The Beauty Series (2 page)

“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 must—”

“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, 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 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 at herself 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 anything, 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 into her hair. “Come. Come upstairs where you can be more comfortable.” He led her upstairs to his room. 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
—but 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. The gentle caress 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 have made 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 lower 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 his fingers 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 would moan when she came.

He was relentless in his pursuit of her orgasms, taking unmistakable pleasure in her sounds and responsiveness. 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 would win, 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.

“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 lying spread like this forever. Open to me, wet and flushed—forever and never grow tired.”

She’d 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. The pulsing 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.”

His fingers spread apart her folds, slick and swollen.

“I’ll make you feel so much pleasure,” he said. “So much you won’t care that it’s me.”

Wait, what?
She tried to push through the haze of her arousal.

“So good you’ll forget it’s me,” he whispered, staring down at her spread legs, entranced. “You won’t regret this. I won’t let you regret this,” he promised.

“Stop,” she gasped out and he snatched his hand back. “What—what did you say?”

He shook his head and some of the sensual fog cleared from his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Did you…did you want to stop? Are you finished?”

“No, I don’t want to stop,” she said. “I want to keep doing this with you. With
you!
”

She sighed in exasperation.

“Lie down,” she commanded.

He blinked in surprise but obeyed. Without giving him a chance to reject her, she reached down and grasped his cock again. She sucked him into her mouth.

“Oh God,
yes
,” he cried, just as he had when he’d pleasured himself with her on his mind. But this time was real and she’d make sure he knew it.

She savored the tangy flavor of his semen as it hit her tongue, and breathed in deep the musky, male smell of his groin. His thighs shook. All this power and virility trembled under her mouth. It intoxicated her.

She took him in deep and then pulled back to the tip. In and out. Deeper and deeper.

The rhythmic motions of his cock sliding back and forth between her lips felt like a chant. This man was so good and so kind and yet, was it possible that he questioned his worth because of his scars? It was ludicrous. Those scars, received in battle as a soldier, proved his bravery and honor. It was another example of him protecting others, the way he advocated for unheard groups and causes in his writing.

How dare anyone—how dare
he
—question his value? He was everything she could ever want in a man.

She loved him.

What the hell?
Where had that thought come from?

Her eyes snapped open in surprise only to find him staring at her intently, as if he could devour her with sight alone. He looked fierce and sexy and intimidating. Her eyes widened at the hunger in his eyes.

Through his arousal, he managed a small smile and touched her cheek tenderly. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “You don’t have to look.”

He thought she didn’t want to look at him, to see his beautiful face? He thought she wanted to pretend it was someone else licking her, pleasuring her?

She grew angry. Angry at him for doubting himself. He doubted her, too, thinking her that shallow. She was angry at the faceless people who had wounded him, outside and in.

It didn’t have to be like that. She’d show him so. Even if this afternoon was all she had with him, he’d know his worth.

She retaliated by tightening her lips and sucking hard. He bucked his hips and groaned, eyes sliding closed helplessly.

She continued her onslaught using strong suction and steady thrusts. She took him in deep, too deep. She was practically stabbing her throat, impaling her mouth with his cock, but she didn’t care. She sucked and fucked him that way as hard as she could, as if his cock was her lifeline and maybe it was.

He thrust his hips up jerkily, mindlessly trying to get deeper, push farther. She tried to oblige him, jamming her head down onto him, her lips grazing the hair at the base. And that groan rumbled all the way into her throat. She could have come from the sound alone, if her hands had been free to touch herself, but they weren’t. His cock choked her, but it seemed insignificant compared to
this.

When it was over he lay in a post-orgasmic stupor, reaching his hand down for her, seeking connection. She felt a similar sated haze seep into her. She clambered up his body and curled herself up at the crook of his arm.

B
lake wasn’t going
to jump her next time she came over. At the very least, it was sexual harassment, what he had done. His mind had even drifted to worse these past few days. What if she hadn’t wanted it? What if she’d felt that she couldn’t say no? It would have been practically rape.

Either way, he should be arrested. Beaten. Someone should kick his ass for taking advantage of her. It was too damned bad that Erin didn’t have anyone to beat the shit out of him. No father, no brothers, no punk-ass college boyfriend, either. She was vulnerable, and he’d been the worst kind of bastard.

When she came in the front door, she called out like she always did. “Mr. Morris, it’s Erin.”

His pulse jumped at her voice. His cock hardened. God, no.

He couldn’t do this. Bad enough she knew he was a dirty old man, taking advantage, lusting after her. Worse that he’d used her own desperation, her need to work to pay for her college, as a tether to keep her near him. He couldn’t also take her body, her innocence.

For she
was
innocent. Oh, she’d had sex before. And Christ, she’d sucked his dick like he’d never experienced it. Not even before his injuries had he gotten it so good. But her brown eyes were so open, so trusting. Her body was lithe and smooth and young. He didn’t deserve any of it.

There it was, entering the kitchen. That incredible body and beautiful mind.

“Erin,” he said. “We have to talk.”

She picked up on his tone correctly, setting her face into solemn lines, but then she’d always been bright. She walked to him, keeping her eyes trained to his. Probably she was worried he’d touch her again, put his filthy hands on her body and his ugly face near hers. And why shouldn’t she be? He was an animal.

“I’m afraid this isn’t going to work,” he said. “You can’t work here anymore.”

“Okay,” she said, sounding calm. But her hands trembled. And when she saw that he’d noticed, she clamped them together. She wasn’t one to show her weakness, and he hated that he’d made her weak.

“You understand, this isn’t any fault of yours,” he said. “You’ve done a great job. I’ve never had such a clean house. It’s just…well, I’m sure you realize the problem. It can’t happen again.”

“Right,” she said in that same neutral tone. “I understand.”

He didn’t want to hurt her, but he could see that he had. He’d thought maybe she’d be a little disappointed, since he liked to think they’d had a friendship. Or maybe she’d be relieved that she could get away from the lecher without him making a fuss. That would have been bad, but this was far worse.

But he knew what it was. “I realize you rely on this job for college. I don’t intend to ruin that for you. I can give you some money. The same amount you would have made it you’d kept working here.”

Her facade cracked. So did her voice. “You want to pay me?”

“Well, yes,” he said, genuinely confused by her distress. He’d done her wrong, by having sex with her. He’d pay the price, all right, not getting to see her again. But the least he could do was leave her whole, and that meant paying her the wages she would have earned.

She stood. Her lower lip trembled, but her eyes flashed with anger. “You can keep your goddamn money.”

“Erin, I don’t understand—”

“You don’t understand? I’ll explain it to you. I know I’m just some stupid college kid and you don’t really care. I can accept that. I’m just a maid to you, and a girl you can fuck, fine. But I am not a whore. You can’t have sex with me and then pay me to go away.”

He was shocked. “I didn’t mean it like that. Of course you’re not a whore.”

Her face crumpled at the last word. She turned and ran from the room. He caught up to her as she grabbed her purse from the hallway table, fumbling inside for her keys.

He stayed her arm. “Erin. Erin, please.”

She couldn’t see what she was doing through her tears, and she dropped the bag in frustration, but she refused to look up at him.

“Erin, I’m sorry,” he said. “I never should have touched you. You deserve so much better than—”

“Oh, don’t give me that,” she cried, finally turning up her tear stained cheeks to him. “You know I’d give anything to be with you. I’d take it any way you could give it to me, but not if you’re going to
pay
me for it. I can’t be a prostitute, even for you.”

“I don’t want that,” he said. “I want you, that’s all. I just can’t have you. You’re so beautiful, so young, and I—”

“Shhh,” she said. “That’s it. That’s all we need to say to each other. If you meant what you said, if you really want me, then that’s enough for me.”