The Beast

by Jaden Wilkes

  He tilted her face up to his, ran his hand along her cheek and up to her hair. He seemed to be in the same mesmerized state she found herself in. “You are so beautiful,” he said and kissed her nose. “It seems surreal that you are here with me now.”

  “I know,” she replied and smiled, “I can’t believe you didn’t kill me.”

  She immediately regretted saying it, his eyes looked pained and he broke their gaze. He looked over her head, to the distant mountains and said, “I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you…this place...sometimes I just feel so out of control, so crazy.”

  She pulled his face back to look her directly in the eyes. “Don’t apologize,” she told him. “You didn't kill me and that is all that matters. How were you supposed to know I was just an idiot dropping into your lap in the name of some stupid political shit? You had every right to be paranoid, cautious.”

  “But you,” he said and laughed, “I mean you are gorgeous, but obviously not a killer. I sometimes think being alone with my thoughts for so long has made me a little mad. You bring clarity to the world though, you’ve brought me back into focus.”

  He picked her up in his arms and laid her down on the bed, her head resting on the luxurious pillows. He picked up her foot and started to massage it, played with her toes and ran his hand along her calf. “You are perfect,” he said and moved to her thigh, passed over her slit and brushed it with the back of his hand. He laughed when she instantly responded by tilting her hips to offer him access to her inner self. “I think,” he continued running his hand along her body, “that we should order something to eat before you waste away to nothing. I’ve become so single minded living here that I don’t want to fuck you to death.”

  She reached up and pulled him down beside her, melted against him and curled up in his arms. “It would be one hell of a way to go though,” she said and looked up at him. He was smiling at her, the smile that reached his eyes, and she said, “I can’t imagine a better way to exit this world.”

  His face grew serious and he told her. “I don’t want to talk about you leaving, not this world nor my apartment. I don’t want to think of my life without you in it.”

  “I’m not planning on going anywhere,” she said, surprised by how easy this felt. She hesitated and bit her lower lip, missing Eden and even her mother in a sharp jolt.

  “What troubles you?” he asked and rubbed her lower back. She loved his attentiveness and almost purred when he touched her.

  “I’m thinking about my little sister, Eden,” she told him, “I’m the only one she has to take care of her.”

  He was silent, his hands moved, slow, gentle circular motions along her spine, but he said nothing. She knew he was considering what she had said, contemplating how he should reply. “I will send them money, I will help them.”

  She didn’t want to sound ungrateful, and she knew she wanted to stay with Dimitri, but she still felt compelled to go home for some reason. She was afraid to ask though, not wanting to anger him. “That will do, I suppose,” she said and sighed. “I would like to see them though, before we go.”

  “I am sorry, little dove,” he said and drew his hands along her spine, sending waves of warm delight through her body. She was utterly relaxed physically, but mentally she was plotting how she could convince him to let her go for an hour even. “Now that you’re with me, I can’t risk it, I can’t risk you leaving.” He stopped his languid movements, cupped her chin and tilted her face towards his. “I hope you understand, perhaps when we are settled in Hong Kong you could send for them to visit. I don’t want to hurt you, but I don’t want to lose you. I take this seriously, I can’t let you go.”

  She smiled at his declaration, and said, “I do understand. It’s hard on me, that’s all. I hate the thought of Eden being in danger…” she trailed off, not wanting to talk about the thing she was afraid of. Her father had no place in her world now; he had no power when she lay in Dimitri’s arms. Instead, she closed her eyes and snuggled against his broad chest. She felt him reach down and pull the covers over them, and she fell asleep to the rhythmic sounds of her own breathing.

  *****

  “Here, try this,” Dimitri said and held out a blob of something dark on a spoon. Columbia delicately took it in her mouth and let him feed her. The texture put her off, and it felt like something popped in her mouth, but the flavour was rich and buttery.

  “I like it,” she said and wiped her lips, “what was it?”

  “Russian black caviar,” he said and laughed when she widened her eyes.

  “Fish eggs?” she mouthed in an exaggerated pantomime.

  “Yes, fish eggs,” he replied.

  “I’ve had fish eggs before, I get them at sushi sometimes, but they taste nothing like that,” she said, “it is delicious.” He looked pleased at her approval and slid the knife into the small tin containing more. They were on the roof top deck taking their late lunch in the brilliant sunshine. A gentle breeze brought sounds of the city from down below and she watched the seagulls float on the updrafts. “It’s strange up here, isn’t it?” she said after a few moments of quiet.

  “How do you mean?” he asked and handed her a small delicate cracker with more caviar. She felt positively scandalous, like something from a reality TV show, caviar and champagne on top of a multi million-dollar penthouse on the waterfront.

  “I mean, it’s a weird juxtaposition, you feel so free and light up here, but you’re really just on top of an expensive cage, aren’t you?” she said and immediately regretted her choice of words when she saw his face go dark.

  “I can’t let you go,” he said, his voice low, “even if I wanted to, I can’t. I don’t know how to explain it, but my mind has decided that you belong to me, and my heart…” he trailed off, apparently unwilling to continue his confession.

  “My heart feels it too,” she said and touched the top of his hand to reassure him. “I was just being silly, waxing poetic to listen to the sound of my own words. I talk too much, my father always said-” she stopped speaking, not wanting to invoke that part of her past in this beautiful setting.

  “You’re not being silly, I don’t think that’s possible,” he said and took her hand in his, “and please keep talking, I love the sound of your voice.” He bent and kissed her hand, slipped his tongue along her skin and sent a shiver down her spine to her pussy. She could feel herself growing warm and wet with his every touch. “I need to know though,” he said and she tensed up, “I want you to tell me about this father of yours. Is he the one who drove you to do...that to yourself? He is the Wolf in your story?”

  She nodded, and looked away. On the distant breeze she could see two birds riding the drafts. They drifted effortlessly as she watched; they appeared to be crows, black against the blue sky. Suddenly one of them plunged straight down, out of sight. She was alarmed by this sudden drop, but had faith the crow survived. It knew what it was doing and wouldn’t kill itself on the wind.

  “He is,” she said, “he’s the Wolf in my fairytale. You could never be, you scare me, but not like that.”

  He looked chagrinned, and she knew he wanted more information. “What did he do?” he asked, looking into her eyes.

  “He did anything and everything he wanted,” she replied, unsure what to tell him. She had never given voice to the things that her father had done in the dark in her room. “He’s not really my father though, if that helps. He’s my stepfather; he married my mom when I was pretty young. He started on me right away, and after my sister was born he kept it up. I felt like if I could keep his interest, he would leave her alone.”

  “You are incredible,” he said, his eyes full of admiration. She was relieved; she was terrified to see disgust on his face. “You sacrificed yourself, your life and your dreams to keep her safe. You are one of the strongest people I have ever known.”

  She straightened in her chair, buoyed by his approval and appreciation. She didn’t know she could open up like this and not be shunned,
it meant a lot to her. “I think Eden will be able to take care of herself,” she said, “I’ve been keeping my father at arm’s length for a while now, and he’s not turned to Eden because she’s a mouthy little thing. I’m really proud of her.”

  “I’m proud of you,” Dimitri said and leaned forward in his chair to kiss her. He held her face in his hands, his huge strong hands that could tear apart anything that threatened her ever again. He held her with all the reverence and tenderness you reserve for something precious, and in that moment Columbia felt precious and beautiful. She was addicted to how Dimitri made her feel. His tongue was demanding and pinned hers immediately, then entwined itself around hers, endlessly. The kiss felt endless, like they could fall off the side of the building and plunge into their own updraft, drift on the wind. She felt like that crow, like she was going to drop out of the sky at a terrifying, heart stopping speed, but knew she would be safe, she would land on her feet. Or Dimitri would catch her...either way, she would never crash again.

  He pulled back and stroked her cheek, a small smile on his face. “Shall we finish this lunch here, or would you like to take some back to our room?”

  “Our room?” she laughed, “I like the sound of that.” She picked up the champagne, stood up, balanced a plate of cheese and crackers on her arm and said, “Yes, let’s finish this down there.”

  Chapter Nineteen – Dimitri

  He was a man obsessed. He didn’t think Columbia understood how obsessed he had become with her in such a short time. He supposed all signs pointed to it, and if the myriad of daytime talk shows he’d rotted his brain with from time to time were correct, he could be accused of being codependent or falling too fast.

  But he was falling, he fell. He could feel her in his bones, his marrow, his blood...his cock. Every time he thought about how close he had come to killing her, he wanted to tear at his flesh and howl at his near self-destruction, for if she were gone from him now it would be an act against himself.

  They sat in the sun and talked, ate, laughed. He hadn’t been this easy around anyone for...as long as he could remember. He loved making her giggle, the way she held her hand up and covered her mouth when she was eating, he loved the way she pushed her thick, black hair over her shoulder when she was leaning forward to tell him something serious. He loved that she was opening up to him, like a little egg hatching, the tiniest little life pushing itself through the shell. He was fascinated with her.

  Back in their room--for it felt natural to imagine this space as hers now; after all, he belonged to her, so anything he claimed as his should be hers as well--they set the small plate of food on a dresser and brought the champagne to bed with them. She was dressed simply in a light yellow sundress they had found in the guest room, he didn’t know who had filled the closets with clothing, but they could have only had Columbia in mind. It spoke of sun-kissed beaches and lazy afternoons spent planning their future together.

  He slid the small straps from her shoulders and watched it drop to the ground, pool in a pile of expensive fabric. She was stunning, her eyes were bright and her mouth lush and full from the kissing. Her abdomen was deeply bruised from his earlier punches, and she still had his finger marks around her throat. They suited her perfectly. Her scars were pale, they seemed to only stand out when she was aroused or when he was whipping her and she was flushed with excitement. She wiggled her ass at him and dove into the centre of the bed, rolled over and beckoned him to join her. He did.

  “Are we drinking from the bottle?” she giggled as he slid his body against hers.

  “Oh shit, I forgot the glasses...do you mind?” he said, reluctant to leave her now that he was in contact with her skin.

  “I don’t mind at all,” she said and smiled, then took a long draw from the bottle. He watched her swallow, the muscles in her throat undulating as the liquid passed, and had a sudden impulse to wrap his hand around her neck and feel those muscles strain to keep her airway open.

  He was disgusted with himself, gave his head a shake and said, “It makes it hard to toast, but here’s to two imperfect beings finding each other in the dark,” and took a swig himself. The bubbles danced on his tongue and he had an idea. She reached for the bottle, but he kept it with him and wiggled down. He took another mouthful, handed it back to her and climbed between her legs.

  “What are you doing?” she asked in a hushed whisper. She was holding the bottle in one hand; with the other she reached down to stroke the top of his head. She parted her legs and he spread her lips open with his fingers. Champagne in mouth, he clamped himself on her pussy, allowing the bubbling liquid to surround her clit. She gasped and moaned. “Oh, that’s good…really, really good,” she said and held her hand still on his head.

  He flicked his tongue against her clit and slid two fingers into her pussy, adding pressure to the inside of her. He curled them towards his face and dragged them slowly in and out, consistent with the pressure and the tongue on her sensitive button. She was sighing and thrashing her head around on the pillow. He looked up at her, from this angle she looked larger than life, a goddess statue come to life, something straight out of Old Russian folklore.

  He swallowed some of the champagne but kept the suction on her cunt, licked her clit and fucked her deep inside with his fingers. He’d only brought her to orgasm a small number of times, but he already recognized her signs. He’d never cared before, being with women had always been about his orgasm, theirs was collateral. Not with Columbia, hers was his driving need, the force behind his every action, he wanted to make her pant and groan and call out his name.

  As if on cue, she tensed up, gripped his head with her hand and panted, “Dimi, oh fuck, that’s so good...I’m coming...fuck…” and she did, she came hard. He felt her cunt clench tight around his fingers and her clit hardened under his tongue. He swallowed the last of the champagne and licked her sweet pussy from top to bottom, sucking every drop of her juice he could find, needing it more than any champagne or vodka he’d ever had.

  He withdrew his finger and gave her one last, long lick up her pussy and smiled at her.

  “You look like the cat that ate the canary,” she said, and stretched. She set the champagne bottle aside, propped on pillows. She parted her legs even wider and said, “Come up here, let’s...cuddle.” She smiled and raised her eyebrow suggestively.

  He moved up towards her, climbing along her body until his cock found her sopping cunt and he paused. He was on his arms over top of her now, covering her body with his. She looked very serious, he said, “Cuddle? Is that what you have on your mind?”

  “I...yes,” she said and reached down to feel his cock. She gripped the shaft and guided the head into her folds. “I want to cuddle,” she said breathlessly and smiled. “I want to cuddle like this,” she continued and pushed upwards, impaling herself on his hardness. He could have reached his orgasm right there, the moment her hot, velvety heat wrapped around him. He showed considerable control as he slid into her, dropping down onto his elbows and looking down at her face.

  “I like the way you cuddle,” he said, his voice a low whisper and a small smile on his lips. The smile was gone the moment he started to fuck her. He slid his length into her as far as he could go, and pulled out, increasing his speed with each pass. His rhythmic thrusts jerked her body with their momentum and she hung onto his upper arms for support. Her eyes were alight and she made the most amazing little noises of pleasure as he fucked harder.

  “Dimi,” she gasped and her eyes opened with surprise, “I’m going to come again.”

  “That’s it, fucking tighten your cunt around me. I own that cunt, I own you. Milk my cock, take it,” he said in a low voice. He wanted to tear her apart with his lust, he was ravaging her body and she loved it. He reached up, still propped on his elbows, and grabbed her neck with his hands. They were the perfect distance in this position, and he tightened them around her throat as he fucked.

  “Oh,” she rasped, “that’s good.” Her eyes
were wide and intense, locked on his as she came again. He felt her body tense and she struggled to pull herself up to him, to drag him deeper into her cunt. He felt her spasm, hot and tight around his cock, and he was done. With one last, hard squeeze of his hands, he joined her, felt the tightness in his balls release and he twitched his completion deep inside her. It was almost painful, it felt so good. Dimitri experienced a huge surge of emotion as he emptied himself inside the perfect, beautiful girl lying under him. He looked at her face; almost serene as she shared his pleasure, and wanted to yell her name from the rooftop, wanted to build monuments for her, declaring his love.

  Suddenly every stupid love song, North American sappy romantic movie, the men he’d seen turning into dumbstruck idiots chasing some cunt over the years...it all made sense to him. He wanted to tell her something, anything, but his English was lost to him momentarily. He hovered above her, let himself soften inside of her, and stroked her hair and face, looking into her eyes. He finally said the only thing that came to his mind, “Fuuuuck me.”

  She laughed and said, “I just did. And that’s it? I thought you were going to get all sappy on me, by the look on your face. But, that’s why I love you, you’re such a romantic.”

  He knew she was teasing, but hearing her say the words made his heart beat faster, his palms sweaty and his tongue tied up in knots. “You steal my words,” he told her and shook his head, amazed at his own apparent vulnerability.

  “You give me my voice,” she replied and ran her hands along his arms, stretched and slowly twisted under him.

  He rolled off her and cradled her in his embrace. She nuzzled against his neck and closed her eyes, started to drift into sleep. He wished he could join her, enter her dreams and ensure nothing dark ever haunted her there. He knew he had dark places of his own, knew the cracks had always been there, but staying in the dark meant he never had to see them, to acknowledge them.