His Every Need (2 page)

“I’m terribly sorry for your loss. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.” He
gestured toward the door.

She shook her head and a few blond strands slid over those amazing tits. “No, I won’t
excuse you. Didn’t you hear what I said? I don’t know what my father owes, but we
can pay you back. We just need time.”

“I was only half listening, really.” He leaned forward, his gaze resting on her face.
“You’re rather beautiful. I find it distracting.”

With a clenched jaw, she clutched the armrests of her chair until her knuckles were
white. As she took a deep breath, the green buttons on the waistcoat strained and
looked ready to pop right off the bloody thing. Very distracting indeed.

“Please, I’m trying to keep my family together, Mr. Blake. Since my mom died, that
house is all we have left. Surely you understand that?”

“I don’t have family, Miss Campbell. Relatives are considerably more trouble than
they’re worth.” A pain in the bloody ass was more like it. He flatly refused to acknowledge
his own.

“Please?” Her voice was a breathy whisper and she tugged on that full bottom lip with
her teeth. “Can you give us an extension? Just a month or two. I promise we’ll pay
every cent.”

He bit back a smile. Oh, she was good at this. Very practiced. Most men probably tripped
over their own cocks to give her what she wanted. But he wasn’t most men. And her
sad eyes left him as unmoved as her tragic little family drama. “Do you know what
I do, Miss Campbell? Who I am?”

She met his gaze. “Who are you, Mr. Blake?”

“I am, for lack of a better phrase, an investment angel. When I loaned your father
money to expand his business, he put your house up as collateral.” He lifted his shoulder.
“But he’s hemorrhaging money, an astounding feat given that he has a commercial refrigeration
repair business and we’re in the middle of a desert. He even sold off the tools and
equipment, which were also mine.” He raised a brow in annoyance. Brian Campbell had
gone behind his back. Did he think Trevor wouldn’t find out? And even though the loss
was trivial, Trevor hated losing money, no matter how small the amount. “How your
father’s managed to keep his head above water this long is something of a mystery.”

“What? No, you’re wrong. He wouldn’t do that without telling me.” She scooted to the
edge of her seat and placed her hands on top of his desk. Her nails were ruthlessly
short, the skin around them red and rough. “You can’t do this. My sisters will be
out of a home. I’m begging you.”

“I am sorry for your plight, but it changes nothing. Now, I trust you can find your
way out.” Dismissing her, he turned his attention to one of the computer screens and
checked the commodities prices. Wheat held steady, oil down, gold up.

Hmm, he’d made a nice little sum today. Not a fortune, but tidy.

When he glanced back, she still hadn’t moved. The heat drained from her cheeks, leaving
her pale. That lush bottom lip trembled.

Trevor sighed.
Oh
God, not tears
. He narrowed his eyes and gave her a nasty, calculated smile. “You know, Miss Campbell,
with assets like yours, you could make money in this town. I’m sure you could work
a pole as well as the next girl. Or there are the brothels. Prostitution is legal
in parts of Nevada, after all.” Just as he’d planned, the tears that clung to her
lashes didn’t fall. Color flushed her cheeks. He’d lit the fuse, and now he waited
for the explosion.
Anger
—
so
much
better
than
tears
.

She leaped to her feet and slammed her palm on his desk. “Fuck you. Take your loan
and your investment angel bull crap. Just…” Her gaze darted from his face to the multiple
computer screens and her mouth flattened into a straight line. Angry eyes met his.
“Fuck. You.”

He took in her pink cheeks, the determined tilt of her chin, then his gaze slid downward,
landing on her breasts, which were rapidly rising in agitation. “If you’d like, I’ll
be happy to oblige.”

“My God, do you think this is funny? My mother is dead, my father is now unemployed,
my sisters are about to get kicked out of their home, thanks to you, and you’re joking
about sex?”

He splayed his hand over his chest. “I never joke about sex, Miss Campbell. I take
my fucking very seriously.”

She froze for a moment, her lips forming a perfect O before she turned and stalked
across the room to the fireplace. Clasping the edge of the marble mantel, she remained
silent.

Even in those hideous black trousers, her ass looked nice and firm. She was rather
magnificent.

He was a bastard for saying those things to her, for taking her family home. But it
was business. It wasn’t personal. Why didn’t people understand that?

She swung toward him. “All right. If that’s the only way, then I’ll do it.”

“What?” Her ass had him in a bit of a daze. What had they been talking about?

“I accept.”

He replayed the last couple of minutes over in his mind. Then it finally hit him,
like a cricket bat to the head. She was offering to fuck him in exchange for her house.
Dear God.

She licked her lips and glanced at the door.

Already
regretting
her
hasty
offer?
Good, she should be. And of course, the idea was ridiculous. She was hardly the type
to offer up her body in exchange for anything as mundane as a small house in a rather
shabby part of the city.

He stood and stepped from the behind the desk, strolling toward her slowly, purposefully.
His gaze lowered to her mouth. She audibly swallowed but stood her ground. He liked
her spirit. She was tall, but he towered over her, forcing her to crane her neck to
glare up at him.

He placed his hands on the mantel and caged her between his arms. With his head angled,
he leaned forward. Their lips were only inches apart. Her pupils dilated, her breathing
became shallow. If he leaned just a little closer, those breasts would graze his chest.
So
tempting
.

She smelled good enough to eat—a light, fresh fragrance that wasn’t too delicate,
wasn’t overpowering. It made his cock stand up and pay attention. “All right then,
I’ll forgive the debt if you agree to cater to my needs. At my beck and call, fulfilling
my every whim, for as long as I want you. How does that sound?” Dropping his hands,
he pulled back and smiled. Positive she would throw his offer and probably her fist
in his face, he waited. Baiting her was rather delicious. But he needed to get back
to work. He couldn’t spend the rest of the afternoon taunting Allie Campbell, as delightful
as that sounded.

She stared at him with those impossibly blue eyes. “All right,” she said after several
seconds, “for one month, but I want it in writing.”

His jaw dropped for an instant, gobsmacked. “Sorry?” He’d just been teasing her. He
couldn’t have a mistress. Didn’t want one. Especially one that came with so much baggage.
A party girl who knew her way around? Possibly. A woman who had sisters to take care
of, a widowed father? He resisted the urge to shudder.

“I said yes.” She tilted her chin and studied him. “You expected me to say no, didn’t
you? Are you trying to welsh out of it?”

Was she challenging him? Questioning his word? He crossed his arms over his chest
and regarded her coolly. “I’ve never
welshed
on anything in my life.”

She mimicked him, also crossing her arms, and nodded. “Good.”

“Three months, not one, and there’s a catch, Miss Campbell.” He smiled at the panicked
look in her eyes.

“What’s that?”

Ah, now he had her. “You have to comply with whatever I tell you to do, when I tell
you to do it, no matter how…depraved”—his voice deepened on the word, drew it out—“or
the deal is off.”

Her arms fell and she shook her head. “No. Forget it.”

Excellent. “Well then, good day.” Turning, he walked back to his desk.

“Wait,” she said, a thread of desperation in her voice. “Two months. And I won’t do
anything that could hurt me.”

He wasn’t sure what possessed him to turn around, but when he did, he saw a flicker
of fear in her eyes. And it made him feel… He rubbed his chest. He didn’t know what
the feeling was, but he didn’t like it. He quickly dropped his hand. “But a little
pain can be very pleasurable.”

Instead of running for cover, like a sensible girl, she met his cool gaze with her
own.

“Then we’d need a safe word or something. And no other partners.”

Truly, he’d never been into pain, either delivering it or receiving it. Doling out
the occasional light spanking—well, quite. But that wasn’t painful. That was foreplay.
As for other partners, he didn’t like to share. Not that he was planning on actually
having Allie Campbell.

So. Tempting.

He told his cock to shut up. He’d never let it do the thinking before and he wasn’t
about to start now.

But what was he to do? Knowing there was no way out of his offer, not without
welshing
, he stalked toward her and held out his hand. “You’re mine for two months. Deal.”

She hesitated for the briefest moment. “Deal.”

When she placed her hand in his, he felt a rush of anticipation.

“And you’ll forgive my father’s debt, let us keep the house, and pay off the existing
mortgage,” she said in a rush.

He sighed. “Fine.”

Her face relaxed a bit. “Fine.”

Bloody hell. He wasn’t sure when things had gotten so out of hand, but somehow Trevor
had acquired himself a mistress.

Allie left the mansion, blinking against the bright sunlight as if she had emerged
from a strange dream. She just agreed to become a mistress. To a man she didn’t know.
A man who, in fifteen minutes, made her angrier than Monica ever had.

Yes, she had vowed to do anything to keep the house, to keep her promise. And when
she’d seen the way Trevor looked at her, like he wanted to gobble her up and lick
his fingers afterward, it popped out of her mouth. She’d figured she could screw him
once, get the house, and bury the memory so deep, she’d never think about it again.
But this… She’d signed up to become the man’s sex slave. This wasn’t a onetime thing,
this was two months of sex servitude.

Under other circumstances, she’d probably be flattered by his interest. It’s not like
he was hard on the eyes. Okay, so Trevor Blake was beautiful, with that wavy, black
hair and the broad shoulders. Even beneath his expensive suit jacket, she could tell
he had a nicely muscled chest. Still, he was an asshole. An English asshole, with
that superior, upper-class, snobbish accent and taunting gray eyes. Despite the heat,
she shivered.

But what other option did she have? She barely scraped out a living wage at the Lucky
Shamrock Hotel and Casino. Even if she worked double shifts, it wouldn’t be enough
to pay rent on an apartment big enough for four people.

Maybe there was some way she could hold Trevor Blake off—at least until she came up
with a better plan.

Walking on the circular brick drive toward her car, she rubbed her head. Sharp pain
started throbbing behind one eye. Perfect.

Allie climbed into the Festiva and propped her arm on the open window. How was she
going to explain this to her father? Or manage to do her job around mistress duty?

With a growl of frustration, she beat her fists on the steering wheel. Goddamn it,
when had her life fallen apart?

Dumb question. When her mom got cancer, Allie’s world came to a screeching halt. She
closed her eyes and shut down the thought, feeling guilty that it even crossed her
mind.

Allie was ready to get away from this house. Away from him. But when she tried to
start the car, it refused to cooperate. She twisted the key again and pumped the gas
pedal. “No, please no. Start, you worthless piece of crap. I swear, I’ll give you
premium next time.” The engine wouldn’t catch.

She glanced back at the house and tried to start the car once more with the same result.
Resting her head against the back of the seat, she thought about what to do next.

Trevor’s solitary property sat on the edges of Henderson, forty minutes away from
home. She could call a cab, but somehow, the fifty dollars that had been in her wallet
last night was mysteriously missing this morning. Of course she couldn’t prove Monica
had taken it, but…

There were no bus stops for miles, but it was only about ninety degrees and she could
hoof it. She could walk past the guard at the gate and leave her shit heap of a car
in Trevor Blake’s pristine drive. Ten or twelve miles tops—that was doable, right?

No, that would be stupid, and unfortunately, she’d reached her stupid quota for the
day. Pulling her keys from the ignition, she took a deep breath and swallowed her
pride.

When she rang the bell, the butler, another Brit, answered the door. With sparse,
dark hair and of average height—although his stiff demeanor made him seem taller—he
peered at her with a calm expression.

“Back so soon, miss?”

She didn’t know if he was being sarcastic or not. “I’m sorry to bother you again.”

“It’s no bother at all.”

“Um, okay. My car won’t start.” She wagged her thumb over her shoulder.

He looked past her to the junker in the drive. “How very shocking. Do come in.”

When she stepped inside, cool air touched her hot skin. Allie glanced around the huge
foyer. She hadn’t really paid much attention her first time through because she’d
been too nervous about meeting Trevor Blake. But this time she took in the expensive
round table with a dragonhead pedestal, the large Chinese vase filled with bright
orange roses, and a suit of armor in one corner. The wooden banister was polished
to a bright sheen, and the gray marble floor gleamed in the late afternoon sunlight.

“Please follow me.” With his back as stiff as his starched shirt, he moved swiftly
through the house.

Allie tried to keep up but got distracted by oil paintings and large, ornate pieces
of furniture. There were glass cases filled with collectibles—knives, antique guns,
coins. Swords and spears decorated the walls.

The fastidious butler stopped more than once to adjust a frame or straighten a knickknack
before picking right back up and zipping through the house at a quick pace. He led
her to a conservatory filled with colorful, exotic flowers. A stone fountain trickled
softly in the middle of the room. A wrought-iron table stood to one side, and he held
out a chair for her.

“I’ll bring tea, shall I?” With a bow, he left before she could decline.

Allie’s gaze traveled around the room, and she spied a potted orange tree in the far
corner. She took in the tranquil setting, breathed in the heady, perfumed air. It
was like something out of a movie, and Trevor Blake actually lived like this. His
electric bill alone must be in the hundreds. Maybe thousands. She couldn’t wrap her
head around it.

Oh God, she’d agreed to become his mistress. How was she supposed to follow through
with something like that? She’d only had a couple of boyfriends and the sex had been
okay. Nothing earth shattering. But a man like Trevor would expect hot, crazy sex.
Tricks and weird positions. As for weird positions, she’d tried the pretzel—once—and
it had been very uncomfortable. Allie didn’t do hot and crazy. In fact, she hadn’t
done sex at all in the last four years. At least not with a partner.

Images of a naked Trevor Blake ran through her mind. She may have hit the replay button
on her imagination a couple times before she snapped out of it. She was certain she
wouldn’t be able to satisfy him. He was sophisticated. European. Rich. She was just
Allie Campbell, a college dropout from North Las Vegas. Not bad to look at, but gorgeous
women were plentiful here. She was nothing special.

Allie glanced at her watch. All she wanted was the number for a tow truck. Fixing
the Festiva was going to cost more than it was worth, but it would be cheaper than
buying a new car. Probably.

As she continued to wait, Allie listened to the calming splash of the fountain in
the background, her eyes resting on a bright purple trumpet flower. The sweet fragrance
soothed her. Exhausted, she let her eyes drift shut and, for the first time in long
time, felt her shoulder muscles, usually stiff from anxiety, begin to relax.

Then something tickled her ear.

“Couldn’t bear to leave me?”

His breath teased a strand of her hair. She twisted in the chair and found his face
inches away. He was so close the woodsy scent of him filled her senses. So close she
could see the thin black outline surrounding his light gray irises.

She leaned forward, trying to get as far away from him as possible, since he was violating
her personal space. Again. “My car wouldn’t start.”

Straightening, he strolled to the opposite side of the table and sat down, his tall,
muscular body at odds with the dainty chair. “Yes, it was an eyesore. I took the liberty
of having it towed to the scrap yard.” When she opened her mouth to speak, he held
up a hand. “No, no, Miss Campbell. No need to thank me.”

She stared at him for beat. “You took my car?” Gripping the sides of the table, she
leaned forward. “You took my car? Where is it?”

Trevor flicked an imaginary fleck off the sleeve of his dark suit. “It’s gone for
good, I’m afraid.”

When she jumped to her feet, the chair crashed backward. “How dare you?” Her voice
bounced around the glass walls and slate tile floor. “I need that car. You can’t get
rid of it.”

“And yet, I did.” He glanced toward the door. “Oh look, Arnold’s brought tea.”

Clenching her hands into fists, she fought the urge to reach across the table and
pop him. The arrogance of this man was unbelievable—telling her to work a pole, junking
her junker, sitting there like he was God. And she couldn’t just walk out of here
or speed off in her car—
her
car—and never see him again. Oh no, she’d made a bargain, and for her family’s sake
had to stick around and see it through.

The butler approached the table with a large silver tray bearing a teapot, cups, little
sandwiches, and cookies. Frowning, he stared from his employer to Allie as he set
the tray on the table. “Is everything all right, miss?”

“Everything’s fine, isn’t that right, Miss Campbell?” Trevor smiled pleasantly and
waited.

Realizing her muscles were rigid with tension, she took a deep breath and forced herself
to relax. “Yes, I’m fine, thank you.”

The butler, Arnold, bent down and picked up her chair, holding it out until she sat.
Then he handed her a napkin and poured a cup of tea. “Would you like sugar, cream?”

“Um, sugar please.” Her hands were shaking, so she thrust them in her lap. Allie rarely
lost her cool, not even with the rudest hotel guest. Sometimes Monica brought out
Allie’s claws, but this man and his high-handed ways made her so angry, she reacted
before she could stop and think.

After doctoring the tea and setting it before her, Arnold placed three small sandwiches
on a plate. “Here you are.” Then he served Trevor and, with a bow, left the conservatory.

“I need my car back.” She tamped down the panic rising in her chest. “Please,” she
forced out, her jaw clamped tight.

“Your vehicle was ugly and didn’t work properly.” He took a sip of tea. “By the way,
I’ve decided you’re moving in.”

***

He watched the blood drain from her face. Oh, he was going to hell, tormenting Allie
Campbell this way. As soon as she left his office, he wanted to call her back and
tell her he’d changed his mind. But when Arnold told him she was still here, her car
disabled, he thought about how delightful it had been playing with her. And if he
pushed her a bit, he might force her to give up on this insane idea. She didn’t want
to be his mistress. And he didn’t want her. Well, that wasn’t quite true. Actually,
he did want her. In several positions. But she was entirely too much work. It was
best to nip this in the bud, now.

She shook her head. “I can’t move in with you. I have to look out for my sisters.
I have a job.”

He peered at her over his teacup. “But you’ll still have a job, Miss Campbell, servicing
my needs.” He tried not to smile at the blush that flamed her cheeks. Really, this
was too easy.

He surveyed the tray of treats before him. “Mmm, Jammie Dodgers, my favorite. Arnold
never puts on a spread like this for just me.” He plucked a biscuit from the tray
and popped it into his mouth. “These are delicious. Here.” He picked up another and
held it out to her. “Try it.”

“No.”

“Every whim, remember? You’re not backing out of the deal already, are you? What a
pity.”

With a mutinous expression, she opened her mouth and allowed him to place the biscuit
on her tongue. Snapping her mouth shut, she almost bit his finger, but he pulled away
so that she only grazed him with her teeth. “What a temper you have, Miss Campbell.”

“I still have to work,” she said once she’d finished chewing. “I told you, we have
medical bills and my sisters need to eat.”

“Another sandwich?” He gestured to the tray.

Slamming her hands down on the table, the crockery rattled and her untouched cup spilled
its contents onto the saucer. “No, I want you to listen to me.”

She was a lovely woman, ripe, lush. But when she was angry, she was stunning. Those
eyes flashed blue fire, her whole body practically vibrated. He had no doubt that
she would be a passionate lover. He didn’t plan on finding out, of course. Still,
he wondered if she was a moaner. Would she rake her nails down his back? Was she a
screamer? If not, he could turn her into one, he was sure of it.

Despite wanting to talk her out of this crazy scheme, Trevor was reluctant to let
her slip away so quickly. If she stayed the two months, or until he grew tired of
her—and really, how long would that take—she could save her family’s home and wipe
out the debt that must be crippling them. She’d even thank him in the end.

He kept his expression neutral. “I am listening, my sweet. You have medical bills,
two teenage sisters who won’t make it through another day without your guidance, and
an unemployed father who depends on you. Do I have that right?”

She shifted in her chair, obviously uncomfortable with the situation, uncomfortable
with him. “They need me. I can’t just leave them. You don’t understand.”

“I’ll pay the medical bills. Without having to pay me or the hospital, your father
will find some way to support your family. See? All better.”

She sighed, looking him in the eye. “It’s more than that. I have to go home. I’ll
come back every morning, every evening. Mr. Blake…Trevor. Please.”

He stared back, mesmerized. This “please” had been sincere, not angry, not manipulative.
But he wasn’t ready to let her go. Not yet. “I’ll have my driver take you home to
get your things.” He rose from the table. “When you come back, Arnold can show you
to your room. I’ll see you at dinner.”

He stood, tossed a last biscuit into his mouth, and sauntered out, leaving behind
a seething Allie Campbell.

For some reason, he didn’t feel triumphant at getting what he wanted. Instead, he
felt almost the slightest twinge of guilt.

***

Allie sat in the back of the limousine, seething. She hated him, hated that her father
had borrowed his money, and most of all hated that she wasn’t in a position to rip
that perfectly pleasant smile right off his face.