The Devil's Bargain

Helen's POV

My hands trembled as I held the paper.

I read the lines again, slower this time, like slowing down might change the words.

'You will be available to me at any hour; day or night. You will not refuse or delay. When I call for you, you come. When I put you on your knees, you stay. When I decide I want your mouth, your hands, or any other part of you, you open without argument.'

My throat suddenly felt dry. Heat crept down my stomach, settling low, and I had to swallow before forcing my eyes back to the page.

'Every Inch of your body belongs to me for thirty days and I will use it however I want. I will leave marks if I want. I will leave you aching if I want. You will not hide from me. You will not close yourself against me. You will take everything I give you.'

The last sentence sat heavily on my chest. I finished reading and lifted my head and he was no longer in front of me.

Brentley Black stood behind my chair.

I felt his presence before I fully saw him. The heat of his body, then his hand came around, two fingers under my chin, raising my face up and slightly back so I had no choice but to look at him upside down.

He was close, too close that I could perceive his woodsy scent.

“Finished?” he asked with a low voice.

I couldn't say anything.

His eyes dropped straight down my V-neck blouse the moment I leaned forward. He could see everything, the soft curves of my breasts, the black lace edges of my bra hugging them. I knew exactly what he was looking at, and the realization made my heart race and my nipples tighten against the fabric.

He didn’t even try to hide it. He just kept staring, like he had every right to, and it turned me on more than I wanted to admit. A rush of heat flooded between my legs as his thumb slowly stroked the side of my throat. That single touch felt possessive as hell. It sent a shiver through me and hit me with a sudden, sharp ache of pure want. I was wet, flushed, and completely aware of how much I wanted his hands on me.

“You’re already reacting,” he murmured. “I can feel your pulse.”

I tried to pull my chin free but his fingers tightened around my chin just enough to stop me.

“Don’t.”

The single word held more weight than the entire contract.

He bent lower. His other hand settled on my shoulder, then slid down, slowly until his palm rested over the upper curve of my breast, still outside the fabric. He didn’t squeeze yet. He just held it there, feeling the way my breathing changed.

The memory crashed into me without warning. I saw my father’s trembling hands push our last shares across the table, while Brentley never looked away from me as the final cards fell. Then the door shut, and silence followed. And suddenly, I was back here...this chair, this paper, his hand on me.

“Sign it,” he said against my ear.

I signed. My handwriting looked unsteady.

The moment the pen left the paper he took it, folded the contract, and slipped it into his pocket. Then both of his hands were on me. One stayed at my throat, the other finally pressed harder against my breast, his thumb brushing the peak through the thin blouse until it tightened under his touch.

A soft broken sound escaped my lips.

He turned the chair with one hand so I faced him fully, then pulled me up until my back met the edge of the desk. He stepped between my legs, forced them wider with his hips, and kissed me.

His mouth claimed mine like it already belonged to him, one hand fisting in my hair to tilt my head the way he wanted while the other dragged the neckline of my blouse lower, exposing more skin, more lace. His fingers slipped inside the cup of my bra, found bare flesh, and rolled my nipple until my knees weakened.

“Brentley”

“Quiet.”

He kissed me harder, then pulled back just enough to speak against my mouth. “On your knees.”

I stared at him, breathing fast.

He waited one second. When I didn’t move, he pressed down on my shoulder, just firmly enough that my body folded. When the carpet met my knees, my eyes was on the same level with his belt buckle.

He opened it himself. The sound of the zipper was loud in the quiet office.

“Open.”

I did.

The first taste of him made my eyes sting. He was already hard, thick and heavy against my tongue. His hand stayed in my hair, guiding without forcing too hard, but leaving no real choice. I took him deeper, and my traitorous body was already responding to the control.

He let out a low groan and the sound went straight between my legs.

While I worked him with my mouth, his other hand slid down under my skirt, and found the damp heat waiting for him. Two fingers pressed against me through my underwear, then slipped inside the fabric. He stroked me slowly, deliberately, matching the rhythm of my mouth until my hips started moving against his hand without permission.

“Fuck...right there,” he rasped, breath catching.

"Just like that, take it. Both fucking ways.”

I was shaking as my eyes watered. Pleasure and humiliation was playing a dirty game on me that I couldn’t tell them apart. His fingers curled inside me at the same time he pushed deeper into my mouth, and a muffled sound escaped out of my throat.

He was about to pull me up, about to bend me over the desk and finish what the contract had started...

When the office doorbell rang.

The loud sound brought me back to my senses.

For a second neither of us moved. His fingers were still inside me. My mouth was still full of him. The doorbell rang again, longer this time.

He pulled out of my mouth slowly, then removed his hand from between my legs. The sudden emptiness made me bite back a sound.

He fixed his belt without hurry, eyes never leaving mine.

“Get up. Fix your clothes.”

I stood on shaky legs, hands trembling as I tugged my blouse back into place and smoothed down my skirt. I wiped the corner of my mouth with the back of my wrist. My underwear was soaked through, I could feel it with every small shift of my body.

Brentley watched me the entire time.

I fixed myself up as best I could, then headed for the door. I needed to get out of there, needed air that didn’t still smell like him.

His voice stopped me.

“Helen.”

I turned.

He still stood calmly by the desk, like he hadn’t just have his fingers inside me and his cock in my mouth less than a minute ago.

“This isn’t finished,” he said quietly. “Tonight, when I come to your room, you’re going to finish what you started. And this time no one will interrupt us.”

The doorbell rang a third time.

I walked out of the office with my head high and my body still aching.

The contract was signed.

And he already owned more of me than I wanted to admit.