Dwelling in Desire Ch. 04

Holy. Shit.

I didn't have the slightest idea what most of these...things were. But the few I did were enough to make me tremble in fear. And heated desire.

I saw a few vibrators, odd shaped dildos, a box of condoms, and various leather items. One of which couldn't have been anything other than a whip. It was thick. Braided leather. Expensive looking and soft, as if it'd been well used. I ran my fingers over the stiff but supple material.

Oh my God. Beth, why did you have to look? Why?

Not only are you invading this nice man's privacy, but now you won't be able to look at him without thinking of this.

The whip in his hand, to punish you for your naughtiness. That hungry look in his eyes from when you pitched him the "durable" four-poster bed. He would look at you with that fucking sexy look as he punished you. And no matter the pain, you would endure it. For him.

Just because I was a virgin didn't mean I hadn't fantasized. Hadn't imagined. Hadn't fingered myself silly on a regular basis.

Some day my prince will come.

That mantra was taking a more thorough beating every night. And the profile of my ideal prince was becoming less and less honorable.

Now he carried a whip. He carried a gun. And he had golden brown eyes.

I shut the lid of the trunk, letting out a deep sigh.

Why? Why did I have to look?

---

I was relieved when she finally showed Thor the door. I'd expected that Bethany would leave as well, but she returned to the kitchen and got some water after pulling a glass from my cupboard. Presumptuous little thing, wasn't she?

Okay, I'd have given her everything in my refrigerator and freezer without question had she asked, but I didn't think she was the type to just help herself in my absence. I chuckled in amusement.

Then she opened my fridge. What the...?

I saw her stare into the fridge, and then switch to the freezer. Good lord, what was she doing? I doubted she would want one of my Hungry Man dinners.

I wasn't angry. Mainly perplexed. Was this sweet innocent girl...snooping?

I zoomed in on her face, and tried to read her. She looked...disappointed. What was she looking for, ice cream? I'd run out of ice cream a week ago, and needed to get some more. Mental note to self. Pick up ice cream on the way home.

Before my thoughts could get tangled up in which flavor to buy, I saw Bethany refill her glass and abruptly leave the room.

I scrolled, and saw her heading up the stairs, scrolled again, and saw her enter my bedroom.

What was she doing?

For the moment, she was just standing there, facing away from the camera. I saw her turn her head towards my bed. She walked slowly over to my side of the bed.

Holy shit. She's not...

She was.

I watched, plagued by a combination of terror and thirst.

Bethany touched my pillow. Oh my God. She's picking up my pillow! Oh fucking hell, she's smelling my pillow! What the hell?

And if that wasn't enough, what she did moments later made my fucking balls ache.

Bethany took her hair down. And layed down. On my pillow.

Bethany was laying down on my bed. In my bed. Her young soft body was warming my sheets, and I wasn't even there. I was transfixed by the image of her in my bed. It was like a dream.

What was wrong with this girl? What was she doing in my bed? I should have been furious. But instead, I was aroused beyond reason. If she was laying in my bed, smelling my pillow, that could mean only one thing. One thing.

One thing.

She fucking wanted me. She wanted me to fuck her.

I shook my head, flabbergasted.

She had said she wanted to keep things professional. This was dangerously close to the least professional thing she could do. She obviously had no idea I was watching, or she might have reconsidered her decision to lay her head on my fucking pillow. She made me want to test the capacity of my car in my race to get home so I could pin her tightly to the bed and ravish her. God how I wanted to.

Unbeknownst to her, she was a temptress of the most lethal kind.

After several moments, she sat up and went towards the bathroom. I had only one camera in the bathroom, which gave a general view. I had questioned the security company's recommendation to install one in there, but figured, what the hell. There were windows after all.

I thought Bethany might have had to use the toilet, but she was simply putting her hair up. Thinking this was the end of the show, I let out a long held breath.

But I was gravely mistaken.

After fixing her hair, I saw Bethany's attention travel to the toilet and closet areas.

Oh God please no. Please just let her take a piss and leave...

But she apparently did not need to piss. She was headed for my closet.

Fine. Have your little browse of my pathetically sparse wardrobe, and leave.

No such luck.

I could only watch in horror as she breached the door to the other closet.

No. No. No.

I wanted to yell into my tablet at her, but Margot would have come running. Did Bethany have some kind of radar? Was this another one of God's really fucked up jokes?

I waited for her to discover that there was nothing more than an ugly old black trunk, and re-emerge from the closet.

It's nothing but a trunk. Nothing but a trunk. I was trying to will the words into her mind. To somehow telepathically conjure her out of the one room that could compromise our professional relationship.

But as several moments passed, I broke out in a cold sweat. There was no doubt in my mind. She had opened my trunk. She was rooting around inside of it now. She was gazing upon all my weaknesses. My fetishes. My kinks. All the reasons I could never be with her, aside from the fact that I was, for all intents and purposes, her boss.

She was judging me. I pictured the look of disgust on her beautiful angelic face. The look of horror and revulsion that came from a person who knew they could never unsee what they had seen.

I was devastated. Now she would see me only as a filthy perverse old man.

My jaw clenched as I saw her finally emerge from the closet. But she wasn't running. Bethany shut the door with care, and as she turned towards the camera, she appeared shockingly calm.

What the hell?

I was prepared for her fear. Her disgust. Her trauma. But she displayed none of those things. She looked calm. Neutral. A closer representation of the professional young woman I had met only days ago. The professional young woman I'd never dreamed I would actually see in my bed.

Oddly, in spite of all her transgressions today, the one thing I was most pissed about was that I had not been there.

She'd lain in my bed without me there to help her. Help her take her hair down. Help her undress. Make sure she was comfortable, laying her head against my pillow before I spread her trembling peachy soft thighs.

I imagined petting her soft blonde snatch while whispering sweet nothings into her ear. Feeling her nipples harden against me. Kissing her soft pink lips and penetrating her slowly, relishing her soft gasps as I filled her, inch by blissful inch. Helping her to orgasm by circling her tiny young clit. Feeling her fertile young cunt ripple over my cock, welcoming my increasingly urgent thrusts until...

Fuck!

I glanced down at my pants, which were now starting to show evidence of the pre that had long since soaked through my boxers. Hell.

Scrolling to the bedroom again, I frowned and shook my head as Bethany moved with her businesslike posture. She began measuring my windows, for drapes I presumed, followed by my bed. She made several notes in her pad, and then moved on to the living room.

When I realized she was back to business, I grew bored and put my tablet away.

Dear God, what time was it? I looked at the clock, and groaned when I saw a full two and a half hours had passed. I had just pissed away a good chunk of my day spying on my fucking decorator.

What the hell was wrong with me? I hadn't a clue what to do with myself, but I did know one thing. Bethany was not all that she seemed.

---

There was one advantage to my morning distraction. I had fallen so far behind that I couldn't help but stay focused once I got started. It was a constant stream of paperwork, emails, phone calls, a quick visit to the lab, a hurried lunch, and more paperwork.

By seven o'clock, I was drained and ready to crash. Maybe this was the key. Sleep in, go to work late, and be so pressed for time that I couldn't possibly be distracted by her. It was something, but it probably wouldn't work if I had morning appointments. Maybe I'd have Margot book only afternoon meetings until further notice.

Whatever. Right now, I just wanted my bed.

I blasted the radio on the drive home, trying to keep myself awake.

Coming in through the garage door, I flipped on the kitchen lights. I'd been prepared to plow straight through to the bedroom, but I stopped dead in my tracks when I noticed a note on the island.

--

Dear Mr. Donovan,

Thanks so much again for the new tape measure. I love it! I used it to measure for drapes and bedding today and it is just perfect. Anyway, I hope you don't mind, but I used one of your cups for a glass of water this morning. I would have asked, but I didn't want to bug you at work. I put it in the dishwasher since it was empty. Hope that is okay. I hope you have a terrific weekend, and perhaps I will see you soon!

Sincerely,

Beth 

--

Shit. She was so sweet it made me ill to think of all the things I wanted to do to her. Leaving the note where it was, I took off my jacket and trudged down the hall to the wine cellar. I kept no wine in it, but there was a shelf at the back where I kept my drug of choice on constant display. Wild Turkey.

I stared at it. Angry. Conflicted. Terrified. Depressed.

And filled with yearning.

But I turned my back, as I had for the last twelve years, and walked away. It was some sick challenge I inflicted on myself from time to time for God knows why. Maybe to prove to myself that I would not ever go there again. No matter how bad things got. No matter how thick the temptation. No matter if it was mere inches away. I got some satisfaction out of walking away because I could. But tonight was a little harder.

With Bethany in my life, I was struggling to find things that would keep me busy enough to ignore her. Things that would overcrowd my mind so I didn't have room left for thoughts of her, or things that would essentially turn my mind to mush.

The occasional sleeping pill was the closest I got to option B. Unless I succumbed. And I refused to go there. Even though it was right there on the shelf. Waiting to offer comfort. Comfort in this case being a safe haven of nothingness. How I longed for nothingness right now.

Well, what I really longed for was her. In my bed. But since that could not be, my next choice was nothingness. If I could manage to get to sleep quickly, that would be the cleanest, safest answer. All the more reason to get my ass upstairs now, before my dick woke me up.

Shutting the door to the wine cellar, I strode through the kitchen to the foyer and up the stairs, removing my tie and belt as I went.

I was so tired I'd almost forgotten what had transpired in this room today. After brushing my teeth and stripping down to my boxers, I made for the bed.

Eager to get under the covers, I was just about to turn out the light when I spotted a sliver of gold in my peripheral. A long blonde hair lay on my pillow. Like a shooting star across the night sky. It was Bethany's.

I just gazed stupidly at it, my chest filled with an odd mix of pain and elation. Had it been anyone else's, I might have flung it aside or just flipped the pillow over or something before crashing hard.

No, the only logical thing to do was to save it. But how? It was a hair for Christ's sake.

Cursing myself, I trampled down the stairs in annoyance. This was next level obsession. I rummaged through the drawers in my kitchen until I found some Ziploc bags. Grabbing one, I bounded up the stairs again to my bedroom.

I almost laughed as I carefully picked up the hair and deposited it into the Ziploc bag, sealing it for good measure. This was lunacy, I knew. But in my mind, there was no other option. I couldn't throw it away, and I couldn't risk losing it. It was her.

Emitting a deep sigh of resignation, I tucked the bag into my nightstand drawer, and turned out the lamp. Thankfully, despite that little detour, I was still exhausted.

But as I lay my head down on the pillowcase, I realized I could smell her. I could smell the faintest trace of Bethany's sweet fragrance. I buried my nose in my pillow, and inhaled.

Yes. She was definitely there.

I felt my cock twitch in the knowledge that on some sick level, Bethany was still here. In my bed. She would be in bed with me tonight.

I still didn't know whether to be thankful or furious from her behavior today. But I did know one thing. I would not be washing this pillowcase any time soon.

---

To be continued...