Beth Michele - Scarred Beautiful

“I’m, yes, I’m great,” I respond, although the tone of my voice doesn’t match my words and he senses it.

He pushes my hair away before taking my face in his hands, caressing my skin. “I don’t think so and I want to know what’s wrong. Did I hurt you?”

“God, no…that felt amazing. It’s just that…what are we doing, Matt?” I ask, even though I’m scared to know the answer.

“What do you mean?” His eyebrows rise subtly, wisps of hair cling to his forehead and I smooth them away with my fingers.

“Well.…” I swallow the thick layer of emotion threatening my ability to speak coherently. “I’m leaving soon and—”

“Shhh, baby,” he interrupts, shaking his head before resting his forehead against mine, almost as if he can’t bear to think about it. “I don’t want to talk about that right now. I just want to enjoy being with you. Can we do that? Just enjoy every moment we have together?”

I exhale a sigh, recalling Mrs. Brody’s words—‘moments are all we have.’ “Sure,” I reply, but I can’t help thinking that the sand in the hourglass is running out and our moments are slipping away.

I’m trying to slow down. My heartbeat. My thoughts. Time. I’m all over the freaking place. I just watched Fran give herself over to me. I felt it…the second she let go, and I don’t mean the fact that she came relentlessly, which in and of itself was fucking amazing. I mean, I saw it in her eyes, like she was gifting me something she’d never given anyone before, and now I’m terrified because I don’t know what the fuck to do with it. Because I know if I’m not careful, the fragile treasure she just handed me could shatter into a million pieces.

Everything I knew about my life has gone to hell in six days. I don’t care what’s happening at work, if my car gets dented, or even whether my cabinets are alphabetized. The only thing I care about is sitting right in front of me and I’m left wondering how the fuck this happened. She blew into my life like one of those tumbleweeds in the old western movies Mr. Brody and I used to watch—unexpectedly, effortlessly—and now she’s about to blow back out just as quickly as she came in.

That look she gives me, the gold flecks of her green eyes pulling me in, is the one I’m seeing right now when she’s asking me what we’re doing. What’s my bullshit response? Moments. Because I know better than anyone that’s all we really have. Because the thought of her leaving and going back to New York makes my chest ache. The thought of not seeing the smile that sets fire to my heart annihilates me, and I can’t go there. So moments, yeah, that’s what I tell her. Because that’s all we’ve got.

I draw her lips to mine, holding her to me, feeling her softness, tasting her sweetness. We stay like this, unmoving, just feeling one another for seconds or minutes, or it could be days because I’ve completely lost track of time, lost track of my life.

“Let’s go back, baby,” I finally say against her lips. “I want to be with you tonight. I want to hold you. Can I stay with you?”

“Yes,” she says, her voice the smallest whisper of breath.

Fran climbs off of me and situates herself back on the seat and I already miss her. My pants are drowned from her sex, the scent of her covering me and filling the space between us, making it difficult for me to concentrate on anything but doing that to her all over again.

She takes her phone out of her bag and types in the code to unlock it and gasps.

“What is it?”

“Oh my God. Peyton has texted me about twenty-five times and I have two messages from my mom.”

“Is Peyton okay?” I ask, wondering if this has anything to do with Caleb.

She scrolls through the messages while I try to focus on the road. “Yes.” She laughs, so it must be nothing serious. “She said she hadn’t heard from me so she wanted to know where I was and if I was okay, how things went with my mom, what you and I were doing. Oh, and she got our boss to let her stay a few extra days. But then she resorted to shouty capitals because I didn’t respond. So I’m texting her now telling her you just got me off in your car and it was the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”

I burst out laughing, but am hoping she’s not serious. “You didn’t just type that, did you?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she flirts, giving me all sorts of obscene ideas again, like getting her naked and going down on her before fucking her on the cool leather in the back seat of my car.

“No. I didn’t tell her that. That’s our little secret.” She winks at me and I like the fact that we’ve gotten away from talking about the heavy stuff, at least for the time being.

* * *

By the time we make it back to Fran’s room it’s nearly midnight and we’re both pretty wiped out. She slips her sandals off and flops on the bed and I join her. She stretches her arms over her head and cranes her neck from side to side.

“I feel like I’ve run a marathon. I’m so achy,” she says, a full-fledge yawn leaving her mouth.

I lean over her, kneading her shoulders and she groans. “I’m sure I can make it better. I’m quite the masseuse,” I brag, hoping she’ll take me up on my offer.

“Actually.…” She yawns again. “As good as that feels, I need a bath. Care to join me?”

“Race you there,” I joke, the thought of being naked with her in the warm water already has me hard. “Stay right here.” With a chaste kiss, I hop off the bed and head into the bathroom, shedding my t-shirt and jeans in a heap along the way and hearing a whistle from Fran as I do.

I twist the handle to start the warm water flowing in the tub and poke around to find some bubble bath. The bathroom is filled with every luxury you can imagine, from the fluffy robes to any type of lotion, soap, and shower gel you want. Now I just have to find them. After searching through a couple of drawers, I find a selection of bubble bath and randomly pick one before I pour it into the tub. I grab a bottle of shampoo and a sponge and sit them on the side.

When I come back out I find Fran on the bed with her eyes closed, a sudden onset of disappointment causes me to frown. I was looking forward to spending more time with her but I also know how exhausted she is and probably needs her sleep. There’s an extra blanket at the end of the bed and I unfold it to cover her up, bending down to place a kiss on her forehead. Her eyes pop open and my frown turns into a huge smile.

“I thought you were sleeping,” I say, propping a knee on the bed next to her.

She grins and puts a hand on my thigh, drumming gently. “And miss out on a bath with you? I don’t think so.”

“Come on.” I help her off the bed and lace my fingers through hers. Even though we’re only walking to the bathroom, I still feel the need to touch her.

“It’s a great bathtub, isn’t it?” she says, admiring the raised rectangular tub encased in marble. “I have a nice tub in New York but compared to this, it’s subpar. I think I need an upgrade.”

“Yeah, well, people pay big bucks to be able to bathe in a marble tub, I guess.” I spin her around and unzip the back of her dress and she steps out of it, leaving her once again in that killer lace bra and panties. I wrap my arms around her waist from behind and press a kiss to her neck, closing my eyes and inhaling the scent of jasmine. “Are you sure you want to take a bath?” I ask, my voice raspy, my cock pushing into her ass.

She whimpers, rubbing up against me. “I think I’d like to be naked with you in the bath…first.”

“I like that word first very much,” I tell her, reluctantly letting her go and removing my boxers while she rids herself of the tiny scraps of fabric she has left.

She sticks one foot in the tub, then the other, before turning around and reaching for my hand. Her gaze drops to my erection and lingers there.

“I know it’s hard not to look…it’s okay.” I chuckle and grab hold of her hand, falling in when she yanks me into the water.

Moving behind her, I tug her against me and she slides between my legs while I engulf her in my arms. The warm water sloshes around us, a soothing and peaceful calm to the end of our day.

“This feels so good,” she says, arching her head back, her hair a wet canvas against my chest.

“You feel so good,” I whisper, resting my lips near her ear, sucking her lobe into my mouth, and she makes one of her plethora of sexy noises that drive me wild. “So I was thinking about something earlier,” I continue, cupping handfuls of water and dripping them onto her arm, “we’ve gotten to know each other backwards.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, most people learn the basics first, but we learned the deep stuff. So now I want to know some of the basic stuff. Actually, I want to know everything, but we can start with the basics.”

“Okay,” she replies, and there’s a smile in her voice. “Shoot.”

“Favorite Band or singer?” I ask, as my fingers mesh with hers.

“Hmph…that’s a tough one, you know how much I love music. Hmph,” she says again, as if I’ve stumped her. “Okay, favorite band is Parachute. Favorite singer is James Morrison. You?” she questions, and her excited tone tells me she likes this game.

“Coldplay for the band and Tyrone Wells for the singer/songwriter.”

I hook my legs over hers and reach for the sponge with my free hand, dipping it in the tub to soak it with water. “What’s your favorite book?”

“You’re asking some difficult questions.” She laughs, and the happy sound vibrates through my chest. “It’s hard to choose just one because I have so many. But if I have to, I’d say “The Edge of Never” by J.A. Redmerski. What about you?”

“That’s a great name for a book.” I smooth the sponge over her breasts, watching the crests stiffen just above the water and I have a sudden urge to taste them. “I don’t read that many books unless it has to do with architecture, but I do like to read The New York Times.”

“Figures,” she mumbles, and I playfully poke her in the ribs, discovering just how ticklish she is and making a mental note. It could come in handy. She dunks our fingers in the water and lifts them back out. “Okay, favorite food?”

“Pizza with pepperoni and broccoli and chocolate cream pie for dessert.”

“Hey!” she declares. “Pizza’s my favorite, too, but with just pepperoni and I’ll take a box of Devil Dogs for dessert.”

“Devil dogs? Do they still make those chemically infested treats?” I laugh and she pivots to fire a glare my way. “My turn, feisty. Let’s see…favorite place in the whole world?”

“That’s easy,” she replies confidently, “the beach. Yours?”

“That’s easy,” I repeat her sentiment but something catches in my throat and my voice becomes a strangled echo. “Right here, right now.” And then I realize why—I mean every word. Being with her is no less than fucking perfect, and I want to breathe this moment in, mark it like a page in one of her novels so I can go back to it over and over whenever I need it.

She angles her head slightly and I catch her lips, pushing them apart so I can dive in, find her tongue, and drown in her. It doesn’t last long because she pulls back from the kiss and flips around so she’s straddling me.

Her hands come up to cradle my face, her lips sweeping over mine while her tongue forces me open. I love her tongue. It’s sweet and wet, and as she circles it around mine, I groan low and deep. My fingers move to her full breasts and I thumb her nipples in a slow, lazy rhythm as she begins to grind against my cock, moaning heavily, and she stiffens under my touch.

Heavy breaths fall as she pulls away from my mouth. Her eyes finally fix on mine and for a moment, time stands still and words don’t exist, our panting the only sound amidst the silence.

I palm her cheek and she leans into me. “God, you’re so fucking sweet.” I place my other hand over her heart. “So, so sweet.”

“Matt,” she says hoarsely, “I want—”

“Tell me what you want, baby.” My fingers disappear under the water and I find her clit, massaging her over and over again until she lets out a jagged whimper.

“I want you to make…I want to feel you inside of me, I want you to fuck me.”

I spring up from the water and grab Fran under her knees, making waves that splash over the side of the tub. She winds her arms around my neck and I carefully step out, managing to avoid us falling flat on our asses.

“What are you doing?” she yelps and laughs at the same time, and I yank a couple of towels off the rack as I lead us out to the bedroom. “We’re soaking wet!”