Georgie’s Beau
by
Shara Azod
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright© 2009 Shara Azod
Editor: Lacynda Hill
Cover Artist: Shara Azod
Published by Shara Azod LLC
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews. This is a work of fiction. All references to real places, people, or events are coincidental, and if not coincidental, are used fictitiously. All trademarks, service marks, registered trademarks, and registered service marks are the property of their respective owners and are used herein for identification purposes only. eBooks are NOT transferable. Re-selling, sharing or giving eBooks is a copyright infringement.
Note to ePirates and Those Who Use ePirate Sites:
Even if you did not personally put this book up to be pirated you are participating in a crime. Theft of intellectual property is still theft – a federal crime under U.S. law. But you probably don’t care about that. Nor do you care about the money and effort it takes to produce an ebook. Authors of ebooks get paid based on the amount of books sold, as do a lot of editors and cover artists. We do not get cash upfront like New York authors; we don’t receive advances for our work. Most of us have full time jobs while we work on the craft we love. You are stealing from us, our families and the people who depend on us for payment for their editing, art, or proofreading time. I would rather you didn’t read anything I wrote at all. I don’t need readers like you. I don’t wish any ill will on you, I just wish you would go away and let the people who enjoy me enough to pay for my work do that.
Chapter One
Blakely, GA
Late 1930s
“Come on, Georgie. Dance with me.”
Beau Dupuis was one seriously fine man. His devilish baby blues twinkled at her as she dodged his seeking hands without dropping a glass from her overburdened tray. His black hair gleamed in the dim light, one lock falling into his left eye. As much as Georgina’s hand itched to push it back she knew that would just invite trouble. There were already plenty of nasty stares aimed in Beau’s direction already tonight. He was taking a serious chance spending so much time at the local jook joint; and not because he was white either. Times were hard, and his daddy owned just about everything in town. People always looked for trouble when troubles were heavy on them. It was a way to blow off steam and blame somebody else for all that was wrong in their lives.
It was funny that so many claimed not to hold with race mixing, when all around you the various shades and textures of the people of the deep South declared otherwise. She could think quite of few children running around the small town of Blakely that clearly had a little cream in their coffee. It was not something that was talked about, it just was. And for those who dared to break the color line, the consequences were sometimes too much to bear.
“I’m working, Mr. Dupuis,” she informed him, scurrying around the bar before he could touch her.
It was bad enough her father ran a juke joint; that fact alone assured she would never be welcome around “decent folk.” Her mother had been a half-Indian and half-black, never bothering to marry her father before having his child and promptly dying. Despite the fact that her skin was the color of dark, rich, molasses, most folks considered her a red skin breed. It never made much sense to her, the prejudice against Indians who were here long before anybody else. She guessed everybody needed somebody to look down on, if only to make themselves feel a little better about their lot in life.
Any chance she had of ever getting married and settling down was with the customers they had, and Beau wasn’t one of the prospects. He wasn’t just white, he was the son of the mayor, who just happened to also be the richest plantation owner in all of Early County. While so many planters were going bust and moving on into bigger cities, Branford Jefferson Dupuis prospered. Most of the men here tonight either worked in his canning factory, in his fields, or in his peach orchards. Their family owned half of the town. Not many folks around here had much of a choice were they worked. With so many of the white farmers who owned smaller tracts of land having moved on, the Dupuis Plantation was just about the only gainful employment here ‘bouts. That meant Beau, the heir apparent, could go just about anywhere he pleased. Even a backwoods colored juke joint. Only an idiot would gainsay him.
That didn’t mean it was okay for Georgiana to be messing around with him. Black girls had to be very careful who they were seen talking to. Fooling around with the wrong man meant being ostracized by most and a reputation that often led to far, far worse than someone not talking to you. She wasn’t about to become one of the fallen. Those kinds of women were seen as only good for a quick roll in the hay. Many times one of the poor souls considered “loose” or white men’s whores were found in the fields raped and battered almost beyond recognition. It didn’t seem to matter that some of those women never had a choice. Georgiana was in a precarious position; she didn’t have too many options, but she would be damned if someone took away the few she had.
Sounded simple enough, if only Beau didn’t make her hands sweat and her heart just about beat right out of her chest every time she saw him. Lord above, the man did something to her. Whenever he turned those beautiful eyes her way she could feel heat suffuse her face and her nipples became harder than rocks. There was something about him. Maybe it was the way he looked at her like she was the only woman in the world. Or it could be that slow lazy smile that went perfectly with that slow lazy drawl. Whatever it was, the man moved her in ways no other had ever done. She fought the attraction tooth and nail, but it was always there right under the surface.
And he knew it, damn his eyes.
“Why are you so mean to me sweet Georgie, mine?” Beau whined, leaning over the bar. At least she told herself it was whining. That deep, sexy drawl gave her goose bumps inside as well as out.
“I’m not your anything, Beau Cantwell Dupuis,” Georgina replied tartly, one eye on him and another looking around at who might be listening. “And you best hurry and finish your drink and get on home. We’re fixin’ to close up for the night.”
Sunday nights were never very crowded. Sunday dinners were still big, even if there wasn’t much on the table these days. Most folks were home with their families after spending most of the day at church, talking and laughing, and just enjoying being together. Georgina’s father refused to go to church, though he had never stopped her. She had stopped herself after it became clear she would never be welcomed in the House of God. If that wasn’t a kick in the pants she didn’t know what was.
“Go on if you want to, Georgie-girl,” her father had said. “Nothin’ there but a bunch of busybody know-it-alls, every bit as much a sinner as me. Difference is I don’t pretend to be no better than anybody.”
He had been right. The women had smiled in her face, but talked about her like a dog when her back was turned. Not a one of the girls her age would talk to her, much less sit with her. The good men of the church gave her the cold shoulder in front of the good church ladies, but tried to get her in the woods when they thought nobody was looking. No one ever invited her home to dinner, though most strangers just passing through got all kinds of invitations. It just wasn’t worth the effort.
“Alright, everybody,” James Willard called from the front near the makeshift stage. “Time to go. Most of y’all got to get up early anyway.”
There were a few grumbles, but the patrons obediently trudged out of the small shack towards wherever they called home. A couple of men had cars and gave several others a ride back into town, but most left on foot. All except for Beau.
“Why are you still here?” Georgiana demanded.
Beau shrugged giving her a heart-stopping grin. “To help you clean up,” he offered, rising from the wooden bar stool to round the bar where she stood.
Georgiana looked around for her father; only to realize he was probably walking around outside, ensuring everyone had left. He did that every night, as Beau would know. He had been here most nights for the past month or so. She took a step back as he approached, finding herself trapped between him and the wall.
“Look, Beau, I think you better leave.”
Her voice trembled slightly, lowering to almost a whisper. She was no fool; she knew what he wanted. Even though she knew she should be horrified at the situation, she found her heart racing with excitement. It was forbidden. Completely outside the unwritten law. But she wasn’t afraid. Lord help her, she was excited. Leaning forward, he braced his hands on the wall trapping her in a cage of his arms.
“Now Georgie, tell me. Why are you so mean to me?”
Beau had the most beautiful voice. All deep and slow like homemade syrup. It went well with his almost angelic face. Her eyes darted from his face to his lips. They were full and luscious, bringing to mind soft kisses stolen under a moss-covered pine. And they were getting closer.
“I’m not mean to you, Mr. Dupuis.”
“My name is Beau,” he chided, moving one hand to caress her cheek. “Say it for me, sweetheart.”
Oh, God he was going to kiss her! She knew it just as sure as she knew her name. And she was going to let him.
“B-Beau,” she managed, just before his mouth touched her own.
His lips swept down on hers, not soft and gentle as she always imagined her first kiss would be, but possessive and forceful. He angled his head, his tongue snaking out to lick her bottom lip, causing her to moan. Taking advantage, he thrust his tongue into her mouth, tasting all she had to offer. Before she knew what was happening, his arms gathered her closer, lifting her off her feet. Her back was pressed tightly against the wall, as he pushed his body against hers. Georgiana gasped as she felt something hard press against the apex of her thighs. Her head spun at new and unexpected sensations engulfing her. She felt hot and achy, like she had fever. She tingled in places she never had before, wanting something so desperately, but she had no idea what it was.
Beau reached down to place her leg around his waist. She let him gratefully, wrapping the other leg around him as well. Oh, sweet heaven she was in need so badly she thought she would die of it. When he rocked the hard bulge between his legs against her privates she almost cried out in joy. Yes, oh Lord, yes! Just a little bit more!
“That’s it, baby. Feel how bad I want you,” he whispered, tearing his mouth away from hers.
Georgiana could do little more than whimper as he rocked against her ruthlessly. Her entire world felt like it was tilting, spinning out of control. She felt her body climbing higher and higher. She was sure she was about to die, but she didn’t want him to stop.
“Look at me Georgie,” Beau demanded harshly. “Let me see it, baby.”
See what, she didn’t know.
All of a sudden her body seized, tightening then exploding into pieces. Her mouth opened in a soundless scream as her eyes flew to his.
“Oh, God! Oh, my God,” she gasped, hanging on to him for dear life.
“Yeah, Georgie, baby. Just like that.”
He lips took hers once again, capturing the loud moans as she exploded again and again, each shockwave more intense than the last. Finally, after what seemed like hours, she gradually relaxed, closing her eyes in the warm afterglow.
She was not naïve enough to believe she had just given him her virginity, but she knew whatever he had done to her was damned close to going all the way. And she had loved every minute of it.
Beau let her slide to her feet, holding on to her as she caught her balance. This could not happen again. She had come within a hair of ruining any chance of a future outside running a backwoods juke joint. She wanted a family, a home, and some children. Being a white man’s mistress was not going to get any of that for her.
“Are you okay, Georgie?”
Snapping her attention back to the man in front of her, she nodded briskly.
“I-I don’t pretend to know what just happened, but Beau, it can never happen again.”
Beau’s eyes narrowed at her, his blue eyes turning dark and stormy. Georgina shivered, as if caught in an actual squall, but she couldn’t back down.
“I mean it, Beau. I plan to get married someday, and I can’t…let you have your way with me. What decent man would want me then?”
He was so quiet, so still, for a moment she was afraid of what he might do. Not that she thought he’d hurt her, but she knew she would be helpless to resist if he decided to force the issue. Closing her eyes, she willed with all her might that he would understand. After a few moments, she felt his hand caress her cheek.
“What man wouldn’t want you? Decent or otherwise,” he finally answered softly before turning and walking away.
Georgiana slumped against the wall as she watched him go. Nothing good can come of it, she kept reminding herself to keep from calling him back.
By the time her father returned, she had cleaned the tables, stacking the chair on top, swept the floor, and was just about finished washing the Mason jars they used for glasses. She didn’t look up as she heard him approach; she was sure he would see what she had done all over her face. Not that he would disapprove. She wasn’t exactly sure what her father would think.
“Saw the Dupuis boy, leavin’,” James informed her, like she didn’t
already know. “Looked to be in a sorry state.”
“Why is that?” she dared to ask without looking up. Her father saw far too much.
“‘Spect you would know better than most. Seems some gal got that boy’s nose wide open.”
Her eyes flew to her father’s face. He stood beside her calmly drying the glasses she had washed like it was any other night. Did he know what they had done? He gave no sign of being upset, but then, in her twenty years she had rarely seen her father upset.
“Daddy, why don’t you just go ahead on and say whatever it is you’re thinking?”
But she was afraid she knew already. He never thought too much of propriety. He lived his life as he saw fit. He never understood his daughter’s need to fit in. She was tired of being on the outside looking in. Was that really so bad?
“Ain’t saying nothing,” James replied evenly without pausing in his task. “Y’all will figure it out. Sooner rather than later to hear the boy tell it.”
Carefully folding the drying towel, James turned to leave. Just before he
made it to the side room where he slept, he paused and looked back. “You know, Georgie, sometimes the things we want ain’t always what we need. Living your life for others ain’t no way to be happy. How many of those people you think so much about are really happy, gal? You think about that long and hard before you go doing something you can’t take back.”
Georgiana watched him go, struggling to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. He hadn’t said anything that hadn’t been in the back of her subconscious, but it hurt to hear it. Her quest for respectability hurt him, she knew. She wished she could just make him understand. This wasn’t about rejecting him or anything he stood for. She was so very lonely. He gave her the very best he had, imparted what wisdom he could, but nothing could make up for the loneliness she felt in her very bones. She had never really had a friend, never really talked to much of anybody except the people that came to the juke. They were friendly to a point, but he couldn’t make up for her lack of friends her own age. Maybe her father just didn’t understand, but she needed to be close to someone other than her father.
*****
Beau leaned his head against his Convertible Cabriolet. He took in huge gulps of air trying to calm down enough to drive home. Every fiber of his being screamed for him to go back inside and finish what he started, but he wouldn’t do that. He had to give her time to adjust. He would make her his; tonight was just not the time. He forced the issue, she was liable to up and run away. It was going to be hard enough to court the obstinate woman; he didn’t want to have to chase her cross-country to do it.
He drove back to the plantation without really seeing where he was going. He hadn’t meant to scare Georgiana, but he knew he had. It drove him crazy the way she tried to ignore the pull between them. He couldn’t be in the same room with her without getting rock hard. Hell, it seemed his damn prick would only work when she was around. He hadn’t meant to touch her. He swore to himself he would take it slow. But that woman drove him out of his head.
He knew her objections. It wasn’t like they could run off to the nearest preacher and get married. There were laws against that. Nor was he planning on keeping her as a mistress. He would never disrespect her like that. If he were honest, he would have to admit he had no idea what he was planning on doing. He just knew he couldn’t see the rest of his life without Georgiana Mae Willard by his side. It would mean leaving Blakely, but he didn’t care.
For the last year, he had been unable to do little more than watch her from afar as she smiled sweetly and kept him and everyone else at arm’s length. That smile of hers never quite reached her eyes though. It broke his heart to see her look so lost and lonely. He wanted to beat the whole damn town to a bloody pulp about the way they treated her. The uppity church ladies who held their noses up in the air when she walked by weren’t fit to kiss her dainty little feet. His heart fell to pieces every time he saw the pain she tried so hard to hide when she thought no one was looking.
He was looking. He was always looking.
He would give anything to just once see a smile reach her eyes. To hear her laugh out loud like she didn’t have a care in the world. Life was hard enough without having to carry somebody else’s baggage. If only he could make her see that.
“Been out to that damn place again?”
Beau hadn’t noticed his father as he got out of his car and made his way up the wide steps to the house. The old man had been sitting in a rocker in the corner, smoking a cigarette. No doubt, he was just waiting to slink off to Ida’s. Either that or he had just slunk back home. Given it was still early, it was more likely he was going rather than coming.
“Yes, sir,” Beau replied hoping to get this over with. He was still sporting a raging hard on. He could still taste Georgie’s sweet tongue. One day soon, he would taste all of her. Just the thought made his eyes cross and a moan well up from his gut. He managed to swallow it before his father caught wind of the direction of his thoughts. The last thing he needed tonight was a lecture from the king of hypocrisy.
To Beau’s surprise, his father said nothing, nodding for him to enter the house. Before he could open the door, his father’s voice stopped him once more.
“You’re a man now, Beau. I expect you to act accordingly.”
His hands clinched the doorknob so hard his knuckles were white. Act accordingly? Like fucking the housekeeper while your wife was either drunk or passed out on laudanum? No matter how badly he wanted to say it out loud, he couldn’t. One didn’t call Branford Dupuis on his bullshit, no matter how deep it was. That, and all he wanted to do was go inside to bed.
“Saw James Willard’s gal in town the other day. No wonder you spend so much time out there in the woods. When you’re ready, I got a place on the far side of the property. We need someone to help Ida out anyway.”
Beau’s blood ran ice cold before heating to the point of boiling. He walked with leaden feet into the darkened interior of his parent’s home, closing the door softly behind him. His father’s words stabbed straight into his heart.
Was this the life he was bound and determined to bring to Georgie? Was he damning her to a life of some kind of sexual bondage? Bitter bile filled his mouth as he drug himself up the winding staircase to his room. That’s exactly what he was doing. And the bitch of it was, there wasn’t a soul who would try to stop him. She had tried to tell him that tonight, but he had refused to listen.
He was no better than his father.
“I won’t do it to her,” he declared to his empty bedroom.
There may have been no one but the ghosts of his ancestors to hear him, but it felt better to say it out loud.
“I will not sentence her to that kind of life.”
The cold, empty night air mocked him. Even as he said the words, he knew he was lying to himself.
Chapter Two
Sweat trickled down between the valley of Georgie’s breasts, making her itch unbearably. It may be well into September, but autumn showed no signs of making itself known. It wasn’t yet ten o’clock and the sun was beating down relentlessly. The muggy air weighed her down as she scrubbed the week’s laundry. Her father used to take it into town, but lately he had been hinting that maybe she would be more useful around the house rather than working in the juke. She had tried to do both, but it was just too damn wearing.
She knew what this was all about. Her father set out to make her do all the things she would be doing as a wife, thinking it would cure her of her desire to be married so badly. He wanted to show her what a life of dreary work, night and day, would be like. He had even talked about getting some chickens and maybe a cow for fresh milk.
To make matters worse, she had seen neither hide nor hair of Beau Dupuis for over three weeks. Not since that night…
Sighing, Georgie lifted the basket of wet clothes and lumbered to the recently hung clothesline. It was barely ten in morning, but the sun was pounding down unmercifully. She decided to do the laundry and various other chores in her slip and nothing else. There was no one around this early so it wasn’t like she was in any danger of being seen. It was one of the pluses of living out in the country away from almost everybody. The weather was far too heavy for many clothes. Her father was still in bed, sure to not be up until well after noon. Saturday nights were always wild and ruckus. She had helped out as much as she could, but she wasn’t able to stay awake very long. Just long enough to see Beau wasn’t going to be making an appearance.
Despite the thousand and one lectures she had given herself, she missed Beau like she missed a piece of herself. It made no sense because she really didn’t know him all that well, but she felt his absence around the club at night. She tried to get him out of her head, but he was last thing she saw before she drifted off to sleep, and he was the star attraction in her dreams. She was really beginning to regret trying to push him away, no matter how much she knew it was the best thing for her.
“It’s for the best,” she sighed to herself out loud. “Nothing good could ever come of it.”
“Come of what?”
Georgie almost jumped out of her skin. She didn’t have to turn around to see who had spoken. He may have snuck up on her, but he was sure as hell making himself known now. She couldn’t move even if she wanted to; and as he pressed his body against her back, she knew she didn’t want to. Her body melted back into his without thought.
“Were you thinking about me again, Georgie-mine?” Beau gave her a wicked smile; a smile that promised a trip straight to hell and guaranteeing she would enjoy the ride.
Georgie shivered at the soft words drawled in her ear, every bit as much as the strong arms brushing the underside of her breast as he reached up to help her pin the clothes to the line.
“I don’t think about you at all, Beau Dupuis.” The lie felt good to say, though she knew he probably wouldn’t swallow it.
Her voice was all breathless and needy, giving voice to things she dared not admit—even to herself. She was going to move away. Just one more minute.
“I thought about you, sweetheart.” He tugged on her ear gently with his teeth. “Every second of every day.”
She whimpered as his hands moved to caress her belly, his tongue snaking out to lick a bead of sweat traveling from her neck to her collarbone. She held on to the clothesline for dear life as she felt him moving behind her. His erection pushed against the soft cushions of her buttocks, rocking her softly.
“Beau, please!” she pleaded.
Already the tension was damn near unbearable and he hadn’t done much. Just the feel of his skin against her own, the heat of his body pressed so close to her. It was enough to make a girl want to cry.
The sultry breeze caressed her thighs as he pulled up her slip almost casually. One hand had moved up to lightly skim her chest, causing her to moan as she moved restlessly against him. She cried out when she felt one wondrously thick finger slide against her wetness.
“Oh, naughty little Georgie,” he rasped. “You’re not wearing any panties.”
She wanted to tell him it was only because it was so hot, but she couldn’t. His finger had begun to probe and pry at her unexplored sex, while his wicked thumb traced lingering circles around her exposed nubbin. The hand that had previously skimmed her breast so tentatively became aggressive, kneading and pinching first one and then the other, only to start all over again. She felt her eyes roll into the back of her head when one finger entered her, pressing inside, thrusting, seeking. Her breath came out in pants as she gave herself over to the mastery of his hands. Her skin was suddenly much too tight; everything within her threatened to burst free. One mighty thrust and he was hitting a spot she never knew existed. Colors swam before her eyes, her knees threatened to buckle.
“Oh, God, Beau I can’t…I can’t,” she panted, knowing her heart would give out at any minute.
“Yes, you can, sugar. Just let go. Let go for me.”
As if her body needed permission, she burst apart at his soft-spoken command. Birds flew startled from the trees at her sobbing cry.
Beau hurt. His cock pressed painfully against the crotch of his pants, threatening to burst the seams. His body pulsated with desperate need, a need to bury himself deep inside of her. He hadn’t meant to touch her. He had only wanted to see, her. To ensure himself that she was alright and far better off without him disturbing her peace. The sight of her looking so sad and alone had damn near made him cry. In his way of thinking, Georgie should never look forlorn or lonely. She should be wreathed in smiles, pampered, and catered to. He didn’t like to see her doing backbreaking labor.
He should have walked away. But when she had stood to hang the wash… He had moved to her before considering the implications. Before he knew it, his arms were around the one thing he wanted more than he had ever wanted anything before. She felt so unbelievably good in his arms. So right. Good intentions flew right out the window as soon as he heard her sigh of acceptance. Nothing on earth could be sweeter than the feel of her body melting into his own.
He needed this woman like he needed his next breath. He had tried to stay away. He had tried so hard to stay away. Tried with everything within him to just leave her alone and let her live her life. But the mere thought of her being with anyone else, smiling at anyone else, God help him, lying with anyone else, drove him to the brink.
“Come with me, Georgie,” he rasped desperately. “Please, come with me now.”
The slight nod of her head was all he needed before he swept her up into his arms, depositing her in his car before she could change her mind. He didn’t think as he drove as if the devil was after him. Perhaps he was. In the back of his mind, he knew what he was doing would change her life forever, but he just couldn’t let go. She may hate him for the rest of her life afterwards, but living the rest of his days never knowing, never touching just once, it was more than he was willing to do. He had to know. He had to touch, to taste, to feel.
Before he knew where he was going, he pulled up to the very house his father had pointedly mentioned in passing not so long ago. Funny, he didn’t feel quite so sick to his stomach anymore. Perhaps he was the one that was the hypocrite. The thought shocked him right out of the haze of need that had wrapped so tightly around him just a few seconds ago. His eyes traveled down the red clay road not really seeing much of anything.
“Georgie, I can take you back home right now if that’s what you want me to do,” Beau sighed, defeated.
It was the right thing to do. But he had known that before he brought her here. Hell, he had known that before ever driving out to her place. It was seeing this damn house, all recently white washed with the shutters painted dark green. The recent and obvious updates to the exterior made him wander just how long his father had been observing him. It wasn’t a shack, he’d give his father that much. Not a shotgun house either. There was a large kitchen, two bathrooms complete with indoor plumbing, three full-sized bedrooms, and even a walk-in pantry. All the windows had been replaced and cleaned. Beau didn’t doubt for a second that the interior would be fully furnished. The kitchen might even be stocked with food. He didn’t know who disgusted him the most at that moment; his father or himself.
“I don’t want to go back home, Beau.”
The soft declaration made him turn to face her. So perfect, with those liquid, brown eyes staring right through to his soul. Her smooth, dark skin set off the pristine white of the slip she was almost wearing. Damn, he hadn’t even thought to let her get dressed. Just snagged her up and drove pell-mell down the road. Anybody could have seen them. It was a true Godsend most folks were in church. Thank goodness they hadn’t had to pass one.
“Honey, you know what going into this house is gonna mean, don’t you?”
He had to ask. She needed to be sure. It wasn’t that long ago she declared she was aiming to get married, not play the whore for some spoiled white man. She hadn’t actually said that much, but the sentiment had been right there spelled out for him in black and white—literally.
Georgie sighed and looked away. Yes, she knew what it would mean. She also finally understood what her father had been trying to tell her without words. She could get married and settle down. Start a family. But she wouldn’t be happy, and she would never be considered “acceptable” to all those she had tried so desperately to appease. Her choices may not be many, but they were stark. If she wanted to stay here in the only place she had ever called home, there were only three options. She could die a spinster, living with her father and carrying on his business after he was gone, she could marry some sharecropper, field hand, or blues singer—nobody else would have her given her family history—or she could find a man like Beau.
Had she not been so powerfully attracted to him, there would be no choice to make. She would marry the first man who asked just so she wouldn’t be alone. It was rolling the dice and the odds weren’t in her favor, but she knew she would do it.
But she was attracted to Beau. She felt his loneliness, his need, as deeply as she did her own. She didn’t know if it was going to work. She didn’t know if she even wanted it to. She did know she wanted this right now. Tomorrow wasn’t promised to anyone, she wanted take what joy she could find right now.
“I know what it means, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t care, but I have never wanted anything more than you right now.”
No sooner than the words left her mouth, Beau was out of the car, yanking the passenger’s side door open, and hauling her into the house. He didn’t break stride until they were in the front bedroom and he was placing her in the center of the raised, four-poster oak bed.
“Tell me it’s alright, Georgie,” Beau murmured as he buried his head between her breasts. “Tell me you won’t hate me for this later.”
Georgie couldn’t tell him anything at all; she was holding her breath as one big callus roughened hand slid up the side of her leg, taking her slip with it. The lips that made her drunk with burning need placed biting kisses along her collarbone, moving upward like he had all the time in the world. She wanted those lips on hers, if just to help her get some air. She felt the same burning ache he had ignited the night at the juke when he pinned her against the wall. It started in the pit of her belly, spreading like a July wildfire straight to her very core, making her panties grow damp and her nipples pebble. What was he doing to her?
“Lift up a sec, sweetheart,” Beau murmured against her ear, pulling her up and sliding the slip over her head in one fluid motion.
He was kneeling over her, looking down as she flopped back on the soft mattress, his blues eyes darkening until they almost looked black. Georgie brought her arms up to cross her chest in a moment of shy embarrassment. No one had ever seen her naked, not since she was a small child. Beau captured her wrists, bringing them over her head so he could look his fill. She was too conscious of the plain, white, cotton underwear she had on. He was probably used to silks and satins, commodities George couldn’t even dream about owning.
“Damn, Georgie-girl, you are beautiful!”
Her eyes snapped up to his at the soft exclamation. She was passably pretty she supposed, but beautiful? No one had ever called her such before. And the way he was looking at her now; how could such a fierce look make her feel so wanted?
When he covered her body with his own, she opened her arms with no resistance. If she lived a thousand years, she knew she would never find another human being on earth that made her feel the way Beau was making her feel right now. So wanted, so desirable. His acceptance was complete, without reservation. She almost cried from the sense of completeness.
His clothes were rough against her soft skin, but she didn’t care. She loved the contrast rubbing against her, heightening every sensation. Her legs opened of their own accord, allowing him to settle against her questing mound. He rocked against her in leisurely strokes, his mouth traveling to seize one sensitive nipple after another. He was relentless, suckling, nipping, licking. Georgie gasped as tension built unbearably at her center, like water skins about to burst. It was so much more than the night at her father’s juke, yet it wasn’t enough.
“Beau, please,” she gasped, not sure she wanted to experience what she knew was just over the horizon.
“It’s okay, baby,” he soothed, never pausing in his worship of her breasts. “Just relax and let go.”
As if her body merely waited for his permission, she flew apart, crying out softly as she rode the tidal wave of her orgasm. She was unaware Beau had moved until she felt a slight breeze against the bare flesh of her vagina. Before she had a chance to protest, she felt something warm, wet and entirely too wickedly delicious take a languid stroke. She wanted to protest, but her words caught in her throat, making her unable to do anything more than struggle for breath and clutch hopelessly at his head.
Beau had died and gone to heaven. Georgie was the perfect combination of innocent and wanton; her responses so open and honest. He loved the way her skin heated at his touch, the way she gasped into his mouth as he gently stroked her. And, God, her taste! The sweetest Georgia peach never tasted as fresh or so sweet. He couldn’t get enough. He lapped, slurped, and prodded, drinking every drop. He drove her over the edge again and again, somehow managing to rid himself of the confining clothes in his way.
He had to feel her against his bare skin. He needed to be inside this woman more than he had ever needed anything. He didn’t understand this urgency driving him, but he knew he had to brand her, to make her his irrevocably, forever. He waited as long as he could, his engorged cock throbbing painfully, as if it were begging for the one thing they knew it needed.
Georgie. His Georgie.
After bringing her over one last time, he trailed kisses against her velvety soft chestnut skin. The contrast between her mysterious darkness and his light tan drove him wild. It was beyond beautiful, it was the most erotic thing he had ever seen. Gathering her legs around his waist, he kissed her deeply, sharing her exquisite taste with her, loving how she opened without pause, not turning her head or keeping her lips tightly closed, but accepted his tongue without demur.
“Open your eyes, Georgie,” he commanded, poised right where he needed to be.
As soon as she complied, he thrust inside her to the hilt, catching her gasp of pain in a devouring kiss.
Georgie had not been expecting the burning, tearing pain as Beau surged inside her. She tried to buck his body off of her, but he wouldn’t be moved.
“Shhh, sweetheart, just relax,” he soothed, raining tiny kisses all over her face. “I promise, baby, just relax. I’ll make it good for you, I promise.”
She didn’t believe him, but as she took hold of her body, she noticed that the pain was receding. In its place, she felt an overwhelming sense of fullness. In fact, she could feel herself moistening as the burning turned into something else, an intense itch, and a yearning that she couldn't control. Georgie squirmed and moved her hips, exploring the delicious sensation.
The exquisite friction was incredible! Each parry and thrust seemed to stroke some inner fire higher and higher. She found herself moving with him, following his movements so as not to lose that excruciatingly heady feeling. She needed him closer, deeper. She couldn’t get close enough!
“Beau, please!”
She had no idea what she was begging for, but she knew she needed something, and she needed him to give it to her.
Beau’s unhurried, measured strokes intensified, increasing in force and coming faster. He had to grit his teeth in supreme effort not to blow. Lord, she was so amazingly tight, so wonderfully wet! He was determined to bring her with him, but he wasn’t sure how long he could hang on. Rising to his knees without missing a stroke, he reached between their joined bodies, messaging her exposed clit.
Georgie screamed, her back arching completely off the bed as her body convulsed. Bright lights danced in front of her eyes as she fell completely apart.
“Fuck!” Beau growled.
As she came, her pussy gripped him in a velvet vice, milking his seed as he emptied himself into her womb. He had never come so hard in his life. Unable to move, his body slumped to the bed, taking Georgie with him. He didn’t want to leave her warm cocoon, not yet, so he maneuvered them so she could lie on top without him withdrawing.
He had been far rougher than he intended. This was her first time; he had planned on taking it slow and easy. Instead, he had rutted like a dog in heat, not giving any thought to her virginal state. He felt like shit and more than just a little afraid he was going to frighten her off. He had to make it up to her somehow.
“Georgie?”
A soft little snore was his only reply. Georgie had fallen fast asleep.
Chapter Three
“Lord, what have I done?” Georgie watched Beau’s car fade in a cloud of dust down the dirt road. She waited for the guilt and the regret to swamp her, she was almost wishing for it. There was none. The rational part of her knew she had probably just destroyed any thought of a decent marriage. She was no longer a virgin. How would she possibly explain that one? Still, she didn’t feel even a twinge of shame. She felt like she’d been pleasured well and maybe even a little bit treasured. And no one knew yet. Her father, yes, but no one else had a clue where she had spent her night. “I have to get out of here.” Staying couldn’t be an option. She needed to get back to a world she understood. It was far too tempting to stay here and let Beau take care of her. What would that make her then?
Within ten minutes, she was dressed and trudging down the long, dirt road back to her father’s house. Many hours later, she knew she had made a very painful mistake. By the time she finally made it to her father’s house and club, she knew she had developed quite a few blisters. To make matters worse, she couldn’t find her clothes, so she had to wear what she could find—a pair of Beau’s old dungarees and one of his shirts. The pants were so big, she had to use one of his ties to keep them from falling off her hips. On her feet was a pair of his old work boots with no socks. By the time she trudged into the yard her feet were screaming in pain. She was sure her feet were damned near covered with blisters, and damned if they didn’t hurt like a son-of-a-bitch.
Cursing her own foolishness in thinking she could walk the many miles between the Dupuis spread all the way to her father’s house, she made her way around to the back of the house. How many miles she had walked she couldn’t say. Although it had been midmorning when she left, it was fast approaching dusk. Customers would be arriving soon. She had no idea if she would be able to work much tonight, probably not, but she was going to give it a try. It would at least take her mind off of what she had just walked away from.
“Georgiana! What are you doing here?”
She
was snapped out of her mental griping by the irritated voice of her
father. She had been so intent on making it to the pump to get some
relief for her aching feet she hadn’t noticed him standing on the
back porch. She had wondered what she would say to him about where
she’d been all day and night, but then, sounded like he already
knew. What was she doing here? This was her home!
Then she noticed the trunk hefted over her father’s shoulders. Her trunk. Or Beau standing right behind him with two new looking suitcases. Or Beau’s car that looked to be packed to the gills. Yeah, her father knew where she had been alright. And apparently, he was none too concerned.
“I thought I lived here, Daddy.” She had to fight to keep her voice level, but she couldn’t keep the hurt, betrayed look at bay. How could he do this to her? She was his daughter! Yet, here he was, throwing her to the first rich white man that came along. She knew she was being grossly unfair. Beau was hardly the first rich white man that had offered money for a “little time” with his daughter. She knew that. Juke joints were notorious for attracting the idle rich who wanted to walk on the other side of the tracks for a while.
But he had always managed to keep her away from all that. Why was he suddenly so willing to throw her to Beau now? Was she suddenly no better than a common whore to him?
Determined not to be kowtowed by the two men looking at her so intently, she started toward the pump as if they weren’t moving all her belongs out of the only home she had ever known. She didn’t want to think about bullheaded men who thought they knew what was best for her. They would not turn her into a kept woman, the one thing she had no desire to be.
Her father made his way down the porch stairs, put her trunk in Beau’s car, then walked slowly back in the house. He didn’t say a word. Georgie felt her throat clog with tears. Was he so interested in sending her away that he would not even say goodbye? Had she been that much of a burden?
She followed him, unwilling to just be kicked out of her home without an explanation, without a goodbye. Maybe he was upset she had left yesterday and not come back. She had left the laundry in the basket in the yard without a second thought. She did note the basket as well as the clothes that she had hung was no longer there. He had to know she had just walked off and left the things he had told her to do undone.
“Daddy?”
James Willard
sat at the worn, scared oak table in the tiny kitchen, head in his hands. He tensed as she approached but didn’t look up.
“Daddy, I’m…I didn’t mean to…” Damn. What could she say? She had willingly gone off with a white man and stayed all night. There was no excuse for that. There was nothing she could say to make it better. “You can’t even look at me?” Tears she had tried to swallow flowed freely down her cheeks as she tried to will her father to look up at her. She was a disgrace; yet, there was no shame in what she had done even now. Only pain knowing she had failed her father. And if she had to do it all over again, she would probably do the same exact thing. Oh she was going to hell on the express train. “I’m sorry.”
At her broken, whispered apology, her father finally lifted his head. There were no tears, though his eyes were as red a man on a weeklong drunk.
“Ain’t nothing to be sorry for, Georgie. You go n now. Ain’t no place for you here.”
She felt the breath freeze in her lungs. No place for her? In a juke joint? Because she had fallen just once, she had to leave? It wasn’t as if her father was a paragon of virtue. Anguish warred with anger as she just stared at her father.
“No place for me? You would throw me away because I…Because I made one mistake?” He was still there, waiting silently at the door. She didn’t have to look behind her to know he was there, she could feel his eyes on her. What was more, she could feel his anxiety. She couldn’t be bothered with trying to sooth him now; in truth she shouldn’t have cared. He had gotten what he wanted. Now apparently he was about to get a whole lot more. This was not what she wanted. She felt the cell door of her life closing in on her, and she wasn't sure she was strong enough to face it. “Daddy?”
Tired brown eyes rose and looked at her so sadly she wanted to sink through the floor. Why had she gone with Beau yesterday? She could have told him to stop, she could’ve said no. It was too late to go back now. She tried to swallow the tears, but they kept on flowing. Her father’s heart was broken. She could see it. And she knew she had done this, and there was nothing she could do to make it better.
“Don’t you dare go on blaming yourself for this girl, you hear me?” James Willard’s voice might have sounded harsh, but his face told a far different story. “Georgie, girl you ain’t never had too many choices, not matter what you might’ve dreamed up in that head of yours. This is for the best. That boy can take care of you better than most.” He sighed, shaking his head as if he had committed some great crime. Georgie wanted to scream for him to stop, that it was her fault. Nothing came out though as her father went on. “I had choices too, and maybe I should’ve made better ones. I threw your future away because I was selfish. Didn’t want to dance to nobody else’s music. I drug you down, Georgie. No decent man would’ve ever married you, and I couldn’t’ve protected you after too much longer. Go. Be safe. Live your life for you, girl, and stop worrying about busy bodies and hypocrites. He’ll take care of you. I wouldn’t never let you leave if I didn’t know for sure. Go on now, before people come nosing around.”
Georgie couldn’t move. Why was he saying these things to her? Why didn’t her father want her anymore? Wasn’t a father supposed to love his children no matter what they did? He hadn’t been married to her mother, yet he had never looked at another woman as far as Georgie knew. So why would he punish her like this for one stupid, stupid mistake?
She was being pulled out of the place she had always known as home, unable to fight it.
“Georgie?”
Damn it all to hell! That voice! Lord, but would she ever stop being affected by that voice? All sweet and slow, even despite her anguish it set her heart racing. Already she felt herself getting all wet and needy.
“Baby, look at me.”
That she could not do. Those fathomless baby blues could drown a woman. Her eyes darted everywhere about the dirt yard, everywhere but at him. He held her from behind like she was going to get away; he seemed fond of doing that, not stopping until her body was flush against his front. Where would she run? She had no place else to go. She wasn’t even a little surprised by the bulge pressing against her back. God and the angels help her, but she wasn’t able to break away. The smell of him, all masculine and delicious surrounded her, making her knees a little weak. She hurt so bad, but she melded into him seeking solace. The cause of her downfall, her great mistake, and she was helpless but to lean on him. He would try to take the pain away. That’s just who Beau was.
Despite being hungry, thirsty, and tired beyond reason, her senses sprang to life as soon as his big body surrounded hers. The man inspired all kinds of needs deep in her belly that didn’t have a dang thing to do with the fact she hadn’t had a bite to eat all day. Even as her heart, bruised and battered, ached to crawl back home, she wanted to crawl into this man’s arms, bury herself into his side and never look up. Did that make her wicked? A wanton of the worst sort? Who the hell was she?
“Come on, Georgie, honey. Talk to me.”
Despite her resolve, despite knowing this way lead nowhere but heartbreak and a life of pain, she melted in his arms. Her eyes drifted shut, her head leaning over ever so slightly to give him access to her neck. Lord, but his lips felt so good there. Who else in the world could make something so wrong feel so right? She was going to burn alright, Beau being the fuel and the fire.
“Let me take you home, baby. Please?”
She was no fool. That was no question. She moaned as he lightly bit her ear, nibbling the lobe just a little. His arms tightened around her, his hands rubbing her stomach, her arms. He didn’t touch her inappropriately, maybe because her father was so close by, maybe not to scare her away. Despite her continued silence, she knew, too, she was telling him yes. Tears she had been holding back by sheer force of will fell silently down her cheeks. A small nod was all he seemed to need. He swept her up in his arms to take her away.
This was not her home anymore. Whatever her father’s reasons, he had made it clear he found Beau acceptable to take her away. Maybe because he knew Beau would never hurt her intentionally. James Willard had known Beau all the younger man’s life. There was no point in being mad at him. He loved her, raised her the best he could all alone. Many women had tried to “reform him for the sake of his child,” but from the very beginning, it had been the two of them against the world. He’d never mistreated her or allowed anyone else to do so.
Realistically, Georgie knew her father was between a rock and a hard place. She was not too blind she didn’t see the looks from the less than savory characters that came here night after night. She heard the whispered comments about her body, about what they would like to do to that body. As much as she held out hope for an offer of marriage from a good, decent man, the ribald remarks around her had increased with each passing year. If a group of men decided not to wait for her or her father’s permission…she shivered at the possibility.
Beau arranged her carefully on the passenger seat before closing the door and fairly running to get in himself. He didn’t show it, but Georgie could tell he was angry. His body radiated with it, but he never raised his voice.
Whereas before she had been silent because she just felt like being ornery over drastic changes in her life she could do nothing about, now she was just a touch scared. Was he mad at her for leaving? She watched a telltale tick in his chiseled jaw as he drove. What would he do or say when they got back to the cozy house that would be as much a heaven as a hell? Her own agitation increased the closer they came to the Dupuis property. By the time they drove up to her new home she was almost in a panic.