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"Is your work even legal?" I ask him. He looks at me as he ties his tie. "It doesn't look legal."
"Is being an escort even legal?" He asks me, and I sigh. "It's an official business, Kat."
"It just reminds me of the games," I say. "The Hunger Games, I mean. Kids being forced to do shit they don't want to do and are likely to end up dead."
"You're exaggerating, Katniss." Peeta says, putting on his suit. "I haven't been to work in a week, I've mopped up your vomit, fed you soup, and did whatever you wanted me to do, and I need to go back. It puts food on the table, doesn't it?"
"Yeah, and money in stripper's thongs," I say.
"Yeah, your thongs," He says, and he grins at me.
"It makes me think that it could have been me, you know?" I say, and he looks at me again; there is no guilt in his eyes at all. "Don't you care that those girls are actual human beings?"
"I'm changing the business," He tells me, and I stare at him. "I'm making it optional for girls to join up, but I can't do anything about the girls we've already... sold. It's too late. Is that good enough for you?"
I'm taken aback. "Yeah... thanks, Peeta."
"Sure," He says, and he kisses me on his way out. "I'll even show you the paperwork if you don't believe me,"
"I believe you," I say, and he smiles at me, and then leaves.
I go to work at dinner, and when the show is over, I notice Peeta sat in the back, chewing on a straw again, grinning at me as I sweep the confetti off the stage. He drives us home, but then pulls over on the freeway home.
"What are you doing?" I ask him.
"Let's fuck; now."
I climb into the backseat and he yanks my leather trousers off. I see the headlights as cars drive past; maybe they think the car has broken down. I have to stifle a laugh; what would the citizens of the Capitol do if they knew what was happening in the back of Peeta's car?
I wiggle out of my panties and I hear Peeta unzip his jeans. I put my feet on both of the front seats and he pushes himself into me. My fingers hang onto the back of the seats behind me as he repeatedly slams into me; I moan and move my hands from the seats to his hair, guiding him along, my hands groping his jacket, trying to find something to hang onto. "Peeta," I moan; it feels so good, in the back of his car, trying to keep my noises quiet so I don't alert a passer-by. "Peeta, God, Peeta,"
One of my hands feebly rubs myself as he slams into me and my other hand runs down his back, sliding under his jacket, my nails raking against his skin. I feel the build-up in the bottom of my stomach and I moan, and then he orgasms, and he continues to thrust and then I orgasm, my nails digging into his skin, and then he pulls out and collapses back into the driver's seat, yanking his jeans back up.
"We need to do that more often," I pant, pulling my panties up again. "Seriously, that was great."
"Round two," He says, starting the car. "Back at the house,"
He drives home, and then in the hallway after I get naked, we kiss, and then he takes his tie and puts it in my mouth, knotting it at the back of my head, and he takes me into the room with the painted red X on the floor. He puts me onto the bed, and I watch as he takes two soft ropes from a wooden box and ties my wrists to the bedpost.
He takes hold of a blindfold and lifts my head up. I keep my eyes on his face for as long as possible before he tugs the blindfold over my eyes and ties the knot. Now in complete darkness, I feel his fingers lift up each one of my ankles at tie each one to separate ends of the bed.
"What senses can you use?" Peeta asks me. Since I can't answer, I don't do anything, until he snaps his finger by my ear and my head jerks. "Hearing,"
His fingers move up my stomach and they feel really good against my skin. "Touch," He says softly. Something brushes against my nose; it smells like leather. "Smell," He says. "But not sight, and not taste,"
Something smacks against my clit and I moan, my hips jerking up; I think it's a riding crop. My body tingles from the hit; the pleasure shakes through my body. It hits there again, and I throw my head back; it's an indescribable feeling of pleasure and it makes my body tremble. Even as an escort, nobody has ever done this.
I feel his hands undo the knot from the gag in my mouth, and it falls to lightly wrap around my neck, and I pant openly from the hit. "Ever done this before, Katniss?" He asks.
Still blind, I say, "No,"
The crop hits me again. "No what?"
"No, Mr. Mellark," I gasp. I feel the crop moving up my skin, and I shout, "Bread!"
I feel him tense and he pulls the blindfold off my eyes. He hastily starts to undo the ties around my wrists and ankles. "Are you okay? I'm sorry if I-"
"No," I say as he undoes the last tie on my left ankle. "No, I want to be in control."
I push him down onto the pillows and I tear off his shirt. He grins as I do this and I yank down his jeans and boxer shorts. I kiss him roughly and I sit on his dick, pushing down slowly, and he moans. My hands push down on his stomach as I grind against him. I move his hands so they are resting on my breasts.
"Jesus," He pants. "Faster, Katniss,"
But I don't pick up the tempo; in fact, I go slower. He grabs hold of my hips and grinds me harder against him; I take his hands off my hips and move them to my breasts. He massages them as I ride him, and his body starts to spasm, his orgasm getting closer, and then he orgasms, and as he gasps, I climb off him with satisfaction and crawl next to him on the bed.
"Wait," He mumbles, and he opens my legs and his fingers swirl around my clit. My ass grinds into the bed as my back arches. He messages my clit lightly, and my body jerks, my mouth open slightly; he knows I want him to go faster, but I know he's going to make me wait. "Peeta," I moan.
His finger slowly pumps in and out of me, and his other hand works on my nub and clit, and I grip onto his hair, gasping. My legs stiffen and I feel the spasms in my core. My toes curl as he picks up the tempo and a moan escapes my lips; my hips rock against his hand, and I feel the orgasm building up fast, and then he slows down, and I moan in frustration, and when I feel the build-up start again, he slows down. "Peeta," I groan. "Peeta, please,"
He inserts three digits and pumps fast; I feel the pleasure, right in the back of my teeth, and then I orgasm, his name on my lips, and then, panting, I curl up next to him, and fall asleep.