Cold Deception by D.B. Tait Page B

carrion bird waiting for the best moment to strike.
    “In exchange for what?” she said, not wanting to look too keen.
    He shrugged. “We used to have a good time. We still could. I seem to recall you didn’t mind that part of our relationship.”
    Hot, searing, fury blasted through her. If she had any means to obliterate him now she would. But she stilled herself, took in a deep breath and smiled at him.
    “That would be great.”
    He sipped his glass of champagne then set it down. “Come on then, I’ll show you the rest of the place. I don’t think you’ve ever seen it have you?”
    She smiled grimly as he crossed to open the door to the rest of the flat. No, she hadn’t. Drugs and sex were something he’d reserved for his office. She’d never seen or needed to see the rest of his flat. They proceeded down a small hallway with several doorways leading to bedrooms.
    “The first manager of the hotel had one of those big nineteenth century families, so the flat was built to accommodate him, while the owner stayed in opulence in the main hotel. But I find I like this better. More privacy. None of the guests know I’m here.” He stopped and opened a door to a perfectly furnished bedroom in what she assumed was the style of the late nineteenth century. Not that she had a clue. A brass bed with a sumptuous quilt. A big, dark wardrobe and old fashioned dressing table. She stood, wide-eyed, taking in the luxury.
    “This can be your room. When I renovated I made sure each room had their own ensuite bathrooms so you’ll have everything you need.” He paused and glanced at her body. “Got any money?”
    She shook her head.
    Extracting a wallet, he pulled out several fifties and handed then to her. “Get yourself some clothes and whatever else you need.”
    She’d done this hundreds of times. Sex in exchange for money. That’s how she’d stayed alive in the brief times she was on the outside in the last ten years. But now something in her shrivelled and died in the act of taking the notes.
    No. She would not let shame and fear rule her again. This man had hurt her and hurt her badly. He would pay and with more than just money.
    “Thanks,” she said, smiling at him. “Appreciate it.”
    “I’m sure you do,” he murmured. He lifted his hand to push a curl off her face and she had to steel herself not to flinch. “Perhaps you could show me how.”
    This was it. This was the point where she would have to toughen up and remember her goal.
    He moved his hand to the zipper of her hoody and slid it down. His eyes glittered at the sight of her black lace camisole. In a swift, rough movement, he ripped the cheap material apart baring her breasts to his gaze. Smiling, he placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her to her knees.
    “You know what to do.”
    She did.
    *
    Nessa woke up when the light hit her eyelids. She didn’t open her eyes, thinking if she could just stay in bed, cocooned and warm, everything she had to face, everything complicated and messy, would just drift away into nothingness.
    But gradually her full bladder and the stiff and sore muscles of her body made her open her eyes and sit up. She winced as the ache between her legs intensified. The sensation wasn’t entirely unpleasant. O’Reardon had worked her hard. Once upon a time her drug-induced haze would’ve allowed her to join in without feeling anything much. No more. Every thrust, every hard kiss and bite was etched on her brain as well as her body.
    Some part of her mind registered he was good. All the ribald talk about him from the other girls inside was true. He was a ram and he liked to fuck. Somehow that made it worse. At one point when she knew she was about to climax, she could feel panic and shame flowing through her. Thankfully, her brain gave a distinct click and she drifted off into another place, just as she did with the pills. Maybe her brain was a lot more sensible than she realized, able to protect her when she needed