Mercy (Salacious Players Club, #4)(34)

As I speak, I can see his gaze travel from my eyes to my lips then down to my neck and back up to my eyes.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

He swallows. “I want to touch you. I think I’m going to hate this if I can’t touch you.”

A laugh bubbles up from my chest, and maybe it’s because it sounds more like a joke than a real complaint. But when I see his face freeze, I realize he’s being serious. “Why do you want to touch me?”

His brow scrunches in confusion. “Is that a trick question?” When I don’t respond, he continues, “You just sucked my dick in your kitchen, and now we’re going to act like it was nothing.” He voices his complaints, his tone rising in volume. My eyes pop open in surprise as he adds, “I’m thinking about sex the entire time we’re together, and I can’t explain why, but I just want to fucking touch you.”

Then for some reason, I decide to play with him. “What if I never let you come? Would you still want to touch me?”

“Yes,” he answers without hesitation.

Shit, now I want to give in. I want to let him touch every square inch of me. Let him do whatever he wants. If he wants to fuck me, lick me, kiss me, whatever, I’d let him. But I have to stop myself because this isn’t about what he wants. And I can’t let him have what he wants or I’m going to spoil him. And all this will be for nothing.

“Well, the good news is that you will get rewards, but not for every time you obey me. And not right now.”

His jaw clenches as disappointment washes over him. Even though I just told him he would get rewarded eventually, apparently Beau likes instant gratification. He clearly has a lot to learn.

For now, I have actual business to settle.

“Okay, we’re out of the scene now,” I say as I pull myself away from him and round my desk to sit in the chair. On my computer, I pull up the mile-long to-do list. “Because I have something to talk to you about. Well, an offer really.”

When he stares at me in confusion, I point to the extra chair. “Sit down.”

He obviously likes taking orders because he does.

“I know you’re out of a job, and I could actually use some help around here, so I want to offer it to you. Would you be willing to do some actual work for me? Painting, unpacking, maybe some light handiwork.”

“As your sub,” he replies, and it almost sounds like a statement instead of a question.

“No. I’ll pay you.”

“Why can’t I be both? I mean at the same time.”

“I’m confused,” I reply. “You want to stay in your sub role while doing work at my house?”

It takes him a moment to reply, and I see the hesitation before he does. I’m reminded of how vulnerable and new this is for Beau, and I honestly think if anyone else was in the room, he would deny it to the death. But he’ll be vulnerable with me, which means he trusts me.

And I love that more than I probably should.

“I still have to pay you, Beau. But I want to be clear, it’s for your work around the house, not for everything else.”

“Would I live here with you?”

“What?” I snap in surprise. “No! We can’t live together.”

I swear I see disappointment wash over him.

“Do you…want to stay here?”

His expression is unreadable. It’s blank yet guarded, and I pause for a moment, trying to decipher what’s happening. Before he can answer, I take the choice from him.

“You know you’re always free to stay here. For whatever reason.”

“Okay,” he mumbles.

That tender spot in my chest aches again. He has the ability to look so cocky one minute and then innocent and desperate the next. As if he needs something he’s too afraid to ask for. Like a puppy that’s been kicked one too many times.

I wish I knew what it is he needs, but now, all I can offer him is exactly what he came here for. And I wish what I needed at the moment was an orgasm or something more fun, but sadly, what I really need is some help around this house.

“There are six boxes in the kitchen that need unpacking. Do your best to guess where everything goes, and if you don’t know, set it aside, and we’ll go through it later. Break down the empty boxes and stack them in the garage. When you’re done, come kneel by my desk. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies, a gentle smile playing on his lips. Then he rises from the chair and disappears down the hall. I’m staring for a moment at the spot where he just sat, trying to figure out this weird, tender feeling in my chest when he lets his guard down around me.

Most men I work with don’t show a lot of emotion. I’m not used to seeing the facade crack like that, but there’s something about seeing it with Beau that I didn’t expect. The sexual chemistry between us is distracting, but I cannot let myself get emotionally attached in this situation.

This is just an arrangement to him, and we can’t let it escape the confines of this house. We have no future, no relationship, no connection other than the ones we need to serve our roles. That tender feeling will just have to go away because I’m not entertaining that idea at all. I can’t.





Rule #15: Once a dick, always a dick.