21. Serenity
Chapter twenty-one
Serenity
A week later, I'm in The Envelope's kitchen, cutting up limes for Benji. It's towards that part of the evening when the members tend to migrate from the Green Room to the Red Room or any of the private rooms, so my tables have lightened up dramatically. I'm alone as the food service stopped an hour ago. Mindy shut down her bar and moved into the Red Room to serve but Benji wanted to make sure his station was still stocked, just in case.
We still haven't heard anything from my parents, or the police officer Johnson, and the not knowing has my anxiety flaring up. I'm jumpier than I had been before the police station, and I'm trying to give Declan plenty of space. I hate being a burden to him, and I hate the idea that my ADHD and anxiety are putting him out. He's already done so much for me.
In fact, tonight my anxiety means my heart is racing and my hands are shaking so badly that the knife slips off of the lime and slices into my finger, causing me to curse and shove it in my mouth. The coppery tang of blood immediately hits my tongue.
"You should be more careful with yourself, Zaya," a deep voice calls from the door to my left. I startle and spin around to face him. Unfortunately, my elbow swings wide and knocks the knife to the floor and look between it and Mr. Volkov.
I want to reach for it and hold onto it for my own safety, but would that be offensive to a client? But then, I am a girl, alone in a kitchen with a man easily three times my size. I look up at Mr. Voklov again, eyes wide. If he moves, I can lunge for it.
I must be as bad of a liar as Declan said I am, because a broad, wicked smile spreads across his face. "You will not need that with me, little pet." His accent leans heavily on the 't's in his pet name for me and it makes me even more nervous.
He takes a step forward, but I take a step backward. I have a walk-in freezer a few feet behind me, so I don't have very far I can retreat, but I could run to the other side of the work island if I had to.
"Is it the scar? Does it turn you off?" He motions to his face and takes another step forward.
I take it in again and wince. Whatever happened to him I can't imagine how painful it would have been - how long it would have taken to heal. I wonder if it happened back in Russia or in the United States, and which country has better plastic surgeons, because I don't see any marks from the stitches. The skin of your eyelids is so thin. The scar is shiny and not overgrown with scar tissue, so whatever cut him must have been very sharp. I wonder if it was intentional, or an accident. What kind of accident would cause a cut like that? Car accident maybe?
He takes another step towards me, pulling me out of my mental train derailment. "No," I answer honestly. I've seen it so many times over the last few weeks that I've come to ignore it entirely. It was shocking at first, but now I'm used to it.
I take another step backward, hitting the cold metal doors of the walk-in.
"I know most people are scared of me, Zaya, but you do not need to be. If you were mine, you would not have to work here anymore." His icy blue eyes stare into mine and I'm forced to look down onto his cheek. The energy vibrating off of him is intense and does nothing to calm my nerves.
He grips my hand in his and it's now that I remember the cut. I've been slowly dripping blood onto the floor. Before I can react, however, he wraps his lips around my finger and drags his tongue over the wound. It's insanely personal and intimate and sensual.
And I'm completely frozen. There's fight, flight, and fawn, and I'm a deer in the headlights.
He tongues the wound again a time or two until he releases it. He leans over, tears a few paper towels off the roll next to us and wraps it gently around my finger with a care that feels like reverence.
"You could have anything you could ever dream of having. You would not need The Envelope, you would not need Declan, you could live your days like a princess, if you were mine."
I still haven't found my will to move or say anything, so he continues. "Declan's just the first person with money and influence to show you any attention. I could show you so much more." I bristle at the accusation, but he's not entirely wrong. I've never met anyone with wealth and influence before. I never walked in those circles, or was anywhere a rich person would be. Maybe I am looking at everything wrong.
"I'm not afraid of you," I say, and it's the very worst thing I could have said. I absolutely am afraid of him. But not because of the scar like he implied. And why my brain decided that that was the part of this entire interaction that I need to get hung up on, I'll never know. But I can feel the part of me that wants to reassure him I don't hate the scar, and that his looks don't frighten me. I want to kick the people-pleasing part of me. This man could do ungodly things to me before anyone would know I was missing and I'm worried about his self-esteem?! What the fuck is wrong with me?
I need to get out of here.
"You will not last long, Zaya. He likes his pretty little virgins, but once his cock is coated with your blood, he will tire of you. He never keeps his subs for more than a few months. Save that blood for me, and I will make it worth your while. I do not tire of pretty little things, like you. I could give you a penthouse, a car, a driver, marriage..." he lets the weight of his words sit between the very few inches of space between us. The entire conversation, his proximity, his words, the cut, the idea that Declan doesn't want me the way I want him has a wave of hot tears pressing against my lower lids.
A shiver wracks through me and the sheer panic to escape makes my muscles ache.
Adrian watches every minute change in me, analyzing me with an intensity I'm not used to. I like hiding. I'm used to blending into the background. I don't like this attention, and he must see he's pushed me too far.
"Just think about it, little rabbit. I could give you everything."
He turns and walks halfway to the door before calling over his shoulder, "And get a bandage for that finger."
I kneel on the floor, light-headed now that I can breathe again. I rip off the paper towel and squeeze my finger, forcing it to bleed again, as if defying him can take back the effect he has on me, or the doubts he's pressed into my brain.
***
That night in bed, it's a bad night. Like I said, a lot of the worst symptoms of my ADHD and anxiety have eased, but they've flared up again today.
It isn't necessarily the conversation with Adrian that has me wide awake, staring at the ceiling. After I'd had time to calm down and go over what he said, his words had less effect on me. He was trying to convince me to give him my virginity and let him take care of me, but all I heard in his promises was a golden cage, and him as my master. Even his accusations against Declan fell apart under scrutiny. Sure, he could take my virginity and kick me out. Most relationships have a beginning, middle, and end. Any number of things could happen between now and then.
But he hasn't pressured me or tried to coax me into anything physical, other than to watch others and explore what I like. He'd mentioned to the boys about asking for my virginity, that much I'd overheard, but I know he said it in a sarcastic way. Surely, if he wanted my first time so badly, he'd be pressuring me, or manipulating me in some way. But he hasn't made any advances whatsoever.
And maybe that's why I can't sleep. Because I do want more with him. Adrian doesn't make me feel safe. He doesn't put my feelings ahead of his own. He wanted to intimidate me and hurt me about Declan, and proposition me to be his. Declan does make me feel safe, though. Declan's letting me set the pace to anything physical that we do. And I want to do more with him. Even if this all blows up in my face, I'd rather be physical with someone who doesn't pressure me or think only about his wants and needs.
After all this ends, I don't know how to be normal around someone. I'm not sure I could ever trust someone the way I trust Declan. I'm not sure I'd ever give someone the chance to see everything about me and risk them walking away after I've developed feelings. And yeah, maybe the idea of being with a man other than Declan makes me nauseous.
But I know Adrian won't hurt me now. He wants me, and any logical man knows that if he were to hurt me, he would ruin any chances he had at having me. He's a smart businessman, even if he has a proclivity for terrifying young women. If he covets me, he won't want to hurt me. So, the fear I'd carried around of him being violent is actually gone. He had the perfect opportunity to, alone, in the kitchen, but he didn't. Instead, he propositioned me to take care of me and then scolded me about hurting myself.
None of that screams rapist or murderer.
I shift again on his bed, trying to concentrate on his breathing, or the sounds of the city outside, or the ping of the radiant heating.
I count sheep in my head. I try yoga breathing. None of it works.
"I can hear you thinking, Ser. What is it?"
Ser.
He sounds annoyed with me. He has every right to be. We'd gone for our run, worked at his home office, and spent eight hours working the club. I should be exhausted. I'm sure he is. And here I am, keeping him awake with my fidgeting.
"I'm sorry. I should go back to my bed so you can get some rest. I don't think sleep is in the cards for me tonight. I'm sorry." I say again, sitting up and pulling the blanket off of me to leave.
"Stay. Talk it out with me. I won't be able to sleep if I think you're still up, fretting about something."
He sits up and flicks on the lamp on his nightstand. The light cocoons us intimately, and I can't help but notice the way his tight, white undershirt hugs his biceps. He's got gorgeous scruff, and his tiredness has taken away the usual hardness of his eyes.
This is a side of Declan only I get to see. He hasn't brought home any other girls. He hasn't even seemed interested in anyone at The Envelope, even when I watch woman after woman approach him or try to get his attention.
I appreciate how delicately he's handling me. I appreciate a lot about this man. And while he can be gruff and rude, I trust him implicitly.
I'm tempted to tell him about the encounter with Adrian, dump the entire conversation at his feet and let him worry about it. But he does that. He worries. About me, specifically. And I'm fine. I really am. No, I don't want to needlessly cause him to worry.
But there is something we could do to quiet both of our minds.
"What if..."
He scowls and quirks an eyebrow at me. Where before his frown would have kicked my insecurities into overdrive, I feel like I understand him more after spending almost every waking minute with him for a month, and that his face doesn't always show how he's feeling or what he's thinking.
I swallow nervously.
"What if I wanted to explore...more..."
"More?"
Christ, he's going to make me spell it out. "What if I wanted to explore my sexuality more... how would I do that?"
His eyes get a faraway look as he considers my question, and I know he's giving it deep thought. But his silence makes me nervous, so I ramble on. "I don't think I could do it at The Envelope. I wouldn't even know where to begin. And everyone there is so... experienced. And doing something with someone I don't know does nothing good for my anxiety. I guess I could watch more scenes and see what I'm into... but then what? I don't know the first thing about any of this," I huff in frustration.
He narrows his eyes at me and his glare shuts me up.
He swallows, clears his throat and swallows again. I can't tell if he's nervous or holding back words, but finally he speaks. "You could experiment with me... if you like. If you feel comfortable enough with me."
I let my eyes roam over his body again. He's certainly attractive. Lord knows I spend too much time checking him out in all his forms - running, working, suits, and PJs. I bite my lip. I do feel safer with him. I know he knows my situation and wouldn't take things too far or too fast.
"But what if it makes things weird between us? What if I screw it up and you hate me and then I don't have a place to live?"
He reaches out and holds his hand in mine. "I promise you; nothing will ever make me kick you out of this house. It's too big for me anyway, and I want you to treat it like it's yours. If things ever get uncomfortable for you, we'll talk it out. I promise."
His scowl softens and I relax at the honesty of his words.
"Okay." I nod. "But what does that mean? How do we start?"
"It's completely up to you. You can touch me, I can touch you, we can touch ourselves. What part of your sexuality do you want to explore? There's no wrong answer."
Could it really be that easy? I know most girls lose their virginity on prom night, or in the back of their date's car. One girl from high school was rumored to have lost it in a cemetery. Some girls bragged about how good it was, but it was generally accepted that it wasn't great. Their lovers were as young and inexperienced as they were.
Here, I have an older man offering me his body and his years of experience of bringing women pleasure on a silver platter. He would certainly make it good for me. And he's in control of himself enough that I know he won't get carried away and not stop when I say to - something I'm terrified of out in the real world.
But that's just it, isn't it? Here, in this gorgeous mansion, with this gorgeous man, in only the lamp light and I feel like we're the only two people on this Earth.
"Can... can I see you?"
The only dick I've seen was with those two men, and it certainly wasn't up close and personal.
Honestly, I'm fascinated.
He nods before ripping his shirt off with one hand and hooking his thumbs through the waistband of his sweatpants and dragging them down to his ankles before kicking them off. I can't control my eyes as they take a leisurely stroll over his body. He has a broad chest, flat pecs with flat, rosy nipples. He's got a lean runner's build, cut abs and a deep V, leading to... the most beautiful cock I've ever seen. It's thick and lays proudly against his thigh. I'm not sure if he's fully hard or not, but I take my time looking at it. It lies on top of balls that look velvety soft. His cock kicks up once, filling and growing even more.
I look up and see stormy green eyes. He's trying to remain passive, but I can tell he's tense. But he offered me his body, and I'm not going to turn down an opportunity to touch him.
"Can I touch you?"
He gives one, tight nod.
Instead of diving for his cock, I scoot up to my knees, kneeling by his side, and let my hand rest on his pec. It's warm and soft. I trace my fingers over the soft chest hair resting between his pecs. I didn't expect chest hair to be soft, but his is.
I trace my fingers upwards and across his neck. His thick Adam's apple jumps under my touch. I can safely say I've never noticed a man's Adam’s apple before, but Declan's is pronounced, strong, and I like it. My fingers trace from his neck down his bicep, to his flexing forearm. It's then that I notice he's fisting the sheets next to him, hands slightly trembling. I'm terrified I've fucked this up somehow, and my eyes shoot to his. Except... his eyes are closed.
He'd tell me if this wasn't okay, right? He'd stop me or tell me to do something different? Does he not like people touching him? Does he let people touch him? Surely, his past sexual partners would have, right? Unless he stays clothed. That sounds like something he would do to maintain that control, that aloofness. But when my eyes glance down at his cock, it's thicker, and laying up against his stomach, fluid dripping from his tip.
I can't help the curiosity, so I swipe the liquid with my thumb and bring it to my mouth. It's different. Salty and earthy. I definitely don't hate it.
"Fuck. Christ." Declan grunts, green eyes now locked intensely on my own.
"I'm sorry?" I ask, feeling bad that he's struggling. Did I cross a line? Do something wrong? Fuck, I'm so out of my element here. Part of me is convinced he doesn't even really like me and is pretending to.
But he shakes his head furiously at me.
Feeling a little bolstered, I ask, "Can I touch it?"
He grits his teeth and bares them at me in a grimace. But he nods.
I gently run my fingertips down the underside of his cock, only for it to bounce again. I don't want to hurt him, so I gently wrap my fingers around it. It's softer than I expected. Hot, soft, and hard.
"What does it feel like?"
"Good," he grunts, hips twitching. "Real fucking good."
I nod, confidence growing. "So, what's the first thing I should learn?"
He scoffs, but there's no heat behind it. His chest and hands are vibrating, and I did that. I made the sexiest man alive tremble. He was just voted DC's most eligible bachelor, and the fact that it's me touching him, me in his bed, me who is making him tremble, is a mind-fuck.
"If you keep touching me like that, you're going to make me come," he growls through clenched teeth. "Do you want to make me come?" His words are growled, but there's no menace behind them. I know he's truly, openly asking me.
"I'd like to watch."
One hand gently encircles the wrist touching him and pulls me away. His other hand fists the base of his cock, and I watch in fascination as he squeezes himself and strokes up and down his length. Watching Declan touch himself is setting me on fire. It's so beautiful and erotic and intimate and I don't know how to process everything, so I just watch.
His face looks pained, his chest heaving and flushed. Fuck, he's beautiful. No. Not beautiful. Gorgeous, sensual, incredible, mesmerizing. I watch as he works his length, and curiosity gets the better of me. I drag a thumb over his balls, feeling how soft the skin is there.
"Fuck! Ser! Fuck!" Declan gasps out as his entire body tenses. He pumps his hips into his hand, and I watch as rope after rope of creamy white cum coats his stomach, his chest, his hand. Jesus, he's glorious like this. He's all masculinity and vulnerability and sex appeal. I squeeze my thighs together as he finishes with a low groan.
I'm stunned by him, watching as he catches his breath, still covered in cum. I honestly didn’t know what to expect. I searched porn sites for themes and ideas but wasn't brave enough to watch anything. I've done a bit of research on sex and kink clubs, but kept it well PG. But the scene I'm seeing in front of me now is something else. And I'm not quite sure what to think about it.
My intrusive thoughts win when I drag a finger through the cum on his chest and pop it in my mouth. It's that same salty, earthy flavor.
Declan throws an arm over his eyes. "Fuck, Ser. Really? Are you trying to kill me?"
I can't help but giggle, because no, that's the last thing I want to do.
"How do you... clean up?" I ask, my voice a low, sacred whisper.
"Wet washcloth, my shirt, a towel, whatever," he replies, still dazed. I'm bubbly as I go to his ensuite and run the hot water. That option sounded sweeter than the rest. He doesn't know what he's done for me, but I can't describe how happy it makes me. I wet a washcloth I find under the sink in the hot water, wring it out and walk back to the bedroom before kneeling on the mattress next to him.
I take my time and pay special attention to clean up every drop of cum off of his stomach and chest. He gave me such a gift tonight, and I'm not sure he fully understands it. Before I can second guess myself, I dip down and press a kiss below his navel.
I go back to the bathroom, wet another washcloth, and clean up my panties.
When I get back into the bedroom, he's pulled the comforter up to cover his goods, but I spy his sweatpants still on the ground.
"And you?" he asks.
"I'm alright." I'm turned on and aching, but I'm not sure I'm confident enough to do anything about it tonight. My head is spinning with a thousand different thoughts and questions. Maybe tomorrow? I just performed my first hand job, watched my first male orgasm, touched my first cock and balls. That's plenty to keep me spiraling for a few days. I don't need to add more to it.
But when I lay down on my side of the bed, curled on my side, signaling I'm ready to sleep, Declan does something I'm not expecting. He flicks off his bedside lamp and then wraps himself around me from behind.
He's fully naked, and I'm fully clothed, and I don't know what this is. Maybe he needs to feel some sort of connection after orgasm? Is this to reassure him, or me? Does he want more? Is this goodbye?
He kisses the exposed part of my neck above the collar of the shirt he left for me to sleep in. "Stop thinking, Ser, and just let it happen."
Just let it happen. Okay. He wants to hold me. After he jerked off in front of me. And I tasted his cum. And honestly? Being wrapped in a cocoon of Declan? It feels really damn nice right now. I've never had this kind of touch - this kind of intimacy. No one has ever hugged me, or held me.
Just let it happen.
Just let him hold me, touch me, see me, take care of... me.