Beast: Learning to Breathe Devil’s Blaze Duet

by Jordan Marie

  "Hayden, I…" whatever I was going to say flees from my mind. I'm struck dumb by what I see when I open the door. Hayden is standing by the shower, the water running in the background, in nothing but a red bra and this lace covered cloth that I guess is what women call panties. I’ve never been one to pay much attention to what women wear. The goal was always to get them naked quickly and have my fun. Right now, I think I might have missed out, because seeing what is on Hayden is hot. It’s like Christmas wrapping on the biggest gift under the tree. The fabric is shaped like shorts, hugging her hips, stretching over her fucking ass like a second skin, and leaving the cheeks to curve out and taunt me. The hard-on I've had all night, feels like a fucking hammer slamming against concrete now. Physically painful, throbbing, and in need of relief that nothing short of slamming into Hayden over and over, and over will alleviate it. The one hope I have is when she turns around to face me. That should help. That will instantly cool down this raging wildfire she's started raging inside of me. It has to, because it will remind me that she's pregnant, that she's not mine, and that she's more trouble than she's worth.

  Only that's not what happens. It's not even close. Hayden turns around, and I can see her rounded stomach that begins in a slight curve under her bra and bows out, over the delicate lace material that hides her from me. Her pregnancy does nothing to freeze my balls and shrink my cock back to normal, so I can manage to walk out of here.

  Hayden's frightened gasp doesn’t stop the need that's boiling inside of me either. My eyes are glued to her stomach. I don't see how she's carrying a baby in there. There doesn't seem like there would be enough room for a child to be resting inside of her. I should turn around and leave. I should stop tormenting myself, and yet, I can't. I'm in deep shit here and the time for running and taking cover is gone. My resistance is gone. Hayden is beautiful and seeing her standing in front of me, it doesn't bother me she's pregnant. Fuck, I'm thinking that makes her even more beautiful and that scares the shit out of me.

  "Michael!" she cries, and it brings me out of the stupor I seem to have put myself in.

  I drag my eyes from her stomach and the swell of her breasts—and how they lean heavily out of the confines of her bra, demanding to be set free. She pulls a towel down from a shelf and covers her body as best she can. I tighten my hands into fists to keep from yanking it away.

  "We need to talk," I tell her, which is stupid. Talking is the last thing I want to do. What the fuck happened to my balls? When did I turn into this man who didn't just take what he wanted?

  Maybe it's because of Hayden's past. I don't know what it is, but I know it has to be traumatic. I thought it was because she is pregnant, but considering looking at her stomach has pre-cum sliding down the shaft of my cock, I'm pretty sure that's not it. Pushing my hand through my hair, pulling it away from my face, I’m frustrated, angry, confused, and horny. I'm so fucking horny I can't think; it's not possible because all the blood is surging into my dick.

  "Then go back into the bedroom. I'll meet you in there," she orders, her cheeks blushed a bright red, her gray-blue eyes shining with embarrassment.

  I suddenly crave to see them shine with something different. How would they look deep tinted in desire…for me?

  “I want to kiss you.” Shit. That’s not what I meant to say. It’s not even all that I want to do, but at least I had enough brain cells left not to blurt out that I wanted to fuck her like a wild animal.

  “I need to…What?” she gasps and call me crazy, but it fucks with your mind when a woman looks at you like you’re insane when you tell her you want to kiss her. “I don’t think that would be a good idea, Michael. I don’t think it would be good at all,” she says, standing up and looking around like she needs a place to run. I’m not sure why that should make my dick jerk against the confines of my pants, but it does.

  "We've kissed before," I remind her, and I can actually see the panic flare in her eyes as they widen in surprise.

  "And that was a mistake. It's made our friendship weird."

  "Funny, I was thinking the fact we both have more baggage than the JFK Airport has done that."

  "When you decide to talk, you just go all out don't you?" she sighs. She puffs air through her lips and it causes her bangs to blow away from her face, before slowly fluttering back down. "I'm the one with the baggage and my baggage is dangerous. Too dangerous for you to be around me, Michael. You've already put a target on your back after yesterday."

  "It's not the first time, and it probably won't be the last. None of that has anything to do with the fact that I want to kiss you right now, Hayden."

  "It's not a good idea."

  "You've said that. I just don't happen to agree," I tell her, walking towards her. I watch as her body tenses up and she stares at me, then at the door, already bringing her eyes back to me, as if sizing up if she could make it to the door before I stop her. She can't, and remarkably I find myself smiling at the thought.

  "Michael—"

  "It's just a kiss, Hayden. What's the harm in a kiss?" I tell her, my voice dropping down to just above a whisper when I'm standing in front of her. My hand curves against her neck, my thumb brushes against her jawline, and my fingers tangle into her hair as I press them against the back of her neck. I can feel her body shudder against me, see her lips slowly part, and her eyelids begin to close. She may be protesting, but Hayden wants this kiss too. She craves my kiss.

  That's my last thought before our lips touch. When she lets out a small whimper right before her tongue pushes into my mouth and seeks out mine, a feeling of victory erupts inside of me.

  Fuck everything else. This right here is the first thing that has felt good to me in so long that I don't give a shit about anything else right now. I'm just taking this while it's here.

  57

  Hayden

  Where is the panic and fear I feel around people—around men? Why don't I feel that with Michael? Why don't I feel it right now when he's standing in front of me with his face bending down to kiss me? Why, when I'm standing in front of him half-naked, am I not screaming for the door? Why am I not only looking forward to his kiss, but craving it?

  I do nothing but sigh with relief when Michael's lips finally touch mine. If I want to be completely honest with myself, I'm ridiculously eager for his kiss. I think it's my tongue who seeks his out first. If I want to get even more brutally honest, since the first kiss we shared I've wanted more. The moment our lips touch, our tongues tangle, a spark of electricity goes off, and heat spreads through my body. In its wake, there is nothing but need. A desperate need to be closer to him. My hands go up to tangle into his long hair, pulling his mouth tighter against mine, afraid he will pull away. I think of nothing else other than losing myself in the nearness and warmth of Michael while drowning in the taste of him. I don't even notice when the towel I was hiding my body behind, falls to the ground.

  I feel Michael's arms wrap around me. I don't have a lot of experience with men. The two that I've trusted, their touch has been extremely different from Michael's. Their skin was soft, and felt good against mine…I guess. I never really thought about it. It never failed though, their touch always turned rough, demanding even, and I never liked it once that happened. Michael is completely different. His touch is rough, and almost scratchy, like a loofah against my skin. Yet his hold is gentle, almost what I'd imagine caring felt like. Even when his kiss gets demanding, never—not once, does that translate into him hurting me. He makes me feel…precious. That's somehow just as addictive as his kiss.

  We break apart, both of us breathing roughly. I worry about what I will see in his eyes. Disappointment? Anger? Regret? Any of those are possible. Slowly, I open my eyes, hating that I am trying to be a coward. Michael's dark, almost obsidian eyes are staring down at me, but the only thing I can see in them is the same thing that is raging through my body. Hunger. He wants me. The knowledge lands inside of me and it should repulse me. What it shouldn't do is make me so wet tha
t I can feel my desire painted against the inside of my thighs. I need to be the voice of reason here. I have to be.

  "I love your lips, Hayden," he says in his voice that I've come to liken to a mixture of whiskey and cigarettes. It's nothing sweet; it’s wicked, dirty, and completely masculine.

  I don't know if anyone has ever told me that they love anything about me, especially my lips. I like that Michael does. I like it a lot. I take a half-step away from him, that's as much room as he's given me. My fingers come up to touch my lips as I look up at this giant of a man who wreaks havoc on my body and my emotions.

  "I like yours too, even though I shouldn't," I tell him, not recognizing my own voice.

  "Why shouldn't you," he asks, and I try to concentrate on his words, but his hands have moved down to my hips and his thumb is brushing back and forth on my hipbone. I can feel my eyelids get heavy as I enjoy the sensation. I have to shake myself to pay attention to him.

  "I told you, I'm trouble. I don't want you to get hurt because of me."

  "You want to protect me?" he asks softly, and when his voice drops down this quiet, it calls to every feminine thing inside of me, sending a million butterfly wings fluttering in my stomach.

  "Michael," I sigh, not sure how to continue, or even why.

  "Answer me, Beauty," he says in that same tone, but the added nickname makes my heart stutter with happiness while the rest of me drowns in sadness. I can't have Michael. Yesterday made it abundantly clear that my past will prevent me from having anything or anyone. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I've even begun making a contingency plan that chills me to the bone. It will destroy me, but it will be what is best for Maggie and that's all that matters.

  "I need to protect you and Maggie…or at least try," I tell him honestly, hating the distress I hear in my voice.

  "Sweet Hayden, you are a mystery," he says, confusing me further. I have no idea what he means and I'm too confused to try and sort it out. He takes one of his hands and moves it up my stomach. That should bother me. It doesn't, and instead, I look down and watch as he stretches his hand out so the palm is flat as he caresses my stomach.

  For some reason, I can feel moisture gather in my eyes. The sight of this scarred hand with ink covering it completely, gently moving against my stomach so tenderly, triggers every emotion I have inside me. I'd like to say it was sexual, that would be easier to dismiss, but it's not true. Right now, as I watch the way his hand is gently moving, and feel Maggie moving inside of me against it…It feels almost like he's loving on her. Like he's showing her that somewhere out in this cold world there's another person besides her mother that cares for her, that could love her.

  Oh God! Just the thought of that makes me feel raw inside. I don't know how to deal with it. I look back to his face, needing to break the spell, needing to not read too much into his touch, and most of all, needing to get back into reality. The only problem is that when I look in his eyes, that doesn't happen. Because, before he even speaks, I see it. I see it as clearly as if he spoke it aloud.

  When he opens his mouth, I push my fingers against those tempting lips to stop the words. I need to stop them, because this man may just be the one person in the world who can completely destroy me. Others have tried it, and though they've made me damaged, they haven't been able to break me. Michael could do it easily, and that knowledge is chilling. I press my fingers harder against his lips, his beard tickling against the skin goes unnoticed.

  "It's not your job to protect me, sweet Hayden. It's mine to protect you and Maggie, and I will. I'll always protect you," he vows.

  It is a vow. A vow that kills me, because I can't let him take on that responsibility. A vow that destroys me, because I wish I could turn back time and fix my past so that Michael could be my future. I wish I could go back and give Maggie this man as a father. This is the kind of man she should know exists in the world. I can't do any of that. I've made so many mistakes, and I thought I had paid enough for them, but it's clear that I haven't, because right now, I'm caught in Hell on earth. I am a woman who has everything she has always wanted standing in front of her, and I can't keep it. With that thought, I can feel the salty wetness hit my lips as the tears run from my eyes.

  58

  Beast

  I look at Hayden and the sadness I see on her face hurts me. I move my fingers over her cheeks, trying to wipe the tears and stop them from falling.

  "Don't cry, Beauty," I softly tell her, bending down to kiss the tears away.

  "Michael, you need to leave me alone," she responds.

  "Do you like my touch, Hayden? Do you like my kisses?" I question, needing to hear her admit it. I've not let my guard down around a woman since the explosion. Hayden makes me want to, and I'm tired of fighting her pull. What's the harm in enjoying her? Maybe she can stop some of this loneliness inside of me that seems to torment me with every breath. Some days I fear it might completely take me over. I wanted it to until Hayden tempted me. Until she gave me purpose.

  "Too much, but I shouldn't," she answers, her eyes still closed.

  "I like that you want my touch," I assure her. I don't add that she doesn't seem to let the scars bother her either. Of course, she hasn’t really seen them; not fully. She's seen glimpses of the ones on my neck and arms. I couldn't keep the ones on my face and hands from her, but they don't seem to disturb her.

  "You need to leave," she says, weakly pushing me away. She doesn't want me to go. Everything about her in this moment tells me she wants more of what I'm giving her. Is it fear? Is she afraid of what will happen if she lets herself go with me?

  “Turn around and look in the mirror,” I order her, already moving her body so she does that exact thing. I move my hand over the condensation on the mirror, revealing us together. It’s a full-length mirror, but I only clear off the top half. Wanting her to see her face and mine together. We look wrong.

  Her light to my dark.

  My ink to her soft flesh.

  My scars to her almost virginal appearance.

  She might be pregnant, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realize she’s not the normal type of girl I’ve dealt with. Everything about her, other than Blade having touched her, screams differently.

  “I shouldn’t touch you. You should be scared of me,” I say the words aloud, though they’re more just my thoughts at the moment. I drop a kiss on her shoulder, the part where it meets the bend of her neck. It calls to me and I can’t stop my tongue from running over it. I feel the shudder that rocks her body as I look up to watch her eyes. They’re glued to mine through the mirror. The gray color in them is almost silver in this light and desire shines in them.

  “I’m not scared of you,” she whispers, a pale pink blush spreading over her face.

  “You should be. There’s a reason they call me Beast,” I warn her, as my hand moves to her breast, palming her tit, squeezing it gently. “A reason they compare me to an animal,” I continue, regretfully letting go of her breast to let my fingers trail along her sides. I kiss against the inside of her neck, tasting her skin. My cock is pulsating like a beating drum. I can feel my balls tighten with cum. I want inside her more than I can remember ever wanting in a woman before. I could scream, because I know that’s not happening right now. I need to make Hayden comfortable with losing herself with me—which should be what I concentrate on, instead of warning her away. How the hell I’ve developed a conscious with the one woman I’ve wanted in years, is beyond me.

  “I’ve known animals, Michael. You’re not even close,” she answers, her hands moving to mine on each of her hips. I love the feel of her hands enclosing around mine. Does she think to stop me from moving lower? Probably, but I won’t.

  “But you don’t know me, Hayden. Not really,” I caution her yet again, my hand pushing from hers and curving behind to her ass, loving how the cheeks overfill my hands. I want to groan at the feel of them. I can’t stop myself from pushing into her and letting the hard ridge of my cock press ag
ainst her. “Fuck, you feel amazing," I grunt, thrusting against her while I hold her in place.

  “Michael,” she whimpers, and the sound of her voice makes me search out her face in the mirror again, and that’s when I see it. I knew it was there, that’s what I need to get rid of…fear.

  “Shh…” I try and calm her.

  “I don’t think I’m ready to—”

  “We’re not going to… do anything,” I tell her, barely stopping myself from saying fuck. Hayden deserves the girly words that women love. I just don’t have them to give. I did warn her I’m an animal. “I’m just going to give you a small ride. I want to make you feel good,” I reassure her, thinking I may need a medal for denying myself.

  “But the baby, I don’t know,” she stops talking, but I understand what she’s saying.

  “I will never do anything to put Maggie in danger, Hayden. Trust me,” I tell her, my eyes glued to the mirror, never leaving her reflection. I stop all movement holding my finger along the elastic of her panties, that’s risen just above the swell of her ass—waiting.

  “I do,” she answers, and those two words are exactly what I needed to hear.

  I pull the elastic tighter, knowing it will cause friction against the most sensitive part of her. Her gasp in surprise makes me smile. I let my fingers reach under her, following the path of the red lace until my fingers touch her pussy. I bring my other hand back to her breast, squeezing it, and this time it is my body that shudders with need. Her pussy is so hot and wet it could bring a man to his knees. I could sink balls deep inside of her in one slow easy glide.

  "Oh God," she pants, the second I touch her.

  "Reach up behind you and put your hands up around my neck," I order her, wanting her hands on me at least—anyway I can get them. She brings them up and another tremor of need runs through me just by feeling her fingers touch the side of my neck. It's not a normal touch, her fingers curl in the hair of my beard, then move down to my neck, and stroke against it. I wasn't expecting that. I thought she would hold her hands behind my neck, interlocking them. Not actually caress my skin. The same skin that's scarred. She doesn't seem repulsed. If the way her eye lids are half closed and the sound of her erratic breathing are any indication, she's moments from coming. Coming by my hand. Suddenly, I need that. I want to give her pure bliss. I want to tease her body until she loses herself in the pleasure I create.