Filthy Beautiful Love

by Kendall Ryan

  I take a breath and clear my throat, hoping that her eyes don’t wander to the front of my trousers. "Have a seat."

  Sophie complies, sitting carefully at the edge of the sofa. I wonder if the memories of that first night are burned into her brain as thoroughly as they are into mine. Despite my efforts, I’m unable to get the visual of her full pink mouth wrapped around the head of my cock out of my mind. The way her tongue teased down the length of my shaft and her hand curled around my base, stroking as she sucked me deep into her throat.

  My needy erection zaps all my concentration and it takes me a moment to realize Sophie is speaking.

  "Colton?" she blinks up at me, drawing me from the x-rated show currently playing in my head.

  "I’m glad you came," I say.

  She chews on her lower lip, almost as nervous as the first time I brought her home. Her gaze sweeps around the room and her spine is as straight as an arrow. She doesn’t want to let her guard down and I assume it’s because she doesn’t trust herself with me. Good to know. I don’t trust myself either.

  "Can I get you anything? Wine? A bottle of water?"

  She shakes her head. "What did you want to discuss? You were kind of vague on the phone."

  She’s right. I was vague –mainly because I had no idea what I could say to persuade her. I knew I needed to see her eyes – to read her expression in order to craft my proposal. And the nervous, unsure girl I see sitting before me means I need to proceed with caution. I’d considered pushing her, convincing her how good we are together physically and persuading her to be with me the way I know she wants. But now I see that I need to employ a different method, because watching her walk out that door again is not an option.

  "I know I fucked up by keeping my marriage from you. In my eyes, it’s over, and has been for years. The only thing missing is a couple of signatures on a piece of paper. But still, I see now how that hurt you. It was a dick move." She nods, meeting my eyes. I lick my lips and continue. "But I don’t think that my past means all this has to come to an end."

  "What are you proposing?" she asks, her voice is tentative and slightly breathless.

  I want to fuck you. To dominate your days and nights, and occupy your every waking thought – just like you occupy mine. "I want you to stay."

  Her brows pinch together as she quietly watches me. She’s not flat out rejecting the idea –it’s a start.

  Sophie

  I watch Colton sitting across from me, his tall frame neatly folded into the arm chair. His breathing remains deep and steady while my own heart thumps like a hammer, causing my chest to heave.

  The truth is I have no idea what I’m doing here, why I’ve agreed to come. If I’m honest it’s because this man has some magnetic pull over me. I’m totally and completely unable to give him up, despite my intentions to stay away. And for some strange reason, I feel the slightest bit guilty that I'd walked out on our agreement before fulfilling my obligation. He never got what he paid for and that little detail is something I cannot easily forget.

  He pulls a fortifying breath into his lungs and leans in slightly toward me. I know if he pulled me into his arms and kissed me, I’d be unable to resist and I find my gaze fluttering between his lips and his eyes as I wait for him to speak.

  Finally, he does.

  "I recall you saying that you liked having something of your own – living away from home and being independent for the first time," Colton says.

  I remember the conversation well. It was one of the first times we sat down to a dinner prepared by his chef in the quiet dining room. I spoke too freely, bared too much of myself. But something in me likes that he remembers it with such detail. Not that I’m surprised, Colton exercises such authority over every facet of his life, of course he remembers.

  "And I think you know that I liked having you here," he admits.

  I nod in silent acknowledgement. What is he saying? We can’t possibly continue dating, if that’s even what we were doing. He’s married. And he lied to me about it. Can I even trust him?

  "And I know Kylie would love for you to come back to work with her."

  "Colton?" I ask, finally, my brows pinching together.

  "There’s no reason we can’t remain friends."

  "Friends?" My voice comes out too high as the shock of his suggestion whips through me.

  His dark eyes roam over my face and he gives a slight nod, his mouth only hinting at a smile.

  I have no idea what game he’s playing at, but friends? Is that even possible for two people so attracted to each other?

  As if reading my thoughts, Colton continues. "There’s no reason this needs to come to an end, Sophie. I enjoy your company, and I think you feel the same. You can continue living here, we can take things between us slowly while I sort out my past and see where this goes."

  "And our arrangement?" I ask.

  His impish grin lights up his entire face. "Friends, as in no sex. Our agreement is off."

  My belly twists as I realize I am no longer a hired sex slave, and an unwelcome sense of disappointment startles me. "I’m returning the money then."

  "The money is yours. I never wanted to pay for sex, Sophie. I just didn’t want that asshole bidding on you at the auction to go home with you. You were too good, too pure and beautiful to belong to him." His admission takes my breath away. I feel helpless and out of control and I want to cry.

  "I’ve spent a good chunk of the money on Becca’s treatment, and I have no way to repay you, but the rest I could return to you," I stammer.

  "First off, I would never accept repayment. Had I known Becca before all this started, I would have gladly paid to enroll her in the experimental treatment program. And I’d never expect you to return the money."

  "I don’t feel right keeping the remainder of the money."

  "It’s yours to do with what you wish."

  This conversation is like a game of ping-pong and my brain feels fuzzy. "So how would this work?" I ask, shocked to see I’m actually considering it.

  "You agreed to give me six months," he reminds me.

  "I also agreed to give you my virginity," I add.

  "But I didn’t take that."

  "No, you didn’t," I agree. A fact that I’m painfully aware of.

  "Are you still intact?" he asks, his tone raspy and deep.

  A warm current zips through me, flushing my cheeks and soaking my panties. "Of c-course." My voice is hoarse and Colton’s dark eyes roaming on mine make it impossible to speak clearly.

  I see the vein throb at the base of his throat. "Good girl," he admonishes.

  I’d waited twenty-one years, did he really think I’d just thrown it away with some random guy in the two weeks we’d been apart? Why do I sense this is all some carefully crafted ploy to keep me here in his bed? "Where will I sleep?" I ask.

  His mouth turns down just a fraction. "Wherever you like."

  "A guest room I suppose," I say more to myself than to him as I think of his strange proposition.

  "If you prefer."

  He’s being so amiable, so accommodating. The change is refreshing after the emotional hell he’s put me through. I’m still unsure about what exactly he’s proposing and if he really expects me to remain living here for the next six months, but for some strange reason, I don’t hate the idea. We watch each other in silence for several moments, each of us digesting what it would mean for us to be just friends. My heart hurts just thinking about it. It would mean I couldn’t touch him, I wouldn’t feel the heat of his body pressing adamantly against mine. I release a little sigh. "If you’re set on me keeping the money, I assume I’m free to spend it however I wish?"

  "Of course you can," he says.

  "Then I’d like to donate it to your charity work in Africa."

  A slow smile uncurls on his lips. "Okay then."

  ***

  I’d only come to Los Angeles to gather my belongings from the mansion and get closure from Colton by listening to whatever
it was that he wanted to tell me. Instead, I find myself moving my clothing from his master closet into a guest room down the hall that smells of lint and furniture polish.

  The bed is dressed in shell blue linens and the furniture is modern, clean lines in white enamel. A large mirror hangs on the wall and decorative sconces flank either side of the cream upholstered headboard.

  I pull open the white gauzy drapes shading the large picture windows and look out at the pool below. A cool shudder passes through me and I wrap my arms around my middle. I have no desire to be anywhere near that pool and I snap the curtains closed, blocking it from view. Just seeing the crystal blue water sparkle in the sunlight brings on a fresh wave of pain and humiliation at the memory of Stella’s cold glare and icy tone as she informed me, in no uncertain terms, that she was his wife. The word wife –in relation to Colton– doesn’t resonate. Especially coming from that woman's mouth. I could never see him with someone like her. They just don’t fit. It makes me wonder if I even know him at all. An even better reason to remain friends while I figure that out. I want more with Colton. I want back that raw feeling of sexual energy that flows so easily between us whenever he’s near –but I will settle for friends – for now, as we navigate this bumpy road we’d found ourselves on.

  After I’ve finished moving my meager belongings into my new room, I’m left feeling bored and alone. But rather than going to find Colton in this monstrous house, I flop down on the bed and dial Becca on my cell.

  "Hey hey," she answers, chipper as ever, as though she hasn’t battled aggressive stage-four cancer for the past several years.

  "Hi." Her strength and determination to live take my breath away and suddenly complaining to her about my dilemma with Colton seems childish and immature.

  "What’s wrong?" she asks.

  "Nothing," the lie slips easily from my mouth. "I just might be staying here longer than I expected."

  "Oh? Did Mr. Sexy, Rich and Handsome win you back already?"

  "Sort of," I admit. Colton had been more open and exposed than I had expected, and it tugged at something inside me. "He proposed that I continue living here and working with Kylie."

  "And I take it you accepted?" she asks.

  "I’m gonna try it," I confirm.

  "I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t live with Mom and Dad either if I didn’t have to."

  We don’t discuss the fact that she isn’t able to live on her own for health reasons. It hurts to even think about.

  "And what about you guys?" she asks. "Are you a couple again, or what?"

  "No." This time my voice is firm. "He said just as friends and I agreed. We’re going to take things slow while he works on his past."

  "I think that’s a good idea. I know you were happy there. But what made you reconsider? He’s hung like a baby elephant, isn’t he?"

  "Becca!" I chastise her. "Always with the sex on the brain."

  "I can’t help it. It’s better to let my mind drift there than to something more morbid. Penis is my happy place."

  I can hear her smile through the phone and I like it. "Penis is a good thing."

  "So…what are you going to do about Colton’s peen?"

  "Take it slow, just like he proposed. I’m pretty sure that means there’s no peen in my future."

  "Boo. You’re boring. I’m going to go to McGilroy’s and get a hot fudge sundae."

  "Appetite’s back?" I ask.

  "Yup. I’ll be fat before you know it."

  Yeah right. The idea of Becca anything other than stick-skinny would be a miracle. She has a hard time keeping food down and thus trouble with her weight. "Have fun. Love you."

  "Love you too, but you’re the one who needs to have fun. Figure out a way to speed up his divorce so you can jump that boy."

  "On it." I smile, and end the call.

  I cradle the phone in my hands for several minutes after we end the call. God, I love my sister. After organizing my room the best I can, I decide to go off in search of Colton.

  I find him sitting on a stool at the kitchen island, his tablet in front of him with an inbox full of emails that he’s clicking his way through.

  "Am I interrupting?" I ask, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.

  "Of course not. Are you okay?"

  I nod. "I just called Becca to tell her I’m staying."

  He’s quiet, but his calm demeanor tells me this makes him happy.

  Rather than sitting at the stool next to him, I round the kitchen island and stand across from him, leaning my elbows against the slab of granite.

  He chuckles at me. "What’s on your mind, sweetness?"

  I didn’t realize I was that obvious. I straighten my shoulders and relax the line crinkling my brow. "You and Stella…" I shouldn’t ask, I’m only torturing myself, but I can’t help it. I need to know, because I just can’t picture him with her. "I want to know the nature of your relationship. Was it like a regular marriage, with all the perks and benefits of marriage?"

  He presses a button darkening the screen on his tablet and draws a steading breath. "What are you asking?"

  "You lived here with her. I’m assuming this house is full of memories for you, and it’s just strange for me to think of you with another woman living here, sleeping together in the bed I shared with you…"

  "What do you want to know?" Colton asks.

  "I guess what I want to know is…were you happy? Stella, in my very brief interaction, seemed quite different from me." She was all hardened exterior, sharp edges and manicured to the last inch of her.

  "You were different. Fuck, you are different, Sophie."

  I like knowing that perhaps what he and I shared was different from what he had with her. "How so?"

  "You’re soft and sweet and gentle. You make me laugh."

  "I hate that you have memories with her of things you and I never shared."

  I’m sure he knows I’m talking about sex, and my cheeks flush slightly. He said we’re only friends, so why I'm pushing him to tell me about their sexual history, I have no idea. I sound like a jealous girlfriend, but I’m unable to stop myself.

  Colton leans in toward me, his dark eyes pinning me in place. "Do you want to know why I only wanted oral sex with you?"

  I nod, unable to resist the nugget of information he’s dangling in front of me.

  "Because, that’s something Stella wouldn’t do."

  "What are you saying?"

  "I never fucked her mouth. I never completely lost myself with her. Each time with you – it was just us. There were no bitter memories to taint that. It was our thing."

  His words send a rush of conflicting emotions skittering through me. My heartbeat thrums in my chest as I remember our erotic encounters with vivid clarity. "She wouldn’t…Why?"

  He shrugs. "Said she didn’t like the taste. Of course, that’s exactly what I caught her doing to the gardener – deep throating him in the library. She seemed to like it just fine – as long as it wasn’t with me."

  My heart aches for him. As pissed as I am, I’m beginning to understand the deep hurt and mistrust he’s carried around with him. I recall how he never seemed to want to go into that room and my heart softens just a bit. And I do like knowing that as trivial as it is, going down on him was something only I did. I guess I now understand his aversion to the library too.

  "Being with her was a mere convenience. You are a choice. One I desperately want to make – if you’ll let me."

  His words rattle me. I shouldn’t trust him – not after he lied about his past – made me believe he was single. Yet, there’s no denying part of me still wants him. "But you said friends." My voice is tiny. It would take little to no effort on his part to convince me we’d be better as more than friends. The heat buzzing between us is palatable and intense.

  "For now, yes. I want you to trust me again. I won’t push you yet."

  Yet. That word rings loudly in my head. I swallow heavily, trying to decipher the deeper meaning behind his w
ords. He wants me back, I’m sure of it. So why in the hell won’t he just divorce Stella and move on with his life? Two years of waiting her out seems extreme. Even for someone as stubborn and cocky as Colton.

  "I’m sorry…" I apologize, though I’m not entirely sure for what. I just hate the thought of Colt finding that witch on her knees, giving to another man what she withheld from him.

  "Don’t be," he says, coolly. But his eyes tell a different story. They’re dark and faraway, as if he’s fighting to escape the sour memories that follow him around the rooms of his own house.

  I leave Colton to his work and find myself wandering the rooms of his house, ending in the library. I hate Stella. I can't say I've ever really hated anyone before, I hate Becca's cancer, I hate that Colton is married, but I absolutely fucking hate Stella. She's made a man who is so sweet under his hardened exterior question himself and his relationships. I stand there in the library, silently staring off into space for far too long.

  When I find Colton in his office later, I convince him to leave his work for the night and get some sleep. The dark circles under his eyes tug at something inside me, but I resist the urge to wrap my arms around his neck. He is not mine to soothe.

  We part ways at the top of the stairs and say goodnight. The walk to the guest room feels too long and just odd. As I crawl in between the cool sheets, my thoughts are squarely on the man down the hall.

  ***

  The following day is interesting. A strange sense of unease grows as the day passes. We eat our meals together, I go for a jog, and Colton works at the kitchen island while I flip through a magazine, but I can’t help but feel something is off. We’re struggling to find our rhythm as just friends. I keep stealing glances at him, noticing the way his white t-shirt clings to his sculpted chest and I feel his eyes on my backside when I walk away. I hate that I can’t touch him.