Page 20 of Her Beast

He leaned back in his chair and looked down at the woman kneeling beneath his desk. Maisie’s big blue eyes met his and she smiled around his prick. Or at least she tried to.

“We’re done here, sweetheart,” Malcolm said.

He waited until she’d lifted her mouth off him before tucking his cock—half-hard and smeared with scarlet paint from her lips—back into his trousers. And then he stood and extended a hand to help her up from her cushion.

She was small and shapely—just like he’d asked for—and barely came up to his chest. She’d been with him for almost a week but he’d not fucked her yet, only using her mouth.

He was saving her cunt and arse for when he could concentrate and appreciate it—something he’d not been able to do since seeing Julia Harlow and that big red-headed bastard in his store. Hopefully his mind would be his own again after Joe’s visit tonight.

Maisie’s hand shook when she offered it up to him. Even though she’d spent most of her stay being pampered by his superlative staff—massaged, bathed, fed the best food, wines, and champagne, and dressed in the most expensive lingerie, gowns, and jewels, all of which she’d get to keep when he was done with her—it was clear that she wasn’t comfortable with the arrangement.

Or perhaps it was just Malcolm that she was skittish around.

No surprise, there.

Most women—and a good many men, for that matter—became nervous in his presence. No doubt she was wondering—dreading—when he would finally use something other than her sweet mouth. He suspected she was terrified of what he kept hidden beneath his mask, gloves, and clothing and was worried that she’d have to look at his burnt, deformed body when he finally fucked her.

Malcolm put a finger beneath her chin and tilted her heart-shaped face toward him, desire pulsing through his body at the sight of her swollen, reddened mouth. He grazed her slick lower lip with his thumb, amused by the wide-eyed way she was staring at the half of his face sheathed in black leather. “You pleased me tonight, Maisie.”

Her breathing quickened at his quiet words and her pupils swelled slightly at his praise.

It wasn’t hyperbole: she had a mouth like hot wet velvet and knew how to keep him balancing on the razor-fine edge of desire for hours.

She swallowed hard. “But you didn’t … er …”

“No, I didn’t come,” he agreed, his disfigured mouth twisting into a carnal grin that wasn’t pretty—at least judging by the poorly suppressed revulsion in her blue gaze. “But I will shortly. Tonight, I’ll visit you in your room and fuck you.”

A shudder wracked her slender form.

Malcolm decided to pretend that it was passion.

He released her chin and took the flaps of her silk robe and pulled them open to feast on her petite but lush body.

“Mmm,” he hummed, delighted with what he saw.

Maisie didn’t look as fresh and natural as Julia Harlow, but she was close enough. Her breasts were over-large for her slender ribcage, her waist impossibly tiny, her hips the sort that begged for a man’s hands to grip them.

The neatly trimmed patch of brown hair covering her sex didn’t match the improbably golden hair on her head and he fought down a twinge of annoyance. He despised such artifice, but at least her hair was clean, healthy, and fell to her waist.

There was also a certain harshness to her skin—he suspected she owed the creamy color to cosmetics rather than nature—and he saw some scarring and imperfections, but in the low lighting she looked good enough.

He reluctantly closed her robe and tied the sash, looking up from her luscious body to meet her vapid gaze. “Mr. Butkins will take you to your room, where you’ll find food and drink waiting. After you’ve eaten, Kemp will help you bathe and change into something special.”

She nodded jerkily. “Yes, sir.”

Malcolm ran the gloved knuckles of his right hand over the curve of her jaw. “So pretty,” he murmured, his nostrils flaring when she flinched away.

“I’m sorry, sir,” she said.

He smiled, even knowing how it twisted his damaged mouth. “It’s all right, kitten.” And it was, too. It didn’t hurt Malcolm’s feelings that she found him hideous; hewashideous. It was just a fact of life.

For her sake Malcolm wished she weren’t so revolted by him, but he always blindfolded his women and usually only mounted them from behind, so she'd not have to look at or touch any part of him when he fucked her.

He turned to his hovering employee. “Show the lady to her room, Butkins.”

Butkins gestured to the door. “This way, ma’am.”

Malcolm couldn’t help smirking at his secretary’s visible mortification. He’d have thought Butkins would be comfortable around ladies of the night after working for Malcolm for so long, but he looked as shocked now as he’d done the very first time he’d seen a woman crawl out from under Malcolm's desk.

---