BargainWiththeBeast

by Naima Simone

  “Come here, Gwendolyn,” he beckoned and the sensual note drew her forward as if he were the last slice of chocolate cake at a Weight Watchers meeting. Tempting. Sinful. And dangerous. Except cake would be a threat to her hips and he endangered her spirit, her pride…her heart.

  She paused between his spread thighs and Xavier released his cock to grip her hips. While she’d stood across the room, the heavy juice coating her swollen lips had been easy to conceal. Yet as he urged her to his lap and she straddled his thighs, the sexy lingerie hid nothing and he wouldn’t miss the evidence of her desire.

  His bright gaze bore into hers. An emotion flared in his eyes, there and gone before she could identify it. He lowered his lashes and the weight of his study caressed her like a physical touch.

  “You’re soaked.” Fire scorched her face, shyness bumping aside need. She dipped her chin and the muscles in her thighs quivered as she shifted to conceal her bared sex.

  “No,” he whispered, his hard grip stilling her restless movement. “Don’t ever hide your desire from me. I need to see it.”

  Before she could reply, Xavier dragged her forward until her pussy pressed against the base of his cock. Pleasure razed a path from her sex and blasted throughout her body before converging on the throbbing flesh between her thighs. Pure heat burned bashfulness away in a sprinkle of ash. She shuddered with hunger and bit her bottom lip, but couldn’t hold back a whimper as her feminine folds parted under the pressure of the slow, erotic ride up his steel shaft.

  She gripped the tense muscles of his upper arms. “Oh God.”

  The whimper became a soft cry as her clit bumped the hood of his cock head and small shocks of delight attacked the engorged button. Her sheath clenched and released in a hungry rhythm and she couldn’t control the tight swivel of her hips. Xavier grunted beneath her and dug his fingers deeper into her hips. She repeated the motion, yearning to hear the carnal noise again. She was immediately rewarded as another groan rumbled in his chest.

  With a growl, he wrenched the control from her and rolled her back down his cock. Then retraced the sensuous path. It should have embarrassed her, the slick path her pussy passed over his flesh. He hadn’t touched her with his fingers, hadn’t been inside her and yet she was as wet as if she’d experienced multiple orgasms. She had never known she was capable of becoming this sensual creature who didn’t care if her juices coated his cock like a thick layer of icing. But no man—not even Joshua—had ever made her want with a fierceness rivaling a category ten hurricane.

  “Shit, Gwen,” he grated. He studied the sight of her swollen lips parted over his glistening shaft, released one hip and dipped his hand between her legs. She gasped as he swiped the clinging moisture from her folds with one finger and lifted it to his mouth. Xavier sucked the gleaming wetness.

  Whose moan echoed in the room? His or hers? One of them emitted the needy sound. Maybe they both had. She sighed. The sight of him tonguing her taste from his finger could give her eye-gasms.

  “Sweet.” The word rumbled from his chest. His eyes glittered in the semi-darkness. “I’ve never tasted anything sweeter.”

  He gathered more of her essence and slowly painted her mouth. The gentle, tender touch wielded a different but no less overwhelming eroticism. The earthy scent drifted to her nose and she yielded to the instinctual urge to sweep the tip of her tongue over her damp lips. Desire had a flavor. Rich. Tangy.

  “It’s addictive,” Xavier growled. He cupped the base of her skull in his large palm and hauled her forward, the sudden movement catching her off guard. Her hands flattened against his chest and his tongue captured her tiny surprised gasp as he licked the cream from her lips.

  Oh damn.

  She couldn’t label the caress a kiss, but it jolted straight through her. The wet stroke reverberated in her breasts, abdomen and core. The taste of him. Wild. Fresh like the air after a spring rain and yet dark like a heavy sky right before a storm. More. Please, God, she wanted more.

  “There won’t be any ghosts in that bed tonight, Gwen. Not when your pussy is flowing like a fucking river. For me.”

  It had always been him. No one else, but him.

  Chapter Five

  “Tell me, do not you think me very ugly?”—Beauty and the Beast

  “You can’t bullshit a bullshitter.”—Xavier St. James

  “Look at me, Gwen.” Xavier tightened his grip on her scalp and shook her head, emphasizing his command. He needed to see her eyes, to gaze into them and know his disfigurement didn’t keep her from burning for him. The eyes and slick cream on his dick couldn’t lie. Time crawled as she complied with his demand. She lifted her lashes and bleak shadows haunted the brown depths. But hunger smoldered there too. He ignored the sadness and concentrated on the desire. Not addressing the emotion made him a bastard, but if she admitted memories of his brother had caused the sorrow, he would go apeshit.

  Inside he cringed at his selfishness, ashamed, but not enough to let her go. Not enough to grant her space and time to reconcile her feelings for the man she’d been on the verge of marrying. Joshua had been the love of her life—Xavier didn’t even entertain the possibility of replacing him in her heart. He couldn’t. Especially not now with his disfigured face, scarred body and damaged psyche. But Joshua was dead. And he was alive and needed Gwendolyn in a way his brother never had.

  “Kiss me.” The words rasped his throat, more an order than a plea. Her steady scrutiny unsettled him. Every self-protective instinct inside him screamed a warning to avoid her intent examination, but he didn’t succumb. And God, did he want to elude the scalpel-like precision that seemed to peer beneath his skin and bone to the bitterness, rage and grief beneath. To the dark places he wasn’t prepared for her to intrude.

  “Kiss me, dammit,” he growled. He tangled his fingers in the soft light-brown curls, intending to compel her obedience.

  Then she leaned forward. And brushed her lips across his jaw. His chin.

  His lips.

  Shock gripped him in its icy claws. The air froze in his lungs as again the soft touch of her kiss grazed his numb mouth. Such gentleness. Like a comforting hand in the dark. A tender whisper in the middle of howling winds. His grip in her hair slackened. His lips grew pliant under hers. And her taste—from her body and the sweet flavor of her soft breath—exploded onto his palate.

  A groan originated from the ravenous, insatiable pit in his soul. He lunged forward and devoured her mouth. Plundered. Took. And, God help him, prayed he gave. But need rode him hard and furious and he couldn’t tell.

  He clutched her ass and shot up from the chair. Gwendolyn encircled his neck with her arms and wrapped her legs around his waist. He stumbled in the trek toward the bed when her tongue speared between his lips. Her bare, hot sex ground against his cock. Fuck, if she was this wet now how would she respond once he penetrated and filled her? His dick flexed. She would squeeze his flesh like a stingy fist and bathe him in her liquid fire at the same time.

  His knees hit the edge of the mattress and, as he pitched forward, he shifted his hands to her back to cushion their fall. They tumbled to the bed, bounced once and then settled. Still he couldn’t stop kissing her. Couldn’t get enough of her.

  “Xavier,” she gasped.

  Her chest heaved beneath him and the full breasts threatened to spill free of the thin lace. He levered back far enough to cup the firm flesh, freeing her of the insubstantial material. A sharp cry burst from her throat as he molded the mounds to his palms and dragged his thumbs across the tight, hard nipples. Like buttered cream topped with the sweetest, darkest berries. No country club or exclusive dining room he’d ever patronized could have offered a more exquisite treat.

  He captured a pebbled tip with his lips and sucked it deep. Her scream came seconds before the sting of her nails bit into his scalp. Both were just as satisfying as the taut flesh he flicked with his tongue.

  “Xavier, please,” she pleaded, hips writhing.

  He drew b
ack and released the nipple with a soft, wet pop.

  “Please what, baby?” he murmured. Unable to not touch her for any length of time, he rubbed his lips over the moist peak. Nudged it with the pointed tip of his tongue. “Talk to me, Gwen. Please what?”

  “Suck me harder,” she panted, fingers clutching his hair and tugging the strands from the band at his nape. He stiffened. Fear seized him and squeezed its merciless fist around his heart. For a moment, dread supplanted passion.

  “Xavier? What’s wrong?” He jerked his eyes to her face. A small frown furrowed her brow. What could he say? He dropped his gaze to the center of her chest. I need you to look at my face so I can catch the first sign of disgust? Evelyn had preferred his hair loose the few times they’d had sex after the accident. With the thick strands unbound, the scar had been hidden. He had allowed the pretense, so desperate to believe at least one thing remained constant in a world that had morphed into a cold, strange place in the span of one tragic night.

  After he’d discovered Evelyn’s affair and she’d left, blaming his disfigured face for the end of their relationship, he had refused to allow himself the luxury of deliberate ignorance. With his hair drawn back, no one could pretend the scar didn’t exist—and he couldn’t pretend to not see their horror.

  “Xavier.” She called his name again and released his head.

  If possible, he stiffened further as her fingers neared his ruined cheek. In a flash of movement, he grasped both her wrists and pinned them to the bed on either side of her shoulders. Her sharp intake of breath ended on a strangled moan as he latched onto the nipple he hadn’t yet feasted on, then sucked it hard and deep as she’d requested.

  He became lost in her again, forgetting everything but the flesh in his mouth. Gwendolyn squirmed beneath his lashing tongue. The muscles in her arms tensed as she strained to free herself from his hold, but he held fast. And tortured both himself and her.

  He turned from one breast to the other, tracing wide circles around her areolas before dragging his flattened tongue over the taut tips. Her cries spurred him on, encouraged him to score her beaded flesh with his teeth. He drew on the peaks so strongly, she dug her heels into the backs of his thighs and levered her hips from the mattress to stroke his cock with her pussy.

  Fuck. That pussy.

  The only thing capable of tearing him away from the fantasy of her breasts was the dream of savoring the sweet sex he’d only had the chance to palm. He slid down her body, lowering her bound arms to rest beside her hips. Gwendolyn’s restless thrashing didn’t deter him from planting damp kisses on her narrow rib cage, flat stomach and navel. Her intoxicating musk drifted to him and he rubbed his cheek over the smooth, soft skin of her abdomen.

  Aside from the doctors who had sewn his face back together, the small caress to the raised scar was the first in three years. He indulged in one last pass over her skin before he lowered his head to the soaked triangle of curls between her legs and nuzzled the top of the dark nest.

  Gwendolyn stilled as if in anticipation of his next touch. He didn’t leave her in suspense.

  At the first stroke of his tongue through her swollen folds, a cry exploded from her throat and her hips bucked so hard she dislodged him. With a growl, he released her wrists and tugged her hands toward her sex.

  “Hold your pretty pussy open for me, Gwen,” he directed, moving her fingers until she spread herself wide for his gaze and tongue. His mouth watered for a taste of the dark-pink glistening flesh and the hooded, engorged clitoris. “Don’t let go.” He wedged his shoulders under her spread thighs, then cupped and lifted her ass so the splayed lips were like an offering to his mouth.

  And he gorged on her.

  Skill and technique vaulted out the window as he delved in the dewy cleft. Cream filled his mouth and he swallowed as if she offered him the sweetest delicacy. He lapped and stroked, thrust and flicked with his tongue. He couldn’t get enough. When he slid two fingers inside her pussy, the muscles clamped them like a vise. His cock jerked in response as if begging for the same tight, slick grip on his fingers. Damn. He panted, pressing a pursed kiss to her clit.

  Gwendolyn twisted uncontrollably and her broken sobs punctuated the room.

  “Xavier.” She reached for his head, but he jerked back before she could touch him. Both of her hands dropped to his shoulders. Confusion and a flash of hurt shadowed her eyes. Regret, sharp and hot, spliced through his chest. Arousal and passion should’ve been the only emotions inhabiting this room, not pain.

  He snagged a wrist, captured and suckled her fingers and sipped the hints of her sweet cream from the fingertips. As he coiled his tongue and savored, he plied steady, short thrusts to her slit, dragging more evidence of her desire from the snug channel with each withdrawal. Her choppy breaths and the suck and release of her wet flesh filled his ears.

  “Mmm…” he hummed, pulling her fingers free of his mouth. “Can you do something for me, baby?” He waited for her nod. “Touch yourself. Play with your clit.”

  “I-I can’t,” she stammered, eyes widening.

  “Yes, you can.” The cadence of his strokes slowed until they stilled. “Show me how you make yourself come in the darkest part of night. Show me how Gwen, the woman, likes to be touched when Gwendolyn, the community center director, disappears.” He bent his head and nuzzled her curls, inhaled her scent and trapped the tangy aroma in his lungs. “I want to learn what pleases you.”

  She lowered her long lashes at his words and the dark fringe veiled her gaze.

  “Look at me, baby,” he said. When she complied, he placed a kiss to her fingertips and lowered them between her thighs. “It’s just you and me. No one else. Anything goes in this bed. No shame. No embarrassment.”

  For a heartbeat of silence, she stared at him. Then she slid a hesitant caress over the swollen button. Then another. And one more. This time when her eyes closed, he didn’t demand she reopen them. Pleasure tightened her delicate features, painted a lovely flush on her cheekbones.

  “That’s it, baby,” he praised, breathing harsh. “Good girl.” He shuddered and his ass tightened as he dry-humped the mattress, seeking a bit of relief for his throbbing cock. “Good girl,” he rasped.

  She circled the hard nub, the motions no longer tentative. Her hips followed the pace set by her touch and her other hand plucked at her taut nipple. Labored puffs of air escaped her parted lips and Xavier couldn’t believe how sensual—beautiful—she appeared.

  “My turn,” he whispered and picked up her erotic rhythm, finger-fucking her silken sheath with long, slow plunges. They worked in tandem, each slow thrust stoking the fire in his veins higher and hotter. With one hand plying her sex, he lifted the other to her neglected breast and pinched the tight peak. Once more her cries broke over him as her body twisted and rolled.

  “Oh God,” she screamed, face contorted into a mask of lust and need. “Finish me. Oh God, finish me.”

  With a low raw moan, he deserted her breast to grip her hip. He lowered his head over her fingers, nudged them aside and closed his lips over her clit. And sucked—hard.

  She came apart.

  Spasms quaked through her body. Her pussy clamped down, imprisoning his fingers in the tight channel even as she bathed his hand in hot cream. Sharp nails bit into his scalp and he didn’t bother to evade them. Even as she undulated beneath him, he continued to lap at her flesh. Her sobs gradually quieted to whimpers, and then pants. At length, she loosened her clasp on his head and her arms slumped to her sides.

  Yet he couldn’t resist sampling her one last time.

  “Enough…please,” she pleaded on the tail end of a moan and made a halfhearted attempt to push his head away.

  He chuckled and offered her a small smile. “Not fucking likely.”

  Her juice coated his lips and her pussy quivered around his fingers, inflaming a hunger that incinerated his control. If he didn’t get his cock inside her… Hell, he needed to get his cock inside her.

 
; He jackknifed off the bed and strode to the bedside table and lamp. With a twist of his wrist, the room was plunged into darkness, alleviated only by the small amount of moonlight peeking through the gaps in the drawn drapes.

  “Xavier?”

  He ignored the question and surprise in her voice and whipped his sweater over his head. Once she touched him, she would figure out why he’d doused the light. After removing a small foil packet from his front pocket, he tossed his pants and underwear to the floor. Naked, he straightened, and his eyes had adjusted enough to the dark to drink her in like a thirsty man staring at an ice-old bottle of water. Her sex, a shade darker than the shadows, drew his ravenous gaze. He’d just sipped from the intoxicating flesh between her thighs and he longed for more. A sliver of unease pierced his heart. If he was smart, he’d tell her to get dressed and walk out of this room. One time—one week—would never be enough to fill this ravenous need for her.

  Xavier approached the bed, climbed onto it and crouched on his hands and knees over her. Arousal consumed him and he spared only a brief thought to the scars marring his chest and stomach. Her taste filling his mouth left no room for humiliation.

  She stared up at him, her features loosened with pleasure—pleasure he’d placed there. Did she know what she’d given him tonight?

  He mentally shook his head. How could she? How could she know by submitting to him so generously—so sweetly—she’d healed a part of his heart, his spirit? Until she’d come in his mouth and on his hand, he hadn’t admitted to himself how much damage his ex-fiancée’s rejection had wreaked.

  Compounded by the wide berth most women cleaved around him, he’d doubted a woman could still want him…would see past his face and allow him close enough to bare the man who still existed beneath the scarred visage. And now, as she gazed at him in satiation instead of the horror he’d become accustomed to, a piece of his soul returned to him—battered, but strong and whole.

  He lowered his head and brushed his lips over hers. Once. Twice. She circled his neck with her arms and drew him closer. Though blood raged through his cock, making it pound with insistence to be buried deep inside her tight sex, the kiss was soft, tender. Almost…loving. Her tongue tangled with his, sucked and caressed. Each moan and breathless sigh stroked his senses and shored up another crack in his heart.