Page 1 of Beauty Touched the Beast (Beauty 1)
Chapter 1
Erin bounced up the steps of the farm-style house, a smile playing at her lips. She let herself in and strolled through the downstairs. Light filled the rooms from the airy floor-to-ceiling windows, but she didn’t find him.
“Mr. Morris! It’s Erin.”
Call me Blake, he always said, but she resisted. She wasn’t usually a stickler for propriety, but with him it seemed like a good idea. Maybe his military roots made the formality seem more appropriate. More likely it was the domesticity of cleaning his home while he loitered near her, as if she were his partner, living there, helping him, instead of his paid housekeeper. It would be so easy to slip, to let him see how she felt about him. Then she’d feel like an idiot – a dumb little girl panting after a man old enough to be her father.
She pulled a book from her bag and went upstairs to return it personally. She could probably put it in his bookcase, which was always neat and organized so she’d know right where it went. His obsession with book organization was one of the odd habits that made her reclusive employer so strange, and also endearing. In fact, his whole house sparkled from the knotted floorboards to the arched ceilings, partly because he was fastidious, but also because she did a full deep clean twice a week.
She could replace the book, but she wanted an excuse to talk to him. Her political science class had debated the merits of the U.N. recent actions yesterday, and she knew he’d appreciate it.
She poked her head in his bedroom. Her breath caught in her throat as she took in the sight. He lay on the bed, his skin damp from a bath, a towel in disarray around his waist. Only his hand covered him at all from her view – his fist on his cock. And as she watched, it pulled down, baring a glistening head, and back up.
He was masturbating. Shit!
She ought to leave. She really should turn around, walk away and absolutely not watch. Instead she stood, her eyes riveted to his exposed cock standing up thick from his taut grip.
“God, baby,” he moaned, his eyes closed, “suck it, please.”
Every bit of her, from her tingling skin to her thudding heart jolted in response. Her lips parted, as if she could obey him from across the room. Her clit throbbed at the sound of his rasping voice, saying such dirty words. At the sight of his muscled body and thick, standing cock.
“Yes. Yesss. So beautiful. God.” His other hand cupped his balls. “That’s right, baby. Lick them. Suck them.”
Her mesmerized gaze spanned to his face, snared on the interplay of shiny scar tissue and ruddy, healthy skin twisted in a grimace of pleasure. His burns and coarse features might make him repulsive to some, but when she saw only Blake, with his brilliant ideas and gruff kindness.
“Touch yourself. Yeah, yeah. Take me deep in your mouth and stick your fingers in your cunt.”
Her thighs squeezed together where she stood, giving herself relief from the ache at her core. She wanted more – more pressure, a stronger touch, but if she moved her legs or her hands, she’d have to acknowledge that what she was doing, being a voyeur was wrong.
He moaned her name. “Erin…”
Then he came, spurting into his cupped hand.
From shock, from arousal, she let out a sound – a whimper. Heavy lids slid open as he turned to look at her. His eyes, the green-brown eyes that were usually filled with good humor or earnestness, now stared at her in horror. Mortified, she turned and ran down the stairs. The hoarse sound of him calling of her name hurdled down the steps after her, not in passion this time, but she couldn’t go back.
Pacing in the kitchen, she battled her embarrassment. She’d have to face him and apologize, but she couldn’t look for him in his bedroom. Not right then and maybe not ever.
Her hands caught on the stone edge of the countertops, then flitted across the surface. Already clean, as usual. She’d never done anything quite this embarrassing. Watching the man’s private moment? That was low. She respected him, so much. She liked him, and she might have ruined everything.
She pulled out the cleaning supplies, hoping at least she could subvert her nervous energy into something useful. She’d come here to clean, not to moon after Blake and certainly not be a peeping Tom.
Blake stumbled down the stairs soon after, wearing his customary sweats. She’d admired him before, the way the loose, comfortable clothing hung on his well-built shoulders and abs, but now all she could see was his naked body. Damp. Taut. Climaxing. As if she hadn’t already proved herself enough of a coward, she turned away to flee.
“Erin,” he said in those low tones that always made her clench. “Wait, please.”
She paused and turned halfway back to him, willing the inappropriate, private, sexy images to subside. A reddened cock. Thick ropes of cum. Dammit.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he said. “Don’t … quit. It won’t happen again. Please.”
