Page 3 of Beauty Touched the Beast (Beauty 1)
His eyes widened even as his lips tightened.
“Well, it’s only that, I wondered if… if it was just a passing thought or if it was more...”
He looked alarmed now and she cursed herself silently. “Erin,” he said, his voice strangled. “You don’t feel that I was asking you to do anything…inappropriate, do you? That I would try to make you do something you don’t want?”
“No!” she exclaimed in dismay. “Of course not. I just meant that, well, if you were interested in me that way, well, I...”
She took a deep breath and rushed out, “I wouldn’t necessarily be opposed to it.”
“You –” He broke off. She noticed detachedly that his hand was gripping the counter so tight his knuckles were white. He swayed forward as if to approach her but then leaned back. “Are you sure? Are you sure you don’t feel pressured? I would never ever want you to feel that you had to –”
“No, no. It’s not that, I swear. And the same goes for you, too. If you don’t want to, please don’t feel that you should –”
“If I don’t want to,” he repeated, sounding dazed. His eyes unfocused for a minute, and then pinned her. He stepped forward and then circled around her, standing behind her. Her hair rustled and scalp tingled where his face leaned into her hair, as if he were scenting her.
He trailed a finger lightly from the crown of her head, down her hair, along her shoulder, and down her arm. It wasn’t an overtly sexual touch, but she found it highly erotic. The past two days of heightened arousal boiled over in her until she felt strung out with need.
“Please,” she whimpered, shocked even as she said it. She considered herself a proud woman, probably to her detriment. Her circumstances, cleaning houses while her classmates drove their Mercedes to class, ought to bring her down, but she would not be cowed. She was like him. She never begged, not for money, favor and certainly not sex. Yet here she was wanting, no needing him, a feeling foreign but very real.
Thankfully, he acquiesced.
“God, yes,” he breathed. “Come. Come upstairs where you can be more comfortable.” He led her upstairs. She noticed dust gathered in a corner on the way, and reality intruded briefly. That’s what I’m here to do, to clean his house, not have sex. She forced it away. It had been a long time for her, and she needed this badly. She would take this moment without apology to herself or anyone else.
In the bedroom he shut the door. No one else was in the house but the two of them, but it added to the intimacy of the moment. This wasn’t a chance encounter, but an illicit meeting. She stood eyeing the bed and swallowed hard. He came up behind her and again buried his face in her hair. Amused, she made a mental note to stock up on this shampoo. But then the heat of his body and his own woodsy scent enveloped her, and she forgot everything else.
His hands rested lightly on her shoulders, then slid down to her breasts. He cupped them through her clothing, and her breath caught. His hands dipped down to her waist, and then up under her shirt and bra to touch bare skin. She wore yoga clothes when cleaning, comfortable to maneuver in but stretchy enough to allow him access.
He cupped her breasts, stroking and pinching her nipples until they ached. Pausing to draw her shirt and bra up over her head, he returned his hands to her breasts. thank God. His breath, hot and increasingly labored, blew against her shoulder. What a sight she must make for him, her breasts bared and flushed.
“So lovely,” he whispered.
When he pinched harder, she moaned. Her hips canted forward in search of friction, rubbing against nothing. In answer to her involuntary plea, he slipped his hand into the waistband of her pants and roamed down her mound until he found her wet folds.
As his hands touched her intimately, his mouth found the skin of her neck in light kisses and licks. He dipped down to her opening to draw the moisture up to her clit, circling and flicking with his thumb. Her head fell back to his chest, and her eyes closed as she abandoned herself to the pleasure. His fingers slid down into her folds and slipped inside, thrusting in as the heel of his hand pushed into her clit. Her hips bucked as she mindlessly sought climax.
She came in a whirl of pleasure and a sigh of relief. Her body fell back against him, sated. The tension of these past few days, of these past few months, if she were honest, finally released.
He undressed her completely and placed her on the bed. She had no strength to stop him. No desire to. By the time she floated back down to earth she lay spread eagle on the bed, completely naked, with him kneeling between her legs. She only had a glimpse of his scarred face, taut and carnal with arousal, before he lowered his head and brought her to ecstasy again.
He was a generous lover, bringing her to climax four, five times. She lost count. He made her come again and again with his mouth on her clit and his fingers thrusting inside her.
“Yes, yes, that’s it,” he moaned when she came.
She was reminded of how they would discuss topics related to his work or her college classes. He always argued fiercely and often won their debates, but when she won, he wouldn’t look disappointed or angry. He looked almost proud. Triumphant, even. Like her victory was his, and now her ecstasy was his, too. He was re
lentless in his pursuit of her pleasure, taking unmistakable pleasure in her sounds and responsiveness.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmured to her throughout. “So damn beautiful. You look like a goddess. Like a warrior. Like you could slay me and you do. Just looking at you ruins me. I love to look at you. I could look at you like this forever. Open to me, wet and flushed, forever and never grow tired.”
She had read his articles and treatises and interviews. He had plain-spoken words and clinical words and words of dry humor, but she had never heard these words before. These almost-poetry sex/love words melted her everywhere.
Her body throbbed, exhausted from her climaxes, but her heart burst from his generosity. She wanted to do something for him. She wanted to do everything for him.
Erin reached down and grasped his cock, drawing a gasp from him. His shaft jerked in her hand, but he pulled away. From her position she couldn’t reach him in his retreat. He touched her again and she jumped, oversensitive.
“Just let me please you,” he said. “Let me give you pleasure.” His caress lightened. She moaned and her legs relaxed open again.
“Yes,” he murmured. “Yes, that’s right. Good girl.”
