The Endgame (7 page)

‘Did you have fun tonight?’ he asked, turning to her and placing a hand on her leg.

‘Yes.’ She forced a smile.

She was relieved when he smiled back, and realised she had been on tenterhooks, worried that somehow he had found out that she hadn’t had sex with Grayson or that she had disappointed him in some other way. She had been poised for criticism – that she’d been too shy and inhibited, or hadn’t held up her end of the conversation, or that she hadn’t behaved in a sophisticated enough way ... She knew from bitter experience the myriad ways she could displease him.

‘I told you you’d enjoy yourself if you just let yourself go a little, didn’t I?’

‘Yes, you were right.’

‘Your small-town prudishness is so vulgar.’

‘I know. I just – I wish you’d warned me. Then I would have been prepared and I’d have known how to behave–‘

He put a finger to her lips, silencing her. ‘I didn’t want you to get all nervous and worked up about it. You know how you fret. I thought it would be better if you didn’t have time to over-think it. And I was right, wasn’t I?’ He smiled at her indulgently, but his eyes were steely.

‘Yes,’ she whispered against his finger.

‘I just want what’s best for you, Lisa. You know that, don’t you?’

She nodded.

‘I want to open your mind – and your body – to new experiences. But you know you can trust me. I would never bring you into a situation I didn’t think you could handle. I always take care of my baby, don’t I?’ he asked, brushing her hair away from her face so she had to look him in the eye.

‘Yes, you do.’ She gave him a smile.

‘So, you had a good time with Grayson?’ he asked, pulling away and sitting back in his seat.

‘Yes. I enjoyed ... playing with him.’ That was true at least, she thought, feeling a little glow of malicious satisfaction at having a secret from Mark.

‘You like him?’

Lisa hesitated, unsure how to respond. What answer would please him most? Did he want her to like Grayson, or would he be jealous and angry if she seemed too enthusiastic? She suspected the fact that he had engineered the situation himself would be no guarantee against one of his fits of jealous rage.

‘Yes, he was very nice,’ she said warily.

‘Nice!’ he scoffed. ‘Like the wine we had with dinner was
nice
? Really, Lisa, we’re going to have to expand your vocabulary.’

‘I’m sorry. I just meant–‘

‘Did he turn you on?’ he asked impatiently. ‘Does he fuck hard? Did he make you come?’

‘You saw,’ she said in a small voice, flicking a glance at Andrew in the front. The glass partition was up, giving them privacy in the back of the car. She knew he couldn’t hear, but she still hated having this conversation when he was so close.

‘When we went to town on you in the kitchen? Yes, I saw. That was hot. You were so sexy laid out on the table like that. But later – when you were on your own with him? Did he make you come again?’

‘Yes, he– he made me come,’ she stammered.

‘Good.’ He turned to her, taking her chin in his hand. ‘Did you let him fuck your mouth?’ he asked broodingly, tracing his thumb across her lips.

‘Yes,’ she said faintly. ‘I– I sucked him off.’

‘Good girl.’ He leaned in and gave her a hard kiss on the lips. ‘I was so proud of you tonight,’ he said, pulling back a little, his breath hot on her mouth. ‘Isabel is a beautiful woman, but no one turns me on like you do, Lisa.’

She sagged with relief that he wasn’t displeased with her. As the car turned into the drive, she looked forward to bed, her eyes already starting to droop. It had been a very strange night, but somehow she had got through it. She had even enjoyed it in the end. She smiled as she thought of playing chess with Grayson in his beautiful library.

They got out of the car and Mark guided her up the path to the house with a hand at her back. Once the door was closed behind them, Lisa made straight for the stairs, but Mark grabbed her arm, yanking her back.

‘My turn,’ he said, his eyes burning into her. ‘Take off your dress and get on your knees. I want your mouth.’

Lisa knew better than to protest or hesitate. She wished he could at least have waited until they were in the bedroom, where she would have had carpet to kneel on. But she did as he told her and quickly peeled off her dress, then sank to her knees in front of him on the hard tile of the hallway. His eyes were fixed on her breasts, glittering predatorily as her fingers went to the zip of his trousers.

‘Open,’ he instructed, tugging on her chin as she pulled down his boxers, setting his erection free. ‘I’m going to fuck the taste of him out of your mouth.’

Then he grabbed her hair in both hands and rammed his full length into her mouth. Lisa’s eyes watered as he thrust mercilessly, his cock bouncing off the back of her throat until she thought she would choke.

‘Relax your throat, baby,’ he grunted, one hand leaving her hair to stroke along her jaw line.

Lisa tried to swallow down her panic, forcing herself to relax. She stroked his balls, hoping it would make him finish more quickly. But he slapped her hand away.

‘Stop that,’ he snapped. ‘Hands behind your back.’

She did as ordered, clasping her hands behind her and praying that it would be over soon, while he yanked her head back and forth so roughly that she felt her neck might snap. Finally, after a few more brutal thrusts, he came with a groan, his whole body shuddering as he pumped into her mouth, holding her head clamped to him so that she was forced to swallow every drop.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry
, she chanted in her head like a mantra. She felt so weary, defeated and hopeless in that moment, she was perilously close to tears. But Mark didn’t like it when she cried. It enraged him. So she got herself under control as she swallowed the last of his cum and he pulled out of her.

‘You’re amazing at that,’ he panted, stroking her hair. ‘No one gives head like you do, Lisa.’ He pulled up his boxers and zipped up his trousers, then reached out a hand and helped her to her feet. ‘Sorry if the floor was hard on your knees, but I couldn’t wait. I just want you too damn much.’

Lisa forced a smile. She knew she was supposed to be flattered by the urgency of his desire for her. She swayed on her feet, stifling a yawn.

‘Oh, baby, I’ve worn you out,’ he said, stroking her hair tenderly. ‘Sorry. It’s been a tiring night for you, hasn’t it?’ He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. ‘Let me carry you.’

‘Thank you,’ she whispered as he scooped her up into his arms. She knew he would expect her to be grateful, touched by this show of tenderness. But that was all it was – a show. He was a brute with no gentleness in him. So she responded in kind, going through the motions and playing the part of his living doll. She had to grit her teeth and bear it for as long as it took, letting her end goal sustain her while she lulled him into a false sense of complacency with her submission and acquiescence. Her performance had to be seamless. He must never sense any reluctance or hesitation on her part, nothing that would give him the slightest suspicion that she was planning to leave him. Because if he knew, he would never let her go. She was playing the endgame of her life now, and she had to keep a clear head and see her strategy through. One wrong move could lose her everything.

So she wrapped her arms around his neck and curled up against him as he carried her upstairs. She smiled lovingly at him as he put her into bed. He quickly stripped off his clothes and got in beside her, pulling her into his naked body so that even in sleep there would be no escape from him. She nestled back against him and breathed a practised sigh of contentment.

His hands drifted lightly over her breasts. ‘Have you made an appointment with the surgeon yet?’ he whispered into her hair, as if he were speaking words of love, and she had to force herself not to recoil from him.

‘No,’ she whispered shakily. ‘Not yet.’

She tensed, waiting for him to say more, but he fell asleep, his deep, rhythmic breathing coming as a relief.

However, her respite was short-lived. He broached the subject again the following morning over breakfast. She always got up an hour before him on weekdays to fulfil her role as dutiful housewife. This morning, she had slipped out of bed and pulled on a robe, then pressed the snooze button on the alarm for one hour while he turned over and went back to sleep and she padded downstairs to get breakfast ready. By the time he came down, handsome and fresh in a sharp suit and crisp white shirt, she had baked bread rolls and brewed coffee, and there was a jug of freshly squeezed orange juice at the prettily laid table. It was a picture-perfect scene, she thought, like something out of a magazine – the doting, devoted housewife sharing breakfast with her handsome, distinguished man.

‘You should ring the cosmetic surgeon today, set up an appointment for a consultation,’ he said as soon as he sat down, shattering the illusion in an instant.

Lisa bit her lip, desperately trying to think of an excuse for not doing it that wouldn’t anger him.

He gave her a sympathetic look. ‘Come on, baby. I know you’re nervous about it–‘

‘You know hospitals scare me,’ she said, clutching at the slightest glimmer of understanding from him. Perhaps she could play on his sympathy. ‘I don’t want to have an operation that I don’t need–‘

He reached across the table and stroked her cheek. ‘You want to please me, don’t you?’

‘Yes, of course.’ That was true. She really did want to please him, because she knew she would suffer the consequences if she didn’t.

‘I just want you to be the best possible version of yourself you can be,’ he said.

As if he was some sort of personal development guru, she thought, swallowing down her fury.

‘I know,’ she said quietly.

‘Everything I do is for you.’

‘I just–‘

‘Sometimes I think you don’t appreciate how lucky you are,’ he said, a chill creeping into his tone that made Lisa shiver. ‘I’m happy to lavish my money on you, so you can make the most of yourself, and all you can do is quibble.’

‘I know how much you do for me, and I’m grateful,’ she said quickly, her smile appeasing.

‘Are you?’ He studied her, his eyes flinty now. ‘Sometimes I wonder. I work bloody hard so you don’t have to. I keep you in luxury, give you the best of everything. Most women would be thrilled to have a man take care of them the way I take care of you.’

‘I know how lucky I am,’ she said earnestly, putting a hand over his. ‘You’re so generous to me, and I do appreciate it.’

‘So why do you defy me when I ask you to do one little thing for me in return?’

Little thing
, she thought – it’s major surgery. ‘It’s just– don’t you think maybe I should wait to get it done until winter? There’ll be bruising, and I won’t be able to go topless – maybe not even wear my lovely bikinis.’ They were due to go on holiday to Mauritius in four weeks, and Mark had already bought Lisa a new wardrobe for the trip, mainly consisting of sexy lingerie and very skimpy bikinis.

He studied her in silence for a moment, as if weighing up her motives. ‘Maybe you’re right,’ he said eventually. ‘There’ll be recovery time too. You’ll probably be out of bounds for a while. That wouldn’t be much fun on holiday, would it?’

‘No,’ Lisa smiled, relieved.

‘Perhaps it would be best if you could schedule it for some time when I’m away, so you’ll have done most of your recovering by the time I get back.’

‘Good idea.’ Inwardly her skin crawled at the way he thought of her as if she were his toy, her body just something that existed for his pleasure.

‘That’s settled then,’ he said, smiling warmly at her. ‘Next year you’ll be able to hold your own with any woman on the beach.’

Lisa seethed. She wasn’t ashamed of her body, and she had no intention of getting it hacked up to please Mark. She had no complex about the size of her breasts. They were smaller since she had lost weight, but she was still by no means flat-chested. She just didn’t happen to live up to Mark’s image of the ideal female shape. Well, there would be no more holidays with him – not this year or next. She took a slug of coffee and reached absent-mindedly towards the basket of rolls she had baked freshly this morning.

Mark’s tutting stayed her hand. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, do you?’ he said smoothly. ‘You don’t want to get fat.’

‘No,’ she mumbled, withdrawing her hand.

‘You know you can’t eat bread. It bloats you.’

She nodded as he stood. ‘I wasn’t thinking.’

‘Lucky you have me looking out for you,’ he said. He came around to her side of the table and kissed her on the forehead. ‘You know I remind you of these things for your own good, don’t you? I just want the best for you.’

‘Yes. I know.’