Sleeping with the Beast: an Adult Paranormal Shifter Romance (The Conduit Series Book 2)

by Conner Kressley

  I was as bored as a fashion major at Harvard when Abram finally said something that grabbed my attention.

  “Your country has a rich heritage. It’s home to a very popular fable, is it not?”

  King Archibald leaned forward in his chair. “And what fable might that be?”

  “Sleeping Beauty,” I answered as quickly as the words left his mouth.

  He was obviously playing coy and, given that at any moment another person might throw themselves off a cliff because of what was going on, we didn’t have time for that. But no sooner had I spoken the words than I remembered I was supposed to just be sitting here as a piece of eye candy.

  Only speak when spoken to.

  But I’d spent decades speaking freely, and this was not an easy habit to change over dinner. The king, unfortunately, did not miss my blunder.

  “Silence,” he growled. “Men are talking.”

  And suddenly it was no longer about habit. I just didn’t give a fuck anymore. “You—”

  “Quiet, Charisse!” Abram shouted.

  Though part of me knew this was an act, the tone of his voice took me aback.

  Every fiber of my being begged me not to, but I leaned back in my chair and stayed silent anyway.

  “I apologize,” Abram said to the king. “Though she was horribly out of line, my traveling companion was correct. Sleeping Beauty was the fable I was speaking of. Legend has it the entire thing took place in the island’s original castle.”

  The room got quiet. Too quiet. And I wasn’t about to volunteer to change that again. Instead, I peeked up at the king, who was definitely too intent on Abram to notice me now.

  King Archibald’s face remained as empty as a closet on “What Not To Wear” pre-shopping spree. Finally, a smile spread across the man’s face.

  “The whole thing?” He raised his eyebrows. “You mean with magic and dragons and sleeping curses. Surely you jest. You’re a grown man, and soon to be a ruler, no less. Certainly you don’t believe in childish things like spells, and witches, and Suppli—”

  He cleared his throat and drowned the rest of the word in a swig of wine. And that was about when I lost my cool completely. I was done with this. Either he was going to give us answers, or we were going to have to get them another way.

  “What were you about to say?” I asked, standing up.

  I knew the answer, of course. And he knew that I knew. Supplicants weren’t in the fable. If anyone outside of the “know” was even aware of what the word meant, then I would salt this horrifically uncomfortable dress and eat it. King Archibald had tipped his hand, and I wasn’t about to let him get away with it.

  I unfastened the satiny tie from my wrists, which hadn’t been tied on very well to begin with, and threw it on the table.

  “Go on,” I goaded him, crossing my arms and cocking my hip. “Continue, please. We’re all dying to hear what you have to say.”

  He stood to meet me. “Silence yourself!”

  “I will not!” I answered with equal fervor. I’d had enough of this, of his lies and his attitude. We were too far along to turn back. He had given us an opening, and I was about to tear it in half. “Tell me what you were saying!”

  King Archibald slammed his hand against the table. Looking to Abram, his eyes went wide and his nostrils flared. “I will not be addressed in this manner! Not by a woman or anyone else!” His hand slammed flush against the table again. “You will control her, or I will control you both!”

  I opened my mouth to speak again, but Abram stood, pulled me toward him, and sat back down. My head was spinning as he bent me over his knee. My body tensed, and my eyes met the floor. I was about to ask him what on Earth he was doing when his hand met flush with my rear end. The sting of it vibrated through me. It wasn’t hard, and God knew it didn’t hurt. But he was spanking me.

  Abram was spanking me.

  He pinned my hands against the small of my back and tapped me again, his hand cupping my ass with each stinging smack. It sounded like he was hitting me harder than he was. I felt his hand against my body, firm and in control. Suddenly, I thought about the woman in the other room—tied up, clamped, and loving it.

  Something lit up inside of me as he swatted me again. Something hot and confusing that I desperately wanted to deny. With each slap, by body rocked forward in his lap, and a rush ran through me…through to places that made my face burn hot with a blush I hoped no one else could see. I felt like the woman in that room…but unlike her, I found it embarrassing.

  The following slaps came a little harder and faster, perhaps under the scrutiny of the king, or perhaps because Abram could feel the heat radiating off my body into his lap.

  My breaths came quick and shallow. My hands tightened, still pinned, leaving me feeling helpless. But helpless to Abram was a glorious, arousing thing. And apparently not just for me. I could feel his shaft stiffen beneath me. Against my will, a moan—much like the one I heard in the room down the hall—escaped my lips.

  Abram pulled me up. His face was red and his mouth was set.

  Looking at him, much of the rush that had washed over me began to fade. It was replaced by shame and anger and confusion. My expression probably spoke of every question, every fear, every sense of betrayal. But I couldn’t speak. I was too hurt.

  “Just go, Charisse,” he said breathlessly and through clenched teeth. “Go to our chambers at once. I will finish with you when I’m done here.”

  My whole self shut down at the thought of leaving the emotional safety of his presence. I needed him right then. I couldn’t be alone, not now. Not feeling like this.

  “Abram, please,” I started, but his mouth pressed into a firm line.

  “Now, Charisse,” he said. “Don’t make me say it again.”

  Chapter 8

  Before I could fully process what had happened, I was escorted back to our sleeping quarters. My whole body was on fire in more ways than one. Hurt, anger, embarrassment—each emotion coursed through me. Abram had betrayed me. And worse, my body had betrayed me, too, sending currents of arousal I could not understand through every nerve cell in my body.

  I paced the room, my heart thundering in my chest, my hands shaking, my mind swimming—or maybe more like drowning—in the swirl of confusion. I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t bear the thought of facing him after that, and yet I burned for him to walk through that door. For more reasons than one.

  When finally he did arrive , all I could do was stand frozen, staring at his back as he closed the door and rested his forehead against the old wood.

  He sighed, shaking his head. “Charisse—”

  “How could you?” The words left me like a whisper. Tears stung my eyes.

  Abram turned toward me, and the look on his face made me take a step back. I couldn’t tell if he was sorry or angry.

  “How could I?” he asked. “How could you make me? How could you not control yourself with everything at stake?”

  “I thought—”

  “I know what you thought. But you were wrong. I asked you to trust me, and clearly you don’t.”

  “So you hit me?”

  “I spanked you,” he said evenly. “Because if I didn’t, he would have.”

  “And what? You would be powerless to stop him?”

  He crossed the room and cupped his hands firmly on the sides of my shoulders. “Is that what you think?” he asked, searching my eyes. “That because I am not a beast right now, that I am weak?”

  I opened my mouth, but no words came out. There were no words. No words that would be right for me to say.

  “Charisse, if I felt for a second you were in any real danger, we would leave. Forget this island and anyone who jumps from that damned cliff.”

  “You can’t say that,” I said, shaking my head. “We have to be here.”

  “We should be here, but we don’t have to be here. There’s always a choice. Tonight, you were in no real danger. Not across my lap nor across his. But the idea
of him…laying a hand on you at all…I would not have been able to control myself. I did what I had to do.”

  I attempted to steel myself before I spoke again, but I trembled instead. “You enjoyed it, Abram. I felt you.”

  His nostrils flared. “I felt you, too,” he said, his voice thicker than before. “And had we not had such an audience, I would have given you a satisfying ending.”

  I raised an eyebrow, my mind rapid-firing through images of all the ways Abram could satisfy me. I was trying to hold onto that anger, that repulsion at his actions. But with him standing there, the moonlight casting shadows on his face that made him all at once intimidating and exotic, I could not stay mad.

  “Now what?” I whispered.

  His grip on my shoulders lightened, and his hands slipped a little down my arms. “You’re either going to love it, or you’re going to hate it.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Love or hate what?”

  “The king thought I was too easy on you.”

  I could not stop the horror from pulling on my face. “You can’t be serious. What business is it of his?”

  “It’s not,” he said, “but we can’t have him thinking I am weak. He will never create an allegiance with my kingdom if he believes we are soft.”

  “You do realize you aren’t really a prince and no kingdom is reinstating, right?”

  Abram gave me a flat look. “Of course I know that, Charisse. But he doesn’t know that, and we need to keep up the charade if we don’t want him to grow suspicious. Again. We didn’t exactly start off on the best foot.”

  I nodded. “Right. So what do we do? You want me to be on my best behavior?”

  “I wanted that before,” he said, glaring at me. “For right now, we’re going to have to put on a show.”

  “A show?”

  “Do you hear that?” Abram pressed his lips together, and I held my breath. Footsteps shuffled down the hallway. “That’s him coming to have a listen. He’s looking for part two of your punishment, Charisse. You’ll have to help me orchestrate something to appease him.”

  The idea of that was all at once terrifying and disgusting. The king listening in on us? Gross! But somewhere deeper inside, I didn’t care. He would be a creep no matter what Abram and I did. And now that my anger had subsided, there was only one feeling left to contend with—the burning arousal sending shocks of need through my body.

  “How do we pull it off, then?”

  “You’ll have to pretend I’m punishing you. Cry out, or something.”

  I placed my hand on Abram’s chest and pressed in closer to his body. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, my prince,” I said. “I’m a terrible actress.”

  I peered up at him through my eyelashes, and his fiery gaze lingered hungrily on my own. “You don’t know what you’re asking me to do, Ms. Bellamy.”

  My heart skipped a beat the way it always did when he called me that, and I tilted my head to the side. “Isn’t that half the fun?”

  “You’re a terribly bad girl,” he said, and he leaned down to brush his lips against mine. That kiss traveled through my body like wildfire. He leaned over and whispered in my ear. “You need to let me know if I hurt you, really hurt you.”

  “But he’ll be listening,” I whispered. “I think he’s there now.”

  “I know,” Abram said just as quietly. “Call out ‘my prince’ and I will stop. That shouldn’t sound too out of line here.”

  A small rush spread through me, and I nodded. My body was trembling again. Part of me knew we had to do this, and a bigger part of me wanted to, but I was so nervous. I’d never done any kind of role-play in the bedroom before, and certainly not anything like this.

  Abram slid my dress first from my shoulders, then peeled the sleeves down my arms. My breasts broke free, and he paused to graze his palm over them and kiss me.

  “You’ll do fine,” he said. “Relax. It’s easier if you aren’t tense.”

  He took my dress the rest of the way off but left on my underwear. He turned me to face the bed.

  “Put your hands on the mattress, Princess.”

  His voice was more commanding now, and loud enough to be overheard, but there was an ease to it. It didn’t seem forced, and I think that was the part about this that kept getting to me. Every time he was “acting,” it seemed so natural.

  I did as I was told. I had a feeling I shouldn’t do any talking since that was what I was in “trouble” for in the first place.

  Abram came around to my side and fastened a strap to one of the posts at the foot of the bed. Then he passed the strap under my hips and fastened it to the other side. I had to use my hands to balance, as the height of the strap now stretched between the two bedposts had lifted me onto my toes.

  “What are you doing?” I whispered. My stomach fluttered, and my body would not stop trembling.

  He leaned forward to whisper back in my ear. “Keeping it interesting, Ms. Bellamy,” he said. “Need I remind you you’re not supposed to talk?”

  I tried to suppress a giggle, but it didn’t work.

  “You won’t be laughing in a few minutes,” Abram said sternly.

  For some reason this made me giggle more.

  As he tied a ribbon around one of my wrists, he added, “Unfortunately for you, I’m much better at this than the servant who tied you at dinner.”

  He fastened the other end of the ribbon to the bedpost, closer to the mattress. He repeated the same on my other wrist, leaving me so that I was nearly folded in half, with my head resting on its side on the soft pillowtop. Then he slipped off my underwear and did the same to my feet, tying them to the bedposts, but closer to the floor. He left just enough length in the ties to keep me comfortable but short enough to spread my legs wide apart.

  Abram stood behind me and traced a finger down my spine. “You’re beautiful,” he muttered.”

  His finger slowed at the small of my back and stopped when he reached the cleft between my cheeks. Being naked and on display like this made me hyper-aware and hyper-aroused all at once. Abram and I had had our fair share of sexcapades since getting together, but there were still parts of me he hadn’t seen. Until now.

  I still wasn’t sure how I felt about being tied up, but there was something about not being in control of the moment that was oddly freeing. I didn’t have to worry about being a “strong woman” or proving myself as an equal. What was going to happen was going to happen, and all the pressure was off of me to fight it. Having a code phrase to let him know when it was too much didn’t hurt, though. Abram always knew how to make me feel safe.

  While I was busy pondering how red my ass was from the earlier spanking, Abram replaced his finger with something cool and smooth. It shocked me out of my thoughts, and my heart raced as the small object slipped a little lower, trailing dangerously close to the part of my body I didn’t think I would ever share with anyone. I thought for sure he would stop, but he didn’t. He just kept going until he reached his target.

  I hadn’t ever used one before, but I could guess what it was—a butt plug. One of the least sexy names for a sex toy ever. He couldn’t actually be trying to use one on me!

  He nudged me with the object, and I was horrified to discover that it aroused me just as much as it made me uncomfortable. This was not the over-the-knee spanking I was expecting, and I was starting to get nervous. Nervous and hot. My body squirmed, and my cheeks flared with embarrassment, but some small part of me anticipated what he might do next, hoped for it, yearned for it.

  He leaned down to whisper in my ear again. “If you trust me, Ms. Bellamy, you might find my protection and devotion to you are only a small part of what I have to offer.”

  I knew he was right. Whatever tonight held—whatever the future held—Abram only ever wanted to please me. And this wasn’t the first time he’d proven he knew my body better than I knew it myself.

  He pulled the object away and let out a small sigh. “Unfortunately, I think this could be more of a r
eward for you…and I’m trying to teach you a lesson.” Then he whispered low-enough to evade the king’s ears, “I’m trying to teach you to trust me. Do you trust me?”

  If I didn’t before, I did now. It’d only taken him a few minutes of me tied up for him to prove that even the things I feared could make me feel amazing. So it was with that in mind I nodded, letting him know I did, in fact, trust him. Oddly enough, he’d managed to prove that with a butt plug. Perhaps I should’ve been questioning my sanity more so than my trust in him.

  Abram left my side and returned a few moments later to set some items on the bed. A paddle, a belt-like strap, and what looked like a long stick. Yikes. My throat went dry, but the rest of my body seemed to be having the opposite reaction.

  “Now that we have that out of the way, which do you fear the most?” he asked. This was loud enough that anyone outside the room would have heard, and I wanted to tell him I hadn’t signed up for this game, but there was no way to tell him that with him standing so far away. At least I still had our code word.

  I assessed the items. I figured the paddle wouldn’t be so bad. Didn’t they used to hit school kids with those? The stick looked flimsy. In the end, I figured the belt would probably be the worst. That’s what they used in most movies when trying to make someone look like they were abusing their wife or kids.

  “I asked you a question, Princess,” he said sternly. “Which do you fear the most?”

  “The belt,” I mumbled.

  He leaned over me to take it and whispered in my ear, “You shouldn’t.”

  After he stepped back again, he snapped the belt, and I flinched at the sound. “Your behavior at dinner tonight was unforgivable. You will learn to serve in the manner in which you were promised to me.”

  With those words, the belt slapped at my buttocks, loud enough to make a cracking sound and painful enough to lift me even farther onto my toes. The belt stung hot and sent vibrations through my body that created an unexplainable aching between my legs.