Dwelling in Desire Ch. 08

Notes from the author:

Good news and bad news. The good news is we have a nice long chapter (by my standards anyway). The bad news is that we revisit Joe and Kate. If you love Joe and Kate, you will love this chapter. If you aren't keen on the degradation, name calling, etc. you can skip the latter half of Chapter 8. Overall, this chapter was a serious struggle for me, especially since I don't consider myself to specialize in plot. But here it is. Thank you to all my dedicated readers, patient and impatient alike. Xoxo

--J

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Chapter 8

-Reserved Parking-

Law Offices of Donovan & Martell

For some reason I felt...inferior. To have a law practice in a big city like Chicago, complete with reserved parking spaces in a private garage...you had to be up there.

Sure, the whole mansion thing, and the Jaguar, and the paying in cash like it was no more than a couple days' lunch money...that had spelled it out well enough. But being here now, at his place of business, it was all the more clear how different we were. How vastly different.

It was just...too much. He was so far beyond me on all levels. As professional and sophisticated as I tried to be, it was all a show. I was a tradesman. Useful, knowledgeable about my craft, but about as common as the trusty neighborhood dry cleaners. And working out of my tiny rented bedroom no less.

Curt was so much more. I was stupid. Silly. Naïve.

But he had hired me, and he seemed happy enough with my service so far. And he would continue to be. I just needed to keep things moving. Keep things progressing as they had been. With business that is.

I'd put my car into park several minutes ago, but was still staring at the reserved parking sign. "Donovan & Martell". It was such a classy and upscale sounding name.

It made me tingly, and terrified at the same time. But the heat between my legs cared little about terror. Heck, the terror probably made me wetter still.

>Knock, Knock<

"I think we're gonna be late for our appointment Bethany."

Speak of the devil.

I damn near peed myself in surprise from the tall and forbidding figure smirking at me through my driver side window.

"Jeez, you scared me!" I scolded through the glass, unsure of whether he could hear me or not. He probably did, because he laughed.

I had a difficult time being mad with him when he smiled. That bend-the-knee sexy grin and the twinkle in his eye, hinting at juicy secrets. It gave me chills. The good kind. The dirty kind.

Curt and I had known each other barely a week, and already we shared a juicy secret. And while I tried to convince myself it hadn't happened, my thoughts continued to replay those few minutes in the closet. Had it been minutes, or seconds? I would never be able to say for sure, but I knew what had transpired.

What had nearly transpired.

As Curt opened the door for me, gentlemanly as a wolf in sheep's clothing, I flashed back to the closet again.

He'd had me against the wall. Against the wall. Nowhere to hide. Not my body, not my thoughts.

He'd seen it. He'd seen it in my eyes, I knew.

I'd felt his breath on my face, my neck, my lips. I'd watched his eyes raking shamelessly over my body, even though he hadn't touched me.

I flushed as I recalled the humiliating feeling of my pussy juices saturating the crotch of my worn cut-off shorts.

"We'd better hurry," Curt teased as he helped me from the car, as was becoming customary it seemed. "Whatever were you daydreaming about for so long?"

"Oh nothing Curt. Sorry to keep you waiting. Don't worry about the time, Terrence knows we'll be there. Well, he knows I'll be there."

"Terrence?" Curt queried as he steered me gently by the arm over to his sportscar a few spaces over.

"Yes, Terrence is my sales rep at the showroom we're visiting," I explained. "He'll be assisting us."

"I see," Curt sounded mildly interested as he trapped me in. Again.

I sat in the darkly upholstered luxury sportscar, and waited for him to round the vehicle and get in himself. It smelled of...new car. Rich, real, leather. The epitome of class.

Was he trying to impress me? The idea was laughable, as that had long since been accomplished.

Put it out of your head Beth. He's just trying to save your poor pathetic ass some parking fees. Just go with it.

Swooping into the driver side, Curt cleared his throat and asked, "You ready?"

I was ready. So ready.

"Yeah," I whispered. It was the best I could do.

"Then buckle your seatbelt," he commanded in a deep voice.

Uhhhh. Panties officially compromised. Why didn't I wear two layers?

I obeyed wordlessly, smoothing the straps as neatly as I could over my skirt and top, so as to not wrinkle them.

My ensemble had been pathetically, excruciatingly, thought out. In the end, I'd gone with simple and elegant. As elite looking as I could manage with nothing but cheap knockoffs at my disposal.

A knee length pleated skirt in gray, an ivory sleeveless blouse, sheer stockings and gray flannel ballet flats. I wanted to appear demure, but grown-up. Business, but with a little sensuality beneath the surface.

No woman in her right mind would dress for Curt without trying to entice, at least a little. I was human after all. I wanted to feel desirable. And it would be the ultimate ego boost if I saw desire in his eyes. When I dared to look, that is.

I'd also put some extra time into my hair, wearing it down today instead of in messy childish pig buns. It had taken a little extra product to tame my naturally wavy tresses, but if I could impress him, even for a moment, it would be worth it. Not that I needed to impress him sexually. He was my boss.

Fucking focus Beth. Focus.

"So, do you need directions?" I asked as coolly as I could manage.

"Nah, I pass the Mart all the time."

"Have you ever visited any of the furniture showrooms?" I asked.

"Nope," he smiled. "Can't say as I have. I mean have you seen my house?"

We shared a laugh. It felt so good to laugh with him. It was like we were bonding.

Building a...

Shut up Beth. Shut it now.

"Touché," I replied with another giggle.

"Forgive me, but what was the purpose of this trip exactly?"

"Don't you think you should have clarified that before you agreed to attend?" I teased.

"I aim to please Bethany," he drawled. "You invited me, and I was able to make time. I never said I understood exactly what this was about though. As far as I know, I'm giving a beautiful woman a ride."

I blushed, but couldn't bring myself to discourage the flattery.

"So I could have invited you to join me for a pedicure and you would have agreed?"

"What's a pedicure?" he laughed, and I bit my lip to stifle a goofy smitten grin.

"Does it matter?"

"No, I don't suppose it does."

"Hmm, I'll have to remember that. Well anyway, the point of today's visit is to finalize the selections of your major upholstered pieces. AKA couches and chairs."

"Ah, well why didn't you just say picking couches and chairs? I probably could have remembered that."

"Oh Curt, it isn't dignified to use such generic terms in my industry. Designers classify it as upholstered seating. Sofas, armchairs, settees, chaises, etcetera."

"Umm, yawn?" Curt laughed. "What the hell did I sign up for?"

I laughed at his boyish retort.

"Think of it this way Curt, you get to kick back and relax in a few different couches and chairs, and pick which ones you like best," I offered, amused by his sudden reservations. "There is one downside though."

"What's that?"

"No cup-holders for your beer."

Curt practically roared at that.

"Well for most guys, I can see how that would be very distressing. I don't drink, so it's all good."

He didn't drink. A grown man that didn't drink. I could hardly claim to be an expert on the cultural norms where drinking was concerned, but didn't that typically imply...alcoholism? Or a history of alcoholism?

I wasn't going to ask, but if it was true, it was a bit of a shocker. Curt was so perfect.

Trying to ease the tension from the abrupt stretch of silence, I joked, "Well all the better. I don't have to worry about you staining the expensive Turkish rugs."

"Hey, I never said I wouldn't stain anything," he chuckled. "What about coffee, and chili, and Chinese food and stuff?"

"Well I hope I'm not around when that becomes an issue. I'll just make sure your ventilation system is up to par before our contract is finished."

"Ventilation system?"

"Yes. For all the gas," I explained.

Another throaty chuckle from him, making my nipples push more stubbornly against the padding of my push up bra.

Too soon it seemed, he was pulling into a space in the paid parking garage at the Mart.

"Stay," Curt ordered gruffly.

Oh God.

He'd ordered me to stay. Like a dog. And my pussy was clenching with eagerness to obey him. To please him. Why? What was wrong with me? I was a person, not a freaking golden retriever.

Of course I'd already anticipated that Curt would want to help me out of the car again, if for no other reason than to sneak a glimpse between my legs. And I wanted him to. I wanted him to look. I wanted to feel beautiful, desired, sexy. Even if nothing would come of it.

Our "business" relationship was such a freaking contradiction, I seriously couldn't say for sure what would happen. Would I be able to resist him? Deep down, I knew the answer was a resounding "Fuck No."

The door opened, his hand appeared, and I held my breath.

I kept my eyes down as I accepted his hand and swung my legs slowly and gracefully out of the car. Once I'd smoothed my skirt, I took my time bending down to retrieve my bag from the floor of the passenger side. I just couldn't resist. He made me want to tease him. God knew Curt was teasing the heck out of me.

When I turned to him finally, shouldering my bag, I dared to look him in the face. What I saw sent shivers down my spine. He looked...angry. Hungry. Vengeful.

His carnivorous expression flooded me between my legs, while simultaneously filling me with...fear. It was a heady sensation that immediately stirred visions of our closet encounter.

Him staring me down, against the wall, nowhere to run.

I must have appeared as terrified as I felt, because Curt quickly smoothed his features and offered me his arm.

Should I take it? Was it professional? Probably not, but wouldn't it be rude to reject him over something so...harmless? Gentlemanly even?

Of course I was on high alert the moment I gingerly slipped my arm around his. Curt's body heat penetrated his jacket, and his smell overwhelmed my senses. I felt foggy-headed and jittery.

Unlike the innocent teasing and cheesy double entendre, this was actual physical contact, for an indefinite period of time.

I bit back a gasp when I felt his arm subtly graze the side of my breast. As we walked to the elevator, it kept recurring. Was Curt doing this on purpose? He couldn't be. It was just incidental sideboob contact. He probably wasn't even aware of it. Had it been any other man, I might not even have noticed myself.

I tried to distance myself a bit, but he held firm.

It was driving me crazy. I was probably red in the face by now, which would be all the more obvious with my ivory blouse. Would my extra padded bra be enough to get me through this appointment without humiliating myself?

I'd never been more thrilled to see Terrence, or Terry, as I called him most days.

"Terry, hi!" I greeted, disengaging from Curt as nonchalantly as possible as we entered the showroom.

"Hey Beth! I see you've brought your client with you?" Terry smiled.

"Yes, this is my new client, Curt Donovan. Curt, this is Terrence. He will be assisting us."

"A pleasure," Curt greeted, as they shook hands.

"Yes, so nice to meet you sir," Terry nodded. "So, can I get you some coffee, tea or water?"

"Oh, well we won't be staying lon..." I began.

"Coffee would be great," Curt interjected. "Bethany, you want anything?"

"Umm, no," I stuttered. "I'm good."

"Great! I'll just go grab your coffee and be right back," Terry agreed.

I couldn't contain a bashful smile as Terry passed by me mouthing the words, "Oh. My. God."

Yes, Curt was handsome. Old news. I was struggling enough as it was to keep my hormones at bay. And failing miserably.

"So, Terrence seems nice," Curt mused.

"Yeah, he's always been good to me," I smiled. "No pressure, just honest and educated opinions when I ask for them, and when I find what I want, he orders it. No hassle."

"That's great. I appreciate a low-pressure setting," Curt nodded.

"As do I," I smiled. "But I don't want to keep you any longer than necessary, so why don't we get started? Over here is the Landry sofa I am proposing for the family room off of the kitchen. This is the sofa that will face the TV, so it needs to be comfortable to lounge in."

"Shouldn't all sofas be comfortable to lounge in?" Curt smirked at me.

"They should be," I smiled. "Though sometimes fashion can take precedent. Have a seat and try it out."

Cocky and unapologetic as a teenage boy, Curt plopped down heavily on the sofa.

"Uhhhh, yeah, that works," Curt groaned as he sunk into the distressed Italian leather.

"Mmhmm, I thought you might like," I replied with a grin.

"Come here," he ordered.

What?

I froze, the blood draining from my face at his sudden command.

"Bethany, come sit down, I want to see how comfortable it is for you."

"Oh," I stammered. "Well it's not like my opinion matters any. I won't be using it, will I?"

"Probably not, but that doesn't mean I won't have female guests who need to be comfortable," Curt explained.

Oh. Right.

"Okay then, fair enough."

I sat as far from him as I could on the deep sofa.

"I love how your feet just dangle in the air Bethany," Curt laughed as he observed me. "This couch wasn't made for petite females was it?"

"No," I responded, embarrassed by my lack of grace in sitting, though I couldn't exactly help myself. The sofa was nearly four feet deep. Perfect for Curt. Ridiculously out of scale for me.

Why hadn't I taken the possibility of "female guests" into account?

Because you don't want him to have any female guests. Other than you, of course. Selfish, silly, horny, deluded Beth.

"Well don't you look cute Beth," Terrence laughed as he approached and handed Curt his coffee.

"Yeah, thanks," I rolled my eyes.

"So Mr. Donovan, what do you think of the Landry sofa?" he asked.

"Well Terrence, I love it. It's a perfect fit for me. I doubt however that my lady guests will be as fond of it. Can you show me something a little more versatile in terms of comfort for both men and women?"

"Absolutely sir! Bethany, what do you think? Should we show him the Bennett, or maybe the Brodrick? I can pull the fabrics you selected while you two look around."

"Yeah, that sounds good," I nodded, still a bit thrown by the sudden change in course.

I was used to being in control, being a solid judge of what was best for my customer. Curt had seemed like a bit of a lone wolf, so naturally I assumed he would want his furniture to appeal to him, and him only. But I guess it was to be expected that a gorgeous rich bachelor would...entertain. And with how sexy and charming he was, there was really no reason he shouldn't...entertain...quite frequently.

And it filled me with jealousy.

He wasn't mine, would never be mine. And though I kept reminding myself, trying to drill it into my head, I just couldn't help it. I was fucking jealous.

---

An hour, three sofas, and five chairs later, Curt had finished his coffee and signed off on the fabric selections.

"So, forty five minutes tops huh?" Curt teased.

"I'm sorry Curt. I didn't take into account the time we would need if we were to reselect. I just assumed you'd be happy with my selections."

"I was," he replied simply. "But I want to take the comfort of my guests into account as well. It's not just about me."

"Yes, again, my apologies for that. I should have discussed it in more detail with you at our initial meeting."

"Forget about it," he winked. "Now, I'm starving. Why don't we get some lunch?"

"Lunch?" I repeated stupidly.

"You eat lunch, right?"

"Yes, but I thought you had to get back to work. I don't want to detain you any longer than necessary. I've already kept you far longer than expected," I stuttered.

"No, Bethany. I've kept me longer than expected. And I can keep me as long as I want. Now let's go eat."

Not giving me a chance to argue further, he took my arm again and led me out of the store. I managed a quick glance back at Terry, who responded with a knowing smile.

Resigned, I let Curt lead me as he wished. There was no point in resisting this man. Nor did I want to.

---

Why the hell was I being so high handed? So brutish? So...rude?

Bethany was not a sub. And even if she were, she was not mine to command. We had a business arrangement, and she'd conducted herself in a perfectly professional manner. Why couldn't I do the same?

Because. I wanted to fucking possess her.

This was beyond anything proper etiquette could circumvent. It was animal instinct. I was coming unhinged. I knew it, and yet I was not stopping myself.

To my credit, I had not raped her.

It seemed like such a weak and tasteless argument, but there it was, running through my horny demented mind trying to justify my behavior.

Just relax. Breathe. She is your decorator, and you're taking her out for a nice lunch to thank her for her hard work.

"I know a really good pizza place nearby. Any objection?" I asked, glancing over at her.

"No, pizza is fine," she all but whispered.

I nodded and proceeded south towards the restaurant district.

In my low vehicle, I would normally have cursed every speed bump. Today I was appreciative. For in my peripheral, I could see Bethany's tits bouncing in her lovely silk blouse. God in heaven. It seemed she had done away with the ruffled blouses for now, and my prick was immensely grateful. Grateful and scornful.

Seeing her young curves bounce and jiggle was thrilling. It filled my mind with visions of her bouncing enthusiastically on my cock as she straddled me. I saw her squealing and crying out with mixed pleasure and discomfort as I pulled her hips down harder onto me, torturing her untried pussy with the depth of my thrusts.

"Damn these speed bumps," I muttered.

"Yeah," Bethany chimed in as she fussed with her hair.

And as if God willed it, there was a parking spot opening up just as we arrived at the bistro.

"What do you know?" I mused as I pulled in.

Bethany quickly unbuckled her seatbelt as I put the Jag into park.

"Stay," I ordered again. Just to see if she would comply.

She said nothing. Again. Just obeyed. But as I glanced over at her, I could see her chest heaving, her eyes downcast.

Fuck.

Was I imagining it?

I needed to get my rigid dick under control. In a practiced maneuver, I adjusted myself as I got out of the car.

When I opened the door for Bethany, I made sure to take the proper precaution this time.

"Give me your bag," I ordered.

She looked up in surprise before picking up her purse and handing it to me. Shouldering it for a moment, I took her hand and helped her out.

Thankfully and unthankfully her skirt of choice today was far too long for me to see anything more risqué than her soft creamy calves. Clad in stockings no less.

I was a bare leg man myself, but damn. On her, the dainty sheer stockings with the prim pleated skirt just suited her. It suited my fantasy. Now if I could just get her to put her hair back up in those pigtails.