Filthy Beast (Filthy Fairy Tales #1)

by Vanessa Booke

  “Nothing. It’s nothing.” I turn to go, to flee really, but he crosses the room in a flash, grabbing my arm. His hold is hot and firm and does things to me that I would rather not admit. I want him to keep touching me, but not like he’s my client. I want him to touch me the way he would if we were in one of his novels.

  “Olivia,” he says softer.

  The sound of my name on his lips does things to me. My breath hitches and my heart flutters like a bird trying to escape its cage. I look up at him, and again, his blue gaze is molten, as though he feels whatever this is, too.

  “What does Adele mean? Isn’t Richard the one editing my books?”

  I take a deep breath. “No, I’m the one who’s been editing them.”

  His eyes narrow. “I thought you were just an assistant?”

  I nod. “I am.” I flash him a nervous smile. “I assist Richard with editing your books as well as a few other clients.”

  “And how long have you been doing his work?”

  “Since I started working at StoneHaven Publishing.” I bite my lip, and his eyes zero in on the motion. “Two years.”

  He runs a hand over the five o’clock shadow that peppers his face, except the bare spots where his scars lay.

  “All the changes that have been suggested have been from you?” he asks.

  I nod.

  He blows out a breath. “Even the revisions for Twilight Kiss?”

  I nod again, and he mutters something under his breath that I don’t catch.

  “Speak up, Declan,” Adele chides.

  He grimaces as if what he’s about to say pains him.

  “I said, those changes probably saved the story from being a total train wreck.”

  My mouth pops open in surprise. Twilight Kiss was one of the first projects I worked on for him, and I remember him fighting Richard tooth and nail on my suggestion to change the main protagonist’s background. But I knew it was right, so I dug in my heels, and when he finally gave in, the novel went from great to amazing. It was also the highest debut on the New York Times bestseller list in the company’s history. Not to mention the fact that it’s Declan’s highest grossing book to date.

  Declan brushes a hand over his face and then trough his hair.

  “Stay,” he mutters.

  I raise my eyebrows. “Excuse me?” I so did not hear him correctly.

  He opens his eyes, and those dynamic blues soften more than I’ve yet seen them. “Stay. Please. I need your help.”

  I school my expression, not wanting to give away anything. But internally, I reel. I can’t believe he just admitted he needs my help.

  “Stay,” he says again. “And I’ll make it worth your while.”

  I purse my lips, not wanting to give in too easily, especially now that he needs something from me.

  “I’ll have five new chapters for you by the end of the week,” he says with a nervous look. “Any feedback on what I already have would be great. I’ll email the file over to you tonight.”

  Against my better judgment, I silently nod in agreement. Declan lets out a hard breath as if he’s been holding it all this time.

  “So you’ll stay?” he asks.

  “Yes,” I say with a small smile.

  “Good,” he says. “Good.” He repeats it over and over, muttering to himself, as he turns back to the laptop in front of him.

  Adele turns to me, her face shocked. She opens her mouth to say something, but Declan’s voice behind me interrupts her.

  “Oh, and Olivia, dinner tomorrow night at seven. In the formal dining room.”

  I turn, raising an eyebrow. He wants me to have dinner with him? Alarm bells go off in the back of my mind. I may be willing to stay and help him with the novel, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to play house with him.

  “I’ll think about it,” I tell him breezily.

  His face darkens, his brows knitting together. He opens his mouth like he’s going to argue.

  Adele clears her throat, and his scowl deepens.

  “Fine,” he growls. “That’s just fine.” Then he turns abruptly, striding down the hallway. I watch as he bounds up the steps, three at a time.

  Adele is grinning at me when I turn back to the kitchen.

  “He likes you more than he cares to admit,” she says.

  I blush, too embarrassed to reply.

  “He has a funny way of showing it.”

  9

  DECLAN

  Olivia.

  Her name has been on my lips all day. I’ve buried myself in this manuscript, doing my best to keep my promise to her. Somehow, it’s working. I’m not sure whether it’s the fact that I know she’s reading the new chapters I’ve written or the fact that I actually have someone here putting pressure on me to finish. Maybe I needed this. Feeling somewhat accomplished, I head down to the kitchen for a midnight snack as a reward. I rarely treat myself these days.

  The house is quiet leaving me in the comfort of my own thoughts. It doesn’t take long for them to circle back to the woman who’s somehow managed to get under my skin. I’ve managed to keep myself from checking the security camera too often in the past few days, however tempting it might be. And oh, has it been fucking tempting. Ever since the pool incident and then the revelation that she’s been secretly editing my novels, I’ve been rock hard. I’ve taken more ice-cold showers in the last forty-eight hours than I have in the last ten years, easily. I’ve jerked off to the filthy thoughts swirling around my fucked-up brain so many times that I lost count. Thoughts of burying my mouth in her sweet, wet cunt. Holding open her folds as I devour her clit. Fucking her ass into next week. God, that ass.

  You’d think all this unfulfilled lust would serve as inspiration for my novel. You’d be wrong. Instead of talking to Olivia, maybe laying on the charm, and seeing if we have a connection, I watch her from the shadows like some kind of monster. Spying and skulking instead of wooing. I’m pathetic. I shake my head as I enter the kitchen. No, I’m not fit for love, either on the page or in real life. Ms. Evans will just have to be kept at a distance. No matter how much it turns me on knowing she’s read everyone one of my filthy words.

  She’s off limits. Don’t kid yourself. You’ve already been married once. You’re not good with relationships. Let alone good with a woman like Olivia. Three long days of aching for her, of biting the insides of my lips, of forcing myself not to be around her.

  I don’t think my fantasies will come true, though. She’s still distant with me. She leaves the room when I enter it, and she hasn’t had dinner with me like I asked. I don’t blame her. After the way I treated her, I wouldn’t want to talk to me either.

  Shame burns through me when I think about what I said to her, and how it must have made her feel—especially when I know nothing could be farther from the truth. I’m attracted to Olivia more than I ever have been with any other woman. Whatever it is that makes Olivia so appealing to me, I don’t know. But I do know I’m going to go insane playing this game. I don’t know what to say to make her forgive me. Ironic, really, considering I’m normally the man with all the words. If I were one of my characters, I’d charge in, grab her, and kiss the fuck out of her. I’d tell her how much I want her, how the very thought of her turns me inside out.

  But I can’t seem to get the words out. And something tells me she wouldn’t be receptive to them anyway. Not yet. I need to convince her that I’m not the monster she thinks I am. If only I can figure out how.

  Maybe I should start by convincing myself.

  My hands close on the package of cookies I had Louis smuggle in for me, and I smirk. Adele doesn’t know about these, or she’d be raising hell. My doctor put me on a pretty extreme diet. No sugar, no fat. No flavor. He said that with everything my body went through with the crash, and all the subsequent surgeries and therapy, I needed to take better care of myself. Better diet, more exercise, etc. The limp in my leg is almost non-existent these days, but if overworked, the muscles tend to flare up again.
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  I don’t really have much interest in taking care of myself. I can’t even bring myself to be nice to the only person in the world who actually talks to me. If it weren’t for sheer stubbornness, Adele would’ve left a long time ago. I take a bite of a cookie, sighing. Maybe I should give her a raise. She’s put up with me like no other woman would. I think she’d beat my parents if they were still alive. I grab a handful of cookies before putting the package back above the fridge.

  As I turn to leave, I run headlong into another person. A soft, curvy person. Olivia.

  The cookies fall from my hands, scattering across the kitchen floor, but I don’t care. My eyes are riveted to her. Bright hazel eyes stare up at me, shining in the moonlight.

  “Oh, sorry,” she says, her voice sounding simultaneously nervous and rough with sleep. “I just wanted some water.”

  I grunt, scowling at the fact that she’s still determined not to talk to me. At least, not much. If I weren’t so set on showing her that I’m not a beast, I’d take her to my bedroom right now.

  She bites her lip, and I inhale sharply. “I just finished the new chapters,” she says with flushed cheeks.

  I groan inwardly at the sight of her nipples hardening against her nightgown. She brushes back a tendril of hair and the gesture nearly causes me to lose my mind. I can’t touch this woman. I’m pretty sure that just one touch would make me combust. I’d have her bent over the kitchen counter with my cock buried in her faster than she could blink.

  She frowns at my silence.

  “I guess I’ll just go back upstairs,” she says.

  I grunt again, taking in her appearance by the dim light filtering in from the window. Her face is a lovely oval shape with freckles splayed across her golden skin. Her hair is rumpled and slightly sticking out in certain directions, but I’m tempted to lock my hand around her face. My cock throbs at the peek of her neckline and the very high hem that stops high on her thighs. I take a huge step away from her until I’m completely hidden in the shadows. I take in a breath, trying to think of the most boring thing that comes to mind. Trying like hell to kill the boner rearing its not so little head right now. Unfortunately, I catch a whiff of some kind of floral perfume combined with warm, sleepy woman, making it harder to concentrate on the task at hand.

  I let out a deep breath as I look down at her.

  “What did you think?” I ask, yearning for her thoughts.

  “It was amazing.”

  She’s looking up at me with those moon eyes, which now seem darker as she takes in my features. Fuck. I cannot have her looking at me like that—with something that is fast approaching desire.

  “I’ve never read anything so, hot, I mean it was incredible. I uh—”

  She trails off as my gaze washes over her. She’s even more adorable when she babbles. Olivia tugs her plump lower lip between her teeth, and I have to dig my nails into my palms to keep from kissing the fuck out of her. This woman is not for you, I remind myself.

  “Did it make you wet?” I blurt

  Her eyes widen at my question. The flush on her cheeks only encourages me to step closer, chest heaving with every breath.

  “Did it make you wet thinking about my cock inside you?”

  I’ve stolen her words the way she’s stolen my breath.

  10

  OLIVIA

  I bite back a dreamy sigh, trying to memorize Declan’s features in the dark of night. He stands in the shadows, making it more difficult, but I like what I can see. He’s easily six-and-a-half feet tall, with a chest and arms that are all hard-packed muscle, brown locks that hit just below his neck and the most intense blue eyes I’ve ever seen. They seem to almost glow in the moonlight, and they have a dark ring around the irises that draws me in, making me yearn to remove that sad, and haunted look there.

  “Did it make you wet thinking about my cock inside you?” he asks.

  His words send an ache straight through me that only intensifies the closer he comes. He steps forward from the shadows, closing the space between us. My eyes are drawn to the puckered skin on his neck and face. Burn scars. This man has literally gone through fire. I still have no idea what happened, but I can only assume Declan’s car accident was not the kind someone normally walks away from.

  My heart aches at the heat and undercurrent of vulnerability in his eyes. He’s used to pushing people away, probably because he’s afraid they’ll hurt him. So I do what he won’t expect, what I barely even have the courage to do. I take a slow, deliberate step closer, joining him in the dark. I move my hand up to gently trace my fingers over the scars on his jaw, unable to stop myself. The skin feels thin, fragile in a way that terrifies me. I’m afraid I’ll tear it without even trying.

  “Does this hurt?” I whisper.

  “It doesn’t disgust you?” he asks.

  I freeze. “Why would it?”

  He intimidates the fuck out of me. He’s huge and gorgeous and more than a little rough. I can’t quite decide if I should jump his bones or shake him for him thinking his scars would bother me. He takes my hand, pulling me closer until I’m flush against him. I put my hands out to steady myself, and his muscles twitch under my touch.

  “Because I’m a fucking monster,” he says, his voice laced with pain.

  I shake my head. “No, you’re not.”

  His gaze is full of longing as he looks down at me like he desperately wants someone to see him. And I do. I see past the asshole from the past couple of days to the lonely guy underneath. I don’t know much about Declan Hart, but I know pain.

  I also know I want him, almost more than I want my next breath.

  So I gather all my courage, taking a deep breath. Then I raise myself onto my tiptoes and kiss him.

  His lips are softer than I expected, but he holds them firm, not returning my kiss. I slide my hands onto his shoulders, gently, so as not to hurt his damaged skin. I tangle a lock of his hair in my fingers, pulling him down to meet me. I lick along the seam of his unyielding lips, coaxing them open. The tip of his tongue meets mine, and finally, he begins to kiss me back.

  We kiss slowly at first, just exploring each other’s mouths. I run my tongue behind his front teeth, and he moans a deep, growly sound in the back of his throat. My hands slide lower, running along the tight muscles of his chest. He cups my face in his hands, angling my head to deepen the kiss.

  I moan softly as his tongue glides against mine. Whatever else I might say about him, this man can definitely kiss. My hands trail a path down his abdomen, lower and lower. I dip a finger in his belly button, causing him to twitch again. That same finger sneaks its way underneath the waistband of his sweatpants, rubbing the tip of his cock, and he moans.

  He advances on me, leaning his arms forward, and places a hand on the counter on either side of me. I’m caged in by his massive biceps. Declan’s hands slide back onto my bottom as he presses his cock against me.

  “Why are our clothes still on?” I ask breathlessly from his lips.

  Declan growls as he turns me and pushes my body against the kitchen counter. Before I have a chance to ask what he’s doing, his fingers are lifting my nightgown over my head. I hear him inhale at the sight of the red lace thong I’m wearing. Earlier I felt self-conscious putting it on, but now I can’t help but feel invigorated by the animal sounds he’s making.

  “Spread your legs,” he commands.

  I open them, slowly taking in deep breaths to steady my chaotic heart. My nipples tighten against the cold kitchen counter.

  “I came down here for a snack. I’m not leaving here without one.”

  I shiver at the promise in Declan’s words. For a brief moment, I hear him step back and grab something from the fridge. A second later, Declan’s hand palms my right cheek before slipping off my panties. For a moment, I feel something cold touch me. The sound of air escaping has me reeling in shock as Declan presses a layer of whip cream on my backside leading down.

  “Let me eat your pussy right, princ
ess.”

  Declan’s tongue slides down over the cream that leads to my lips. His tongue dips in between my folds, and I feel myself slowly coming undone. His fingers dig into my ass as his tongue slides in and out of me in a rhythmic motion. I sway against him as my orgasm builds with each lick. His nose grazes my skin as his mouth moves with my hips.

  “Ride my face, princess. Ride my face the way you want to ride my cock,” he says, pulling back slightly.

  His words undo me as his mouth returns, and his motions become more frantic. I slide my hand over the front of my pussy, but his fingers tighten around them as he stops me from touching my clit. I practically cry out, but he pulls me forward and then turns me. My eyes drop down to his face.

  His breathing is labored, his chest heaving with every shallow inhalation, and for a moment, I stare, transfixed.

  Until he stands, tucking the bottle of whip cream back into the fridge before walking out of the kitchen. I’m at a loss for words as he leaves me frustrated with heat. My clit throbbing to be rubbed and my skin crying out to be touched.

  Talk about lady blue balls.

  It isn’t until an hour later when I hear a ping on my phone that I realize just why Declan left me naked and alone in the kitchen. A brand new chapter sits in my inbox, and the subject line of his email sends my chest squeezing.

  Subject: For you. My muse.

  Unable to contain my excitement, I blaze through the new chapter Declan has written. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever read from him. It’s a side of him I haven’t seen. Sweet yet sexy. The kind of man you dream about. Nothing like the beast I had first met.

  11

  OLIVIA

  A pair of blue eyes stare at me over the rim of a coffee mug as I walk into the kitchen. I take in the smell of blueberries and pancake batter. It was only hours ago that I was standing here naked as Declan lapped cream off me. The memory of it still brings heat to my cheeks and a throbbing need between my thighs. Need I tried to quench myself last night. Embarrassed by the bedhead I’m rocking, I brush back several strands of hair from my face as I spot Declan sitting at the kitchen counter watching me. He’s wearing a pair of gray sweat pants with no shirt.