At His Pleasure: Addie Learns the Ropes (9 page)

Chapter Fourteen

Joe dropped me off outside my house at midnight. I stood at the front door for a few minutes trying to get my bearings...Mr. Banks’s kiss was still buzzing on my lips.

I missed him already.

A lot can happen in two weeks
, I thought to myself, but pushed away my doubts.
No
.
When he gets back, he’ll want me more than ever...everything’s going to be fine. Just fine.

I tip toed into the house quietly, not wanting to wake up mom and dad. But when I got inside, I realized that the lights in the den were on—they were still up.

That’s weird. It’s Sunday night.
Mom and dad never stayed up late on Sundays. I dropped my luggage in the hallway and walked towards the den, curious and a little bit worried. What was going on?

“Mom...dad?” I entered the den, and they both looked up at me, surprised. Mom was sitting on the couch, her arms around her waist, and dad was standing up. By the looks of it, he’d been pacing.
Bad news bears
, I thought to myself.

“Addie,” she said. “Oh—we thought you’d get home sometime tomorrow morning.”

I shrugged. “Mr. Banks has a private jet,” I said. “So we left Miami a tiny bit earlier than we planned to.”

“Of course he has his own jet,” said dad, in a strange, cold tone that I didn’t recognize. He glanced at my mother. “Honey, can you leave us alone for a bit? I need to talk to Addie. One on one.”

Mom looked at me, uncertain. “Well—if you have to...okay.” She stood up and squeezed my arm gently as she left the room. “Listen to your father, sweetie.”

Uh-oh.

She closed the door behind her and I was standing there stiffly, staring at him.

“What’s this all about, dad?” I dropped my purse on the floor and folded my arms. Now that I knew about the little...
arrangement
that the two of them had made, it was hard to look at dad the same way. Was he really looking out for me? Was he ever?

“Sit down, sweetheart,” he said, gesturing to the couch. “This is important. For the whole family.”

“I’m tired,” I said. “It’s been a hell of a trip. I need to go to sleep. Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

“No,” he replied.

I sighed and sat down on the couch, making my displeasure obvious. He sat down heavily in a chair across from me.

“The thing is,” he said, his hands folded together. “The thing is...Addie, the business isn’t doing so well these days.” He paused as if waiting for my reaction. I kept my poker face.

“It’s the economy. No one’s doing real good these days, ‘cept for the boys at the top. People like Mr. Banks.”

I managed to keep my face neutral.
He can’t find out. He just
—
can’t.

“The way the business is going...it’s put everything at risk. The mortgage. Your college tuition. Our retirement and all our savings. It’s all going down the drain at this point.”

He looked up at me. “But you can help, sweetheart. You can help take care of all of that.”

I felt cold. I could almost predict what he was going to ask me to do—he was going to ask me to beg Mr. Banks to bail him out again.

“You’ve been at Banks & Smith for a while now. And if Mr. Banks asked you to go to Miami with him...well, that means he trusts you.”

“Yeah,” I said, slowly. “He trusts me. And I trust him.”

“Right. Well.” Dad looked reluctant. “Addie...what I’m askin’ is...I need you to get Mr. Banks to help us.”

I swallowed. “Why...why don’t you just ask him? He’s a generous man, and you said he’s a friend of ours. I’m sure he’d help.”

Dad rubbed his chin, agitated. “Addie...I need more than he’d probably be willing to give. Out of charity, anyway.”

“Well...maybe he can give you a business loan? Something at a good rate? I know that the finance department at Banks & Smith—”

“No,” he cut me off. “Not a loan. It’s not going to cut it this time. Addie, we need a
lot
of money. And we need it
fast.
Millions of dollars.”

I stared at him, shocked. “Millions?”

“Yes,” he said, heavily. “Tens of millions.”

“I can’t believe we’re that badly off,” I said. “Dad—what happened?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” he said. “You wouldn’t understand, anyway. Too complicated for a scatterbrain like you.” His tone darkened.

I took a deep breath. “Mr. Banks likes me, dad,” I said carefully. “But that’s a big favor. I’m not sure he’d grant even me a favor like that—and I’m just his secretary and his intern, after all…”

“No,” said dad. “Don’t lie to me, Addie.”

I felt my stomach turn to ice.

“You’re way more than just his secretary at this point,” he said, sitting back. “We both know that. I’ve seen the way he looks at you...and he didn’t send you back from Miami dressed like that with all these bags of useless, overpriced crap just because he ‘likes you.’ Please. So don’t you try and lie to me, Adeline Curtis.”

My mind spun at the things he was saying. I felt faint, like I was about to pass out. The only thing that pulled me back to reality was the sudden burst of anger that flared in my chest.

“Is that what you wanted all along?” I bit out. “You—you pimping me out like I’m some kind of—”

I didn’t get to finish. He slapped me across the mouth so hard my head was ringing.

“Watch. Your. Mouth.” He wagged his finger in my face. “You don’t get to speak like that to me.”

I stared back at him, my skin stinging but my eyes defiant. “I’m eighteen. I’m an adult,” I said. “You can’t treat me that way.”

He ignored my words, as if he was pretending I hadn’t said a single thing. “I need you to tell Mr. Banks that you need the money,” he said, “or you’ll go public with your affair. Ruin his reputation. Tell everyone about—whatever it is he does. Whatever it is he likes. God knows that man can’t be normal...he never been married or even had a girlfriend in the ten years I’ve known him.”

My cheeks were flaming. That my own father could try and use me like this—it was insane.

“Do I make myself clear?” He was trying to stare me down but I met his gaze. I didn’t even flinch.

“It’s clear,” I said.

He sat back, relieved.

“But I’m not going to do that. I’m not going to do any of it,
dad.
” I didn’t try to hide my sarcasm. “It’s wrong—and I won’t do it. Not for you...not for anyone else. It’s just
wrong.
I can’t believe that mom would—”

“Your mother doesn’t know a thing about Mr. Banks. And you’re not going to tell her, either, unless you want to break your poor mother’s heart. Could you do that to her?”

“Mom wouldn’t want you to do this.”

“You want your mother to live on the
street
, Addie? You think
I’m
heartless? I’m just thinking of the family. I’m thinking about the future—and that includes yours, you spoiled, ungrateful little brat.”

He glared at me. “So long as you’re in my house,” he continued, “you’ll abide by
my
rules, do you hear me? And you’ll make yourself useful to the family.”

“No.” I held firm, holding my chin up. “I won’t. Not like that.”

He was seething with rage now. I braced myself—would he slap me again?

“You’re not leaving the house, then.” He stood up and grabbed my purse.

“Hey!”

“You’re not going to Banks & Smith tomorrow morning—you’re not even going to have your damn iPhone. You get nothing, Addie, until you come to your senses.”

* * * *

I looked out of my window, a prisoner in my own room. The streets outside were wet—it had rained while I was away. I felt strange there, out of place—like I didn’t even recognize the house I grew up in.

Dad took away my phone and even my wallet, stashing it somewhere in his office under lock and key. I didn’t know if it was because he wanted to punish me or if he wanted to keep me from communicating with Mr. Banks...hard to say. Maybe both.

What I knew was this: if I didn’t blackmail Mr. Banks, then my life was practically over. Dad would pull my deposit for college, and I’d lose the scholarship I worked so hard to earn. To say nothing of the financial ruin of the entire family. It would be all my fault.

He was putting it all on my shoulders.

I didn’t know what had happened to dad. He was a distant kind of father, but I always assumed he was honorable. Was it the economy, like it said? Even if it gutted his business, I couldn’t believe that he’d stoop to
this.

I paced my bedroom, my feet shuffling over the pink, worn out carpet. By morning there’d be a groove in the floor, I thought to myself. I couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t call anyone. And Mr. Banks was probably in the skies above the Midwest by now—going farther and farther away from me.

If I told mom about any of this, she would learn what her husband had done...and what
I
had done with my boss.
She’s the only innocent one in this entire hot mess
, I realized.
Mom always thought dad was so strong, so capable...and she always thought that I was her perfect, flawless daughter. It would kill her to know that her family was falling apart like this.

It me want to fall apart with despair. I sighed...nothing was getting accomplished by all my pacing. I collapsed into my bed, the springs creaking. Guess I never noticed before how old and shabby everything had gotten in our house. Come to think of it, the lawn was untrimmed and covered with weeds...and we hadn’t gone out to eat as a family in
months.

Not since Christmas with grandma and grandpa
, I realized with a shock.

I was so busy with school and now this internship that I didn’t even notice how much mom and dad had been cutting back.

Even so, the thought of doing what dad wanted...it made me feel sick inside. The things Mr. Banks had done to me...and the admission of love that I had been longing for...I couldn’t throw that away, not even for dad.

Mr. Banks had been so generous to dad. And this was how he was going to repay him? I nibbled on my fingernails. It was a bad habit, but I was so nervous. So strung out and on edge.

My world was turning itself upside down.

* * * *

When I woke up in the morning, I could see dew on the tree branches just outside my window. It should have felt like a brand new day, a beautiful summer dawn. But the events of the last night crashed over me as I lurched awake.

I sat up in my bed, my back aching from the few hours of restless sleep I’d gotten. The dread was setting into my stomach again.

Oh, dad. Mom.
My heart beat a little faster.
Oh, Mr. Banks…

He had to be over the Pacific Ocean by now. Mentally I traced his journey, wishing he’d come back and rescue me from my tower—just like a princess out of a fairy tale.

Fairy tales are for children
, I scolded myself. No...I had to figure out what to do. I had to try and escape from this nightmare.

The question was: could I do it without destroying my family, and the man I loved?

Chapter Fifteen

For the first week, I played it safe—not that my parents gave me any choice in the matter. Of course, I didn’t go to work—I stayed home. Even if dad were to let me go out for walks, I was basically trapped without my wallet or a car.

I overheard him explaining to mom that I was grounded for losing my internship at Banks & Smith. He made it sound like it was all my fault...and since she must have remembered that one morning when I begged her to drive me to work, she probably believed him.

I was fuming with rage—I desperately wanted to tell mom what
really
happened, but he knew that I cared about her too much to reveal the sordid details of what had happened between Mr. Banks and me.

He'd taken away my phone
and
my laptop. I guess mom must have thought that this was an epic punishment for an epic mistake, and that I deserved every bit of it. She didn’t say a word to me about the whole thing.
If only you knew
, I thought bitterly.

All I could do was try to ignore them both. I kept to myself for the first few days. I stayed in my room for most of the day, only coming out to grab food from the pantry. I refused to eat any meals at the dinner table out of sheer principle, and neither of them bothered me. So I lived on a steady diet of bagels, cream cheese, granola bars and hummus.

I know, I know. That diet was going to kill me at some point, but I had kinda lost my taste for food, anyway. Everything just seemed so gray, so depressing, so pointless. I bit my nails. I started noticing every last thing that didn’t usually bother me—how messy my room was. The rancid smell of dad’s cologne. How loud the dishwasher clattered when mom ran it at night.

I’m going to go nuts in my own home…

One night, I made the bed and even fluffed the pillows. All my underwear and socks were folded and organized by color. I dusted every shelf, vacuumed the carpets and even straightened up the rows of picture frames on my desk. I cleaned up my room and when I was done it looked like it came straight out of a Pottery Barn ad. It was a slightly more peaceful prison than before, but it was still a prison.

Once the place was as clean as I could make it, I lay on top of my quilt, chewing on my nails. I didn’t even bother trying to go to sleep. I napped occasionally during the day, grabbing a few hours here or there—but at night I was wide awake, staring at the ceiling and trying to find swirly patterns in the popcorn ceiling.

And one more thing. I was as horny as
hell.

* * * *

I couldn’t put my finger on the exact reason. Sure, I just got back from Miami where I’d fucked and sucked every morning and night, but I’d gone through high school without much action, just an awkward boyfriend here and there. It’s strange, but I'd never thought of myself as a very sexual person...at least until I met Mr. Banks.

Anyway, it was way worse at night.

I got to thinking about the way it felt to crawl over to him on my hands and knees...the way he knew how to make me gasp as he pressed into me. Even the memory of the most vanilla kiss made me tingle between my legs.

What I loved best thinking about how he liked to fuck me while I was still dressed.

Our last night in Miami, he'd taken me out to a beautiful lounge after dinner. He finally let me drink a little—hidden away in the curtained private room, he ordered me a lemon drop martini and a pina colada. He watched me down the drinks, amused in his usual distant way.

“Is there something funny?” I asked him, dipping my finger in my martini glass. I was feeling buzzed and uninhibited, smiling at him as sweetly as I could.

“No,” he replied, taking a sip of his whiskey.

“Hey,” I said, reaching for his tumbler. “Remember that night when I asked you for a drink, and you wouldn’t give me any?”

He smiled. “I did give you a drink.”

“Grape juice.”

“Technically, it’s a drink.”

“No it’s not,” I said. “You know that’s not what I meant!”

He glanced at my martini. “This suits you better,” he said. “Whiskey’s not for little girls.”

I put my martini down and climbed onto his lap. “I’m not a little girl,” I whispered into his ear. I took his tumbler and took a long gulp of the amber colored drink.

And promptly started coughing like there was no tomorrow. The fiery liquid burned all the way down my throat, and I almost dropped the glass. He took it away from me, chuckling.

“Like I said. Not for you.” He set the glass down on the low table next to us. He turned his attention back to me, and pulled my head down to kiss me softly on the lips. I could taste the faint burn of the whiskey on his mouth. His tongue slid in, lapping at me until I could feel a wet heat building between my thighs.

“You taste sweet,” he murmured. “Like a beautiful girl should.”

“That’s just the martini,” I said, my cheeks growing warm.

“No,” he said. “It’s the truth.” He ran his fingers down my front, feeling my body through the silky dress. I inhaled, my head spinning from the alcohol and his firm touch.

He worked down the top of the dress until my breasts were bare, hanging in front of him like ripe fruit. He buried his nose between them, breathing in my scent. My nipples hardened so fast that it hurt.

“Mr. Banks,” I whispered, my voice shaky. “Should we really be doing this? In here, right now?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he took a breast in each hand, stroking the soft flesh like he was milking me. “Oh,” I gasped, my mouth watering.

I sighed as he leaned forward to suck on a nipple, his tongue flickering over the tip. I moaned as he switched to the other breast, leaving my nipple wet and tingling.

As he suckled at my tits his hands rounded behind me, squeezing my ass, working the dress up over the tops of my thighs until my black thong was exposed. He massaged my bare ass cheeks as I trembled, just waiting for someone to discover us in here, with me half naked, my breasts in his face.

I heard him unzip his trousers, and gasped to feel his hot cock sliding up between my thighs. I looked down at him, my eyes wide, watching him tongue my nipples. I spread my legs, offering myself to him—as if by habit.

He ran his fingers down my thong until the triangle of fabric disappeared into a single wet cord sliding through my pussy lips. He pushed it into me, rubbing me through the thong.

“Oh, fuck,” I whimpered.

He slapped my ass. “Nice girls don’t use words like that,” he murmured.

My cheek was stinging from the slap. “Hey,” I whispered. “That’s not nice.”

“I never said
I
was nice,” he said, and moved aside my thong to press the fat head of his cock against my slick opening.

I held my breath, waiting for him to penetrate me...and that’s when I heard the curtains rustle.

Oh god, is someone going to see me like this? Bouncing on his lap like some kind of slut?

“Mr. Banks?” A woman’s soft voice came through the curtains. “I’m just here to check and see if you wanted—”

“Leave us alone,” he said, his tone hard and uncompromising.

I glanced at the shadow of the hostess behind the curtain, feeling the dash of danger shake me out of my sensual trance. “Maybe we should stop,” I whispered to him. “Go back to the hotel and—”

He placed a finger against my lips, silencing me. Pulling the thong aside once more, he flexed his hips up and
oh
—he was filling me up, grabbing my thighs and driving his cock deep inside my wet pussy.

“Oh!” I panted, clawing his shoulders. I could feel my slick walls contracting around his thickness, adjusting to his size. I held myself still as he slid all the way in, finally gasping as he tugged me down. I loved the way it felt, his cock sliding past my wet folds...

For few seconds we just stayed there, stretching out that long, red-hot moment. Of him inside me...of me, fitting him like a glove. The pressure inside my pussy was unbearable.

“Fuck me,” I whispered. And this time he didn’t bother to correct my language. He kissed me, his fingers sliding over my naked back.

The delicious curve of his cock slid in and out of me in a slow, luxurious rhythm at first, but it wasn’t enough. I gripped his shoulders and lifted my hips and pushed them back down on his hardness, relishing the groan that ripped through his chest.

I rode him hard, wanting him far up inside me, to feel him come, to feel myself come around him. The wet squish of my pussy sliding on him was loud, so loud that I wondered if the people walking by our curtained room could hear us, could listen to the sound of us fucking.

He leaned his head forward to lick at my nipples as they bounced in front of his face, my face red with effort. I was so moist, so hot, so liquid. I never wanted this to end.

I bucked harder against him now, hungry, rubbing my swollen clit on his crotch and falling into the faster rhythm. I was fucked open, my pink pussy drinking him in, worshipping his cock, the world falling to pieces around me.

“Oh god,” I whispered, angling my hips. “Yes...right there...oh god!” His cock head was hitting me just right, opening me wide, stroking against my magic button...I trembled and went suddenly still as a white heat pounded through my clit and pussy, quivering around his shaft.

He groaned and held my hips down, spraying his seed inside me, almost lifting both of us off the couch with the force of his climax.

“Addie,” he panted, shuddering as I clenched around him. “You perfect little brat.”

The room came back into focus, the glowing curtains behind the couch swishing softly as we slowed down, my hips undulating. It felt like I was a slave in an exotic harem, and I had just been fucked by my master.

* * * *

Back in my room, the memory fading, I stroked my buzzing clit and sighed. No matter how much I played with myself, it wasn’t the same. I still desperately wanted Mr. Banks...his body and his touch, even though I knew it was getting more and more unlikely as the days crawled by.

I turned over onto my belly and tried to ignore the wet throb between my legs, but fell asleep dreaming of Mr. Banks.