Dwelling In Desire Ch 04

Notes from the author:

Hello loves. Well, surprise surprise. I couldn't wait. No real sex in this chapter. More plot and character development. It's been hard for me not to dive into the sex scenes, but obviously the sexual tension is already raging, and that was my goal when I started this series. Thank you for your patience and I promise I will make it worth it in the end. I have several ideas brewing that will make this story unique from my first series, which I'm hoping to avoid a replica of, while still exercising my fave fetishes. Let me know what you think. ;) Kisses!

--J

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Chapter 4

The news of my best friend and business partner dabbling in sexual assault on his vacation had served as a reasonable distraction. As for their mutual claim of falling in

love

, well, I was skeptical to say the least. Joe had obviously fallen head over heels for this woman, but did she truly feel the same?

Had Joe not shared that critical piece of information with me, that he had raped Kate, I might have shrugged it off as one of those rare but not unheard of cases of 'love at first sight'. But this was different.

Stockholm Syndrome.

That's what this was. Or should be.

Kate had admitted to being attracted to Joe, and that had influenced her reaction to his advances. Joe claimed that Kate was a submissive who shared his tastes. The submissive part I could believe. But Joe could be a really messed up bastard when it came to his kink. Not just any submissive would do.

I had seen Joe at the club. He was one of the more...severe Doms, and I avoided watching him with submissives during a scene. His style bordered just a little too closely on abuse for my comfort level. Of course he never actually abused his girl, but Joe's penchant for degradation and humiliation really stretched the limits of hardcore BDSM. The ladies he was with seemed to eat it up, but I didn't understand it. I had never understood it.

I doubted that Joe would give me Kate's contact information if I wanted to check on her, but worst case, I could always "swing by". I was sure he would

love

that.

I just couldn't fathom someone as sweet and charming as Kate actually

enjoying

Joe's harsh, borderline abusive, dominant tendencies. She was sweet. Soft. Feminine.

Like Bethany. Bethany.

And sure enough, the boner was back. Fuck!

Kicking off my shoes and clothes as I entered my bedroom, I contemplated whether to jerk off or take a sleeping pill.

I opted for the latter, and fell into bed, glad in the knowledge that tomorrow I could get back to the office and forget Bethany. She had a key, she had the resources, she had my credit card, and she had my trust. There would be no need to be around her, to see her and interact with her. In three months, give or take, I would enjoy a beautifully furnished house, and have fond but vague memories of the goddess that made it all happen.

---

As I sped down the highway, 99 Red Balloons blaring on my radio, I laughed out loud at the thought that a gorgeous rich bachelor had given me carte blanche in decorating his house. Most people wouldn't just hand over their credit card and say 'get it done'. But he had. And I was determined not to let him down.

I was giddy from the possibilities. Visions of rich Italian leathers, lush velvet draperies, and hand knotted wool rugs floated through my mind on repeat. I couldn't wait to finish and see the holy grail of 'Wow' looks on my client's face.

On

his

face. Mr. Donovan. Curt. I wanted to impress him. To please him. As much as was possible in our professional relationship.

Pulling up to the ornately forged iron security gate, I stretched my arm out the car window to enter in the gate code. When it felt like my arm was going to rip off from the strain, I finally gave up and got out of my car to punch it in. Geez. Graceful as ever, Beth. I knew there had to be a security camera or two around here. I just hoped no one was actually watching.

Accelerating quickly past the gate, I drove along the brick path, parking in a spot that would allow Rick to get out without me moving my car. I had about twenty minutes or so before he would arrive.

As I unlocked Curt's front door, I chuckled bitterly. The key just slid into the lock. Like butter. At home, I had to jiggle my darned key until my wrist and all my fingers hurt. Just another reason to be floored by the grandiose nature of this house.

I sighed as I entered the marble foyer, leaving my shoes on, since apparently Curt—ahem—Mr. Donovan didn't have a problem with that.

I passed through the hallway to the large eat in kitchen, and had just set my purse on the island when I noticed a little pink bag on the kitchen table. I frowned. Curt didn't seem the type to have random pink things sitting around his house.

Curiosity got the better of me, and I approached the table to get a closer look. I finally recognized "Bethany" scrawled in red Sharpie directly on the bag, in a very masculine hand. My heart skipped a beat, and I felt myself moisten between my legs.

Had Curt gotten something for me? What on earth could it be?

There was no tissue paper or anything, so I simply reached into the bag, retrieving a cold heavy object. Wait.

A tape measure! I could feel what it was before I even got a good look at it. I had my own tape of course, but it wasn't as nice as this one. Geez, it was a freaking thirty-five footer! I could feel myself grinning stupidly from ear to ear. I loved it.

What had compelled him to give me this? Maybe he had taken pity on me after seeing my wimpy-at-best tape measure the other day. I blushed, embarrassed. It was sweet though. Thoughtful.

Pulling out my phone, I texted Curt.

Thanks for the new tape measure Mr. Donovan! It's perfect!



--Bethany

He didn't seem the type to engage in cheesy text conversations, so I decided not to get my hopes up for a response. Curt was a very busy man. That's why I was here.

>Ding<

My pleasure Bethany. I know you'll make good use of it.

Bethany. Bethany.

Normally I went by Beth, but for some reason, hearing my given name from Curt's lips sent a thrill through my body. My nipples were hard just from reading his text. Heck, seeing "Pleasure" and "Bethany" next to each other in a message that

he

wrote felt like something to get excited about, even though it wasn't.

Lord did I need to get laid. I just needed to go to some bar, clad in a low cut top, wink at a few guys and take the first offer. Find out what it was all about. Get

it

out of the way, rather than saving myself for my "prince charming." The prince charming I was coming to believe was nothing more than a silly fantasy borne of silly schoolgirls.

So fucking sue me. I wanted my first time to be special. And I just hadn't met that guy yet that I could trust. I thought of Curt. He seemed mature, the type I could trust. But he was so much older. So handsome. And so out of my league.

Oh, yeah. And he was a

client

. And probably would either fire me or laugh me out of the room if I confessed to him my thoughts at this very moment.

I shuddered to think of the women he had probably had. Would have. They were tall and slender, with perfect hair and impressive bust lines. Perfectly clear skin. Gorgeous designer clothes and expensive perfumes. At least three priceless gemstones on their person at any given time. Those were them. Those were the women that interested Curt. That could have Curt. Not me.

>Ding, Dong<

I took a deep breath and wiped the scowl from my face.

Get your head back in the game Beth. You're a pro.

---

Of all the reasons one could have for investing in a high-end security system, I doubted that this made any normal man's list. I was spying on my newly hired interior decorator.

The security software fed live camera footage to my phone and tablet via an app, and I would be prompted whenever the gate, an exterior door, or window were opened or breached.

I had just arrived at the office and was starting to organize the files on my desk when I got the notification.

Pulling out my tablet, I accessed the app. Scrolling through the different cameras, I selected the foyer and saw Bethany enter, looking cute as ever. Apparently she didn't make as strong of an effort to dress up on days when the client was not home.

But damn.

Her cute ponytail and shorts really made me wish I had hung around. Of course, had I done that, my hand might have ended up wrapped in that pony tail, and those shorts could very well be history.

No! Get it together you fucker!

As I saw her gravitate towards the kitchen, I scrolled to the next camera.

I couldn't contain a grin when I saw Bethany discover her gift. The picture wasn't crystal clear of course, but I could see her pleased expression when she unwrapped the tape measure.

With the sun flooding in through the kitchen windows, I could see her figure very clearly now. Sweet lord.

As if the shorts and cute girlie ponytail weren't enough, she was wearing a tight tee shirt. And unlike the ruffly silk blouses from our two meetings, this showed

all

.

God, those breasts. I bit my lip. I zoomed in as far as the app would allow. Fuck.

Those were some fine curves. Young curves. Firm and ripe, yet soft and pliable. My dick twitched, and I ached to squeeze those breasts.

I was startled when I heard my phone ding. Apparently Bethany was texting me to thank me.

Thanks for the new tape measure Mr. Donovan! It's perfect!



--Bethany

Mr. Donovan again. All she needed now was a pair of cat's eye glasses, and Joe and I could have a matching set of sexual assault charges.

I texted her back, trying and failing to fight off a devious grin.

My pleasure Bethany. I know you'll make good use of it.

I knew how I wanted her to use it. I wanted her to find out how fucking hard she made me. Hell, it was a good thing I didn't have any morning appointments. I didn't want to offend any of my high maintenance clients with my now constant erection.

I zoomed out again when she moved, and was disturbed to see a frown on her face. What was wrong? Bethany was just standing there, staring out into space. She liked the gift. What could be wrong?

Suddenly, Bethany disappeared from the kitchen, and I got another prompt indicating the front door had been opened.

Scrolling back to the entryway, I saw her welcome a young man into the house.

Wait a sec...

Young?

With the tool belt and casual attire, I could only assume this was her contractor. But he was not some heavyset has-been. He was in

shape

. And as strictly hetero as I was, hell even I had to admit, he was good looking. He looked like that Chris Hemsworth kid, or whatever his name was. Thor.

Fuck.

What the hell was I getting upset about? They were colleagues. This guy had the same professional boundaries I did when it came to Bethany. I hoped.

The look on his face as he chatted with Bethany hinted at feelings that mirrored my own. She appeared comfortable with him, and I grew more and more annoyed as I watched them talk. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but the flirtatious expressions were enough to alert my dick to the competition.

Competition? This was not a fucking competition. It was not fucking anything. I needed to get a grip on myself. Bethany was off limits, and her outside relationships were none of my business.

But.

It

was

my business to ensure that nothing shady happened in my house. No theft. No damage to my personal property. And no hanky panky on the clock. I was within my rights.

I watched with menace as she led Thor up the stairs.

There was only one man I wanted her leading up my stairs. And that was I. I wanted her hot, tight, denim-clad ass to sway in front of

me

. Back and forth. Back and forth, until I couldn't take any more and dragged her by the hair to my bed.

I would tear those shorts from her young firm body. I would tear every skimpy piece of clothing in her possession to shreds and keep her at my mercy for days. Weeks. For fucking ever.

God, was I really any better than Joe?

"Mr. Donovan, you have Dr. Jacobs from forensics on line one," called Margot through the intercom.

Fuck!

"Tell him I'll call him back," I hissed. Shit.

I scrolled through the different camera feeds to the room that Bethany had suggested converting to an office.

I watched intently as Bethany gestured to the different walls, and then to her sketchpad. The contractor...dammit what was his name...seemed to be paying attention, though if he had a normal masculine bone in his body, he was undoubtedly going crazy over her smell. Her eyes. Her soft cute voice.

And thanks to the skimpy tight tee shirt, her apparent milky soft bosom.

I didn't have to see it in color to know. There would be no sleeping tonight.

---

"So I was thinking of doing glass display cases here, with filing cabinets on each end, and bookcases on the opposite wall. The desk itself I will probably order. I would just need your help with the built ins," I explained to a nodding Rick.

"Sure thing Beth," Rick agreed. "Are you thinking floor to ceiling? And what wood?"

"I think definitely floor to ceiling, with interior lighting on a switch. As for the wood, I'm debating between walnut and mahogany. What do you think?"

Rick emitted a low whistle. "Walnut is pretty pricey right now. Mahogany isn't cheap, but it's less than walnut at the moment."

"Then walnut it is!" I replied with a grin.

Rick raised his eyebrows at that.

"He's sparing no expense," I explained. I was new to the world of unlimited budgets, and struggling to keep from acting like a kid in a candy store.

"Well I guess that makes sense," he shrugged. "When I pulled up to the house, I suspected it was a higher end job. You doing the whole house?"

"Yep," I said, trying to temper my stupid shit-eating grin. "I'll need your help with various tasks, but the office is the most involved. How long do you think it will take to get the cabinets completed?"

Rick furrowed his brow in thought, giving the space a once over.

"Uhh, probably four to six weeks from deposit. I'm finishing a couple bath vanities for another customer, so it will take a while to get started."

"That's what I figured," I nodded. "Okay, let me show you the rest of the house, and we can talk about the other stuff."

---

I'd just waved good-bye to Rick, and was now dying of thirst. That tended to happen after an hour of yapping with a contractor or client, and I was still getting the hang of it. But I hadn't brought any water with me. Stupid Beth!

Curt...ahem...Mr. Donovan wouldn't mind if I helped myself to some water, would he?

I knew for certain that if he was here, and I had asked for water, he would have given me some. Knowing I was being silly, I decided I would just take a stupid glass of water, and make sure I thanked him for it later. I didn't want to interrupt his day for something so trivial.

Thankfully, the cups were easy enough to track down, and the fridge had a functioning water dispenser. Whew! Now I could get back to work.

But curiosity got the better of me, again. I opened his fridge.

I was stunned to find nothing more than a half finished gallon of milk and some eggs in the top section. Apparently Curt was not much of a cook.

Pulling the freezer drawer out to check out those contents, I was not too surprised to find a treasure trove of Hungry Man TV dinners. Poor guy. Ironic that such a rich guy should be eating college budget frozen dinners. He needed to get himself a chef.

I refilled my water glass and set it on the counter for safe keeping. Grabbing my notebook and brand-new tape measure, I sprinted up the stairs to get started measuring for drapes and bedding.

Why I chose to start with the master bedroom, I don't know. Maybe because it felt...naughty. I knew that this was where Curt slept. Every night. This was where he dressed. And undressed.

And while the space was far from enough to impress the ladies, I knew that if he wanted to, he could have sex in this room every night of the week. The lack of ambiance would be the last thing on those ladies' minds.

My eyes wandered to his king size bed. It was unmade now, as it had been the day we met. When he brought me into his room.

I remembered the tension in the air. Him, only feet away from me. A bed, only feet away from me. My plan to save myself for my husband nothing more than an amusing childhood memory.

I wouldn't have stopped him, had he tried something.

Stop it Beth! Stop it! You really have to go find a bar somewhere...

I knew I shouldn't. I knew it was sick. An invasion of privacy. A blatant violation of my professional credo. But I did it.

I put down my notebook and sat down on his bed, on the side that was clearly his side of preference.

It felt so wrong, but I reached for his pillow. I pulled it to me, and stroked the soft material. And I smelled it.

Uhhhhhh. So fucking good.

I licked my lips and closed my eyes as I smelled him.

Beth, you are sick. You need to get a fucking life.

What the heck, I thought. I repositioned the pillow just as I'd found it. But instead of getting back to work, I did the wrong thing. I laid down. On his bed.

I took off my hairband so I could lay flat on Curt's pillow, and smell him while laying on his bed. It was heavenly. I could smell his cologne. His sheets were so soft. Dark blue, like the clear night sky.

Dark. Handsome. Just like him.

I wanted to touch myself. God, how naughty would that be? But that was the line I wouldn't cross. It was too sick. I was being bad enough already without crossing that threshold of depravity. Exercising control that I didn't think I had after such behavior, I got out of his bed and walked into the bathroom to fix my hair.

God, I was blushing to my ears. It just goes to show Beth, you are a silly untried little girl, just pretending to be grown up. You need to get this show on the road. I shook my head disapprovingly at myself in the mirror.

I was just about to resume the task that I came upstairs for, when I realized how huge the bathroom was. There were two vanities, two toilet areas, one massive shower, a soaker tub, and two doors that I couldn't identify. Were they closets?

One door was slightly ajar, and I peeked inside. Ah. They were His and Hers master closets. Naturally, since I was on the road to corruption anyway, I entered Curt's closet. It was only about a third of the way full. He didn't seem the type to wear an outfit only once, so I wasn't too surprised. Plus, the closet was way too large for any normal man to fill anyway.

If he only used a portion of this closet, he probably didn't use the other one at all, I assumed. But damn it, I needed to look.

Leaving his closet door ajar, as it had been, I breached the "Hers" closet. I expected to find it empty--at most some lightly used ski gear, or a couple tops left behind by an ex-girlfriend.

I didn't expect to find a massive black trunk as the sole occupant.

Crap.

Why did I have to go in here? Why did I have to discover Pandora's box? Now I absolutely had to know. Damn it Beth, just walk away. Walk away.

Walk away!

Nope.

Kneeling down before the trunk, I was both relieved and disappointed to find that it did not have a lock on it.

Now is your chance to do the decent thing Beth. Walk away.

I undid the latch and lifted the top. The hinges creaked loudly, and I paused before looking inside, keeping my ears perked for any noises indicating that he had come home.

When I heard nothing, I let out the breath I'd been holding, and allowed myself to gaze into Pandora's box.