What she was contemplating doing now couldn't hurt anyone else. She swallowed hard as he began peeling hundred dollar bills from his wallet and tossed them in a neat pile on the table beside him. Putting away his wallet, he sat back down and took up his reclining position once again. "Seven hundred to make sure you don't have any tattoos. Get to it."
Her eyes flew to his. "You really don't like ink, do you?"
His features narrowed into a mocking frown. "No, I really don't."
Jessica's heart raced. She didn't know how she'd allowed herself to be put in this situation. She thought of herself as a relatively smart person. One stupid conversation she'd eavesdropped on, and now here she was doing something that went against every fiber of her being. Stupid. She should just walk out.
But her situation was worse than losing the chance to become a geologist. She had to be out of her on-campus room in four days. She would be homeless and she didn't even have a car to sleep in if push came to shove. Everything, her whole life, was reliant on the scholarship she'd just lost. That scholarship kept her in school, with a roof over her head and a meal plan that fed her three times a day. It was by no means an extravagant award; it was very bare bones. But it did, absolutely, keep her in her nice, warm room and it paid for the classes she attended. And as she shuffled her feet in agitation, she knew with a sinking feeling that she didn't have much of a choice here. Not if she wanted to live her future life the way she envisioned it. She could go stay with Allison's family a while, but everything inside of her rebelled at the charity she'd have to accept. She'd been relying on only herself for so long, she didn't think she had it in her to do it any other way.
"Jessica, the clothes."
She heard the annoyance in his voice and without thinking, reached down and pulled the shirt over her head and all the way off. She tossed it on the bed and pretended her bra was a bathing suit top. That line of thought should get her through the next few seconds, anyway.
She wasn't looking at him directly; she kept her gaze pinned to the left of his face on a light fixture that was mounted to the wall. She refused to think about what she was doing as she allowed her focus to glaze over and become blurry around the edges. But not blurry enough that she didn't see him shift in his seat and raise one hand to his forehead as his eyes lowered to her chest.
She wore a very basic white cotton bra that fastened in the back. She tried to remember which panties she'd put on that morning. She, of course, had no matching sets and they could be any of the pairs she owned. She was relieved to know she'd undoubtedly chosen a newer garment, and not a ragged and ripped pair, because she'd done all her laundry the night before and she always wore her newer stuff first.
With that thought in mind, she toed off her sandals and slowly, unfastened her jeans. She'd never stripped in front of a man before, in fact, couldn't remember stripping in front of anyone other than Allison, and her mother when she was very young. She went slowly now not because she was trying to attract him, but because she was trying to postpone the inevitable.
At least she had nothing to be ashamed about when it came to her body. She wasn't perfect, far from it, but she was slim and toned from walking and sometimes running all over campus. She had no other form of transportation, and walking several miles, day in and day out for the last two years, had left her muscles tight with a small amount of definition.
She was so horrified by what she was doing, that she couldn't imagine how bad it would be if she had to worry over what her body looked like as well. It was a small consolation as she pushed her jeans down her hips and then off her legs.
She bent down and tossed her jeans on the bed with her shirt.
She glanced down and realized she'd put on her favorite pink bikini panties. She let out a shuddering breath and stood still and waited as his eyes turned hot and ran up and down her length.
His voice was gravelly as it rattled from his throat, "The rest of it."
Chapter Three
Jessica's eyes flew to his, as she was jolted with a feeling not unlike hysteria. "What? No way."
"Jessica, the rest of it. Now."
She shook her head violently. "You said n-no sex tonight," she stammered.
"And I meant it." His jaw visibly clenched. "But I want to see what I'm buying. Seven hundred, sitting right there," he reminded her, tipping his head toward the cash.
Her legs began shaking and she made no attempt to remove her remaining two garments. His eyes ran up and down her body and at her complete and utter stillness, he rose to his feet. She took a step back as he crossed the room in purposeful, silent strides and came to stand in front of her, only inches away. Reaching out, he put one fingertip under her chin and lifted her face to his.
"You won't strip all the way?" he asked in a voice laced with heat, intensity, and something else she couldn't identify. Approval, maybe?
She shook her head just once.
"Fine. Have it your way," he responded emotionlessly.
Jessica's thought he meant to let her off the hook and her breath caught in her throat on an abbreviated sigh of relief until she felt him move quickly and put his hands on her. One firm hand clenched her wrist in a move meant to subdue her, while his other reached between them and jerked her bra down in a sudden movement that left her gasping. Her breasts popped over the top of her bra, first one cup, and then the other.
From a combination of shock and the chill in the air, her nipples abruptly pebbled. His eyes held hers while she gasped for breath, his nostrils flaring. His hand tightened on her wrist and harshly, she was made aware of his strength. Seconds passed as she fought for oxygen, and then his gaze fell to her chest and flecks of red tinged his cheekbones. Her entire body began trembling so much that if he hadn't been holding her in such a fierce grasp, she might have slid to the floor. She dragged deep, harsh breaths in and out of her lungs while he stood completely still, staring down at her. She felt inundated by his height and his sheer size, felt as if she had no control as she was held firmly in place by the strength of his hand wrapped solidly around her wrist.
His gaze lifted from the mounds of her breasts spilling over the top of her bra and landed briefly on her face. "You chose for it to be this way. I didn't have to put my hands on you at all. Remember, this is your doing." His words were raw, inflexible, and Jessica was astounded to hear the fevered accusation in his otherwise emotionless voice.
Her heartbeat accelerated as he spun her around so quickly it made her head whirl. Her back was now facing him, and she felt him manipulate her bra strap up and away from her body so he could see the skin underneath.
His hands and his touch on her were clinical. He didn't stop to caress, he never ran so much as a finger down her body in anticipation. There was nothing like that at all. Just as quickly as he'd pushed and pulled the bra out of his way, his hands slid down to her hips and with a sudden force of movement, slid her panties down her legs until they gathered around her thighs.
In shock, she felt her underwear begin to fall all the way down, and she grabbed at them with her free hand and held them at her thighs to prevent that from happening.
She felt the blood drain from her face as he placed a hand on her shoulders and pushed down until she was bent over a few inches. Her spine and her butt were bare to him in this position. She had no tattoos at all, she'd told him the truth. She didn't know why he hated them so much, but she had none. It wasn't as if she could really take any credit for having a body free of ink. She'd wanted a tattoo. She'd wanted more than one. But faced with the decision of decorating her body or having food to eat, her stomach had won out every time.
But she wouldn't tell him that. He didn't need to know anything about her other than what he was demanding now.
He took his time about looking her over. What felt like long minutes were probably only really measured in seconds, but they were agonizing seconds to her.
If he thought to find a small tattoo on her hip, it wasn't there. If he thought to find t
he proverbial tramp stamp, it wasn't there.
She struggled to breathe as his hand left her shoulder blades and moved to cup her upper arm. Just as quickly as he'd turned her the first time, he did it again. Jessica was horrified all over again as she faced him with her panties still around her hips and her femininity on full display.
It was a small relief to know she was manicured in that area, her hair cut short and trimmed down so low it was almost non-existent. She couldn't afford waxes or depilatories, but disposable razors were cheap and she could use them for a long time.
As he held her by her upper arms with only an arm's length between them, Jessica once again blurred her vision and focused on the lamp to the side of him as he stared down at everything she had.
As they stood together, her brain began working again and she slowly began to notice things. He was breathing just as harshly as she was, his body was tense, and his gaze was riveted on her, smoldering heat coming from his eyes. She didn't know how long they stood that way, with her not moving a muscle and his eyes running up and down her length, but it felt painfully long.
So long that her panic receded a bit and a swift anger took its place. Not really caring in that moment what his answer would be, she tightened her lips and hissed, "Am I worth four thousand a month?"
All at once, he released her and stepped back. She stumbled but caught herself before she could completely make a fool of herself by falling to the floor.
"Get dressed," he snapped and turned to walk into the bathroom.