels more relaxed and the tension in my hip and knee feels less harsh in its intensity.

“I think I can manage,” I reply, pulling myself up and gingerly stepping over the side to get to the floor. He leaves the room as I check myself for damage. Everything actually feels a lot better. There will definitely be bruising around the area at my hip, but I can hardly feel anything wrong with my knee anymore. He returns with the robe in his hand again just as I’m tucking a towel around me to cover up my nakedness. Yes, I know, it’s stupid. His raised brow confirms this.

“I have had my hand in your cunt, my dear. Do you feel exposed?”

“I really don’t like that word,” I mumble as I turn for the sink and look for toothpaste.

“Do you not? I have no other way of explaining the thing that attaches my digits to my wrist.”

I smirk at his amused voice and giggle a bit. He’s quite the funny man when he’s not being aggressive. Sweet really, in some ways. Although, I really do hate that term.

“Not that. Cunt. I meant cunt. I don’t like it. Could you not use it?”

“And yet it falls so graciously from your lips, my dear. It rolls and echoes disgust, yes? You wear the term well. I am quite particular about whose cunt I use. Yours was divine, and I have not had my cock in it yet,” he says, coming up behind me and pressing on a mirror to open the concealed cupboard.

“You presume a lot, you know?” I quip, reaching for some mouthwash and rinsing out.

“I have every right to with our arrangement, do I not?” My heart sinks at his words. Our arrangement. I work for it, spread for it, he pays for it.
Whore
. My eyes find the mirror and I stare at him through it. He’s smirking a little and has that light flickering around in his eyes. It’s the first time he’s purposely made me feel used. Bought and paid for. I sigh out a loud breath and throw the nice happy half hour we’ve just had to the back of my mind somewhere. Just lock it up in a box and forget it ever existed. As if anything decent could happen between someone like him and me anyway. I just need to do my job, get my money, and leave this godforsaken place. I slowly turn away from his gaze and take the robe out of his hand as I squeeze past him towards the bed. Assuming that is what he wants of me, anyway. It probably is. Useless Lilah is good for that bit, isn’t she?