Dwelling in Desire Ch. 02

Notes from the author:

Hello again. Good news and bad news on this chapter. Bad news is there is no sex. And it's a little shorter than I wanted it to be. The good news is that it's hot. Be advised that this chapter does feature some humiliation and degradation, which you can generally expect to be up there on my list of favorite things and it will often shine through in my stories. Those who have read my first series See Through Me will understand. ;)

Love to all my fellow kink fans, and let me know what you think in the comments.

--J

*****

Chapter 2

Good God, that man. All I could think of was how hot he was. Just, how hot.

I was certain I had to be blushing to my ears after hours alone in a huge house with a devastatingly gorgeous rich bachelor. How I'd held it together was entirely beyond me. Even more concerning was how I would continue to keep it together, now that we had an agreement and I was officially handling this man's project.

I couldn't back out now. This was a huge opportunity to expand my portfolio and client base in a wealthy area like Glencoe. I had to focus on the tasks at hand.

Research. Propose. Execute.

If I focused and worked hard enough, I should be able to keep my cool and maintain a professional distance. Not that he would even be interested in me to begin with.

Curt was so mature, so cultured, so wealthy and debonair. He was in his prime, and likely had dozens of equally gorgeous women lining up around the block. Women that probably had authentic designer purses, unlike the knock-off I had, which was already in dire need of replacement after less than a year.

I needed to get myself together. Curt was probably old enough to be my father for God's sake. But damn if he wasn't sexy. My ego clung to the memory of that moment when he had first opened the door. I had been stunned by the fucking Adonis that stood before me, but even more shocked by his reaction.

His eyes had widened when he saw me, and roamed quickly but thoroughly over my body. I saw his gaze linger just a moment at my chest, and then again at my legs. Thank God I had worn my ruffled silk blouse, or I would instantly have given myself away.

I saw desire in his eyes. Immediate desire. For me. Or so I would choose to believe in my impending late night fantasies. I had never looked forward to touching myself with more urgency than now, as I sped home in my trusty Volkswagen Jetta.

Glancing at the speedometer, I realized I needed to calm down. I really didn't need hundreds of dollars in traffic fines just because of my raging hormones. It was difficult enough to get by with all the student loans, car payments, phone payments, and, the major downfall of being one's own employer, health insurance.

It was rough. But it was the price of doing what I loved. What I was destined for. And despite my sparse portfolio, I knew I could do it better than most others. This project would be my big chance to prove it.

Mr. Donovan would need to remain Mr. Donovan. Not Curt. Although neither title made me any less wet between my legs. Both belonged to a tall, sexy, hunky, rich specimen of man with golden brown eyes.

I hadn't looked into many men's eyes, but the few I had were enough for me to know that I couldn't make a habit of looking into his. I would be falling all over myself trying to make myself more interesting, more appealing to him. An impossible task. He was so freaking sexy. So out of my league.

Calm the heck down, Beth. God, you really just need to get laid don't you?

Yes. I needed to get laid. I had needed it for a long time. My whole adult life I had needed it. But I had been raised in a strictly religious household, and only left home to attend college. Classes were excessive enough in the time they required, but a thirty-hour a week position at the K-Mart left very little time for anything leisurely. On a good day, I would get about six hours sleep.

My parents had warned me that if I didn't keep my grades up, I would have to move back home, and I wanted my freedom. Desperately. So I had to work. Hard. I was taught to work for everything I had, and it had given me the backbone I needed when I graduated with my degree, only to find that the economy had tanked and there were no jobs available in my field. At least for someone with no experience.

That left me with either a titillating assistant manager position at the K-Mart in Des Plaines, or starting my own design firm and marketing the heck out of myself.

I chose the latter, in spite of all the risks it entailed. Of course I continued to work at K-Mart part time until I had enough regular leads to get by. Money was still very tight, but at least I got to do what I loved. Design. There was no better feeling in the world than helping people improve their lives through design. Or as Margot put it, "decorating."

I sighed as I pulled up to the old bungalow I had called home for the past few years. Mrs. Hathaway, a sweet older lady owned the place, and rented one of her spare rooms out to me. She was very nice, and the rent was extremely reasonable, but she allowed no parties, no smoking, no men...no nothing. It was a small price to pay for competitive rent, but it was yet another barrier to an active social life.

My close friend Kate had long since moved to the city after getting a considerably better paying job with a pharmaceuticals company. How I wished that I had been the academic she was. I would be on easy street, working a similarly stable job in Chicago or New York or somewhere else glamorous. But anything non art related had always bored me to tears. I had made my decision, and was dealing with the trade-offs. I just needed to make it big. And Curt...Mr. Donovan's house was my first real opportunity. I couldn't wait to get started.

As I shoved the front door open, I was greeted by Mittens, Mrs. Hathaway's cat. He was very old, but she loved him dearly, and he didn't cause me any trouble. I just couldn't leave any of my fabric samples around him, as they would quickly end up in shreds.

"Oh hello dear," Mrs. Hathaway called from the sofa, QVC blaring in the background. With all the home shopping network television she watched, I was astonished that the house was not packed to the brim with random novelties and costume jewelry.

"Hi Mrs. Hathaway," I greeted. "Just so you know, I'll be making a few phone calls in my room. I'm sorry in advance for the noise."

"Oh that's quite alright dear. I can't hear much of anything anyway," she laughed. "Will you be joining me for dinner? I'm making beef stroganoff."

"I wouldn't miss it!" I smiled. Her stroganoff really was excellent, and if I was honest, it reminded me of home.

"And I'm happy to announce that my rent check will not be late this month, or next. I just signed a huge project in Glencoe!" I was brimming with excitement.

"Oh I'm so glad to hear that sweetie," she beamed. "You'll be making the big bucks soon, and won't have any need for this tiny house, an old lady and her cat. I'll miss you!"

"Hey, I'm not rich yet," I laughed. "But when I do make the big bucks, you can bet I am remodeling your kitchen!"

"Woohoo!" she cheered. "I want double ovens and a walk-in pantry...oh, and granite countertops!" she added.

"We'll see," I grinned. "Anyway, I have to get on those phone calls. See you for dinner."

"It should be on the table about five thirty dear," she called, just before I slipped into my room.

One thing about the design field is that one's office is always a mess. And right now, my "office" consisted of about three quarters of my small bedroom. Another glaring reason not to have any friends over, plutonic or otherwise.

Shoving the papers on my desk aside, I plopped down in front of my laptop and got out my phone to call Rick.

---

It's funny how a solid night's sleep can give one such clarity. Waking up on the dry side of the bed this morning, I realized the significant risk in hiring Bethany. After only a couple hours alone with her, I had been reduced to a wanking adolescent. How could I possibly expect to last around her for an entire month? Or more?

I sat up in bed, resolved that I would explain my decision to withdraw from the contract, and hope that Bethany understood. I would let her keep the five grand, since I was the one canceling. It was only fair. Not to mention that I didn't have the heart to take it away from her. She was young, still finding her way in this shit economy, and probably needed the money far more than I.

Satisfied that I would come out of this guilt free, I yanked the cum-drenched sheets off of my bed and brought them down the hall to the laundry room to wash. Unlike Joe, I had the basic domestic skills down. He sent laundry out, had a weekly cleaning service, and a driver. If he weren't in a condo, he'd probably have a fleet of landscapers as well.

I shook my head in amusement. Hell, I couldn't make fun. My yard was not looking nearly as nice as it had when I moved in. I needed to have Margot call some gardeners, and while she was at it, some housekeepers. I just didn't have the time.

Hitting the button on my brand new washing machine, I whistled as I walked the fifty fucking plus feet back to my master bath. Observing the barren rooms as I strode through the hallway, I knew that I needed a decorator still, to be sure. I just needed one that didn't bring me to my fucking knees with her beauty and sensuality.

Bethany was due in an hour, so I hopped in the shower and scrubbed myself down. Much to my chagrin, my cock was twitching in excitement. I looked down in dread as it gradually rose until it nearly hit my navel. I shut my eyes tight, and tried to think of non-sexual things. Margot. Yeah, Margot!

It nearly worked. But Margot's image quickly morphed into Bethany. Beautiful Bethany, kneeling at my feet, naked as the day she was born.

I breathed in suddenly through my nose at the thought of her bracing herself on my legs, taking my cock gingerly into her mouth as she knelt on the wet tile. Her innocent mouth sucking with youthful enthusiasm, desperate to please me.

"Good girl baby, suck Daddy's cock," I whispered as I began to stroke myself. All the while hating myself for succumbing yet again to the fantasy. The daddy-dom thing was not something I had really gotten into, but with Bethany, in that moment, it just fit. She was just so sweet, and young, and innocent.

I wanted to be her Dom. Yes, fuck it. Her Daddy-Dom.

I felt a tingling in my balls as I envisioned her frowning in determination, trying to get my whole dick into her mouth. Her gagging noises, the sensations of her throat constricting over my shaft over and over again as she tried.

"Touch your pussy while you suck me baby," I urged.

I heard and felt her purr in excitement as she began to fondle her innocent blonde snatch.

"Don't cum yet baby," I warned. "Wait for Daddy."

"Mmmmmm," I heard her respond, sucking more urgently at my throbbing prick.

"Almost there baby," I gritted out. "Fuck, yes, suck me!"

I jerked my shaft, my eyes shut tight, trying to keep the fantasy alive. It felt so right. And so wrong.

"Bethany!"

"Mmmmmm!!!"

"Fffuck!!" I roared as my cum shot across the shower, disappearing from view as quickly as it had arrived.

Jesus. I could not get away from this girl fast enough.

---

"Look, Bethany," I began. "I really appreciate your professionalism, and I think you could do a fantastic job on this project, but I..." I trailed off.

"I..."

I shook my head, my eyes falling downward to stare into the countertop.

"The problem is, I find myself incredibly attracted to you. When I see you, I just...can't help feeling aroused. I want to fuck you. I want to bend you over my bed and fuck you soundly, thrusting into your tight cunt until you scream and cry. I want to spank your pretty ass, and grab your luscious tits. I want to take you until you beg me to stop, and then take you some more, fighting against my orgasm just so I can hear you scream and beg as long as possible."

I swallowed in nervousness, my eyes finally looking up.

"But I can't. I don't know you well, but I know enough. I know that a girl like you deserves far better than a sadistic fucker like me. I know that I wouldn't be able to restrain myself. And this job for which I am hiring you would likely suffer for it. You. Would suffer. You need to go. Now. Before I lose what remains of my control."

I frowned at my foam caked face in the mirror, filled with self-loathing. I sure as fuck wasn't going to say these things to Bethany, but it was good to get them off my chest anyway. It was therapeutic, and yet eye opening in a depressing way. I was a sick old fucker. Pathetic combination of creepy old man and horny school boy.

>Ding, Dong<

Wiping the foam off my face and quickly slapping on some aftershave, I muttered, "Here goes nothing."

---

"Hey Bethany! Come on in," I welcomed, sincere as I had ever been.

"Hi Mr. Donovan! Thanks," she replied as she entered.

Cursing myself when I noticed she did not remove her shoes, I joked, "Hey, what happened to Curt?"

Bethany's eyes went to the floor, and she blushed her beautiful blush. I took the opportunity to observe her cute polka dot blouse and navy blue skirt. Today's blouse also drew the eye, but didn't allow me full appreciation. Was she hiding something? Arousal, perhaps? Or did she just like ruffly blouses? Now I was dying to know.

"I'm sorry, I think I would be more comfortable keeping things on a professional level."

I frowned. Didn't she realize that calling me 'Mr. Donovan' put things on a way less professional level for me? It made my cock fucking hard. It made me want to throw her on the floor and violate her. To pound her pussy, and pull her hair until I emptied my balls deep into her young womb.

Fuck. What the fuck was wrong with me? She was right. Lord, was she right. Better to keep things as professional as possible.

I cleared my throat, and replied, "Sure, whatever makes you comfortable. Let's go into the kitchen and talk."

We settled at the kitchen table, and I felt myself turning red as she quickly pulled her laptop and notes, as well as some fabrics and other shit. I had to break it off before she got too far into her presentation, which she had apparently poured her heart and soul into in a period of hours. It filled my gut with a nasty feeling.

"Uhh, Bethany," I started.

She turned to me instantly with those gorgeous clear blue eyes, and I was undone.

"Yes Mr. Donovan?"

Fuck.

"Uhh, wow, it looks like you've pulled some things together pretty fast. I'm impressed."

It was the truth, but it was not what I wanted to say. What I should say. I didn't have the balls. I didn't have the heart to give her disappointing news. She was just too beautiful.

She blushed again, "Yeah, I spent a lot of time researching options for you and sketching out some design ideas. I'm really excited to share one in particular with you."

Her eyes twinkled, and I could tell she was brimming with pride. It was adorable, and fucking sexy as hell.

"Sounds enticing," I purred, allowing myself a brief leer at her blue polka dot blouse.

Thank God she appeared not to notice. I scooted my chair closer to hers as she opened up her little sketch pad. Adorable. It took me a moment to get past the arousal brought on by her close proximity, and the smell of her girly perfume.

Without preamble, she scooted closer to me and pointed to a rather impressive sketch.

"So I was particularly eager to develop a design for your home office. And I think you'll like this."

After gathering my wits to focus on her drawing, my eyebrows rose at the stunning composition.

"Are those my guns?" I asked in surprise.

"Yes," she grinned. "I thought you might like to have them on display in an area you can enjoy them more. The display cases would be integrated into built-in mahogany bookcases and file cabinets. I was thinking of some interior lighting to highlight them, perhaps with a nice tan felt lining. You can keep your safe in the office as well, and I was planning to have a special lock installed on the door to protect your private information, the safe, and your gun collection of course."

I was blown away, enraptured by the way she'd managed to make a space that was intended for utility into a room that would undoubtedly be one of my favorites in the house. I sat silently next to her, in awe.

"If you're opposed to having your guns relocated to another room, we don't have to. It was just an idea," she offered, a look of mild trepidation forming on her face.

"No, no," I shook my head. "I love it actually. I'm just surprised. Pleasantly surprised." I smiled at her.

Bethany's beam of satisfaction at pleasing me sealed the deal. There was no way I could cancel the project. The look of pleasure on her face was just too thrilling. It would be difficult, but I would need to harness my desire for her.

"Would you like to see my ideas for your bedroom?"

Oh Jesus.

"Sure," I cleared my throat. "You've got me all excited now," I grinned.

God if she only knew.

Nothing could have prepared me for what came next. She turned to the next page in her pad, and my eyebrows rose again. My jaw dropped slightly as my eyes went immediately to a grand four-poster bed.

"So my goal was an earthy, masculine look, with rustic wood. A dark color scheme, and intimate lighting," she explained. "I thought it would be cool to do a four-poster bed. Not ornate in design, but more of a thick masculine contemporary style."

Bethany quickly opened her laptop, and I shifted uncomfortably as my erection grew increasingly painful.

"This is one bed option I was considering," she continued. "It's made of solid oak, so it's very durable, and is consistent with the style I'm going for. What do you think?" she prompted.

I swallowed, and agreed, "Yeah, that looks amazing. Really cool. I like the style."

The brief and weak feedback was the best I could manage. I was already having visions of throwing her down on that bed and tying her limbs to each of the posts before ravishing her. It would need to be durable. Did she know about my carnal desires? Was she doing this on purpose?

I looked at her, daring to gaze into her eyes for just a moment. I knew I was risking my lustful thoughts being exposed, but I had to know if she felt the same---if she truly was ignorant to all the sexual implications.

The way her eyes quickly shifted downwards spoke volumes.

"Yeah, umm..." she re-focused on her laptop, and scrolled through a few pictures before continuing.

"These are some examples of the sort of color scheme I'm envisioning. Dark and intimate. Cozy, with a dominantly masculine feel."

Fuck. Her words. Dominantly? She had to know what she was doing. I was suddenly filled with lust for her, and had to remind myself to breathe.

"That looks really good," I offered. "I really like the bed. It will be perfect."

She glowed in satisfaction from my compliments, and quickly moved on to the next page in her pad. To my utter relief.

---

We spent another hour reviewing her plans for the rest of the house, which were equally as impressive, but not nearly as sexually provocative. Thank Christ. My hard-on had gone from throbbing near the edge of release down to mildly bothersome.

"These ideas are fantastic Bethany," I praised. "I'm all the more certain now that you will do an amazing job." I handed her a house key and my credit card information.

"Thanks so much Mr. Donovan," she beamed. "My highest priority is making sure you are totally satisfied, so it's good to know you like what you see so far."