The VIP Room(152)

I let out a soft groan as I draw circles over myself. Blake's breath gets heavier. He wants this, too.

"Bring a hand to your thigh," he says. "But don't touch your cunt. Not yet."

I do. I stroke the inside of my thigh. Closer and closer and closer. My breath speeds. Desire courses through me again. That release, I need it so badly. I'm desperate.

"Kat."

"Yes," I gasp.

"I said not yet."

I move my hand back to my knee, tracing circles around it. I can't wait any longer. I need his hands on me, but if his voice is all I get, my hands will have to do.

"Back to your thighs," he says.

Yes. I bring my hand back to my thighs and stroke softly. Closer and closer and closer.

"Now," Blake says. "Slowly."

I drag my fingertips over my clit. Slowly. A spark sets off inside me. It feels so good and release is so close. I need to go faster, to get there faster. I need to come into Blake's ear. Well, into the phone at his ear.

His voice gets hard. "Slowly."

Okay. Slowly. I keep my touch light, and I draw slow circles around my clit. Every movement is the most delicious agony. My body is humming with pleasure. The pressure inside me is so, so strong and every moment tightens it. A little more. A little harder. Almost too much to take.

Blake says nothing. His breath gets a little heavier as he listens. I imagine him here, watching me instead of just listening.

Slow. I stay slow. Another circle. Another stroke. Pleasure fills every inch of my body. The tension builds and builds and builds. Almost. One more stroke.

I moan, muttering something incomprehensible.

"Come for me, Kat."

I move a little faster. Another circle. Another stroke. Almost. That delicious agony mixes with pleasure until it overtakes me. All the pressure inside me releases, and an orgasm washes over me. It fills every inch of my body. I lose control of my breath, groaning and screaming all sorts of things that aren't technically words.

"Sweet dreams," Blake says.

The phone clicks and it's off. I reach for my underwear and bra and stuff it into my purse.

I pull my dress over my shoulders and slide into my coat. It's not enough. I still feel naked, exposed, and not at all in control.



* * *



Ten A.M. on the dot, there's a loud knock on the door. I nearly drop the graphic novel in my hands. The slick plastic cover--the same on every other library book I've ever borrowed--is damn slippery.

This must be Blake's assistant, and he's damn loud. I nod hello when I answer the door.

"Miss Wilder." He hands me a cup of coffee, a paper bag, and a sleek black file case.

"Thank you." I nod goodbye and dump the contents of the file case on the kitchen table.

There are two manilla envelopes inside. The contract and a credit card in my name. It's my credit card but the bill is sent to Blake. I can buy any damn thing I want--clothes, coffee, every graphic novel on the shelf at the bookstore. No more schlepping it to the library. No more plastic covers. Hell, no more agonizing over the outrageous price of produce at the grocery store.

If I can get over the fact that it's Blake's money, I can have anything I want.

The coffee is good. The wake up I need to really study the contract. I'm not a lawyer, but I got pretty familiar with legal jargon dealing with Mom and Dad's affairs.

The terms are spelled out clearly. Six months to a year of living expenses at Blake's discretion and the full payment of the mortgage. Lizzy's scholarship isn't included. That's a done deal.

I am to act as his girlfriend in public. There's a standard non-disclosure agreement--no payment if I disclose this to anyone, even Lizzy.

There are no terms for me breaking the contract. A guy like Blake has the means to ruin lives. If I don't do what he wants, I'll be utterly at his mercy.

It's still a good deal. I sign on the dotted line.



* * *



Saturday morning, the limo arrives at nine on the dot. This time, Blake is inside. He's wearing grey slacks and a soft blue, collared shirt. His sleeves are rolled all the way up to his elbows. Hello, forearms, it's so nice to finally see more of you.

There's coffee in one of the cup holders. I grab it as I sit next to him. Lots of cream. Lots of sugar. Perfect.

Blake watches me curiously. He nods hello. "Good morning."

"Early morning."

He nods to a paper bag on an armrest.

I unwrap it. Bagels and a cup of strawberries.

"What exactly are we doing?"

His eyes stay on mine. "Shopping."

That's all the details he's giving me. Okay. I chew and swallow a strawberry. It's perfect--sweet, tender, juicy. I bite into the flesh of another berry.

There's a tiny hint of delight in Blake's eyes.

"What? Did I make a mess?"

He runs his thumb over my lips then brings it to mouth, tasting it. He leans closer. His eyelids press together. His hands slide into my hair.

And he kisses me.

My body responds instantly. I'm hot everywhere. My heart is pounding against my chest.

Blake releases me. He picks up the bagel, cinnamon raisin, pulls the halves apart, and hands one to me. "It's going to be a long day."

My stomach flutters. Eating seems unlikely. With breathing this difficult, eating might be out of the question.