Sapphire Beautiful (12 page)

“And we’ve got peppermint ice cream for dessert,” he states proudly. “Although it was nearly impossible to find four months before Christmas. Apparently a lot of places only stock it around the holidays.” 

Dante looks at me expectantly.

“I don’t know what to say.” My voice cracks. “No one has ever done anything like this for me before.”

“I wanted to make sure it was something you’d eat.”

The teardrop that slides down my cheek betrays me. “Thank you,” I mutter, the words getting caught in my throat.

“Anything for you.”

When I look into his eyes it occurs to me that maybe Dante isn’t just paying to have sex with me. He’s paying to have me.
All of me
. Not just my body.

He wants my mind and heart as well.

That scares the hell of out of me.

“Will that be all for now?” Richard asks.

When Dante nods Richards pushes the cart back out of the dining room.

Once we’re alone Dante looks at me for a long moment. I get the feeling he wants to say something important, but it doesn’t come out. “Eat up,” he says instead.

I take a spoonful of the mac and cheese, a few olives and two peach halves and put them on my plate. I feel a little self-conscious because Dante is watching me eat but not eating himself.

“Aren’t you going to have any?” I ask.

“I’ve been waiting to see you eat an olive off your finger,” he jokes. At least I hope he’s joking.

“I did that when I was a little kid.”

“But just think about how sexy it could be as an adult,” he suggests.

“Maybe I should be eating one off your finger then.” I raise an eyebrow.

“Okay.”

He grabs an olive from the bowl and places it on his pinky. Then he moves his pinky toward my mouth.

Without taking my eyes off him I put his pinky in my mouth and ever so slowly and as sexy as I can remove the olive.

“Olives are quickly becoming my favorite food.”

I chew and swallow the olive right before he leans over to kiss me. It’s a passion filled kiss that makes my knees go weak. 

“What I’m really hungry for is you,” he whispers into my ear. 

I’m actually a little hungry for him too and that concerns me. Never mind the fact that he’s only twenty-two. I was only supposed to be doing this for the money. I wasn’t supposed to get involved with Dante, and I definitely wasn’t supposed to have feelings for him.

“I want to make sure you eat,” he tells me. “Finish your food.”

I still don’t have much of an appetite, but he went through so much trouble to make this perfect meal for me I feel obligated to at least try to eat it.

I take a bite of the mac and cheese. It’s definitely extra cheesy. It immediately brings back memories of helping my mom make mac and cheese on cold winter Sunday afternoons.

“You look sad,” Dante observes. He’s still watching me eat and hasn’t touched any food yet.

“Just thinking about my mom.” I point to the food on my plate. “This reminds me of her.”

“How long has it been since she died?” he asks.

“Seven years, but I still miss her.”

“How did she die? If you don’t mind me asking.”

I shake my head. “I don’t mind. Ovarian cancer. My dad died of colon cancer a year later.”

“Is it bad that I don’t think I’ll miss my parents when they’re gone?”

“I don’t think feelings are good or bad. I think it’s sad that you’re not close to them.”

Pain fills his eyes and it breaks my heart. He stabs at a peach and plops it down on his plate. He continues to poke at it, but doesn’t eat it.

I take a few more small bites of the mac and cheese before I put my fork down.

“Don’t you like mac and cheese?” I ask him.

He shakes his head. “Not really.”

“Then why did you pick it for our meal tonight?”

“Because you told me it’s one of your favorites.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.”

I grab an olive from my plate and pop it into my mouth. “These are good.”

He gives me the tiniest of smiles. “I’m glad you like them.”

“Are you hungry?” I ask. “For something other than me?”

He shakes his head.

After I take one more quick bite of mac and cheese I announce, “I’m done.”

“Good,” he replies. “We’ll have Richard bring our dessert into the guest wing a little later.”

“Guest wing?” I ask. That’s a part of the house he hasn’t shown me yet.

“Come on,” he says as he rises from the table and offers me his hand.

The guest wing on the opposite end of the home is like a small resort. There’s a lovely courtyard filled with greenery in the area between several guest bedrooms.

“You have your choice of guestrooms,” he says. “There’s a
Sir Gawain and the Green Knight
room, a room for
The Canterbury Tales
, one for
Beowulf
, and
Tristan and Iseult
.”

“No
Divine Comedy
?” I feign offense.

He shakes his head. “Should I be insulted that Dante has not been well represented in their guestroom designations?”

I place a kiss on his cheek. “Since there’s no
Divine Comedy
, why don’t we go with Chaucer instead?”

“
The Canterbury Tales
it is.”

My eyes grow wide when we enter the enormous room. Three of the four walls are decorated with huge murals depicting
The Canterbury Tales
: The Knight’s Tale, The Wife of Bath’s Tale and The Friar’s Tale.

“These are amazing,” I tell Dante as I inspect the mural of The Wife of Bath’s Tale more closely.

“The artist was able to replicate the illuminations and illustrations from the Ellesmere manuscript almost perfectly,” he states. “And then added some original drawings in the same style.”

It takes me a moment to remember that I’m not talking to one of my colleagues in the Medieval Studies Department, for whom this might be an everyday conversation. I’m talking to the twenty-two-year-old who is paying to have sex with me.

How does he know about the Ellesmere manuscript, a 15th-century work that many consider one of the most significant
Canterbury Tales
texts?

I catch myself before I respond. I don’t want him to know I’m a medieval scholar and anything I say at this point might cause him to ask questions.

So I decide to do something that will take his mind off medieval literature. I kiss him. “You mentioned something about being hungry for me?”

He grabs my ass and pulls me close. He’s already hard and obviously quite hungry. He devours my mouth with his.

The late medieval style four poster bed has a raised canopy and the head and foot posts look hand carved. The bed is covered with stunning deep blue upholstery that’s almost too beautiful to lie on. 

“What wrong?” He asks.

“This bed is so lovely. Like something out of a storybook. Are we really going to have sex in it?”

He nods. “It’s a guest bedroom. I’m sure they expect their guests to sleep here. And do other things. That’s its purpose.”

“Okay,” I agree still hesitant. This is a far cry from the pull-out couch at my sister’s place, which is about as close to a guest bedroom as I’ve ever come.

“The Nelsons won’t mind. They told me I could stay here whenever I wanted. They know things with my parents are—um—strained.”

“But do the Nelsons know you brought someone with you?”

“It’s fine,” he assures me. “Now where were we?” He kisses me again.

I think he may have underestimated his desire for me when he merely said he was hungry. He looks like he’s starving. Like he hasn’t eaten in weeks and he’s finally been given a meal.

The black skirt and blouse I’m wearing come off quickly, as do my undergarments. Dante’s clothes fly off just as quickly.

There’s something about being ravaged in a medieval canopy bed surrounded by illustrations of Chaucer’s
Canterbury Tales
that seems to completely and utterly turn me on. The only thing missing is Dante wearing medieval garb: a cotehardie, hose and a hood.

The bed is a lot more comfortable than I anticipated. The mattress feels brand new. I’m sure Dante and I will give it a good work-out.

He starts slowly moving in and out of me, almost teasing me, and not taking his eyes from mine.

“You’re mine,” he tells me. “I don’t want you ever to forget that.”

His penetrating gaze sends shivers through me. I’m used to Dante’s intensity, but right now he seems completely driven to claim me. To remind me that my body belongs to him and him alone.

When he quickens his pace he fucks me like I’ve never been fucked before. It’s hard and raw and carnal. Passion pounds the blood through every inch of my trembling body until the floodgates are finally broken.

When I cry out for release it’s an odd combination of pain and pleasure that I’ve never experienced before.

I’ve never had an orgasm so utterly all-encompassing that I felt like I momentarily left my body. The sound of my own voice screaming is what brought me back to Earth again.

Beads of sweat drip down Dante’s forehead. When I brush at one he frowns. “Don’t.”

“Why not?”

“It’s gross.”

“It’s just sweat. We just exchanged bodily fluids. I think I can handle a little sweat.”

He smiles as he moves his thumb down my cheek. “You’re glistening a little yourself.”

I don’t know why, but for some reason I don’t want him to know that was the best sex I’ve ever had in my life. Or that I may be starting to have feelings for him. Or that I really like him.

I want to go back to this just being about exchanging sex for money and nothing else. Having feelings for Dante makes our arrangement much too complicated.

After everything I went through with Doug the last thing I need is complicated.

“You promised me ice cream,” I say instead.

He nods. “I did. And you will get what you want, because I will give you anything. All you have to do is ask.”

I gulp. Does he really mean
anything
? That doesn’t make things less complicated.

L
ucy catches me in the hallway on the way to my office. “He’s here.”

“Who’s here?”

My mind is still reeling from the events of last night. I’m still having a hard time coming to terms with everything that happened with Dante. I had the best sex in my life with a twenty-two-year old who considers me his. And that I’m wearing his necklace to prove it. 

“The guy,” she says. “Silver Spoon. The one who was awarded the prestigious graduate research fellowship that his daddy bought and paid for.”

The venom in her voice makes it clear that she will probably never have any respect for our new research fellow. Not that I blame her. She was the first person in her family to go to college, let alone earn a doctoral degree. She worked her ass off holding three jobs while she put herself through school. I can understand her resentment towards someone who seems to have had everything just handed to him on a silver platter.

“That’s really what you’re going to call our research fellow? Silver Spoon?”

She shrugs. “It’s better than asshole.” 

“What is that?” Her eagle eye spots the sapphire pendant around my neck. She lifts it from my chest and gets close enough to inspect it. “A beautiful sapphire surrounded by some rather significant diamonds. Where’d you get the money for something like that?”

She raises a thick dark eyebrow and stares at me waiting for an answer.

“I didn’t buy it.” There’s no way I can lie to Lucy. She’s much too intuitive for that. She can spot a lie before it even crosses someone’s lips. She’s like a living, breathing lie detector.

“Then where did it come from?” she probes.

I gulp. How am I ever going to be able to explain my arrangement to her?

“Are you dating someone?” Her eyes are planted firmly on mine.

“Not exactly.”

She looks down the hallway to make sure no one is around. “Are you screwing around? Is he married?” Then she gasps. “Are you screwing around with Andrew?”

I quickly shake my head. “No, I’m definitely not screwing around with Andrew. And he’s not married. He’s a little bit younger so it’s complicated.”

“You’re not old, so how much younger could he possibly be?”

I can feel my face getting hot. I just hope I’m not blushing. “A decade.”

Her eyes grow wide. “Is he a student?”

I shake my head. “No. I wouldn’t do that. Not after everything that happened with Doug. And I’m applying for tenure this year.”

“Well if a twenty-two-year-old can afford to buy you a necklace like that he must have a really good job.”

I nod because I’m not sure what else to say. There’s no way I want her to know that he was born into one of the wealthiest families in the country. 

“Silver Spoon is meeting with the Dean. Can you believe it? When has a brand new graduate student ever scored a meeting with the Dean? I can’t even get a meeting with the Dean and I’m a tenured faculty member.”

“How are my favorite colleagues doing today,” Andrew asks as he passes us in the hallway.

“We’re the only colleagues in your department,” Lucy reminds him.

“Until our new research fellow arrives.” Andrew glances at his watch. “He should be finishing his meeting with the Dean at any moment.” 

When he glances in my direction Andrew gets an odd look on his face. It takes me a moment to realize he’s fixated on my sapphire pendant. “Wow, that’s stunning. I’ve never seen you wear it before.”

“I just got it,” I admit.

A look of disappointment crosses his face. “Must be someone special.”

I always suspected that Andrew had feelings for me, but he looks like I just punched him in the gut.

“This is the Medieval Studies department.” Dean Harris’s voice booms down the hallway.

Andrew, Lucy and I all straighten up.

My knees nearly give out when I see who’s walking beside the Dean.

Dante McNally.

He’s our new graduate research fellow.

My chest tightens so completely I feel like I can’t breathe. All I want to do is get some fresh air.