I sigh, “Darryl was just a cop to me. I didn't even speak to him the first couple times he stopped by. I think the barn was vandalized once more. He used that as an excuse to pop in and check on us, even if he wasn't working.”
I look up, not seeing the room around me but remembering the past, “I could tell it flattered my mother to have his attention. He was ten years younger, good looking, and seemed to hang on every word she said. It was like he loved her before he even knew her."
“Sounds like that would be easy to do,” Beau says, his eyes lingering on my face. “You look just like her.”
“You think?” I ask, hopeful. I crave the few connections we might have.
His hand reaches for mine. For the second time today, I am reminded that I’m not alone.
I look down, struggling to say, "Her death was ruled an accident. Late at night---winding road---you know. I never questioned it.” I feel tears well in my eyes, and I snuff them out quickly, taking a breath before I finish, “It wasn't until I was gone and had gotten a little older that I realized it didn’t make sense.”
Beau gives my hand a slight squeeze, urging me on. I say the words that I have never been able to say out loud.
“I have suspicions. I can't say for certain that he killed her, but my doubts about it are firm. She was never out at night, especially not alone.” The worst part comes next, “Something he said, the night of her funeral, something---like had to do---he had to do it---because she didn't love him.”
He lets go of my hand as he wraps his arm around my shoulder, pulling me in against his torso. He’s warm. I burrow closer.
I whisper the next part to his chest, “I just thought I misunderstood or that he misspoke. He was so trashed, but I couldn’t let what he said go. I can’t think of it as an accident."
Beau stands up, and I shiver at the loss of his heat.
He starts pacing, "So what you're telling me is that he was obsessed with your mother and after possibly murdering her, he fixated on you?" It sounds terrible when he says it like that. It sounds unreal.
"I don’t know what he is or what he wants. I don’t know what to say." I throw my hands up exasperated, "I'm sorry for involving you. It wasn't my intention."
Beau stops pacing and points at me, "Stop it! I'm not worried about being involved. I'm pissed about the whole fucking thing. What if I wasn't here Samantha? You can’t take stalking lightly. You never know what people like that are capable of.” He warns then grabs the back of his neck, "I need to make some calls." He looks around the room. I think he wants privacy, but there's none to be had here, no matter where he goes. He growls and grabs his phone from his back pocket. It's against his ear only for a second when he barks, "I need you out here yesterday!"
I make myself scarce by walking into the bathroom and shutting the door. I open the shutter door that hides my small laundry station, gathering enough clothes from my laundry basket to start a load. I even grab up my decorative towels that look like they could use a wash. It takes only a few minutes, tops. I busy myself with whatever I can find in this room. I straighten my products in the shower, then wipe off the counter and sink. I start digging through a tall chest where I store my hoard of lingerie and begin sorting them to calm my nerves. I make rows for my comfy panties and then my cute ones. I take a few pairs I haven’t worn in a while and put them on the washer, to start another load.
Once I finish, I mindlessly open the top drawer on my quest to organize everything, and I’m met with the sight of the few sex toys I own. I close it quickly and peek over my shoulder at the still closed door.
I might need to find a new spot for them. If Beau keeps visiting he's bound to be in here at some point. I know what I'd do when presented with an unexplored bathroom. I’d poke through everything easily accessible. For now, I close the chest and pull the latch tight.
I turn on the radio I keep in the shower and sway my hips, singing along with the music.
I do a quick twirl only to scream upon seeing Beau leaning against the door frame.
"Why do you always do that? You creeper! My god, what if I was going to the bathroom?"
He rolls his lips in then licks them slowly, a huge smile lighting up his face, reaching all the way up to his eyes, "I could hear your music playing through the door." He looks at me questioning, “Do you make a habit of listening to Top 40 when you pee?”
Oh, the jerk face! I blindly pick up something to throw at him. A pair of purple, barely there, panties smack him in the face before falling to his feet. His face morphs from cocky grin to shock for the briefest moment, but we both realize what I've just done.
I dive to the floor in an attempt to retrieve them first. He's faster as he fists the tiny scrap of see-through fabric and lifts them over his head like a high school bully.
"Give those back right now!" I screech
"No way. I might file assault charges. I could have lost an eye." He admonishes, sounding completely serious.
"Beau, you better give those back."
"Nine tenths and all that," he waves me off. Then he does the only thing that will distract me enough to forget he’s holding my panties hostage. He lunges for the pile of panties on top the washer. “So many colors, Sammy.” He teases, “Where do you stash them all? Can I pick a favorite?”
My eyes go to my chest unthinkingly, and he moves to pull it open.
My head hangs, and I move to cover my face. I'm mortified, as of course the first thing his eyes find are the sex toys. This is not happening. It's every woman's nightmare come true, a declaration to all, yes I masturbate.
When I peek through my fingers, I see he hasn't moved, the top drawer still hanging open. His wide back moves slightly with each breath but nothing else.
Is he grossed out? Does he think I'm a freak?
I'm thinking of sneaking out of the bathroom when he turns his head to me. All humor has evaporated from his face.
I feel stupid. Before, I might have been able to play it off like no big deal, depending on his reaction, but not now. I'm sure my face closely resembles a beet with how hot it feels.
Beau's hand reaches down to graze the door of the drawer, "You gonna let me watch you use them Sammy?"
"I----th---that it's not----I," I stammer trying to find an explanation. He abandons the still open drawer and turns fully to face me. I have to look up to meet his eyes. They smolder. I feel my face heat up this time with something far from embarrassment.
"Samantha, I find the thought of watching you using them or better yet, letting me use them on you, very appealing.” He runs his hands from my hips to my waist and pulls me close, “I had to stop from taking them out to see if I could smell you on them." He breathes me in and purrs, "So Sweets please, don't be embarrassed. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." He finishes his statement far too sweetly after what he just admitted to wanting to do.
I nod. He sure seems to know how to get me to agree to things. A little more dirty talk in that low voice, and there's probably not much I wouldn't do.
Beau takes my hand and leads me from the room.
"I can't be in there right now," he says quietly, almost to himself. Louder he tells me, "Brian will be here tomorrow. He's someone I trust with my life. I'd like to tell him everything that's happened, but I'll keep some of it to myself if that's what you want." I know he's offering to keep the abuse a secret, but I don't think I care anymore.
"Are you going to tell him, or do I need to?"
"If you're okay with it, I can talk to him. I think him knowing everything is for the best." My eyes dart to the ground guiltily because Beau doesn't even know everything.
"Yeah, I'm okay with you telling him anything you think he needs to know."
I break away from him and walk over to the kitchen to find something to do. I don’t want him to see that there are things that I'm still keeping from him.
I make a late lunch of simple deli sandwiches for us. I sit down on the sofa with our food laid out on the tray
hoping to direct the conversation elsewhere.
I want to learn more about this man who looks so good with his feet on my ottoman.
Chapter 10
Beau is devouring a grilled turkey sandwich quickly.
"So, where'd you grow up?" I ask before shoving a pickle in my mouth to stop the rapid-fire string of questions that I want to ask.
He doesn't even hesitate in answering, "Lake Tahoe." I sigh, already feeling better in the tiny bit of knowledge I learn about him.
I continue, "Is your family still there?"
"It's just my mom and dad, but yes, they won't ever leave," He smiles fondly.
With no pickle to stop me, out comes a series of questions, "What made you chose New York? When did you decide to start over? Wait do you even live here, or are you just visiting?" I continue on, silently asking myself, what if he's not staying? Could he be just trying to get work? What will happen if he leaves?
Beau wipes his mouth with a napkin, "I'm here for now." My heart drops a little, but he keeps going. "I wanted the anonymity of the city. I was hoping to get lost in the crowd." His reply sounds mostly honest, but a little vague. The vagueness of it has me questioning.
"What kind of work did you do?" He looks over at me and grins.
"Are we playing twenty questions?" He seemed bothered by it, so I tell him the truth.
"You know pretty much everything there is to know about me, so I’m just trying to balance the scales." I say.
He doesn't say anything else but reaches over me to snatch my other pickle.
“Hey!” I cry. He chuckles as he crunches down on it, juice dribbling down his chin. I throw my napkin at him, and snark, “Such a gentleman.”
The afternoon goes by quietly. I don't know what to do with him still here. My music is still playing softly in the background. He's looked at his phone a few times but doesn’t seem too urgent to leave anytime soon. What to do?
I move back to the sofa and sit, "So did you want to watch a movie or something? I have the last couple episodes of Top Shot DVRed. I don't really watch much TV."
He looks leery when he asks, "What's Top Shot?"
"It's a marksmen reality show. They bring a bunch of snipers and competitive shooters together and test their skills in crazy cool ways."
"And that's something you enjoy watching, my little librarian?" He grins.
I scrunch up my nose, "I kinda love it. Total guilty pleasure. I found it by accident. I’m more of a reader, ya know?” I acknowledge the little pet name, “I turn the TV on sometimes for the noise.” He nods along following, “One day I look up and see these guys riding down a zip line with guns and shooting at exploding targets. I've been hooked ever since." I end the description with a shrug of my shoulders.
Beau laughs and shakes his head, "Unbelievable."
"What? It's awesome. I totally want to be like them when I grow up." I fold my arms across my chest in a childish gesture.
He eyes me mischievously, "I'm pretty sure you're all grown up." His eyes lock onto my chest. I unfold my arms, wondering if he would do more than look.
His eyes linger as they lead back to my face. I can feel a trail of heat from his gaze on my skin. He picks up his drink, tilting his head back as he downs the whole thing. I watch his Adam's apple bob twice. I grab my own glass and take a few sips before setting it down.
Beau grabs my hand and pulls me closer to him. My body turns automatically so my knees are angled towards him. His big palm lands on my lower hip, his fingers wrapping around to graze my butt. He urges me closer to his lap. I can suddenly imagine my size fourteen ass, heavy on his thighs.
Not a positive picture.
His hand grabs around the back of one of my knees and he whispers, "Come over here Sweets." I can’t think of my ass at a time like this!
His hand slides up my thigh, cupping my hip. I give in. I hover over him straddling his thighs with a little hesitation. My face above his, he tips his head back to get a better look of me.
He must sense my nerves because he says, "We won't do anything you're not ready for. You're running the show Sammy." He squeezes my hips to emphasis my position on top, pauses for a breath, then says, "For now."
I've only had sex twice in my life, closer to one and a half times, but I have never reacted to it the way I react to his little promise.
My heart is beating fast with nerves, but mostly excitement. My hand shakes when he places it over his heart.
"Please don't be nervous baby, I just want a taste." My lips lower to his without any further prompting. Beau's hand comes up to the back of my neck. He moves me, fitting our lips together; he controls the kiss. Tasting. This is exactly how he does it. He's slow, savoring my mouth, using it. My body lowers to meet his as I relax into the kiss.
With his free hand he pulls me closer, and my soft belly meets the hard muscle of his stomach. My breasts are pressed to his chest. He lifts his hips deepening the contact.
"So warm, Sammy. I can feel how hot you are. Are you wet for me Sweets?"
"Yes," I sigh.
My hand runs through his hair. It's long enough to brush against his shoulders when his head is tilted back. I wrap my other hand around the side of his neck, caressing the short hairs at the base of his neck.
Beau’s mouth runs along my throat. He licks and kisses the sensitive skin, and I moan when he finds a particularly sweet spot and bites down on it. The pressure zings through my entire body. It has me swiveling my hips down on top of him, seeking friction to ease my ache.
Beau thrusts up, causing a breathy noise to escape my mouth that seems to excite him. He glides his hands up my sides to my breasts, his palms at my rib cage, while both his thumbs brush over my areolas and press down on my hardened nipples. The pressure elicits another moan from my mouth. I grind down, seeking the feeling of his arousal between my legs. I press my forehead against his as I lick and kiss my way back to his mouth while rocking against him shamelessly. It’s too much. I am so close to coming as I press our bodies close, seeking even more pressure in the circular motion of my hips.
"Sammy, I want to touch you.” He speaks against my lips, “Will you let me touch you?" His hand travels down, before I can answer. He pushes against the seam of my pants, making contact with my clit.
"Yes.” I whisper on exhale, “Yes, please."
He scoots forward. I'm so out of it, I almost fall to the floor. I stand, recovering quickly but confused. Didn't he just say he was going to touch me? I turn around to hide my confusion.
I run my hands run down my thighs, needing contact. Beau molds his front to my back.
"I didn't tell you to get up, Sweets.” He breathes the words against my ear, “Don't do that." I shiver, "You like it when I touch you, don't you Sammy?” His hand covers mine. He moves them down my stomach, “You told me I could touch you, right?" Our hands slide into my pants, under my panties. He stops us there.
"Yes," I hiss, needing more. "I thought you were getting up, I didn't want to fall."
"You're trusting me with your body, letting me touch you right?" I nod, and his hands squeeze mine, his middle finger puts pressure down on mine, circling my clit, "I'd like you to trust me.” I can’t reply. My mouth is open, but the only noise I can make is a breathy moan. “I won’t let you fall. Trust me to take care of you, Sweets."
"I'll try," I offer on a breathy exhale. He continues to manipulate my finger to circle my clit.
“You’re safe with me,” He whispers, kissing the skin beneath my ear, “I promise.”
"I'm trying.” I don’t know what I am saying, the pressure of fingers overwhelms me. He stops his hand and pulls it away from me. I want to keep going, I nearly do, but he takes my hand with him, turning me around.
He looks me in the eye, "If I asked to lick your pussy would you let me, sweet Sammy?" I swallow as my eyes shoot open. I'm embarrassed, unable to meet his gaze, when I answer.
My shoulders shrink in as I respond, "Yes, I think so."
He growls, his voice deeper than before when he says, "Good, I would never ask anything of you that makes you uncomfortable or hurts you, and you can always tell me to stop anytime. I want you to trust me."
"Okay Beau, I can do that. I can trust you." The trust I promise goes further than the implication of sex. I hope he doesn't break my heart too fast.
"Perfect, baby. I want you on the bed." He spins me around, and his hand swats my ass cheek to lead me in the direction of my bed. I walk slowly, not sure I want to look back.
Couldn't he kiss me some more, touch me so it feels natural for that to happen? I don't know what to do. Do I take my clothes off? Or does he? I'm glad I shaved, but I still can’t imagine him being so close to me, there.
"Sammy," Beau calls, purposefully drawing me out of my spiral of worries.
"Okay, okay," I murmur like a teenager. I leave my clothes on since he didn't ask me to take them off. I don't turn around as I crawl up the bed. I get to the center of the mattress and turn to face him, my eyes still downcast.
I feel weird sitting on my bed waiting for him, wearing jeans and a shirt. A giggle slips free, before I bite my bottom lip to hold my mouth shut.
I hear a hum and look up to see Beau standing in the same spot looking at me with a small grin.
"Take your shirt off, Sweets."
“Wh-what?" With him still all the way over there?
“Samantha," I roll my eyes because the jackass is testing me. I pull my shirt over my head and toss it to the floor in his direction. It lands long before it can actually hit him.
I'm tempted to cover my belly, but that would look weird to him. Hey Beau, mind just staring at my tits? I'm gotta keep my belly rolls out of sight. It's not like it's a secret. I move my hands back to prop myself up.
He walks over.
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