Beauty Submits To Her Beast

by Sydney St. Claire

  Below, bathed in light, Red and her Wolf were putting on quite a show, which got Caitie even hotter and more desperate for her candy from house number…nine? Ten? Eleven? God, she was losing count. The way Red was screaming, it was a sure bet the woman was enjoying her orgasm. Dammit, she wanted to come right along with Red Riding Hood.

  How could this be such a turn on? She’d never figured herself to be a voyeur but had to admit, she was hot and bothered and her Dom, her cursed prince, kept her right at the peak, ready to topple. The show continued, and after watching Red suck her Wolf’s cock, Caitie was desperate for her own release.

  “God, I want you, Damon. Sir. Don’t make me wait.” She turned, reached out, but he caught her and forced her to face forward.

  “Watch Red, my naughty sub. That is your fate tomorrow.”

  Red had her ass in the air, and her wolf was spanking her. Caitie cringed at each loud slap even as her gut clenched and her clit throbbed.

  “Hold onto the rail, Belle.”

  She grabbed it as he yanked her hips back so she was bent over. She bit her lower lip. Was he going to spank her right now? Right here? She wanted to protest but sucked in a breath when his palms circled her cheeks.

  Needing to feed the beast inside, Damon nudged her feet apart, his actions a little rougher than he’d been with her before. “As much as I want to turn your sweet ass as red as Little Red Riding Hood’s, I can wait. For that.” He slammed his cock inside her pussy, felt her moist heat seep into him, and couldn’t stop the groan from escaping. She pulsed and throbbed around him, her sheath as tight as his glove. She contracted her muscles.

  “Fuck.” God, it felt as though she were giving him a combination hand and blowjob. “So damn good, so sweet. Squeeze me harder, faster,” he ordered, needing her to push him as he pushed her.

  Moaning, she thrust back, taking him deeper. Over and over, hard and soft. Dom and sub, equal in their needs, each at the mercy of the other. He swore and groaned. She moaned and gasped.

  Sparing a glance at the show below, Damon gripped her hips, tipped her ass higher so he could watch his dick plunge in and out, faster, and faster.

  His beauty whimpered and cried out. He pumped his hips, taking her harder. He tingled from head to toe, and the base of his spine felt as though someone had applied the hot end of a plug with exposed wires.

  Down below, the wolf shouted, “Now! Now! Now!”

  “Come, Belle,” Damon urged. “Let’s show our staring couple we enjoyed their performance.” He gasped for air. “Scream, my lovely Belle. Scream for your Beast.” He thrust harder, faster, deeper, his hips pounding against her ass.

  His Belle bowed her back, and when the head of his cock hammered that sensitive spot over and over, she shrieked. His thrusts ignited hidden caches of desire that exploded around his cock like a string of firecrackers.

  “I’m going to come,” he ground out.

  She gripped the rail, and he hoped it held and they didn’t both shoot through with the force of his fucking.

  Voices rose as one couple after another added their joy and release to the dramatic and sensual melody rising from below. At stage center, Red screamed. As though an invisible conductor slashed his baton, high to low, scream after scream burst through the night, a resounding crescendo that reverberated through him and into her.

  Damon’s string of fucks joined others. He drove into her one last time. Caitlin threw her head back as he let go. Her pussy clenched around him. Her scream merged with his shout as they soared through the treetops.

  Chapter Nine

  Caitie couldn’t remember ever having such a wild, wonderful weekend. The picnic dinner, the tree house, the show, the sex had been surreal, her own fairytale. She sighed. Even the return to the tree house had been magical. The rope bridges had been like walking on glowing-white rainbows, and above her head, the lights strung in the trees, as well as the sight of that beautiful miniature house all lit up, made her wish her dreamy weekend could be real.

  How many times during her childhood had she longed for a place where she was free for just a few hours? She’d never had a place she could go to be alone. After her rough start to the event, she was very glad she’d accepted the challenge and stayed.

  She sat on the back deck where she and Damon had eaten much earlier just soaking in the calm evening and thinking about the afternoon of wild and wonderful sex followed by an evening of absolutely out of this world sex. Who would have thought she’d get off watching another couple go at it and knowing others were doing the same.

  Wow.

  That one word summed up everything that had happened so far. A loud, haunting hooo-hoo had her searching the trees. To her delight, the owl swooped down and flew over the deck, right above Damon’s head.

  “I had the best time, Damon.”

  He sat propped against a pile of pillows beside her, a bottle of water in his hand. The man kept telling her to hydrate, hydrate. She chuckled. Sex was thirsty work.

  “What’s so amusing?”

  She held up her own nearly empty bottle of water. “This.” Then she spread her arms wide. “All of it. I feel so free.”

  He put his arm around her and pulled her close. “Tell me about your family. I know your mom died, that you took care of her. You must have been very young.”

  Caitie cradled her head in the hollow of his shoulder and neck. She smiled sadly. “Mom was diagnosed with MS when I was seven. My brother and sister were barely two—fraternal twins. By the time I was thirteen, I was running the house and taking care of the twins.”

  “Your father?”

  “He left. Decided he didn’t want kids and family and the responsibility of caring for a sick wife. He sent money, was at least responsible in that manner. He died when I was sixteen in a car accident involving a drunk driver. He’d left my mother as beneficiary to his life insurance, so that helped when she got too ill to be left alone while I was in school.”

  “No other relatives?”

  “None willing to help.” She still remembered at fourteen, hearing her mother beg her eldest sister for help and crying when it was clear there was no help coming. That was the night Caitie grew up and knew she’d willingly give up everything and take on the role of caretaker, nurse, babysitter, housekeeper, and all the other myriad of duties that landed on her shoulders.

  Damon shifted to glance down at her. “You had family, and they left a young child dealing with something most adults can’t handle?”

  The outrage in his voice and in his face warmed her. She reached up to smooth the angry lines from his forehead. “It was what it was. And it’s in the past. We survived. All of us. I have no regrets.”

  “So how did you go from caretaker to rancher?”

  “My sister, Madison, was a horse nut. She used to hang out at the stables not far from our home. She mucked stalls and earned riding lessons. The owner rescued a couple of abandoned and abused horses and gave my sister the job of taking care of the animals. She went there every day before and after school. I helped her out when she couldn’t do it because of school or illness.”

  She smiled softly. “The owner pretty much gave her the horses. When she was ready to go to college, I was at a crossroads, trying to decide what to do with my life. I remembered how much I’d enjoyed the horses. For those precious hours, I was at peace. I couldn’t spend as much time at the stables, but the times I did spend there are among my happiest memories. So when Madison was ready to go to college and needed a place for her horses, I took my share of the life insurance and the sale of the house and bought some land with an old farmhouse and a barn that looked as though a breath of air could bring it down.”

  Damon rubbed a strand of her hair between his fingers. He couldn’t imagine being responsible for three lives at so young an age. Certainly, he’d only thought of himself as a kid and teen. His admiration for her grew. Her need to be in charge and in control made sense, as did her deep-seated need to give it up for a time. And give i
t she had. She’d far surpassed his expectations. And humbled him in the process. He smiled to himself. His Belle was quickly taming her beast.

  He let his gaze roam her face. Her features were soft in the gentle light from the moon, stars, and the twinkling bulbs in the tree. He could sit with her forever out here with only their owl and the sound of crickets for company. “When did you lose your mother?”

  “Seven years ago.” She tipped her head back. “What about you? Do you have siblings? Are your parents alive?”

  He stared through the canopy of leaves at the round globe of the moon. He never talked about his life, but right now, with this woman, it seemed not only fair but right. “I have no family. I was dumped into the system when I was three and bounced from home to home.” He gave a bitter laugh. “I guess you could say I’ve had more parents and siblings than most, yet I have none.”

  “That’s sad, Damon.”

  He shrugged. “I got by.” By closing himself off, using anger to hide the hurt, and later, getting into trouble by taking what he needed. “Got into trouble. Judge gave me a choice, jail or enlist. And that’s enough of my sad, pathetic past.”

  Caitlin patted his uninjured thigh. “I said once before I’m a good listener, but you’re right, past is past. So what do you do when you’re not being a Dom at Pleasure Manor or building fantastic tree houses?”

  Relieved that she didn’t want to dig into his childhood or pry into his military service, he rubbed his chin on the top of her head. She felt good in his arms. Just holding her, enjoying the feel of her, the sound of her soft breathing, and the way her hand rested lightly on his thigh. It shocked him to find he actually wanted to simply spend time with her—non-sex-related time.

  She was a woman he could be friends with. Go out to coffee and just share conversation. He grinned. Of course, the sex was more than awesome. “I do odd construction jobs. Remodels or repair work mostly. Some yard jobs like fences, decks, and patios.” He pulled her close. “And yes, a few tree houses here and there. I’m mostly a one-man shop unless I need help. Then I hire a crew just for that job. Compared to saving horses, my job is just a job.”

  “I think you’re wrong about that, Damon.” Caitlin pulled away, shifted until she sat facing him. “You do good work, and I’m willing to bet those who hire you are more than happy with the results. You give them joy and pleasure.” She indicated the tree house. “Maybe you give them dreams. You put yourself into your work, your love for creating. It shows.”

  “My love for creating?” He’d never thought of what he did as creating. His projects were jobs, a way to earn income so he wasn’t out on the street. Being his own boss meant he could set his own hours, work when he needed, take time off if he was in a dark place. No, she was being fanciful. “That’s painting a prettier picture than reality. I’m just a simple man.”

  Caitlin laughed. “You, Damon, are far from a simple man. I’d bet my ranch that you are one of the most complex men I’ve ever known. Like it or not, you are an artist, and this tree house is one of your masterpieces.”

  Her assessment was scary. No one had ever seen through the hard, cold shell to the man hidden deep in the center. He thought of that photo, of how she’d seemed to see into him, and again earlier in the day, or yesterday. Yeah, she saw far too much. But surprising, it didn’t scare him or make him want to run.

  Yeah, he could see her becoming a friend and wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. He rose, his leg stiff, the muscle tightening. He bit back his oath, determined to hide his pain from this woman who saw far too much. He held out his hand. “Let’s go to bed.”

  She blinked up at him. “You’re not serious?” She wasn’t sure she had the energy to go another round.

  Laughing, Damon tugged her up. “To sleep, my lovely Belle. Even a beast needs to recharge.”

  Inside, they undressed and slid into bed. Damon pulled her into his arms, cradled her head on his chest, and listened to her soft breathing as she fell asleep. Overhead, through the open skylight, he heard the soft calls of the owl and wished he dared slide into sleep with his sweet Belle.

  ****

  Caitlin woke during the night in the heavenly bed beneath the open skylight. She’d fallen asleep with her very own prince, in her very own miniature castle. Overhead, the wind rustled through the trees, and the lonely call of their owl drifted into the tree house. Stars winked above. She snuggled deeper. The bed with its feather comforter and mattress top along with the Egyptian cotton sheets was like sleeping inside a cloud.

  She turned and stretched out her arms, needing to feel Damon and to prove she wasn’t dreaming. His side of the bed was empty.

  Sitting, she frowned. A low sound from the other room caught her attention. “Damon?”

  The moan came again. Caitie grabbed the robe she’d used after her shower and left bed. She found him thrashing on the couch. A slanting beam of moonlight revealed a face twisted with pain.

  He called out, flung out his arm. Caitie quickly realized he was trapped in the throes of a nightmare. Unsure what to do, she went to him. She knew from the many vets on her ranch not to touch him in case he thought she was an enemy and tried to attack in defense of whatever stalked his mind.

  She turned on the lights. He’d removed his leather pants and slept in his own skin. A quilt was twisted beneath him, half on the floor. She couldn’t stop herself from staring. Even asleep, the man had the most impressive body she’d ever seen.

  She frowned when she spotted a long, deep, ragged scar on his upper thigh from just shy of groin to his knee. The muscles were taut, and spasms rippled beneath the puckered skin. Good lord. No wonder he limped. She sucked in her breath and sat on the edge of the couch. She knew enough to know he was both lucky to be alive and to have his leg.

  “Damon. I’m here. Can you hear me?” As though she were gentling a frightened horse, she spoke soft and low, calling his name. At the same time, she slid her palm up his thigh, her touch faint and gentle, applying more pressure so she didn’t startle him. When she was able to touch him fully, she began massaging his thigh with her thumbs, using long, smooth strokes.

  Trapped in his nightmare, Damon lashed out. He heard shouting, screaming, and shrieking. He tried to stand. Couldn’t. Hurt—bad. His men. They needed help. Ambushed. Fuck.

  “Can’t get them. Can’t save them.” The pain in his thigh took his breath away. Had he lost his leg? The pain. Breathing was labored, and his heart pounded. He was weak, everything going gray, as though his life was draining from his body.

  “It’s all right, Damon. You’re dreaming.”

  The gentle voice of an angel threaded through his nightmare, soothing, calming. Heaven? He tried to open his eyes, but the light was too bright. “Not—dream. My men. Killed them.”

  “Wake now. You’re safe. You’re with me.”

  Safe. The soft, low voice promised he was safe.

  “No!” He didn’t deserve to be safe. Or soothed. His men were dead. He was not. Families destroyed. His fault. Pain had him gasping. Pain he deserved.

  Except the pain was fading, replaced by warmth seeping into him. He relaxed as hands unknotted muscles and warmed him, as his angel talked and tore him from the grips of hell. He opened his eyes and blinked. An angel in white sat beside him. Not an angel. Caitlin.

  He tried to sit, but she pressed him back against the couch.

  “Stay.” Her voice was gentle yet as firm as her hands when they shifted down his thigh to his calf, then up, her magical fingers finding the painful knots and untangling them gently. He closed his eyes, embarrassed and ashamed of his disfigured thigh, the weakness of his nightmares, both daily reminders of his failure. He waited for her to ask questions, but she worked in silence. His body relaxed. The back of her hand brushed the side of his dick. He stirred.

  “God, Caitlin. You have to stop.” He was too vulnerable after a nightmare. He needed to be alone and didn’t deserve to have this woman easing the anguish of his dreams or the
pain. But he wanted her. Under him, his cock buried in her pussy. He wanted to forget and lose himself in her.

  For the first time since his injury, he felt alive and whole, and it was due to Caitlin with her golden eyes and earthy nature. No pretenses, no games. When most women would be horrified or repulsed, the kindness and empathy in her gaze never wavered. Empathy, not pity.

  “Tell me what haunts you, Damon. I’m guessing you were in the military. What happened?”

  Damon clamped his lips tight. He never talked about it, couldn’t. Yet with this woman, he found he wanted to share the horrors of his past.

  “I killed my team,” he said bluntly.

  “How?”

  No shocked gasp. No horror. Just calm acceptance. “I was a SEAL. My team, along with another, was sent to carry out an extraction. The enemy found out and set a trap. My men and I went in first.” His heart pounded, and he couldn’t hear or even breathe.

  “I’m here, Damon. Breathe. Tell me.”

  Her fingers kept massaging, kept him grounded, and her voice pulled him back from the shadows, from the explosion and the heat of the blasts. “Ambushed. I was hit. My men tried to get me out. Told them to leave me. They died trying to save me. The other team came in, got me out. Too late for my men.” A painful sob was wrenched from his chest. He tried to hold it in, keep it from bursting free, but the gates flew open. He covered his face with his hands as tears he’d held back forced their way to the surface.

  Caitlin murmured softly, her fingers working their magic as he finally let the pain out of his soul.

  “Not your fault, Damon. Not your burden to carry.”

  He shook his head, unwilling to tell her the rest. It was his fault. But had he not done what he’d done, it would have been the other team who’d died. No matter what, he was fucked over. He shoved it from his mind and concentrated on his angel. On his beautiful Belle.

  Finally, his mind relaxed even as his body tensed—with a new pain. The slid of her fingers on his flesh, brushing against his dick and balls stirred other needs.