Hunting Beauty

by Madison Faye

  I felt myself flush under his unblinking gaze, feeling the charge of his presence reach out and touch me through the air between us. I swallowed again and shifted slightly in the heels I wasn’t used to wearing.

  “Formal is the way I was raised, and it is a state in which I have lived my life, and the way in which I intend to further raise my own children.” He strode to a side table against one wainscoted wood wall and pulled the stopper off a crystal bottle with a small pop. The amber liquid spilled into a tumbler, the smell of smoky scotch hitting me from across the room. He swirled the glass as he turned, bringing it to his lips. His eyes never left mine, fixed on me, unmoving, as he brought the glass to his lips.

  “So, as I was saying.” His eyes drew me in, his voice soft like velvet. I felt myself unconsciously leaning forward, waiting with bated breath on his words. I wanted to think it was my own silly imagination thinking he was talking directly to me, but he actually was — ignoring the rest of the applicants, looking right at me.

  “Yes, sir?” I found myself saying, as if we really were the only two people in the room.

  “Rules. We hold them in high regard in this house, and I would expect anyone who desires to work and live under this house to keep them in the same esteem.” His smile faded as he took another sip of his drink, languidly twirling the rich liquid around the inside of his glass as his eyes moved on to the rest of the girls in the room.

  My head swam in the dim light. The rich smell of old books and the steel gaze of my potential employer sitting across from me was a potent combination. I’d never in my life felt an ounce of the nervous, electrically charged excitement and titillation I felt in this room, alone with him. His eyes moved back to me, and that hint of a smug grin returned to his lips.

  He was toying with me, and we both knew it. He knew exactly who I was — the silly little girl with a bit too much champagne in her who’d let him pull her into the women’s room. The girl who’d let him shred the panties from between her legs, and run his fingers over her dripping wet, eager pussy. That’s who he saw me as. And the fact that that girl from that night was now standing in his study looking for job watching his children was probably downright amusing to him.

  His eyes seemed to drink in my hesitation, and he smiled thinly at me. Dammit, I thought to myself, steeling my nerves. This man was not going to best me. It was clear I wasn’t getting this job, but that didn’t mean I had to stand there cowering under his gaze. Heck, all the more reason not to. He’d taken my body that night — he would not take my dignity on this one.

  I stood up straight, and took a deep breath. “I agree completely, sir,” I uttered out loud — again, addressing him as if we were alone in the room. “Without rules, without discipline, and without a firm hand to wield them both, there can really only be chaos and disorder.” I smirked inside, keeping my face a mask of professionalism.

  He raised a single eyebrow at me, almost in amusement, as he slowly nodded.

  “And of course,” I added. “Disorder has no place in any house.”

  Yeah, nailed that. I mentally patted myself on the back. The way he allowed himself to smile slightly only verified it.

  “Excellent, Ms. Wilder.”

  I froze.

  He obviously had our names for the interview, but it was that cocky look in his eye that gave it away. That smug look that said he’d simply been biding his time to let me know he put a name to my face. That the girl from the other weekend who’d clawed at his back and muffled her cries of pleasure in his neck, the girl who’d moaned hungrily as she’d willingly sunk to her knees in a bathroom stall to swallow his cock, was now known to him by name.

  The air was still in the room as we locked eyes, that fire behind his gray gaze burning fiercely as he took another sip of scotch. Finally, he looked away, and his mouth opened.

  “The rest of you may leave. Thank you for your interest in the position.”

  There were a few sighs, and more than a few curious and angered looks my way as the other girls gathered coats and purses and slowly filtered out of the room. The door shut with a heavy thud behind the last of them, and I shivered.

  “Isabella Wilder,” he mused, letting my name roll over his tongue.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Sir, I—”

  “Doctor Rice had nothing but praise for you. He says you’re ambitious, intelligent, driven, and responsible, which of course is why you are currently here in my home.” He tilted his head and frowned slightly. “I’m assuming Dr. Rice isn’t aware of your more, shall we say, reckless nocturnal activities?”

  My face went hot with a blush and I dropped my eyes to the floor, wishing I could just disappear into it. “That’s not me,” I said quietly. “Sir,” I added quickly.

  “I’m curious what brings a girl such as yourself to a place like that to do that,” he said evenly.

  “I could ask the same about a man like you.”

  My heart jumped into my throat and my mouth snapped shut as soon as I said the words, but they were already out there. I glanced up, my eyes wide. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to say—”

  “How old are you, Ms. Wilder?”

  I swallowed. “Twenty.”

  He nodded, stroking his chin. “And how often might a girl such as yourself be found in the ladies’ rooms of nightclubs with a man she’s just met?”

  I shook my head quickly, my cheeks burning hot. “Never, sir!” I said, my hands twisting together. “That was my first time.”

  I froze, shivering slightly before I opened my mouth again. “The first time, I mean, doing that.”

  He knew who I was. He knew what I’d let him do to me in that bathroom.

  He did not need to know that he’d taken my virginity that night.

  His jaw tightened. “Ms. Wilder, I’ll be blunt.” His voice, deep and richly smooth, resonated through me. “While your intelligence and your obvious personal drive are both impressive, and indeed, one of the primary reasons you appeal to me for this position, I’ll refer back to my first point.”

  He leaned against his thick wooden desk, hands steepled, eyes dark.

  “There are rules in this house. And my children are my pride and joy, Ms. Wilder,” he said stiffly. “They are smart, witty and sharp, obedient, and delightful. And while I could continue to heap a father’s praise on my children ad nauseam, I will also add that they are indeed a normal six and four year-old, with all that comes along with that. The job obviously entails both looking after them as well as a fair amount of travel over the course of the next month or so of your employment.”

  He leveled his eyes at me. “Are you up for the task, Ms. Wilder?”

  That steely gaze, that voice, that hint of flirtation in his words; it wasn’t a question, it was a demand.

  But was he actually still offering me the job? After what— well, after what we’d done?

  “I am, sir.”

  As soon as I uttered the words, I wished I’d asked for more time to consider. His reaction though, was immediate.

  “Excellent.” He nodded crisply as he rose from his chair and approached me with a confident stride. I found myself shivering under that gaze as he approached, quickly looking down and smoothing my skirt.

  “The position is yours then, Ms. Wilder,” he purred.

  I froze before slowly daring to raise my eyes to him again. “Sir?” I looked at him quizzically, not fully understanding what had just transpired. “I—”

  “There will be rules, Ms. Wilder.” His voice darkened, his eyes glinting at me. “A young lady such as yourself under my employ will be expected to conduct herself in the manner befitting of the position.”

  I nodded.

  “A young lady such as yourself under my employ will be expected to behave,” he growled, and I suddenly felt myself captivated by that gaze, my whole body tingling under it.

  “And if you do not behave…” His eyes darkened even further as the hint of a smile turned the corners of his m
outh.

  “If you do not behave, there will be consequences.”

  I found myself nodding before I could even think about it. “Yes, sir.”

  “Would you care to think about it? I believe in well informed and deliberate execution when it comes to decisions such as these Ms. Wilder.” His eyes glinted as he confidently held my gaze. “So, when you answer, I’d like it to be a final answer. I’d rather not waste your time and mine with further deliberation on a decision I’ve already made.”

  I felt my blush creep up from under the collar of my blouse, spreading across my neck and cheeks.

  “So, I will say once more, the position — should you accept — is yours, Ms. Wilder. Provided you can behave.”

  The shiver moved through my body, teasing over my skin, warming me in places I knew it shouldn’t, considering the circumstances. It moved lower, teasing its way between my legs as the memory of that night came rushing back.

  The night he took me. The night he demanded pleasure from my body.

  The night he claimed me as his own.

  And I knew I should walk away. I knew — however lucrative and important for making connections — a job like this with that sort of history looming there was nothing I needed. A man like this was nothing I needed.

  …Even if he was something I wanted.

  Even if I couldn’t for the life of me stop thinking about the things he’d done to me, and the way he’d made me feel.

  The way he’d made me come.

  All of those were very valid reasons for not taking the job, and I knew it.

  But then, my mouth opened, and the words came out before I could stop them.

  “I accept then, sir,” I said, looking into his gray eyes.

  He smiled darkly and put his hand out. Slowly, I placed my hand in his and immediately felt the electricity, the warmth, the strength, and the power in his large hand as it enveloped my own much smaller one. It was firm, powerful, and I felt a shiver run up my spine.

  “Excellent, Ms. Wilder.” He smiled down at me. “We’ll be leaving next week for Paris, but I expect you should come by before then to meet the children you’ll be caring for.”

  I moved in a blurred daze as his hand left mine and he escorted me from the room. We left his study and walked towards the marble foyer of the house. He opened the heavy, oak front door to the sounds of a still, winter evening in Boston.

  “My driver is bringing the car around now to take you home.”

  I nodded as I turned. “Thank you, sir, for—”

  “I’ll expect you tomorrow,” he said brusquely as a black town car pulled up the driveway. I began to turn again when his voice stopped me.

  “Ms. Wilder.”

  I turned again, and instantly, my body melted. Because there on his face, was the exact same look he’d had that night. It was the look when he’d told me — no, demanded — that I follow him.

  It was the look he’d had right before he’d made me whimper for him.

  Before he’d made me soaking wet for him.

  Before he’d made me come as he claimed my innocence.

  “Remember,” he growled. “We have rules in this house.”

  I nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  I gasped as he moved closer, towering over me, making my pulse throb in my veins.

  “Rules, Ms. Wilder. And good girls follow those rules.” His eyes glinted. “And bad girls get punished.”

  I felt it in my whole body — the aching, throbbing pull of want for him. The almost drug-like way my body instantly craved his touch again. The way I wanted to drop to my knees right there on his door step and worship his cock like I had that night.

  And the look on his face said he knew exactly what I was thinking as he moved to open the door to the car for me.

  “Until tomorrow, Ms. Wilder.”

  In the car ride home, I sat quietly, my heart racing in the backseat as the black Lincoln sped across the bridge back to Cambridge.

  Colin Kensington.

  The man from that night.

  The man who made my cry out and claw at his shoulders as he slipped his thick cock inside of me.

  Was now my employer.

  This was going to be a very interesting winter break.

  Chapter 3

  Colin

  Her.

  I’d felt it the second I stepped into my study — like I could feel her damn presence or something. And then I’d laid eyes on her again, and the whole thing came rushing back to me. The sweet girl from the club. Clearly out of her element, clearly unaware of how goddamn vulnerable she appeared despite the sultry dress, the makeup, and the liquid courage.

  She’d drawn me in like a moth to a flame that night. She ensnared me in that place I had no business being. A man of my standing only went to private clubs, with exclusive clientele, with members lists that included government officials and royalty. A man of my standing didn’t go to obnoxiously loud, crowded, cheap nightclubs full of college kids. Why had I gone that night?

  I didn’t rightly know, truth be told. I supposed for a change of pace — a chance to forget, an excuse to be invisible. Helen called that day, I supposed that had something to do with it. Helen with her outrageous demands and threats of legal action — however implausible — always made my blood roar. I suppose that day I just needed something more besides the usual scotch in my office or the company of those in my usual club.

  I needed something more visceral.

  Something more anonymous.

  Which is why I’d stepped into that club. I’d traded Armani for jeans and a cheap leather jacket. I’d given up twenty-eight year-old single-malt for bourbon on the rocks. And I’d traded the storm going through my head for a sweet, sweet escape, with a far too cute, far too innocent, and far too good girl who didn’t know she was baiting a wolf when she’d spoken to me at the bar.

  A girl who I’d devoured in that bathroom. A girl who’d cried out and begged me for more when I’d taken her hard and fast, fucking her like a man possessed.

  Fast forward a week, and she was standing in my goddamn study. Fast forward a week, and the girl who’d clawed at my skin, who’d dropped to her knees and sucked my cock as I’d gripped her hair, who’d moaned like my own personal slut as I’d fucked her against the bathroom wall, turns out to be her. The highly praised, highly lauded honor student. The college sophomore at Harvard whom my old friend Richard Rice couldn’t speak higher of in regards to becoming my au pair for the holidays.

  I should have been angry. I should have been worried that a girl like that would apply for a position like this. She should have been the first one I’d excused from my study.

  Except that wasn’t what happened at all. Because seeing her had ignited something inside of me. Seeing her again was visceral — it clawed at me inside.

  Seeing her again had gotten me harder than stone, and had awoken the beast inside that just screamed for more.

  I wanted more of her.

  Isabella Wilder — four-point-two grade point average, economics wonder-student. Sweet, blonde, innocent, and pure.

  Except I knew that’s not all there was to her. I knew how she could beg for my cock. I knew how her mouth felt as she moaned around me. I knew how sweet her pussy tasted, and I knew how her brow wrinkled when she came. I knew she let me fuck her like a beast in the bathroom of a nightclub.

  And none of that turned me away. None of that had me sending her away.

  In fact, it’d done the opposite. Against every better judgement, against every careful practiced method of self-restraint, I’d goddamn hired her for the position.

  Maybe Helen was right. Maybe I was out of control.

  But whatever led us here, this is where we were. The girl I’d dreamed about since that one anonymous night, the one who’s sweet, innocent body I craved like an addict for the last seven days, was now my employee.

  And I’d be damned if I wasn’t going to taste her again.

  I’d be damned if wasn’t going
to consume her, claim her, and make her scream for me all over again.

  Consequences be damned.

  Chapter 4

  Isabella

  I panted, running the last block up the hill to Colin Kensington’s townhouse — wet, freezing, and frantic.

  The trains had been delayed. Of course, on my first day, they’d been delayed. I’d even gotten out three stops earlier and hailed a cab, but that had hit traffic from the pile-up of snow that fell the night before. So, I’d gotten out and started running, but I’d only made it a step or two before my heel hit ice and sent me sprawling into a pile of snow and slush. I gasped at the shock of it, the freezing cold slushy mix soaking my stockings, my skirt, and even going up under my coat to soak into my blouse.

  Perfect. Just fucking perfect.

  My first day working for a billionaire, and I was going to look like a refugee. What could be worse? Oh right, I was late.

  And that was the state I’d been in when I pounded on the front door, mumbling an apology to the butler as I pushed past him inside.

  “Mr. Kensington has been expecting you,” he said crisply as I stood there panting and trying to tuck my hair back from my face.

  “Pardon?”

  The man’s face was neutral. “You are late, Ms. Wilder.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry, the train got—”

  “Please wait for Mr. Kensington in his study,” he said quietly, cutting me off. “This way.”

  I tried to catch my breath as he led me through the house, back to the room from the night before.

  “Mr. Kensington will be a moment.”

  I nodded as he shut the door, leaving me alone in that room.

  I quickly peeled my jacket off, groaning at the state of my clothes. I looked a mess. I quickly moved to a mirror on the wall beside the fireplace, scowling as I tried to fix my hair and wiped at my shirt with a napkin from my bag. I was so frantic in trying to fix it all that I never heard him enter.