4: In Which She Takes It Hard

4: In Which She Takes It Hard

********************************

It had been three days since the alleged break-in and Reed had returned to painting in the basement for hours on end. Never completely satisfied with anything he started, most of his canvases ended up tossed aside and ruined. The blindfold would occasionally make an appearance and on these instances, I'd watch him unabashedly, fighting the temptation he presented. It had taken a few days but I was finally tamping down my frequent nympho thoughts.

On the outside, I was patrolling the grounds and making sure the gate hadn't been tampered with, but on the inside, I was simmering because here was yet another man who thought he could con me.

Break-in and theft, my left ass cheek.

Even if a group of twenty people somehow knew the layout of Reed's dungeon-like basement and each hoisted one of the heavy-as-fuсk easels onto their backs like worker ants, there was no way in hell they could have done it so stealthily. Plus, the gate at the entrance of the estate was one of those remote-controlled ones that were a bitch to screw with, so there was no viable way anyone could've gotten in.

No. Fucking. Way.

Of course, I never even bothered to call my dad because two seconds after Reed had mumbled something about putting an alarm system in and my sleepy mind had a Wait a minute moment, I saw through his crap. As my good friend, Dawn, was fond of saying, this man was lyin' like a rug in front of a fireplace. You just can't bullshi­t a bullshitter.

Today, Reed was especially quiet, for reasons known only to him. Guilt, one could only hope.

I folded my arms across my chest, glancing at the light bulb dangling overhead. "I have a lead on your stolen artwork, Mr. Lancaster."

He gave me a fleeting look. "Oh?"

Oh? I'll give you your oh, you manipulative little shit.

"Yeah. Think I'm gonna head Downtown to check it out." I paused, waiting for him to confess his sin. Nothing. "I'm told that I should prepare for some hostility but hey, some of us girls enjoy the thrill of beating info out of people."

Reed coughed. "You really don't have to -"

"I do," I told him, striding in his direction until he loomed over me and I could stare into his gorgeous lying eyes. "Mr. Lancaster, someone broke into your house and violated your privacy. He or she stole from you. I just have to do my job and do this on your behalf."

He swallowed, and I followed the slow bob of his Adam's apple. Dear God, even that was hot. I wasn't supposed to find anything sexy about him after the way he'd tried to make a complete fool of me, especially so soon after the impersonating fiasco. Fool me once, and all that.

"Lena, you really d-don't ¦have t-to..." He took a deep breath, briefly closing his eyes. They flew open. "You don't have to do that. No one got hurt and I don't care about my stuff."

"It'll be fun - for me, not the other party." It was actually just a little sweet that he was obviously worried I'd get shot at. Just a little. "But I think you'd better kiss me, just in case I don't make it back and whatnot."

I was half-kidding, knowing that he wouldn't do it, that it wasn't in his nature to be so spontaneous and did I really want that temptation? Reed blinked repeatedly, his hands balled at his sides. I watched him clench and unclench his fists, as if he had to keep himself from touching me. I'd seen him totally naked, had him in my mouth, dry-humped him until we both came in our pants like a pair of teenagers - and yet he was scared to kiss me.

"Your brother paid for this to happen, didn't he?" Unwelcome bitterness laced my voice, and Reed's eyes narrowed.

"Don't. Don't say that."

And just like three days ago, a rush of adrenaline burst in my veins when he shocked the hairs up my neck by grabbing and pulling me to him.

Despite the fact that this was detrimental to the progress I'd made with my highly unprofessional puЅsy, I wound my arms around his neck, whimpering when I felt the steel of his Сock pressing into my abdomen. His arms circled my waist, one hand grasping my ass and the other coming up at the back of my head. He lowered his head and pressed his forehead to mine first, simply breathing heavily for a minute.

Lena Anosova did not do slow. I writhed in his embrace, impatient, and with the smallest of smiles, he angled his head to kiss me.

I had to wonder if Reed had done a little kissing before me because shit, he could kiss. His tongue sent tiny electric shocks along my lower lip before it slid into my mouth and tangled with mine, thrusting into me, fuСking into me. He groaned into my mouth, kneading my ass and my hands fell from the back of his head to return the favour, making him jump.

Firmest. Ass. Ever.

"Lena." He bit my bottom lip on the 'N' and a spike of pleasure lanced through me.

I drew back, panting for air. Reed looked put out and that look made me want to stop screwing with him and just throw him down, small details, be damned.

I patted his chest, knowing I'd done the right thing by stopping. "Well, now I know what to say to make you an animal. I gotta go." I shivered. "You have to let me go so I can go, Reed."

"I-I'm sorry," he muttered, looking horrified. He quickly released me as if I were a bag of cow dung. "I apologise, Lena."

He wouldn't meet my eye. Something about the way he was so nervous around me reminded me of a skittish horse I'd seen at a farm as a kid. It had been a great black stallion, towering over nine-year-old me, but it had been scared shitless of me. A farmhand had mentioned something about abuse and since I already knew what that was, I'd felt so sorry for the horse and promptly burst into tears - the last time I ever cried.

Reed was like that horse and I knew it was more than what had happened between us days ago.

Once he'd put some space between us, I waited a beat for him to tell me that there hadn't been any burglary; that he'd made the whole thing up to... I didn't know - one minute, he wanted to have sex with me; the next, he was running scared.

Instead, he went back to his painting, snatching a blindfold up and covering his eyes. Mumbling curses under my breath, I left him down there and went up to get changed.

I was two years overdue for a spa day.

***

Brenda hated my guts.

I had never had someone despise me so openly. Usually, they'd hate me behind my back, or pretend to be my friend and conveniently stab me there. However, this woman, who was closer to being three times my age, didn't bother to hide the fact that she hated me.

She cooked for Reed and made Margo - who already had a huge workload when it came to keeping this mansion clean - make my meals. That was cool with me, though, considering that she'd probably put rat poison in my food the first chance she got.

Oh, she didn't say that she wished she could shoot me with my gun and make it look like a suicide - but I wasn't blind and I wasn't born just last night in the woods.

Since I was never one to mince words - and since I was feeling pretty great after a few hours of being pampered at the Juliette Rivers Day Spa- I decided to get it out in the open. Conflict resolution, and all that good stuff. I was blaming my confrontational mood on the expensive white wine on tap at the spa and the fact that I was pissed at Reed and hungry for him at the same time, so my mind was all screwy and airhead-like.

A search of the entire house and a five-second conversation with Margo revealed that the elderly cook had retired for the day. Slightly disappointed that I wouldn't get my confrontation, I checked in on Reed in the basement before heading to my own room and flopping onto the bed.

Then, when I couldn't even really take a nap, I decided to call my friend, Dawn, who was always up for some girl talk even if I wasn't.

She answered on the first ring. "Well, hey, Len. How's it hanging?"

"Not that great," I admitted, absently raising my legs and admiring the pearly-pink of my toenails. So pretty. So not...me.

"Ah. Isn't it evil to wish for something bad to happen to your client?"

Dawn Reynolds knew me well. We went back as far as kindergarten and she knew how trigger-happy I could be. As a yoga teacher at the gym near my condo, she was more content with finding inner peace than shooting the shi­t out of stalkers and crazies.

"My client," I began, "is...an artist."

"Like Lana Del Rey?"

"No, try Salvador Dali."

"Oh, a guy painter. Have I heard of him? Is he cute? How old is he?"

"Pretty sure the last art piece you bought was a picture of Lana Del Rey's face superimposed onto the Mona Lisa," I said, laughing at the memory of the so-called artwork. "Reed Lancaster's paintings are so great because he was blind when he did them."

"Was?"

Dawn wouldn't let it go, so I had to go into a long spiel about what I knew about him, leaving out the parts about walking in on him pleasuring himself and the oral. It felt like I'd be betraying Reed's trust, something that was strange to me because I was never reluctant to over-share.

"Fascinating stuff," Dawn said when she thought I was done.

"But he's a virgin, Dee, and I still want to fuСk his brains out," I couldn't stop myself from saying. "Not only is it unethical for me to want him, I actually scare the guy. I'd feel like I was forcing myself on him if anything ever happened."

Dawn was silent. Eerily silent. Then, "I'm sorry, I'm still stuck on the Virgin Reed part. He told you?"

"It slipped out," I said. She didn't have to know that it had "slipped out" when I was on my knees in front of the guy, hungry for his c0ck.

"Does he have a big penis?"

"Dear Lord, Dee." I glanced at the door. Felt the unbearable heat in my panties. Felt the way my Сlit was swelling at the memory. "You know that old J-Lo and Ice Cube movie? About the snakes?"

"Get out. Anaconda?" she shrieked in my ear. "Holy pigs in a blanket! Len, we do not exaggerate the peen. The peen is not a joke. The peen is sacred. Do. Not. Play. Around."

"I'm being serious! This is why I hate calling you," I joked, turning onto my stomach. "We end up gabbing like two high school girls high on N'Sync music videos. Now we're suggesting that my client's manhood should be enshrined."

"I need to live vicariously through you. You know this." She let out a wistful sigh. "You been drinking, hon?"

I rolled my eyes, even though she couldn't see me. "Spa day. You know how they ply you with champagne."

"Thank God. Hope you did some landscaping down there. Dicks aren't bushwhackers, you know."

I laughed. "FuСk you, Dawn Reynolds. FuСk you."

"So..." Dawn's voice turned sly. "I bet your hands-off approach with this Reed guy isn't going too well."

That was putting it mildly. Hell, today was a great example of how well it wasn't going.

Kiss me, in case I don't make it back? I had to cringe at that one and knew Dawn - or any of my other girlfriends - would laugh if they ever knew those words had come out of Lena Anosova's mouth.

It seemed as if I was having a harder time keeping my lust in check... Since the day in the basement... Since the day I'd had him in my mouth... Since I found out for sure that he was a virgin...

"I have no idea what you mean," I told my friend. "I need to go, Dee. Talk soon."

I cut the call before her laughter could give me a headache.

***

Cracking my knuckles a little and taking a deep breath, I knocked on Reed's door. This time, I made sure to pound on it but just when I was about to return to my room, the door swung open and he stood there in all his thankfully-clothed glory.

He'd tied his hair back and now, so exposed, his eyes seemed brighter, more intense.

"Is everything all right?" he wanted to know, concern written on his features.

"Yep. Just wanted to make sure your room is...secure before I turn in for the night." I slid through the narrow space he'd left between his body and the doorjamb.

Now that there wasn't the sight of a naked man pleasuring himself on the bed to distract me, I let my eyes roam the large, bare expanse of his bedroom. The walls were painted a stark white and the thick curtains that were drawn across large French windows were a creamy colour. A large oak desk was pushed against one wall, a high-backed wooden chair in front of it. One wing-backed armchair sat forlorn on one side, just beneath the TV on the wall.

A plain room, certainly not the room of an artist.

The soft click of the door closing behind me made me turn to face Reed. "Not many places for someone to hide, I guess," I muttered.

"Yeah." He surveyed the wasteland that was his bedroom. "It...It was so I wouldn't trip over anything. When I was blind."

"Oh. Right. Yeah, that makes sense."

His gaze dropped. "What did you do to your nails?"

"Talk about a leap from topic." I held my hands up, wiggling my fingers. "French tips. You, sir, are freakishly observant."

He reddened. "I don't mean to be."

"No, that's okay because I am, too. Though I still haven't figured out who broke the front door - you or Alfred?"

Honestly, I hadn't meant to let him know I knew he was lying. I'd wanted to see how long he'd keep up the act, just for kicks, but obviously, even after such a heavy dinner and plenty of water, I was still feeling the ill effects of the Riesling I'd had that afternoon. I usually had to get close to intoxicated to get waxed.

At my question, Reed stumbled backwards, his back hitting the door. "W-who's Alfred?"

"Bruce Wayne's butler. Samuel reminds me of him, but that's beside the point. The point is that you thought I was such a dumbass, I'd fall for your dumb scheme to keep me here to..." My voice trailed off and I put my hands on my hips. "Well? Fill in your motive, Mr. Lancaster. What possessed you? And do not say it's because I give great head."

He sighed, straightening. "How long have you known?"

"I've known all along, Reed. Lying really isn't your forte, plus the story you told was so farfetched it was imported." I put my hands on my hips. "So...why?"

Heat stained his cheeks. "I-I-I realised that if you quit, it would be because I t-t-touched you."

I rolled my eyes at him. "We did more than touch, Reed."

He tugged at the collar of his T-shirt, looking ten kinds of uncomfortable. "You said you were bored. I just...wanted to make your job more interesting. I wanted you to...stay."

I swallowed. Anger. Hold onto your anger. The man was perfectly cool with sending you on a wild goose chase for paintings he undoubtedly destroyed himself.

But, "Why?" came out of my traitorous mouth. "Margo said you hate new people. That's the whole reason you went so far as hiring a guy to pose as you, so why would you want me to stay? Since you claim not to want any sex."

He pushed away from the door and strode past me, going to sit at the foot of the bed. The memory of him sitting there and pleasuring himself flashed through my mind and it was my turn to play with the collar of my T-shirt.

"You're so...direct about things," Reed said softly, tapping his fingertips on his lap. "Maybe I'm hoping you'll rub off on me."

"Uh-huh."

"Plus...I want to...paint you."

"Paint me?" I sputtered, arching a suspicious brow. "I thought you only did abstracts."

He shrugged. "I guess, but over the past year, I've been sketching. Inanimate objects. You'd be my first live subject."

"Your first everything," I murmured, feeling heat creep up my neck.

"What was that?"

"Nothing. Um, that's not part of my job description. Posing for you."

"Neither was what we did in the basement." He met my stare. Shock descended upon me when I saw the open lust in his jade eyes. It disappeared as quickly as it came.

"Touché," I conceded, folding my arms across my hardened nipples, "but according to your brother - my boss - it is."

"I should never have told you that and I didn't mean to bring it up. I apologise," he said in a rush. "You don't have to pose...f-for me."

"May I?" I gestured at a spot on his bed and, when he nodded, sat beside him. "Like I said, this is my first job. I only got it because you're a low-risk client and my father - who taught me almost everything I know - thinks the most action I'll get is paint getting into your eye.

I spent most of my life screwing up and now, I have to work twice as hard to prove that I'm worth something to everybody. The one thing I can't stand is someone treating me like an idiot because I'm a woman."

I twisted at the waist to look at Reed and found him staring down at me. "Sorry for the life story," I mumbled, and he shook his head. "Can I ask you something?"

"Nothing's ever stopped you before."

"Someone's becoming a Sassy Sally," I teased, receiving a nervous smile in return. "Well, fine, then. Why the blindfold?"

Reed's face instantly shut down, as if my words had driven all expression off it.

"Forget I asked," I whispered. "Maybe I should g-"

"I like the dark," he said sharply, his eyes on the ceiling. "When you go blind at six, darkness is pretty much the only thing you've ever known. It's predictable. Familiar. Safe. All the things the light isn't. And when I'm blindfolded, I can't see you seeing me."

"Reed..." Without thinking about it, I grasped his left hand, twining my fingers with his.

His hand was warm and his fingers long. I didn't expect him to close his hand over mine and I absolutely didn't expect something as platonic as that to make the tug of arousal in my belly any stronger.

The truth was, I was sitting on a man's bed and holding his hand with no promise of sex. Dawn, who thought I was sex-crazed, would never believe this.

"You should do a self-portrait," I heard myself saying. With my free hand, I ran my fingers down his cheek, the one with the milk-white scar. He flinched and I took my hand back. "You need to look at yourself, Reed, because there is nothing unattractive about you. Nothing."

There were no mirrors in his room. The door to the en-suite bathroom was firmly shut, so I didn't know if the no-glass rule went as far as there. I found it sad that he wasn't comfortable in his own skin.

"I don't need your pity," he retorted.

"You know what? Selfies. We'll take selfies." I was already whipping my phone out. "All you have to do is sit here and look as sexy as you do." I mentally berated myself for letting that last part out before saying, "Much as I like it, you need to learn not to blush whenever I pay you a compliment."

"It isn't something you can control," Reed murmured, and I noticed that even the tips of his ears were red.

"You're right." I held my phone above us and tightened my grip on his hand when he tried to shift away. "Swear to all that is holy, I will hold your ass down and make you say cheese if I have to."

"I'm bigger than you," he pointed out, jarring my shoulder so that my phone shook.

"Oh, yeah? Challenge accepted, Mr. Lancaster."

Even though I knew where this would most likely end - where it shouldn't end - I leaned away from him and, catching him by surprise, shoved him flat onto his back. It was awkward to do because I had his hand in one hand and my phone in the other, but I threw a leg over him, straddling his hips. If I spread my legs just a little, my crotch would be directly against his -

Reed's eyes were big, unreadable. But then he released me and his hands closed around my waist, pulling my lower half down against him, all of him.

There it was again, that erection of his, pressing into me. How long has he been like this? I wondered, imagining that he'd gone hard the second he saw I was at his door. I just hadn't noticed but now I was forced to. He was pressed against my apex and even through my pants, I could feel how hot and hard he was. My flesh was overly sensitive and it didn't take long for me to get wet.

"Say cheese," I whispered, holding my phone over Reed.

He reached up and snatched it out of my hand, tossing it onto the pillows above his head and, with no delay, rolled me onto my back. Now, hovering above me, he seemed bigger, more masculine. His hair had escaped its clasp and hung over me, wisps of it tickling my face.

I whispered, "Touch me."

No. What the hell are you saying, Lena? my conscience scolded, but I chose to ignore her, especially when I felt Reed's fingers on my face.

How was such a simple touch such a turn-on? He was stroking my cheeks and my puЅsy - so sensitive and bare - was responding as if he were stroking me there.

Touch my tits. Touch my stomach. Touch my damn Сlit.

And then he pulled back, as if he could hear my mental pleas and was terrified of them.

"No," he muttered, rearing back and sliding off the bed. "You're not a prostitute, Lena."

FuСking Nathan and his fuСking warped scheme.

I propped myself up on my elbows, watching him go to the door. "I know that. What's your point?"

"If we...s-s-sleep together, my b-brother -"

"Your brother has nothing to do with this. So what if he thought I'd fall into bed with you because he's paying my salary?" I grabbed my phone before I pulled myself to my feet. "I want this. I want you."

"Why? I've never..." He shook his head. "Forget it. Just go. Please."

It took me a second to realise that the door was open. There was nothing to say as I left his bedroom. I'd said everything there was to say and all I could do was bang my forehead against the wall in frustration once I was in my room. Tonight would be a lonely night of self-pleasure and if I had balls, I knew what colour they'd be: Cerulean. Navy. Blue.

Maybe Reed should paint that.