Head On (The Head On Trilogy) (11 page)

"Go fuck yourself," I said, pressing the 'call' button for the elevator before turning back to face him. "I'm sure there are girls out there who'll do all this stuff with you," I continued, "but I'm a little more picky. I've got limits."

"What's wrong?" he asked, swaying in front of me. "Don't you like being told what to do by a man? Is that it? Don't you like it when a man tells you what to do with your body?"

I paused for a moment, and then finally I smiled. "It depends entirely upon the quality of the man," I replied, before reaching out and pushing him backward. He landed flat on his back with a dull thud, just as the elevator doors slid open and I stepped into the chamber.

Once the doors had closed and I was heading down to the lobby, I checked my phone for the thousandth time. My heart was racing, and I couldn't help wondering if I'd just made a huge mistake. After all, a job was a job, so shouldn't I have just sucked it up and given the old asshole whatever he wanted? By the time the door slid open, however, I'd realized that there wasn't enough money in the world to make me submit to a guy like Robert Foxington-Chambers. In fact, there was only one guy in the world who'd earned the right to dominate me.

As I hurried through the lobby, I brought up Parkin's number on my phone again. It was insane, but I needed to hear his voice again. Hell, I needed to be
with
him again. I was scared - no, terrified - that I'd never be able to achieve an orgasm again without his explicit permission. I had no idea how it had happened, but somehow he'd slipped between the sentries of my soul and gained complete control. Figuring that I was seriously fucked-up in the head, I waited while the phone rang.

"Pick up," I muttered as I stopped by the door. "Pick up, you bastard."

"You've reached Drake Parkin's phone," said a familiar voice. "Leave a message."

There was a beep.

I cut the call and tried again.

"You've reached Drake Parkin's phone. Leave a message."

Cutting the call and putting the phone away, I took a moment to try to decide what to do next. Getting back to New York wasn't a problem; I had the money, and I could be on a flight within hours. The problem was that once I got back there, I wasn't sure what to do next. Forgetting about Parkin clearly wasn't an option, since he'd well and truly slipped his way into my psyche, and I wasn't sure how to get him out again. I felt as if, even from this great distance, he had a finger gently pressed against my heart. How the hell was I supposed to work as a prostitute - hell, how was I supposed to function as a human being - if one goddamn man had this much control over me?

An hour later, sitting in the airport bar, I considered trying Parkin's number yet again. After all, there was no rule that said he had to be the one to make contact. Then again, I figured he always wanted to be in charge, which was fine by me; I'd just have to learn to be a little more patient. In the meantime, I'd be happy to take on some more clients, although I wasn't willing to subject myself completely to their every disgusting whim. I didn't mind fucking, but I'd only allow Parkin to dominate me so completely. Just because I was a prostitute, I could still have standards. I wasn't willing to be a chew toy for guys like Robert Foxington-Chambers.

Lost in my thoughts, I barely even noticed the television flickering silently in the corner of the bar. Eventually, however, I happened to glance over just in time to see a news reporter talking to the screen with a photo of a man in the corner of the screen. For a moment, I couldn't believe what I was seeing, and then finally I realized that it was Drake Parkin.

"Turn that up!" I shouted, getting up and hurrying over to the screen. "Please, turn the volume up!"

Grabbing the remote control, the barman hit a button.

"Parkin is expected to eventually make a full recovery," the newsreader said, "but he's likely to be out of action at a crucial time, with his company poised to complete the acquisition of several key Chinese shipping firms. Investors are already making their displeasure known at their CEO's recklessness, and some also fear that an investigation into the crash could lead to serious questions, and perhaps even jail time, for Mr. Parkin."

The image changed, and the reporter moved on to another story, but I was left shaking as I stared at the flickering screen.

"Rich assholes," the barman muttered.

"Do you know what happened?" I asked, turning to him.

"Everyone knows," he replied with a shrug. "Another poor little rich kid crashes one of his toys. These idiots think the world belongs to them."

"What did he crash?" I ask, my heart racing. "Is he okay?"

"It was on the news earlier," he replied. "The guy wrecked a Ferrari. Clipped a corner on his private estate and went head-on into a wall. Don't worry. Guys like that, they've got the money to get themselves put back together. You want another drink?"

I looked back up at the screen. I'd assumed that Parkin was ignoring me, or that he'd forgotten me, but now I realized that there was a more shocking reason for his silence, and for his failure to answer the phone. He was hurt. How badly hurt, I had no idea, but suddenly I was overcome by the realization that I had to go and see him. I had to find out what was wrong with him, and what was wrong with me, and I had to make a decision. Did I want to find a way to get free from his influence, or did I want him to keep my under control?

Part Four

The Choice

Kathryn

Four days after leaving Las Vegas, and after some extensive online detective work, I finally found him.

Drake Parkin's New York apartment was more than luxurious. The place was insane, with columns rising up to support high ceilings, while huge windows looked out over the city from high above. Even before I'd got any further than the entrance hallway, where a narrow-eyed, slightly snooty-looking woman quizzed me about my intentions, I could tell that this apartment was like a completely separate world. Honestly, it was the kind of place you reach through a rabbit-hole, rather than an actual home in the middle of the world's craziest city.

"What did you say your name was again?" the woman asked, one hand hovering next to the intercom as if she was poised to call for security assistance.

"Kathryn," I replied, trying to act as if I belonged in this kind of rarefied atmosphere.

"Yes," she said, with a condescending tone, "but Kathryn
what
? I'm afraid I must have a surname."

"Just tell him it's Kathryn," I said. "He'll know."

Sighing, the woman stared at me for a moment, as if she was trying to work out whether she should even bother asking Parkin about me.

"This isn't a good time," she said eventually. "Mr. Parkin isn't supposed to be taking visitors at the moment."

"I know," I replied, "but I'd really appreciate it if you'd at least ask him if he'll see me."

"Wait here," she said with another sigh, "and don't touch anything."

As she walked away, her heels clicking on the marble floor, I took a deep breath. So far, so good. Well, not exactly 'good', but acceptable. All that mattered was that I got through the door and saw Parkin. Since arriving back in New York, I'd been running over this moment in my mind, auditioning a million variations of what I wanted to say to him. The news of his car accident had hit me head on, shaking my foundations, and I knew I had to come and see him; the problem was, I was struggling to work out how to explain things to him. I felt that of all the millions of things I could say, only one or two would work for me; the rest would get me thrown out onto the street.

Hearing my phone ring, I checked the screen and saw that Donna was trying to get in touch.

"I can't talk now," I whispered as I answered the phone.

"Where the hell have you been?" she asked, sounding worried. "I was starting to think you'd been chopped up and tossed in the Hudson."

"I'll explain later," I replied, keeping my voice down. "I can't talk right now, though. I'm in the middle of something."

"Another international spy mission?" she asked.

"Can we please talk about this some other time?"

"Fine," she said with a sigh, "but I'm gonna -"

Before she can finish, I hear footsteps in the distance and I instinctively cut the call off dead.

"Ms... Kathryn?" the woman called out to me as she returned. "Mr. Parkin
will
see you." She emphasized the word 'will' as if she was positively stunned by her employer's decision. "I should warn you, though," she continued, "that he's still recovering from his accident. You must therefore be careful not to do anything that might agitate him. He's under medical orders to rest, and if I believe that you're in any way disturbing him, I'll have no hesitation in asking you to leave. Is that understood?"

"Perfectly," I replied with a smile. As I walked toward the door, I was fully aware that she was bluffing. There was no way anyone other than Parkin had the authority to throw me out of this place.

When I entered the next room, I immediately found to my surprise that the curtains were drawn and the place was very gloomy. Pulling the door shut, I took a few steps forward before pausing as my eyes adjusted to the lower light level. Eventually I realized there was a figure sitting in a chair at the far end of the room. He wasn't moving, but he was the only person here, and I figured it must be Parkin.

"Hey," I said, my voice echoing in the huge room.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice sounding as firm and in-control as ever.

Buoyed by the fact that I'd finally reached him, I started walking across the room. I was wearing the black dress he'd given me the other day, the one that I was wearing when he fucked me at the hotel, and I was hoping that maybe I'd stir some memories for him.

"Don't come too close," he said.

I stopped in my tracks.

"I didn't call you," he said after a moment. "I thought it was clear that you should only come to me when I called."

"I know," I replied, "but -"

"So you shouldn't be here," he continued, as if he hadn't heard me. "This isn't how this kind of arrangement works. I call, you come. I don't call, you don't come. Is that really so hard to understand?"

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Jesus," he muttered. "Is that why you're here? To see if I'm okay?"

I took a deep breath. This wasn't going too well, but I was still hopeful of getting things back on track. "I came to tell you something," I continued after a moment. "I thought this was something I should tell you to your face, because it might be the last thing I ever tell you."

I waited for him to reply, but he didn't say anything.

"I've retired," I said eventually, immediately feeling a sense of relief flooding through my body. "I realized that I'm not cut out for the life of a prostitute. The truth is, I
wasn't
a prostitute, not until that first time with you. There was a mix-up with your limousine, and I should never have even been in there with you."

"I know," he said firmly.

"You know?"

"Eventually Evelyn and I got talking and it turned out she'd never heard of you," he continued. "That rang a few alarm bells, so I did some checking. You worked for one of my companies, or at least you
did
until shortly before you got into my limousine. By the time I sent you to fuck Archer, I knew you weren't really a prostitute, but I was fascinated to see how far you'd go. To your credit, you surprised me."

I couldn't help but smile. "It seems insane now," I continued, "but for a while, I thought I could do this kind of thing permanently. It seemed so easy. I was earning lots of money, and I was enjoying myself, but then..." My voice trailed off for a moment. "I realized that I'm not that kind of person," I said eventually. "I crossed that moral line, and now I'm going back. I realized that..." I paused again, starting to feel a little breathless. "After the first time with you, I felt excited, and I assumed it was because I liked selling myself for sex. It was only when I went to Las Vegas with Robert Foxington-Chambers that I realized it wasn't the prostitution itself that had excited me, it was..."

He waited for me to finish.

"It was something else," I said, not wanting to be too specific just yet.

"Did you seriously go to Vegas with Robert Foxington-Chambers?" he asked after a moment.

I nodded.

"The guy's a fucking animal. He's deranged. You're lucky you got away from him in one piece."

"He got my number from
you
," I pointed out.

"No way," he continued. "Maybe he got it from someone who got it from me, though. I shall have to find out which of my idiot friends thought to pass it on to Foxington-Chambers, and then I'll make sure they learn a lesson they'll never forget." He paused for a moment. "I can only apologize, Kathryn, for the fact that you were exposed to that oaf's ridiculous ways."

"Actually," I continued, deciding that I'd heard Foxington-Chambers' name enough for a lifetime, "I have something for you."

"For me?" There was a hint of amusement in his voice. "There's nothing you could possibly have, Kathryn, that I could possibly want."

Opening my shoulder bag, I took out wads of cash and placed them on a table by the wall.

"This is all the money you paid me," I said, my voice trembling slightly. "Every cent. I don't want it."

"I want you to have it," he said firmly.

"I don't -"

"Put it back in your bag," he said. "Right now. Kathryn, put that money back in your bag."

I paused. I wanted to argue with him, to make a point about not being interested in the money, but there was something about his tone of voice that I couldn't disobey. Despite my better judgment, I slowly started to put the money back into my bag, just as he ordered.

"Put the bag down," he said eventually.

I obeyed.

"Come over here."

I opened my mouth to ask if he was sure, but finally I walked across to join him at the far end of the room. As I got closer, I was able to see that there were several cuts and bruises on his face, and he had a series of bandages around his arms and torso, as well as one on his leg. Instead of the suit he usually wore, he was wearing a dressing gown, and it was a shock to see the extent of his injuries. At least he was alive, though.

"Kneel down," he said after a moment.

Without saying a word, I knelt next to him. There was a pause, and as the silence grew longer, I began to realize that he was simply waiting for me to realize what he wanted next. With a tightening sensation in my chest, I reached out and parted the dressing gown to reveal his large, flaccid cock.

Leaning closer, I took his manhood in my hand, and although it was soft, I immediately felt it respond to my touch. As I ran my fingers down the shaft, it was almost as if I could feel him growing. I leaned closer still, licking the very tip as my hand slowly ran down to his balls. Already, he was much harder than before, and as I slipped the tip between my lips I realized he was almost fully erect. I let my hand rest on his balls for a moment, as I ran my tongue around the base of his tip, feeling his manhood swelling in my mouth, getting bigger and bigger until finally he was fully engorged. It was almost as if I'd brought him back to life.

Slipping him back out of my mouth for a moment, I used spit to gently message the sides of his shaft, giving him the very first few strokes of a hand-job. It was hard to believe, but he seemed to be still growing slightly, getting thicker and wider and longer as blood flowed into his manhood. I reached down and licked the side again, my tongue running against the large vein that ran the entire length of his member's underside. The organ was big and potent now, its size and tightness a constant reminder that at any moment it could unleash a cascade of hot, white semen.

Determined to savor the moment, I moved my lips down the shaft and kisses his balls, before biting very gently on the skin of his scrotum. I took a deep breath, reacquainting myself with his scent, and then I held my tongue out and cupped one of his testicles. I was already getting so wet, I could feel moisture threatening to drip down my inner thigh. Trailing my lips up the side of his erection, I reached the head again and took him back into my mouth, while using my right hand to gently massage the base of his shaft. Impossibly, I could feel him growing a little more.

"Fuck me," he said suddenly. "Sit on me and fuck me."

As those eight words washed over me, I was filled with the most immense feeling that this was what I was supposed to be doing. I slipped him out of my mouth and stood up. Reaching under the dress, I slipped my panties down, before gently climbing on top of him. I wanted to ask him if he was okay, if there was any danger that I might hurt him in his damaged state, but I figured he'd tell me if there was an issue. As I slid my legs down on either side of the chair, I reached down and brushed a finger against my clitoris before using two fingers to carefully move my labia apart. Slowly, I lowered myself onto him, feeling his hard cock plunging head on into my wetness. I moved down slowly, until finally he was all the way inside and I could feel him filling me.

"Kiss me," he said.

Taking a deep breath, I leaned closer and brushed my lips against his. He responded by reaching around and pulling my body closer, while biting my lower lip for a moment and then slipping his tongue deep into my mouth. We kissed passionately for a moment, and finally he began to run his hands across my back, pulling me closer still. Almost involuntarily, I started to grind my hips against him, feeling the base of his penis pressing against my clitoris while his tip pushed deeper inside. Gripping him more tightly between my legs, I felt a sudden, shocking tingle of pleasure pulse up through my body, and I tensed completely for a moment as we continued to kiss. As his hands moved down and lifted the bottom of my dress up, I felt his fingers running across my bare ass, and I began to raise my hips a little, so as to feel his girth moving inside my passage. My chest felt incredibly tense and tight, to the point that I almost couldn't breathe, but I knew with absolute certainty that I was in the right place.

Reaching up, he took hold of the top of my dress and slowly slipped it down. The edge of the fabric caught slightly on my hard nipples as he pulled the dress all the way down to expose my breasts; after a moment, he ran his fingers over my chest, and I felt his fingernails rubbing against the nipples before he slowly leaned closer and kissed first the areola on my left breast and then finally the nipple itself. Taking the skin between his teeth, he began to pull on the nipple, teasing it out before sucking it into his mouth and flicking the tip with his tongue. A whispered tingle was spreading through my body as he continued to kiss my breasts, and finally he used his teeth again to stretch the nipple, pulling it out from the breast just far enough for me to let out a gasp, before he let go and started kissing my cleavage. All this time, I was slowly, tenderly moving my hips, not looking for an orgasm but, instead, just enjoying the sensation of his manhood deep inside my body.