The Mistress Mistake

They continued on in silence until they pulled into the apartment building where she knew she'd probably be living for at least the summer and fall semester. It was beautiful, prettier than anywhere she'd ever lived, but she couldn't help the tight feeling in the pit of her stomach that made it seem more like a prison.

Evidently, she had a parking space right at her front door, and as she didn't have a car, she knew which vehicle would be parked there most often. Connor walked her inside, and she perked up somewhat when she looked around. The complex was newish, and the interior was furnished beautifully. It had only one bedroom and one small bathroom, but she didn't need anything more and had never, in fact, had this much space all to herself before. It also contained a living room, a galley kitchen, and what pleased her the most, a tiny closet with a stackable washer and dryer. The thought of not having to lug her clothes all the way to the washateria was almost heavenly.

Maybe if she didn't think about him at all, except when he was here, then she could just pretend the situation didn't exist. She strolled to the large window in the living room that was actually a set of French doors that opened up to a very small, private courtyard. It overlooked a beautiful swimming pool with a huge spa and she felt her spirits lift even more. She could well imagine herself spending many pleasant hours outside tanning and just chilling.

When she turned back around, Connor was watching her. "It's nice," she said.

He nodded his head and walked toward her. Pulling his wallet out of his pocket, he took out a large quantity of bills and set them on the table next to the sofa. Catching her eyes with his, he made no mention of the money. "I'm going to bring in your stuff. You can start putting it away." As he turned to go, Jessica experienced the worst trepidation she'd felt so far in all of this. She looked at the stack of money and a feeling of being stuck, being committed to this, pierced through her veins and settled like congealed sludge in her belly.

As he brought in one box after the next, he quickly finished his part of the work while hers lagged behind. She wanted to take time and organize all her stuff the way she wanted it, but he began hovering near her and her panic began increasing.

It was the middle of the day, she had no clue what he did for a living, and she didn't know how long he could stay gone. But she did know one thing. She had a roof over her head now, thanks to him, and he was probably expecting payment even now.

There was a lovely queen-size bed in the bedroom, but there were no sheets or pillows on it. There was no bedding of any kind. And other than one ragged pillow and a small throw with the university's name emblazoned on it, she didn't own anything that could even remotely work.

She wasn't going to ask him to buy anything for it, either. Shaking out the throw, she put it length-wise over the bed and tossed her one small pillow at the top.

Connor stood in the bedroom doorway, watching her with a dark and predatory look. Nervously, she attempted to ignore him. There were boxes at his feet, and as she slid close by to lift one, he stalled her movements by placing his hand on her wrist until she stopped in front of him and lifted her face to his. He didn't speak, just shook his head at her and a million butterflies went crazy in her stomach, trying to get loose. She felt afraid, she felt panic, and she quietly admitted to herself, she felt a tiny hint of arousal slide down her spine and land in a heated pool between her thighs.

He'd already bolted the front door; she'd heard the loud clicking noise in the silence of the apartment. Now he turned and locked the bedroom door as well, and true fear slid through her as she felt powerless, totally under his control.

When he turned back around to face her, he leaned negligently against the door and crossed his arms over his chest. His nostrils flared, and red tinged his cheekbones as he said nothing but tilted his head toward the bed in a gesture she couldn't fail to interpret.

Her muscles tensed. "Can I," she sucked in a shuddering breath, "use the bathroom first, please?"

"Make it quick."

She didn't wait around. She locked the door and while she shimmied out of her jeans, she took out her toothbrush and the toothpaste she'd already put in a drawer. She washed her teeth quickly, took care of her business and washed her hands. Looking at herself in the mirror, she flicked a brush through her hair and said goodbye to the self she'd always known.

She left her jeans off, and walked back out in nothing but her panties, bra, and t-shirt. It took every bit of bravado she could dredge up from her doomed soul to do so. When she saw him, she stopped in her tracks. He was barefoot, and shirtless. He was still wearing jeans, but they were unbuttoned and unzipped. Her brain short-circuited as she looked at his tanned, hard muscles and the dark brown, almost black bunny trail that disappeared into his jeans. His musculature was impressive; he didn't have so much as an ounce of fat anywhere that she could see. His features were pulled into a frown, and once again, as before, he motioned with his head for her to get on the bed.

Jessica crawled on the bed, on top of her coverlet, and looked up at the pretty ceiling fan and the crown molding at the top of the walls. Attempting to focus on anything but what was happening to her, she sat on her butt in the middle of the bed and wrapped her hands around her knees as she pulled them up to her chin. She tried to breathe evenly and control the blood pumping so furiously that it almost scared her.

He walked over to the bedside table, and dropped his keys, wallet and three condoms down. The knot in her stomach grew larger.

"On your stomach," he said in a deep, gravelly voice that she hardly recognized.

Chapter Four

Panic infiltrated every centimeter of Jessica's body. "What?"

"Turn over. Lie down on your stomach."

"But--"

He interrupted her with a hiss. "What'd I tell you? I told you loud and clear. It's fucking. It's not making love, it's not me having to seduce you." He paused and then pushed out more words between gritted teeth that were somehow supposed to soothe her but missed by a mile. "I'm not going to hurt you, Jessica. It won't hurt . . . now turn over."

Jessica said a swift prayer and then turned over and lay flat on her stomach, as he had instructed. She knew in her heart that it was hopeless to pray. Why would God do her a favor when she was committing this sin?

Hearing the rasp of his blue jeans coming off his legs and hitting the floor, she shut her eyes. Fear of the unknown was even worse in the position she was in. Was it a monster or a man coming up behind her? Her blood pounded in her ears as she heard the crinkle of plastic and imagined him even now rolling a condom down his length.

She felt one of his knees and then the other making an indent in the mattress as he climbed on the bed. He grabbed the panties at her hips and pulled them off until her lower half was completely naked.

She tried again to pray. Please God, please God, please God.

With her eyes tightly closed, she felt him wrap a brawny arm around her waist and lift her, pushing her face into the mattress and forcing her onto her knees with her butt in the air.

Before she had time to panic even more, he was moving directly behind her and pushing her legs apart until he was levered between them. With the blood pounding a vicious tattoo through her veins, she felt the broadness of what had to be his erection pushing against her . . . there.

He began to push in but stopped and pulled out again. "You're dry. You're not ready."

His voice sounded pissed and impatient and all she could think to do was apologize. "I'm sorry."

He didn't bother to answer her, he just moved his hand under her and up until he was touching a small spot at the top of her sex that almost made her squirm. But he kept at it, and within ten seconds, she wasn't squirming, she was lying completely still and panting, as a hard spiral of pleasure hit her when she least expected it. She moaned and he took his hand away.

He moved his penis back to her opening and grabbed her by the hips, his fingers biting into her flesh. He must have found what he was looking for because he grunted in approval and began to push in. As he adjusted his knees on the bed, the small pleasure she was feeling disappeared as he pulled back out and began to push back in. She sucked in a startled breath as his short thrusts quickly became painful and she held her breath and waited for it to happen.

Breathing hard, he held her by

the hips and when he pulled back and then pushed forward with one long, hard thrust, bottoming out inside of her, she moaned in agonized pain.

He stilled completely and she let out a tear-filled whimper she couldn't begin to control.

Connor stiffened and began cussing. "Goddammit. Son-of-a-mother-fucking-bitch." Jessica's face was still pressed into the mattress as he pulled all the way out and with one forceful movement, flipped her from her stomach to her back and adjusted her position with a move that left her legs spread and his torso between her thighs. She didn't open her eyes. She was afraid to open her eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he hissed through clenched teeth.

Jessica couldn't answer through her tears.

The last thing she expected to feel was his finger landing on that spot where he had tantalized her before. She knew she was close to shock and her body craved human warmth, even if his warmth was all she could get. He touched her again softly, and began caressing her, up and down, over and around until her tears stopped and she held very still, stunned at the immediate reaction of her body. He rubbed her clit a few seconds longer until her whimpers became moans, and then his intimate hold disappeared long enough to lift her t-shirt over her head and divest her of her bra. Now she lay underneath him, completely naked to him, both physically and emotionally.

She reached down, deep inside and found the courage she needed. She opened her eyes, and saw that he watched her intently. His hand slid up to her face and he wiped the trail of tears off her cheek. "You should have told me."

"I was too afraid you'd find someone else . . . someone who knows what they're doing."

"You don't know what you're doing?" As he asked her that question in what was by far the gentlest tone she'd heard from him, his hand left her cheek and slid down her body until he pressed his thumb against that spot once again.

She gasped and whispered miserably, "I don't have a clue."

"Do you still want to go through with it?"

Her eyes flared in panic. "Don't you?"