Beauty of the Beast (Fairy Tale Retellings Book 1)
Page 34
Then he felt a gentle touch upon his shoulder—one that seduced him from his thoughts and back into the present moment. He gazed at Isabelle’s expression, fascinated by how the moonlight bathed her features and brightened the sparkle in her velvety eyes. She embraced him, enfolding his body in her slender arms. Adam melted against her and inhaled the intoxicating scents of her hair and skin.
“This is always my favorite moment,” he whispered against the shell of her ear. She shivered in his arms, shutting her eyes as a low moan fled her lips. Her reaction set his blood on fire. Mon Dieu, he often made her climax with only his voice. “When the world falls asleep, and it’s only us. Nothing brings me more happiness or contentment than simply holding you in my arms.” He nibbled on her earlobe, then skimmed him lips across the back of her neck. “Speak my name, Isabelle.”
“Adam Delacroix,” she said, releasing the words on a long sigh.
“Again.”
“Adam Delacroix.” All the while, he tracked his lips across her neck in a hot, wet slide of desire.
“Again.”
“My Adam Delacroix…”
Adam wheeled her slender body around to face him. Instantly he lost himself within her beauty. Dark hair cascaded over her curves, framing them with the elegance of a dark mantle. A natural flush brightened her porcelain cheeks, and her gaze ignited with an unmistakable passion. Her night rail was a delicate crème color, set off with intricate lace and charming detail. Small-flowered swags decorated the flowing neckline. The luxurious train flowed behind her, spilling across the balcony’s floor like a queen’s regal gown. Emotion pressed hard on his chest, preventing him from speaking.
So he spoke with his touch.
He latched on to her waist, unable to suppress his burning desire, and spun her round full circle. Her body jolted against the banister, wedged between the stone railing and his abdomen. She returned his hunger and knotted both arms around his neck.
Their lips came together, sensually moving in flawless synchronization. It was an age-old song—one they’d both mastered over the past seven years. He murmured low in his throat while her fingertips frantically worked at his coat buttons. Her resounding moan echoed off the stone walls as he undid the ties of her night rail and shoved the fabric aside in an urgent movement.
With labored breaths, he skimmed his lips across her throat and deftly urged the night rail to the floor, revealing her breasts to his mouth. Moonlight danced across the creamy flesh and pink nipples, kindling his inner fire. He skimmed his lips over each one, drawing a soul-deep moan from her throat. Her eyes fell shut again, and she fisted a hand in his hair, gently urging his mouth against her breast.
His tongue sought her nipple, swirled around the bundle of nerves, and then sucked it into his mouth. Her fingers found his arousal and traced his size through the trousers. Chords of pleasure sang through his body. His hand kneaded her opposite breast, caressing and fondling—cupping the delectable weight in his scarred palm.
Thumb and forefinger rolled over her dusty, veiled nipple, urging it into submission. She obeyed with a moan as the sensitive bud tightened under his shifting palm. His lips detached from her nipple and sought the center of her throat. He felt her pulse quicken under the slick pressure of his mouth, hurdling to life as his lips traced her collarbone.
His body grew harder than stone, and every one of his nerve endings caught fire. Isabelle twisted her fingertips in the thick waves of his hair and pulled him from her neck. Their lips worked in unison, as if they were each attempting to consume the other’s spirit. She jerked her head back again, placing a few centimeters of space between their bruised lips. Then she stared straight into his eyes and caressed the disfigured half of his face. Groaning deeply, emotions crashing within, he dipped into her touch, and a ragged breath pierced the air.
She leaned forward as her fingers slid down his coat in urgent perusal.
“Touch me, Isabelle. Put your fingers on me… around me.” At the gruff, commanding note in his voice, he felt a trill of anticipation surge through her body.
Reaching into the high waistline, she dove inside his trousers and claimed him. A husky groan erupted from his throat and echoed in the darkness. His head fell forward as she enveloped him with her slender fingers, sliding up and down his turgid length...
“Remove the trousers.”
She paused her movements, grasped his trousers, and urged them downward in a fluid motion. Along with his undergarment, they slid down both thighs until his manhood sprang free.
A strangled sound rattled his chest as she worked his silky-smooth erection between both palms. She dampened her lips. Adam peered down to where her hands rested—pale white against his skin. Shallow breaths stirred her curls. His face slumped forward, and he touched his forehead to hers. His hands landed on the banister, encaging either side of her body, anchoring her in place. One hand slipped downward, beneath the material of her pantalettes, and skimmed the wet material. He found the slit, and a strong, hooked finger eased inside her very center. It nudged against her feminine cleft, drawing a moan from her throat.
“Open to me, Isabelle.” His voice sounded clipped. Guttural. Almost beast-like. She trembled against him and leaned against the banister for support. “Mon Dieu, you are already wet for me… hot and wet and ready, mon amour.”
“I am always am.”
In between his heavy breaths, he whispered foreign endearments against her flushed skin while his fingers continued their seductive quest. “Come un raggio di sole hai illuminato la mia vita...” Like a ray of light you have brightened my life...
Lavoncourt swirled and rotated, blending everything into a surreal blur. The hold on his manhood faltered. Their breaths grew shallow and irregular. Biting back a moan, she arched against his erotic ministrations. He slid the pantalettes down her thighs while her body opened for him, inviting him inside, and two thick fingers sank knuckle-deep. He felt as she reached that plateau. Then in a solid, consuming motion that screamed now and always, he thrust forward and joined their quivering bodies.
Adam glanced at the star-speckled sky, and the world spun on its axis as he swiftly thrust inside her wet walls. She embraced him with both arms, while the feel of his wife’s warm body and the distant melody of crashing brought him to completion.
Holding her against him with their bodies still joined, heartbeat to heartbeat, he sighed into her damp curls, “Amore é gioia, amore é soffrire, amore é tenerezza, amore é bello. Amore sei tu.”
Love is joy, love is suffering, love is tenderness, love is beautiful. Love is you.
Bursting with a rush of love, Isabelle’s heart contracted at the sight of Rosemary buried beneath the silk coverlet. Her sweet, small hands still held a trace of baby-plumpness, and whenever she lowered her blue eyes, dark lashes rested upon the roundness of her cheeks.
The coverlet stirred. Isabelle jumped back with a start. A guilty smile curved Rosemary’s mouth as a small puppy wriggled free of the material. Scrambling to break free of the confines, little Stranger squirmed her body while a black, wet nose erratically twitched. The adorable creature was a plump thing, bearing a round tummy and oversized feet.
“Rosie!” Isabelle scolded, even as laughter erupted from her lips.
“I’m sorry, Maman! She jus’ looked so lonely and sad.”
Shaking her head, Isabelle ran her fingers over Stranger’s coarse, dark coat. “Very well, then. But my word—she’s not a prisoner, ma petite. You must let her breathe.”
Yipping and yapping, Stranger waddled over and splashed Isabelle’s face with a barrage of kisses. She wrinkled her nose at the assault and gently urged him away. Tiny, daggerlike teeth nipped at her palm. She muttered no and secured her jaws shut. As if in retaliation, the puppy grabbed a mouthful of coverlet and vigorously shook it back and forth.
Rosemary gathered Stranger against her chest and kissed the tip of its nose. The kerosene lamp’s illumination flickered across her sleepy, serene expression, r
eflecting the contentment Isabelle felt in her soul. A small smile curled Rosemary’s lips, and her sapphire eyes suddenly grew brighter. She shifted against her pillow, sitting up against the lush coverings.
“Maman... tell me the story again. Please, I want to hear!”
Isabelle reached forward and tucked an errant curl behind Rosemary’s ear. She pulled the coverlet up to her chin and combated a smile. “Oh, but it’s so very late, ma petite. Perhaps tomorrow night—”
“Please, Maman? Tell me about you and Papa.” Isabelle couldn’t suppress her laughter. She couldn’t recall how many times she’d recited the story to Rosemary—even so, she never tired of it.
And neither do I.
She began the tale in the same fashion, just as she had almost every night before. Yet Isabelle caught herself falling beneath its spell. She floated into another time and place while her heart grew heavier and her eyes misted over...
“Once upon a time, in a very far-off country, there lived a merchant who had been fortunate in all his undertakings...”
She didn’t need to glance over her shoulder. There was no need to sneak a look at the doorway, where she knew Adam Delacroix stood listening, falling under the same spell as she and their little one...
“When his youngest daughter was little, everybody admired her and called her ‘the little Beauty’ so that, as she grew up, she still went by the name of Beauty, which made her sisters very jealous...”
She smiled as the mattress shifted, manipulated by the pull of Adam’s body weight. His deep, velvety voice picked up where Isabelle left off—and when he spoke, she knew the words were meant only for her.
The End.
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Rachel L. Demeter lives in the beautiful hills of Anaheim, California with Teddy, her goofy lowland sheepdog, and her high school sweetheart of fourteen years. She enjoys writing dark, poignant romances that challenge the reader’s emotions and explore the redeeming power of love.
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