Brutally Beautiful

by Lynne Connolly

  With a shudder of arousal, she did as he said and widened her stance, knowing it revealed her pussy, which throbbed for his touch. Sounds she knew well, of him ripping open the condom packet. She watched the shadow smoothing it into place, but didn’t turn around.

  “There could be people there. Wanting to be up here doing this to you.” He stroked her back, and she felt the urge to arch up to him like a cat, so he could do it some more. But he placed his palm on her shoulder, holding her down as he guided his cock to her opening. “You look gorgeous. All open and wet. And mine.”

  “Yours.” She shouldn’t like his possessive tone, but it made her wetter, more eager to take him in, to show the world what a gorgeous specimen she’d snagged for herself. To display herself for anyone’s pleasure, taunt them.

  “You’re thinking of it, aren’t you?” he said, his voice low. He thrust in. She braced her body, using the bench to support her hands, absorbing him, his essential masculinity, taking it all inside her. Her breath caught as he slowly deepened his penetration before withdrawing and pushing deep again. As if they had all the time in the world, and only this to do. Gen caught her breath in sheer delight, savoring the fantasy.

  “I’d love to show you off, to let people know how gorgeous you are. But they can’t have you, not until I’ve finished with you.” He groaned low as he drove into her again. “At this rate, that’s not going to happen soon. From here I can see that beautiful pussy and the way it’s getting wetter every time I thrust inside. Should I tell them what it feels like?” He stroked her shoulder and sensuously brought his hand around her neck to caress it in a movement that felt slightly threatening. And it turned her wild, added a touch more danger to their fucking. Moaning his name, she lifted her ass, inviting his possession.

  He took it, took her. Gripped the twin curves of her backside and thrust deeply, leaning back.

  His ghostly reflection superimposed the view of the city outside as if he owned it. She got the odd feeling that he knew what it was like to own a city, perhaps because he was owning her right now. Every inch of her, suffusing her from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. Her breasts quivered with every stroke, dangling over New York, teasing the whole city, inviting everyone to touch and hold. She would belong to them all, one by one.

  Shit, this was so hot she’d combust.

  As she thought that, the sun sent out a tongue of fire on its way toward the horizon, the orangey-red streaking across the glittering windows opposite, turning them into instant flames. He worked her, deep, deep inside, and she screamed, locked her legs against collapsing in a boneless heap at his feet. Sensations rocketed through her, surges following one another in increasing intensity until she forgot her own name.

  “That’s it, take it.” He thrust with a hard, jerking intensity until he paused, seated inside her, and growled her name. Her pussy was still quivering in the aftermath as he came, hot, hard spurts forcing her to another climax.

  They tumbled onto the rug, still locked together. He withdrew and then pulled her against him, his front to her back, hot and sweaty, not just warm anymore. His breath came gustily and unevenly against her shoulder, and she leaned back for support and shelter. Still in full view, or so it appeared. “What the fuck are you doing to me?”

  He laughed, a soft caress over her skin. “I could say the same. But that was amazing. We should try this at the club.”

  “What?” Shocked, she was galvanized into action and spun around in his arms. “We can’t do this for real.”

  “Why not?” Cupping her face, he feathered his fingers over her cheek. “Wouldn’t you enjoy it?”

  “I don’t know. Yes, no, but—the thought of it, yes, but doing it…?” She bit her lip.

  He soothed the small mark with a kiss. “No rush.”

  That sounded as if he wanted this to last longer. Why not? She certainly did. With a shock she realized his company meant more to her than hot sex, more than a steaming body. Already she understood him, wanted to discover different aspects of him. She leaned up for another kiss.

  They took their time, twining their bodies together, sliding in the mutual heat they made. He tasted her, held her over him when they rolled. He came back for more, licking into her mouth to taste her fully and finally seal their mouths together.

  He didn’t let her go for a long time, and even then, she went back and kissed him some more.

  They’d ended at the edge of the rug, by the strip of floor not covered by it, and she took her attention away from him for a split second. Long enough to realize she could see right down to the ground as if they were hanging there by force of will.

  Cold glass pressed against her breast for the moment it took her to scream at the top of her lungs and scramble away, scurrying toward the center of the room, taking the rug with her.

  “What?” His confusion dissipated when he saw how the carpet had rucked up. He sat up, ass to glass and reached for her. “Come here. Oh, baby, I’m sorry.”

  Heart beating so hard it threatened to burst from her chest, she clutched at him, held on to what she could when he reached her. Holding her in his arms, he got to his feet. She didn’t wonder about the kind of strength needed to do that until he had her safe, out of the room.

  “It was just the shock.” For a split second she’d thought the room had a balcony, and she was hanging over it into space. Normally heights didn’t bother her, but looking down had jolted her heart into her throat.

  “I should have showed you. It was my fault. I’m so sorry.”

  She buried her face against his chest, and so she didn’t see where he took her. He just carried her somewhere safe, which turned out to be his bathroom. She didn’t realize until he pressed something or turned something, and she heard the sound of running water. He sat, and then she looked.

  The room was spacious and had one window, a large one opposite the bath, but he’d already dropped a blind over it, and she found the white expanse comforting. She didn’t want to look at the city for a while. She hadn’t realized she was shaking until he wrapped a warm, soft towel around her.

  “I feel like an idiot now.” She found a corner of the towel to wipe away her tears discreetly, but he’d noticed and did it for her.

  Hair disheveled, eyes gentle, he seemed more human and vulnerable than she’d seen him before. She shook her head, tossing her hair out of her eyes. “I shouldn’t have freaked. I should have trusted you.”

  “Why?” He said it gently as if afraid of scaring her more. “I’m the last person you should trust. I’m a monster, a bastard.”

  “No, that’s not true.” The way he’d cared for her just now spoke far more than words. He’d immediately seen what had freaked her and got her out of there, taking care of her. He’d cradled her close, so different from the vicious fucking of a few moments before. “You’re no monster.”

  Sadness filled his eyes. “I am. Believe that, if you believe nothing else.”

  A poetry professor? Fear crept up her throat, sending tendrils of apprehension into her, but she pushed it down, ignored it. Nothing to fear here. “I’ll try to remember.” But right now she wanted another kiss, craved it like an addict. He gave it when she touched her lips to his, took her with a banked-down hunger that warmed her all the way through. By the time they broke apart, she’d stopped shivering and the tub had filled. He turned it off by touching a control panel set in a recess above the bath. Then he tested the water, trailing his hand through it. “I like my baths hot. How about you?”

  Right now it suited her, so she nodded. She needed warming up. He lifted her and stepped in, lowering them both gradually into the steaming water. She flinched when her skin touched the surface, then relaxed into the sauna-hot depths. He still held her. She loved it, this babying, although she didn’t feel smothered, because if she asked, he’d let her go. He had soft plastic seats set around the large, half-sunk tub, and the water had come from a large head set on a bracket above the water, like a classical fount
ain, although he reached up and swung it aside after they climbed in. “Extravagant,” she suggested.

  “Mmm. I usually shower, but just sometimes a bath is called for.” A shadow crossed his dark eyes, clouds across the night sky, and it wasn’t the first time she’d seen that.

  “Hey, it wasn’t that bad. I just freaked out a bit.” She took the soap from him and smelled it. “I thought it might be sandalwood or something masculine.”

  “I prefer my soap to smell of nothing but clean.” He leaned back and watched her through half-closed eyes while she passed the bar between her hands, working up a lather. The way he spread his arms to either side of him made him look like a hedonistic Roman emperor, waiting for his slave to serve him. She liked that conceit.

  “But you smell of something.” Something extremely subtle usually overlaid the heady masculine scent of Nick.

  “An aftershave I like. I don’t stick to one.”

  She raised a brow. “Men usually find a scent they like and stay with it. It saves them the trouble of shopping.”

  “Perhaps I like shopping.”

  She swept her hands over his hair-roughened chest, working small whorls in the suds, swirling the hair first one way, then another. Not hairy like a bear, but definitely male. Somehow she couldn’t visualize Nick bothering with the Christmas crowd at Bloomingdales. “No, you don’t like the kind of shopping I’m thinking of. You have a few shops you visit, where they know you and have things ready for you to try.”

  “Perceptive woman.” Scooping some of the suds, he transferred them to her breasts, massaging them in a gentle circular motion, lifting and soothing them, but sending waves of warmth through her.

  “That feels so good.”

  “It does.” He rinsed them both, then leaned forward and took one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking and licking, not with the avidity of hungry desire, but with gentleness and care. And wanting. She was still sitting on his lap, his erection rising to press against her thigh. He lifted his head, smiled down at her breasts. “Very pretty. A lovely shape and completely natural.”

  “You sound like a connoisseur.” It amused her to think of men gazing at breasts, not in lust, but with appreciation.

  “I guess you could call me that.” He glanced up at her face, smiled. “Once upon a time. But I meant what I said. In my private life I prefer one woman at a time.”

  “I’m not worried. If you deceived me, I’d walk.” She meant it too. “If you’d been married, you’d never have seen me again.”

  He dropped a kiss on her lips. “I know. But I did tell the truth. That’s my mother’s ring.”

  “You carry it to remember her?”

  To her shock, he threw back his head and laughed, but threaded through the amusement she sensed bitterness. The laughter stopped and left him gazing at her, a somber twist to his lips. “Yes, I do. But I don’t remember her very well. She walked out on us when I was eleven.”

  “Us?”

  He stared at her, his face still, his gaze far away. “I have a brother. We’ve lost touch a bit, but for a few years we were close. We had to be. We spent years dodging and weaving, avoiding the authorities. Mam had left us in a council house, so we used to hire women to pose as our mother or our aunt when the social workers came. We went to school. I left as soon as I could, when I was sixteen, and I sagged off as much as I could before that.” He grinned. “Played truant.”

  “I guessed. And now you’re a poetry professor.”

  He blinked. “Not quite. If everything goes according to plan, and it rarely does, I’ll have a professor’s chair by the fall. I’m very flattered. It’s almost unheard of to go straight from a degree to teaching, but they want me. Who am I to say no?”

  “You must be very good.”

  He gave her a lazy grin, his mood switching again. “You think so?” He swished a hand through the water. “Want to wash your hair?” Without waiting for answer, he reached up and grabbed a slim wand sprayer. A touch of a button, and it came on.

  She let him rinse through her hair, then massage the shampoo in. He dealt with his own at the same time but spent far more time massaging her head until she moaned. “You have a wonderful touch.”

  “Uh-huh. Just relax, then.”

  She’d never been so pampered. After they’d washed and rinsed, another touch of the button opened the plug and the water drained away as he lifted her to her feet and found towels for them both.

  After, he took her to a spacious bedroom and tucked her in, then joined her. When she took his cock in her hand, exploring the soft skin, he gently moved it. “You’re exhausted. Sleep. We can do whatever we want later.”

  And they did. Twice.

  * * * *

  When she awoke, she was alone in bed, but the scent of coffee told her he hadn’t been gone long. She sat up, the covers falling around her, and examined her surroundings properly, something she’d been too busy to do the night before. A digital clock stood on the nightstand, a smooth sweep of light wood integral with the bed, and it told her it was seven a.m. She had to be at work by eight thirty.

  After flinging back the covers, she got out and found her way to the bathroom. It was neat once more, fresh towels on the rack, and the bath cleaned out. If she was to get to work, she’d have to hustle because the journey downtown took at least an hour at this time of day.

  She didn’t linger in the shower, then put on a robe she found on the back of the bathroom door and went to find her clothes.

  Nick stood behind the counter of his kitchen area. She stopped and stared. “Wow. I never took notice of much but the glass room last night.” She glanced toward the room. Everything was in order there too.

  When she looked back at Nick, he was grinning. “I’m a neatnik. Do you like it?”

  “It’s amazing.” She’d never been in a loft apartment before, not like this. Some of her friends had a smaller variety, but not in this area and nowhere near this size. The floors were all finished wood, gleaming with polish. The white-and-chrome kitchen area stood before a wall that acted as a divider, and beyond was a comfortable seating area, with the requisite huge TV. Bare windows overlooked a stunning view, the same as last night, but on three sides of the apartment. The elevator opened directly onto this area. She saw bookshelves between the windows, filled with real books obviously read and not bought for display, all sizes and colors, some of them double shelved. However spectacular, this apartment was a home.

  A smaller TV on the counter was turned on, the sound low. A tennis match was just coming to an end. “You like sports?”

  “Yes.” He glanced at the screen and grimaced at the tennis. “I turned it on for the results. Probably not the sport you’re thinking of. Football.”

  “Soccer? What team do you support?”

  He paused. “Football. And Liverpool.”

  “I thought you were from London.”

  He busied himself, setting two white coffee cups on the counter. “You don’t have to live in a place to owe your loyalty to its football team. And they say that most Manchester United fans live outside the city. You’ll find fans all over the world. So I use sites that let me watch the footie.” A lilt entered his voice, but he paused to pour the coffee and when he spoke again, his voice had its familiar tones again. “Toast? Or I have cereal. Or maybe an omelet?”

  The TV turned to the news. Someone talked about the president’s visit to Dallas, and inevitably, the tragic events there half a century ago. Maybe a president might one day visit that city without the word Kennedy being associated with it. Gen turned her attention to something much more interesting; namely her lover. He was dressed in jeans and a DUNY T-shirt, but his hair was still pushed straight back. A kind of hybrid of the two looks he rocked.

  “Toast, please. So you cook?”

  “The basics. I had to.”

  When he met her eyes, she recalled what he’d told her last night, so easily she’d almost passed it by. His mom had walked out when he was eleven. Fuck, s
he couldn’t imagine what that had been like. Or she could. She just didn’t want to. “I’m sorry, Nick. I shouldn’t have pushed.”

  “You didn’t. I told you.” He turned away on the pretext of dropping bread into the toaster, but she got the feeling he was avoiding looking at her.

  “I have to go to work.”

  “I guessed. I’ll drop you off.”

  She raised a brow. “You drive?”

  “And ride. I have a bike and a car. I’m guessing you’d prefer the car. But usually I just get a cab.”

  “Just take me home.” She wasn’t ready to tell him where she worked. Fear clutched her when she realized that telling him might drive him away. You think? a sarcastic voice in her head echoed. Telling her new lover that she was there to investigate his application for a green card might not go down well with this intensely private man. She’d already guessed he’d done the tidying and wondered if he let housekeeping in at all. “Thanks. I need to pick up some things, and then I can get the subway.”

  He shuddered. “I don’t have to be in until noon. I can get you to work.”

  She’d have to tell him. Drawing a breath and her courage, she opened her mouth.

  Her attention flicked to the TV, and what she saw stopped her stone-dead. “That’s the guy who dropped the date-rape drug in my drink!”

  He spun around, saw the picture, and swore. “Fuck. I wanted to tell you myself.” He leaned over and turned up the volume, leaving her puzzling over his last remark.

  The newsreader’s voice boomed into the space, echoing around the walls. “Mr. Anderson was found in his apartment last night. Although the autopsy isn’t yet completed, sources close to the case say it appears the man was poisoned. The police are asking the public for any information they might have. Mr. Anderson had a wife and family in Columbia. He worked as a courier at Queens Science Laboratories.”