At His Mercy

Part 16

5 years ago
'Have I ever asked you for anything?!' His words are low, and the agonized look on his face is heart wrenching.

'Please don't do this.' I say, and I know the words are redundant. They don't explain my agony, they dont show how torn I am inside.
'Anything?!' He says louder this time, more firmly.
'Adam-please-' but he's stood there, a stoney, grim look carved into his face. '-Please!' I want to drop to my knees and beg, I want to show him I am at his mercy and he has the power of my life in his hands, but the look on his face stops me. It is so unforgiving, uncompromising, unreachable. As if he's seeing me for the first time and he isn't liking what he's looking at. He looks disappointed. Like I've let him down and then just as suddenly his expression changes. It is replaced with resolve.
'Aya-'
'-Adam, I can't, I just can't. Please-'
But he's gone. Just like that he turns and walks out of the door without so much as a backward glance.
I don't know how long I sat there. Crying, angry at myself, shocked that he'd actually left. Hating myself for what I'd done. Hating him for what he'd done. Silently, I promised God, everything and anything for his return.

I slept in his bed that night, in his shirt. I had never spent the night in his apartment, but on the only night he wasn't there, I couldn't leave.
It seems fate is not without a sadistic sense of irony. The smell of his oud on the linen was a painfully familiar reminder. How many times had he asked me to stay? He had asked me, but never insisted because he knew. . .

Present. . . .
He goes straight into his study and shuts the door without a backward glance.
I stand in the hallway. The house is quiet, except for a couple of the domestic staff locking up. I walk over to the Pollack. Even in the dimed lighting it is beautiful. I stand there in my wedges, feet sore, staring into the colours for what seems like forever. There needs to be a seat here. Right here in front of it.
To the right of me, there is a single table, with a magnificent flower arrangement. Next to it sits a small gilded silver frame. A picture of Adam and Zara with their dad. Paris- with the Eiffel tower behind them. Even here Adam looks bemused, posing for the picture. Why did I never see that side to him? Or did I just chose to see only the good. I don't remember him ever losing his temper or being rude. Yes he was cheeky and sometimes sarcastic but never mean, purposefully cruel or serious.

He gave it all up in one minute. Everything for his family.
So did you! says a little voice in my head.

Tentatively, I knock on the door of Adam's study. Open it without waiting for a response. He's on the phone, about to end the conversation when I gesture for him to continue, so he does for a couple more minutes. I wait, occupying myself by moving around the room so I don't have to sit down and look like a naughty child waiting for the head master.
No doubt Adam's eagle eyes catch some nervous tick of mine. I feel him watching me warily.

So I look carefully at some of the pictures in the mahogony shelves. They're of his family. Some holiday snaps, others from school. There are a few older pictures of his parents together.
Discretely, I skip over one of the cupboard doors, noticing it has been removed, probably for repair.
I turn at the cessation in conversation. Adam is sat at his desk now, watching me with hooded eyes. No doubt assessing the threat. He seems guarded, but hiding it well behind his calm, confident manner I notice.
'I'll arrange for you to see my mother's doctor tomorrow,' he sighs, giving me a level look.
'Thank you.' I reply, coming to sit across from him. There's a picture of Zara sat on a beach. Crystal, clear waters at her ankles. It's beautiful, the Indian ocean, I guess.
I turn my attention to him now, he's sat with his arms on the chair, dinner jacket off, top buttons open and the tie loose at his neck. He gets up and walks around the desk to sit on it in front of me.
'If there are any consequences from last night Aya, I need you to know that we're going to need to have-' he pauses, choosing his word carefully 'a think about what will happen next.'
I blink at him, trying to understand what he's trying to tell me. '-What are you saying?' I ask trying to calm the storm building inside me.
'I'm saying I don't know what your plans are after 3 months!' he says matter of factly. I listen passively, thankful he didn't say what i thought he was going to. 'If you're pregnant-'
'-i won't have an abortion!' I blurt out.
He leans back on the table.
'Ok, good we're on the same page! But if it turns out you are. Then we will need to have a serious conversation.'
I'm not sure I like way he looks at me, as if he is antagonizing me, but I'm too tired to argue. 'Fine!' I say and get up to leave.

I feel his hand close around my wrist. as I look back at him, he turns my wrist over and traces my pulse there with his thumb. He's looking down at it but must feel the tremble of my hand in response, because he lifts it to his mouth and kisses me at my pulse point.
I gasp and try to pull my wrist away, but he pulls me back into him, up against his chest and kisses me. His hands at the nape on my collar, cupping my face as he kisses me deeper. Slipping his tongue into my mouth.
My resistance is pitiful, within seconds, I find myself surrendering to him. Holding his forearms to steady myself.

With one easy motion I am lying on my back on his desk. I feel his hands gather the silk of my dress slowly up my thighs and feel him hook his fingers into my underwear as he tears it away. He looks at my suspenders and groans 'you're killing me,' through a strangled voice. His fingers trace the silky lace band of my hosiery. He bends over and leaves a trail of kisses up the inside of my thigh. I can feel the tension building, it's been simmering away all night. I come almost as soon as he puts his lips on me, my back arching off the table, from the intense emotions that racks my body but he doesn't stop, he keeps going and I try to stop him, shoo him away, mostly because I can't take it any more.
I come up on my forearms, looking down at him, there's fire in his eyes as our gaze meets. 'You taste so good!' He says and I can tell from his voice, which is thick from lust, he's feeling the heady effect of this energy between us.
But he's not done with me, he pulls me up and turns me around, nipping the back of my neck. With the palm of his hands, he presses me forward. I bend over his desk feeling the smooth leather under my fingers and against my face. He strokes my cheeks and uses his own feet to spread my legs. I cant explain the thrill i get when I feel his hand anchoring my hips. he takes me hard- right there. On his desk.