Free The Devil’s Pawn by Elizabeth Finn Page B

continues through the dresses, and once we’re finally finished, I re-dress and we leave the shop for the waiting limousine.
    Derek is silent on the ride back to Trimbles, and as we exit the elevator, he places a hand at the small of my back, ushering me out in front of him, and, unexpectedly, right into a group of my housemates. I freeze as Derek regards them dismissively, but as Derek pushes me past the group and I offer a genial greeting, they crane their heads and watch after us, no doubt seeing the touch that still lingers on my lower back. We enter the hall, and he says nothing to me as he leaves me for his apartment. My body is relieved to have some degree of his want returned to me, but I’m also starved of my own release, a release I’m not allowed to take. With nothing better to do than soak away my frustration, I strip and lie in the bathtub as the water fills around me.
    I daydream as the water slowly inches up the side of my face, and the rush of water slowly turns to a muffled churn as my ears fill. I daydream of him. The look in his eyes, the touch of his skin, the way he fills my body so completely, and my thoughts do nothing to calm my appetite. I contemplate masturbating on my closet floor out of his sight, but I can’t oppose his wishes. Wishes? Who am I kidding? It was punishment pure and simple, and as much as I feel like telling his punishment to go fuck itself and pleasuring myself in full view of his blessed camera, I won’t break the rules. As I continue to dream about my own release, I open my eyes to see him smirking down at me from the side of the tub. Holy shit! How long has he been watching me?
    His stare is penetrating and his smirk is confusing, and it is impossible to tell if he’s upset with me for some unknown reason. I watch him with a guarded expression no doubt obvious on my face, and I suddenly want nothing more than for him to join me. But he makes no move to. Slowly, I pull myself up to prop on my elbows, and he slowly unbuttons the wrist of his shirt and starts folding it up along his arm.
    I’m watching, wondering, and as he finishes with his sleeve, he speaks for the first time. “Why didn’t you come today when I was fucking you?”
    Duh, he must know why, but I answer anyway. “Because I’m not supposed to.”
    He continues. “You could have asked. I’d have agreed.” He continues to watch me as I take his words in, a little curious where they might be leading, and not just a little curious about his rolled-up sleeve. Finally, he speaks again, and it becomes clear. “Ask me.”
    I look hesitantly to his eyes as they look down on my wet, naked body. He sees my nervousness and doesn’t give an inch. He repeats with a cock of his head. “Ask me.”
    And I do. “Can I come?”
    I blush furiously as I look away, but he’s not done torturing me. “How do you intend to do that?” My mouth drops open at his words. He’s watched me before; does he really need a description? Of course he does. It’s more fun for him to see me squirm.
    “Touching myself,” I whisper.
    “No.” My eyes snap to his in disappointment, embarrassment, and not just a little anger, but seeing my frustration, he coaxes me further. “Why don’t you ask me to make you come?”
    “Will you?” I whisper once more.
    But it’s not enough, and he makes that point quite clear. “Try again. Say it, and stop being so damn shy with me.”
    My eyes flit to his quickly before I exhale a deep breath and do as he asks. “Mr. Pennington, will you make me come?”
    “Happily. Now get up on your knees.” I do, facing him and the front of the bathtub. He pulls my thighs farther apart as he kneels beside the tub and reaches between my legs. As his finger makes first contact with my needy and sensitive skin, I jerk, and as I adjust to his touch, he pushes first one, and then two fingers deep inside me. He uses his thumb to stroke my clit while he continues to thrust. His cheek is right next to mine, and