Resist (3 page)

One thing I can say about Nick is that he was anything but experimental. It was missionary, him on top with the lights off all the way. The few times I suggested spicing up our sex life with something out of the ordinary like cowgirl style he made me feel like some kind of sex fiend.

Seeing him fucking that bitch on our kitchen counter didn’t just hurt me, it annoyed me—because our own sex life had been so dull. I guess the lack of physical connection should’ve been my first hint that our relationship was in trouble.

I push open the door and let myself inside.
It’s so quiet.
I’m standing in what looks like a lobby, and down the hall I can see what has to be the living room. I make my way toward the light-filled room, passing various pieces of artwork that I’m guessing are originals.
They would have cost a ton.
I sit down on the edge of a thick leather sofa. I feel so uncomfortable. I’m surrounded by perfection: there is not a thing out of place and everything screams expensive. I’m pretty sure the couch I’m sitting on is worth more than everything I own combined.

My ears prick at the sound of a male voice in the distance. It’s him. I close my eyes and recall the newspaper clippings that showed his smiling face. Does he look better in person? Is that even possible? Anyone who describes themselves as attractive has to be pretty cocky, and the confidence he must have to place an ad like that scares me. I haven’t even met the guy and I’m already as intimidated as hell. I hold my hands together in my lap in a feeble attempt to hide how much I’m shaking. Over and over my mind is screaming
What the hell am I doing here?

I swallow nervously as the voice becomes louder, trying desperately to ignore the pang of nausea as it fills my stomach. I look up as he enters the room, his phone to his ear, not even acknowledging my presence. Instead, he wanders over to the bar and pours himself a drink. I’m not deterred, though. Instead, I take the moment to study him in all his beautiful, sexy glory. Just the thought of fucking this guy has me all hot and bothered. I can just tell he knows how to please a woman and all thoughts of his potentially murderous past have taken a backseat. I shift in my seat, trying to regain my composure.

His hair, short and dark, has a slight wave to it, and in the natural light it looks almost black but as he nears me I can see it’s more of a golden brown. The white shirt he wears is rolled up to his elbows, and I can just make out the ending of the tattoo that wraps around his right forearm. His suit pants sit low on his hips, showcasing his athletic frame.
With a body like that he must work out.
 

He is looking right at me. I realize I’m staring and look away, my cheeks heating. His eyes narrow as he mumbles into the phone something about calling them back. He slides the phone into his pocket and strides over to me, his fingers rubbing along the soft stubble lining his jaw.

“Charlotte Lucas, I presume?”

He speaks in a low, husky tone as he stands in front of me, his gaze slowly moving over my body. I stiffen, hoping I made the right choice with my knee-length black skirt and light blue shirt. I can’t help feeling overdressed, especially considering what I’m applying for. I feel like I should be wearing a G-string and some hooker boots.

“I’m Jaxon Murphy.”

“Yes, I know. Lovely to meet you.” I squawk the words out. Any hope of me sounding confident and in control evaporated the moment I laid eyes on him.

I have no business being here.
If my feet didn’t feel like they were bolted to the floor, I’d be running for the door.

“Sorry about that, but unfortunately in my line of work interruptions are plentiful. Come through to my office.” He waits as I stand up and ushers me through to his office, his hand resting on the curve of my lower back. I can barely concentrate with him touching me.

His office is a large room just off from the dining room. I wonder what he does for a living? He seems professional, and very business-oriented. He walks around the large oak wooden desk and sits down, motioning for me to do the same. I place my résumé on the desk and sit too, my heart in my chest. Exactly what I am being interviewed for, I still have no idea. I wait impatiently as he reads through my résumé, every now and then glancing up to study me with those sexy, dark, dangerous eyes, causing my heart to leap into my throat.

“Would you like a drink?” he asks. “A tea or coffee, perhaps?”

“A tea would be nice,” I reply hoarsely, clearing my throat. “Black, please.”

He nods and presses the intercom, ordering my tea and a coffee for himself.

“So, Ms. Lucas. Tell me a little about yourself,” he says as he adjusts his position, crossing one leg casually in his lap. He looks so damn relaxed. And sexy. Did I mention sexy? Because
fuck
this guy defines the word sexy. He watches me intently as he waits for my answer.

“I’m newly out of college and looking for work. I thought this job sounded interesting,” I reply. My mouth feels like rubber and I’m sure he can tell how nervous I am. I wonder if he likes that? He strikes me as the kind of guy who likes to see the effect he has on women.

“Well, you’re certainly the type of woman I am looking for, aesthetically speaking,” he muses, rubbing his jaw.

I nearly laugh. Well if nothing else, at least I pass the appearance test. We’re momentarily interrupted by a knock on the door. An older woman walks in, carrying two cups. She sets one down in front of me and the other in front of him. She offers him a kind smile; I get nothing but cold, steely eyes. I’m momentarily taken aback by her reception of me.

“Thank you, Marina,” he says.

She nods and retreats out of the room, but not before shooting me another glance.

“So tell me,” he continues, focusing his attention back onto me, “why apply for this role? What do you think you can offer me that the other three hundred and thirty applicants can’t?”

I nearly choke on my tea.
Three hundred and thirty
women applied for this job?
There are that many desperate women in southern California? I don’t even know how to answer that question, or what he wants to hear.

“I spent the last four years obtaining my degree, and that has gotten me nowhere. If I’m to be completely honest, at this point I’ll take anything. I have no idea what it is that you want, but I’m open to anything if it’s going to get me somewhere.” I regret the last sentence the second it leaves my mouth because I know it’s going to come back to bite me.

He raises his eyebrows, a shadow of a smile playing on his lips as those eyes invade me. “And what was this degree that took up so much of your life?”

“Business,” I reply quickly. I have no intention of letting him know about my journalism degree. “But I’m not sure where I stand with that now, or if I want to attempt to further my knowledge. So for right now, this job is perfect for me.”

“Very interesting answer.” He pauses and runs over my résumé again, his shoe tapping softly against the hardwood floor. “But I do wonder how you can say that when you have very little idea of what I’m looking for.”

Good point.
Could I look any more desperate? I’m practically throwing myself at him without any idea of where I’m going to land.

“How about I run through what I’m looking for, and then you can tell me whether or not you think you fit my needs?” he suggests with a faint smile. “But first, I’m curious . . . What are you expecting from this role?”

“I . . .” My words evade me. I take a deep breath and try again. “From reading your advertisement, I think you’re looking to fulfill a specific desire, but you don’t want to mess around with dating.”

“I don’t date.” He smirks, his deep brown eyes laughing at me. “Ever. Please, go on.”

“You want a no-strings arrangement where you don’t have to deal with the bullshit that usually goes with a normal relationship.” I pause, biting my lip.
Am I even on the right track?
“So you pay for what you want.”

“I’m into many different things, Charlotte. Can I call you that?”

I nod, forcing myself to hold his eye contact.

“You are right in that I do have very specific tastes. I don’t date. I don’t chase. I hire women to fulfill specific needs, they do their job, and then they get paid. It’s a clear-cut, simple business relationship. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“What kind of tastes are we talking about?” I ask, my face heating.

He laughs. “Nothing illegal, Charlotte, and nothing you can’t handle. Provided you are able to keep an open mind, you’ll do fine. How would you describe yourself sexually?” he asks, lifting his eyebrows. 

“I’d say I am willing to explore,” I reply evenly, my gaze locked on his. I decide to elaborate, realizing it’s probably to my advantage to be honest about my lack of experience. “Until now, my sex life has been pretty substandard. But that’s not through choice. I think about sex a lot, and I fantasize about how different things would feel. My mind can go to very dark places when I’m alone,” I admit, my face flaming.

His dark eyes twinkle as he ponders over my answer and I can tell he’s amused. Eventually he nods, bringing his hands together on his desk. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No. Not since I caught him sleeping someone else two weeks ago,” I try and joke.

He raises his eyebrows as I try unsuccessfully to read his expression.

“I don’t prohibit any of my girls from dating. A boyfriend is fine, so long as it doesn’t interfere with your performance.”

I lower my head at the word
performance
, trying to contain my embarrassment. If I can’t even handle him talking to me in such a direct way, how the hell am I going to handle whatever else he has in mind—
if
I even get the job? I’m competing with three hundred and thirty other women, apparently.

“Do you have any questions for me, Ms. Lucas?” he asks, interrupting my thoughts.

I have plenty—like
what the hell am I getting myself into?—
but instead I shake my head. I don’t want to jeopardize my chances by being too nosy. There’ll be plenty of time for questions later.

“Good.” He nods. “A few other things; I expect you to dress professionally at all times. Similar to what you’re wearing now will be fine and when I ask you to see me please don’t be late. Also, I will need you to start tomorrow.”

“Does this mean I have the job?” I ask, my voice shaking.

“This means you have been successful in gaining a trial. After two weeks, if we are both happy, then we will make the arrangement more permanent. You’ll work on a rotating roster, five days on, two days off. I expect you to reside here on the days you work, but you’re free to do as you like on your days off. How does that sound?”

Honestly? It scares the fuck out of me.

“Thank you so much for this opportunity, Mr. Murphy. I won’t let you down.” I put my hand out, which he takes, his long, thick fingers grasping mine as those dark eyes watch me. I jump at the feel of his touch, and even more so as his eyes penetrate me. I want to look away, but those eyes have me mesmerized.

“I know you won’t,” he responds. “I’m looking forward to working with you.”

This has been the most confusing job interview ever and I get the feeling that even though I
think
I’m ready for this, I really have no idea what I’m in for. His grip on my hand loosens, allowing me to pull away. I smile shyly and walk for the door. I can feel his gaze burning into me.

“Oh, and Charlotte?”

I turn around, my heart jumping into my throat. He makes me so damn nervous.

“You won’t be requiring any underwear.”

Chapter Three

Jaxon

The moment I walked into the living room and saw her sitting there, I knew she was my girl. She fit exactly what I was looking for, and I hope she proves me right.

There was something so innocent about her, but at the same time I could tell she was stubborn. She had a spark and I couldn’t wait to find out what she was capable of, and what she was capable of putting up with.

The way her bright eyes darted around the room whenever I spoke to her made my cock twitch. I couldn’t wait to wrap my hands around that long, dark hair and force myself down her throat. God, those lips.

Every time she spoke all I could do was imagine them around my cock, her wide eyes on mine, that beautiful body on display just for me—well, not always just for me.
She’s an interesting girl
. There was something about her that made me wonder how open she was being about her past, but I let it slide. If it proved to be a problem, I could deal with it later. She was so damn intent on hiding behind her mask, pretending I didn’t scare her, when anyone could see how terrified she was. Fear excites me.

I hadn’t been lying when I’d told her how many women had applied for the role. Out of all the possibilities, less than a handful were suited to me, and after interviewing all nine of them, Charlotte was the clear standout. I can’t explain why; I just knew the moment I saw her she was what I needed.

The rest of them were all the same, and I could tell right away there would be no challenge. I laugh. How can there be only
one
interesting woman left in this fucking city? I guess it doesn’t matter, though, because all it takes is that one—providing I play my cards right.

Most of my time during our short interview was spent trying to figure out why a girl like her would respond to my ad. Her résumé was impressive, with an Ivy League education and great results. The only thing she lacked was experience, but that could be a good thing. A pretty, green young thing with a fiery attitude is just what I need, especially when she’s willing to explore.

My phone rings and I answer it, already knowing it’s my housekeeper, Marina, wanting to know what I feel like for dinner. At the moment, dinner is the furthest thing from my mind because all I can think about is Charlotte and how I can’t wait to slide my hard cock into the tight pussy that I know was hiding under that skirt.

God, the look on her pretty little face when I told her not to wear underwear . . .
this is going to be fun.

“Marina,” I say, rubbing my neck. It has been a long day since I went for my run at six this morning, and my rumbling stomach is informing me that I do in fact need to eat. “How can I help you?”

“What shall I prepare you for this evening?” she asks, her faint Irish accent coming through. Slight, with graying hair and kind dark eyes, she was one of the few people I trusted, mainly because she knew what I liked and how I liked it. My needs were very particular, and having someone I felt I could trust was of paramount importance to me.

Marina had been with me for ten years—since I graduated from school. I’ve known her all my life, though. She had been my parents’ housekeeper when I was a child, though the only times I got to see her were the rare occasions when my parents allowed me to come home from boarding school for the holidays. When I moved back to LA it seemed appropriate for me to hire Marina, given that she was the closest thing I had left to a family.

“I’ll leave it up to you tonight, Marina. I’ll eat at six, please. And fetch me a bottle of pinot from the cellar.” I pause, taking a moment to gather my thoughts. “Can you also prepare the room, please? I’ll be needing Holly tonight. Have her be ready for me at eight p.m. sharp.”

“Of course, Mr. Murphy.”

I hang up the phone and sit back in my chair, thinking about how Charlotte is going to fit into the family. Some women handle it, others don’t. And I understand that: my lifestyle is not for everyone.

Currently, I have eight women employed by me to take care of my needs. Each girl meets a specific need, and who I desire and when depends greatly on my mood. I can go weeks without using a girl, or I can use the same girl for weeks. It all depends on my mood and what I’m feeling. Tonight I’m in the mood for something rough and dirty. Holly is the perfect girl to fulfill that requirement.

I guess it sounds odd that I run my life in such a controlling manner, but it’s the only way I can function. I have no interest in being in a relationship, or any connection outside of sex. I don’t have the time or inclination to pick up random women at bars. I like things clean and concise, and this arrangement works out well for everyone.

All my girls live on the grounds with me, each being presented with their own wing. They are on call to me twenty-four seven on the days they are scheduled to work, but that doesn’t mean I don’t allow them to have lives. So long as their activities don’t interfere with my needs, they are welcome to do as they please.

At exactly six, I sit down in the dining room as Marina serves me dinner. I approve of her decision to go with pan-fried snapper and seasonal stir-fried greens.

“Thank you,” I murmur. I watch her closely as she piles my plate high. I make her nervous, but then again, I make everyone nervous. It’s not intentional; I just have little desire for small talk, which I guess comes off as abrupt. “You’re dismissed, Marina.”

She nods and then scurries out of the room, her head bowed low.

I eat my food in silence, my thoughts swaying from work to Charlotte and back again. I’m looking forward to her starting with me tomorrow, but I’m also mindful of what a pain-in-the-ass day tomorrow is going to be.

Starting at seven a.m. I have meetings scheduled for the next few hours. I guess that’s the price you pay for being CEO of one of the Internet marketing giants. I work from home as often as my job allows me to, though going into the office is unfortunately unavoidable sometimes—especially when Ryan was on one of his warpaths.

Taking the time to get to know Charlotte over the next few days is going to be difficult, but that’s okay. My usual way of easing the girls into their roles doesn’t take much interaction from me. I like to observe; to get to know them and try and guess what they’re thinking.

I finish my meal and head down to the far wing. This is the only part of the house that is not occupied, but for a good reason. I stride down the hallway to the end room, anticipation building inside of me. It’s been a while since I’ve seen Holly, so I’m looking forward to this even more than I usually would be.

I reach for the door handle and turn, pushing the door open. Darkness greets me until I flick the switch, flooding the room with light. Holly sits on the end of the bed, her head cocked to the side, her blond hair tumbling over her bare shoulders. She’s naked apart from the thigh-high stockings, black thong, and heels I requested she wear.

I close the door behind me, not bothering to lock it. Nobody would dare walk in knowing I’m in here. I move quickly over to Holly, lowering my hand so it rests on the side of her face. It’s almost a sweet gesture, which is amusing considering what I have in store for the poor girl.

“Stand up,” I murmur, my fingers still stroking her soft skin.

She does, her eyes leveling on mine, icy blue and showing no fear. I bring her against me, my lips meeting the crest of her neck as my tongue rolls along her skin.

“You haven’t requested me in a while,” she comments.

I see the concern in her eyes and I want to laugh. After the way I treat her, she would still do anything for me, just like the rest of them. My jaw tightens as I spin her around. I don’t need her concern, and I certainly don’t need to see the pity in her eyes as I do what I’m about to do to her.

This has nothing to do with the need to hurt or degrade and everything to do with punishing myself. Who knows, maybe she gets that. Maybe she’s more intuitive than I give her credit for. The reality is if I don’t do this then I can’t feel normal, and if I can’t feel normal I can’t function.

I reach above her and grab hold of the chain, wrapping it around her wrists. She breathes out heavily, jumping at my forcefulness. Next, I place the gag in her mouth, and then I fasten the blindfold.

I walk over to where the cameras sit and switch them on. They’re perfectly aimed to catch the entire show while keeping my identity a secret. Last time I checked, over twenty thousand people had logged on to watch.

I walk back around the bed, placing my hands on her hips, my cock hardening at the sight of her. I don’t know why I am the way I am, but there is something so inherently sexy about knowing what I’m about to do will be out there for everyone to see.

She groans as my fingers trail over her ass cheeks, her back arching in anticipation. She wants this. Her eagerness to please me is both a turn-on and a turn-off. What can I say? I’m a complex guy. My fingers close around the thin strap of her thong as I rip it from her pussy. She cries out, and then again as I plunge a finger inside her. Her cries dull into a soft whimper as I tease her. Some nights I’m up for playing, but tonight what I need is to exhaust myself into being able to sleep.

I spread her cheeks and drive myself into her wet pussy. She gasps, the chains restraining her rattling as she pulls against them. My fingers tighten around her slender waist as I push her back onto my cock. Her small, tight pussy struggles to contain me and it feels fucking glorious. My balls slap against her ass as I grab hold of her hair, yanking her head back. She gasps as my mouth presses against hers. I’m still inside her and so close to releasing. I push her head down against the mattress and groan as I come inside her.

I slow right down as my cock throbs and then I slide myself out of her. I walk over to the cameras and switch them off before walking out of the room, where I call Marina to help Holly recover.

The session was fast tonight, but I’m not here to entertain. It arouses me to be watched, but I don’t care about fulfilling the satisfaction of anyone but myself. That includes my girls. I pay them for a service so I can avoid all the intimacy crap that goes with a normal relationship.

Pulling back the covers on my bed, I fall in, exhausted but knowing that sleep most likely will evade me like it does every other night. I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in years. Not since that night. The night I was supposed to be staying at Jeremy’s house. The night I lost my entire family.

To this day nobody really knows the truth about where I was that night, or what I did, and maybe that’s why the nightmares hound me, refusing to let me rest. Or maybe that’s just my conscience. I reach over to my nightstand and grab a pill, taking it with a sip of water. I close my eyes and wait for morning or death.

Whichever comes first.