The Parlour (VDB #1) (8 page)

“I am becoming bored, my dear. Not a feeling I am at my kindest disposition languishing within.”

I quite believe it, and it hurries my next step forward until I’m sliding into the seat and pulling on my seatbelt for some security as I slam the door.

In other circumstances, I’m sure I would be flattered that this man wants me. I’m sure I would be hitching up my dress again and possibly mounting him at this precise moment. Unfortunately, I just feel forced into it. Like I have no other choice, which is fundamentally the truth.  I can’t stop the rush of discord consuming me as the car pulls away. I just wanted to come to New York and make something of myself. Not for anyone else, just for me, so I could show those bullies that Lilah James could do it, that she was someone and could make a go of her life. Instead, I’m sitting here in the back of a limo with a Dominant who’s going to fuck me, use me, teach me some lessons, and then send me back to make him some more money. What a wonderful thought.

“What do I call you?” I ask quietly, keeping my eyes away from his. I’m definitely not getting attached to him in the slightest. This isn’t love, is it? It’s a business transaction, maybe his way of making sure he gets the most bucks for me. I suppose Roxanne’s right – the more he shows me, the better I’ll become at allowing the rutting kinky society their pleasures. I’ll just do what he says and then I’ll be ready to make money. Money I need to get out of here.

“Sir,” he replies, trying to hand me the champagne. I don’t take it. This isn’t a date, for God’s sake. I shake my head at him and look out the window. Sir? What has he done to deserve my respect? Other than be excruciatingly attractive.

“Why?” He laughs, and continues laughing. It’s worryingly addictive. It has that warmth about it that makes me want to join in. I keep my head slightly bowed and stab my nails into my hand to remind myself that this isn’t real – that he doesn’t actually like me in any way. I’m just a fuck toy for him, yet another unnoticed nod at stupid Lilah James, probably a good fuck, but not worth getting to know, or trying to understand in any way.

She’s certainly not good enough to keep.

“It has been some time since someone has asked that question. I find myself unable to answer you, I’m afraid,” he says with another small chuckle as he finds his composure again.

“No, you don’t need to answer that. I’m sorry. You deserve your respect, I’m sure. It’s just I’ve never done this before, and I don’t know what to do or say,” I reply, still jabbing my fingernails in and hoping I don’t sound like an utter idiot.

“Where were you when Jacob found you?”

“Up on forty-fifth
somewhere.”

“How long had you been running?”

“I wasn’t running. I lost my job, then my home. I had nowhere to go. That’s all. I’d rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind. It’s hardly relevant, and neither is this conversation. Just tell me what you expect and we’ll get on with it.”

“It is more relevant than you would think, my dear. How do you expect to give me your all if you do not disclose your past, hmm?” he says as he turns my face towards him with his cane. I flinch at the contact and try to pull my head away again. “I will fuck you in every way possible, but if you refuse me access to that delectable mind, I cannot break you entirely. We must all break to become whole, my dear. It is inevitable.”

“You don’t need access to my mind,” I reply, tentatively moving the cane from my face. “From what I gather, if I fuck well enough then I should make you plenty of money. That’s all this is about.” He raises a brow at my outburst and then narrows those green eyes.

“You are quite direct, my dear.”

“I’m just not fussed by trying to make this something it’s not, Sir.” He smirks at me and places the cane down at my side with yet another amused lift of his lips.

“You do not condone my world, hmm?”

“I know nothing of your world, but you’re right. I don’t condone forcing people to have sex when they don’t want to. I’m smart. I could have worked for Roxanne in other ways to pay off my debt, thanked her for her efforts without having to resort to this.”

“You find me fucking you a distressing thought?”

“I find sleeping with you so you can make money out of me a distressing thought, yes.”

“Hmm. Well, this is what I do. You are yet another reasonably expensive commodity that I now own. Of course, should you choose, I will have the car stop and you may leave.”

That old chestnut. Do they all use that? Helpful it is not.

“And go where?”

“That is not my concern,” he replies immediately, smiling yet more and crossing his long legs.
Egotistical bastard.

“Exactly. You know I have no option but this available and yet you continue to force the issue.”

“My dear, had I wanted to force you, I would have fucked you on the hall floor. Or perhaps already have driven myself into your ass without any further thought on how my cock currently aches for release.”

Clearly this is the type of language I’m now going to have to deal with. I suppose this is what whores do. Maybe it’s supposed to be sexy in some way.

“But you still keep me here,” I reply, rolling my eyes at the attempt to scare or intimidate me and gazing out the window instead.

“Jones, pull the car over.”
What?
The car immediately pulls to the kerb. “Out you go.”

“But I have nowhere to go,” I snap, swinging my head back to him. There’s no reply. “Please, I have nothing.” There’s still no reply, nothing other than a smirk and him drinking his champagne while straightening his already perfectly straight tie. “Please, Pascal, I can’t go anywhere and it’s freezing. I have nothing.”

“I am not telling you that you
must
go, my dear, only that the option is obtainable,” he says as he leans across me and pushes the door open. I stare out into the street in panic. “Choose, my dear. I am attempting to be decent. I have become aware of my decency again recently. She would commend me for it.”

“What? Who?” I ask, swinging my eyes back to his amused ones again.

“Are you exiting?”

“I... No... Please, I don’t want to…” Nothing else comes out as I continue looking at him and silently beg him to close the door. Whatever I might not want to happen, I sure as hell don’t want to go out there again. I can handle whatever happens here. It’s just fucking, right? I can’t survive out there again, and more importantly, I can’t make any money out there. His face flattens from its amused stare until it’s just a gaze of intrigue, maybe interest.

“Close the door, my dear,” he eventually says, turning his head from me and blowing out a huff for some reason. “You are quite right. It is unfairly cold and I am hungry. Your nipples are also too much of a temptation for me to behave much longer, a potentially damaging circumstance to your innocence, indeed. Have you eaten? And do not call me by my name again. It is reserved for only a few.” What the hell was that about? Hungry? And my nipples? I look down to see them on show through my dress for the world to see, so I grab my coat around me.

“Who on earth are you?”

“I am Sir to you. That is all you need to know. Close the door, Lilah James, and tell me how smart you are. Do you play chess?”

“No,” I reply quietly, pulling the door to with a sigh of thanks and fiddling with my coat again to ensure my errant nipples aren’t on display any more. Although, I can’t stop the snort to myself at the thought; it’s not like I should bother covering them really, is it?

“Shame, I could do with a new challenge.”

Could he? Maybe I can distract him out of this situation.

“I play cards.”

“Fascinating.”

“I’m good.”

“I’m sure.” If there was ever a sarcasm master, I’m sure this man is him.

“I am. I won like a thousand bucks at the casino once,” I reply, slightly indignant at his tone. “And I can beat just about anyone at poker.” I’ve been told this about myself. I have a good poker face, apparently. No real expressions. That comes from years of legal manoeuvrings, never giving anything away. Probably the hours on end searching research documents and cutting through the crap that wasn’t relevant to anything. Facts, nothing else, are something I’ve become very good at, something that helped me survive the streets as I showed no fear, unlike some of the other poor girls.

“Hmm, this is a highly unlikely outcome for someone who throws away her dissolving underwear with only a touch to her collar bone.” Possibly true, but not the point, frankly.

“I did not give you my underwear,” I spit out, in the hope of regaining some element of control.

“I can assure you, you did.” Condescending arsehole.

“Fuck off!” It’s out before I can stop it. My hand flies to my mouth the instant a scowl erupts on his face. It’s worrisome to say the least, so I hitch myself a little further away from him and cling to the door for support. “Oh God, I’m sorry. That was so rude, and completely uncalled for. I didn’t... It’s just, you–”

“I just what? Hmm? Open your mouth,” he snaps, a slight sneer now overriding the scowl that was in place, making him all the more concerning.

“What?”

“I feel the need to punish your overenthusiastic outburst.”

“I…”

“The ‘oh’ shape is preferable, but not necessary,” he says as he grabs the back of my head with such force that I yelp out in reply and kick out in hope. His rough hand yanks me down towards his lap as the other wrenches at his belt and grasps his cock out of the fly. I can smell his scent assault the air immediately as I kick out again in the hope of escape. It’s strong and musky, and my lips are so close to him I can’t help but lick them in anticipation, regardless of my useless struggling. I wish I didn’t want him. I wish there was a way of saying no and making him stop the car again, but the feeling of being forced down to him is making me moan without thinking about it. My body gives up its pointless struggle as his hand grabs his shaft and he tugs me closer to his cock.

“You should open wider, my dear. You know you want to,” he says as he brushes the tip of himself over my lips twice, almost as if he’s asking me before forcing me. I could bite him, I suppose. That could work. Let him shove it into me and then take control of the situation by sinking my teeth in. But try as I might, I don’t appear to have a hope of controlling my response. My tongue swipes across him eagerly, against my better judgement, and I unwittingly relish the sigh that leaves him. It instantly sends more very direct signals to my knickers, and as I open my mouth a little, he pushes hard on my head and slams his hips up into me. Deep throat is something I can do, but never have I felt so filled, and he just holds me there as the whore in me savours the feel of him, almost mechanically. There is no connection here, nothing to make me feel wanted or needed, but something feels okay about it nonetheless. I couldn’t be more confused if I tried, and no matter how perplexed I may be, it doesn’t stop my hand from snaking its way to his thigh to hold him in place. It’s like my brain wants to take control of what’s happening. Or maybe I’m just trying to show him I’m willing as I swirl my tongue around him and try to move a little. This might be his form of punishment, for whatever reason, but giving an intimate blowjob is one of my favourite things in the world. He couldn’t have picked a worse form of punishment if he tried. And apparently being pushed and forced is something that appeals to my groin, too, because I can feel my already damp knickers getting wetter by the minute. In fact, if he flipped me over and fucked me, I’d probably enjoy it. I pull back a little and try to indicate a rhythm to him, which he seems to accept as his hand softens a little. It’s not much, but he does allow me to move up and down on him. I do, and I enjoy the thought more and more as I lose myself in the moment. Blowjobs with a man I hardly know in the back of a car. Oh, Lilah James, you little slut.

His grunts come slowly at first as he lets me find my way around him. He occasionally changes the angle of my head, showing me his preference, and pushes in deeper again, but other than that, I know I’m doing a good job. I know this because of the tightening and slight jerk of his thigh beneath my hand as dig my nails in.

“You are to swallow,” he says calmly above me as he pushes on the back of my head again and then tips my head up towards him. His eyes hold me instantly as my throat widens for him again. Over and over, I travel up and down the length of him, unable to remove my gaze from his handsome face. He frowns a little and grunts again as I feel his thighs tense beneath me. “Grasp tighter,” he mumbles while groaning out his pleasure. I put my full weight into digging my nails in and feel my own elation at the strangled noise that leaves him. Seems he likes a little pain, too. I tighten my lips and allow my teeth to drag a little, just enough to work out how much he needs from me. He groans again and I watch his whole face soften with some undisclosed feeling as he lets go of my head completely and leans his head back away from me.

I keep sucking and nibbling gently, swirling my tongue around him until I can feel my own groin contracting around the situation. I’m not sure I’ve ever been so horny, almost to the point of touching myself. I’m actually desperate to come. And while I do love sucking a man, I can’t remember it ever making me want to come before now. He grunts again and starts talking under his breath in a foreign language, one I understand this time. It’s Italian. He’s swearing and cursing me for being too good at something, and as he stills and the tip of him swells, I can’t help but feel utterly pleased with myself regardless of the circumstances. This is something Lilah James is good at, and no one is taking that from me, no one. If this is what I can prove I’m good at then I will, without remorse. And I’ll make my exit money while I’m doing it.