Beautiful Beast

by Aubrey Irons

  His fingers move faster and faster, curling right inside against my spot as his thumb slips across my clit over and over again. I can already feel it starting in my toes - the burning, aching, breath-stopping feeling that I know I’ll be powerless to stop. His mouth moves back to mine, and his fingers keep moving - pushing, dragging, and coaxing me right to the edge of that drop.

  “Silas-” I gasp out into his lips. His cock pulses in my hand as I say his name.

  His mouth drops to my ear, his breath hot against my neck. “I want to feel this tight little pussy come for me, Ivy,” he growls. “Come for me, gorgeous.”

  A single, aching cry tumbles from my lips before I shatter for him. I bury my face in his shoulder, biting the skin there as the orgasm bursts through me, my whole body clenching around his driving, magical fingers.

  I gasp for air before I start to move my hand again, stroking him quicker.

  I want to feel him come for me now.

  “Fuck, Ivy,” he growls, his jaw tightening.

  “I’m-”

  And suddenly, I know what I want.

  I slip down off his lap, kneeling before him. And before he can say a word, I lean forward and wrap my lips around that big, perfect cock of his.

  Silas groans deeply, growling out his pleasure, his hand slipping into my hair.

  I swirl my tongue around him, feeling him pulse and throb in my mouth.

  “Baby, I’m going to come.”

  But I only move my lips faster up and down his cock, my tongue working the underside as I stroke the part of him that doesn’t fit inside. He groans again, his ab muscles rippling as I feel him grow even harder inside my mouth.

  And suddenly he’s coming.

  I swallow him as he fills my mouth, feeling him shudder against my lips as his growling moans send shivers through me.

  I give him a final lick, giggling as he shudders, before I sit up and grin at him.

  “Horrible idea,” he murmurs, grinning back at me.

  “Oh, the worst we ever had.” I snuggle back into him, letting my head dip onto his shoulder as he strokes my hair.

  We stay like that for a minute, basking in it, feeling our hearts thud and just being in that moment.

  Finally, I glance up at him. “At some point, I should probably get back home, you know.”

  He laughs, the sound rumbling through me.

  “At some point,” he murmurs, leaning down and kissing my lips.

  “But not right now, right?”

  “No, not right now,” I say softly.

  His hand finds its way to mine. “I say we stay here a little longer.”

  “Now that’s the best idea yet.”

  Chapter 22

  Ivy

  “We’re here Mama!”

  Carter squirms in his mother’s arms as she pulls him from the car seat. I smooth my skirt down as I step from her car into the sunny morning air a block away from Marsden Park. Well, soon to be the Jacob Hammond park.

  It’s a weird thought, realizing that my family is such a part of this town that our name is going to literally be on the map after today. That’s all my parents, though. My mother, the music teacher at Harborview Elementary for thirty years. And of course my dad, the magnanimous, big hearted, strong-willed Congregationalist minister. Founder of two different soup kitchens, one of the biggest fundraising drivers for the North Boston home for boys, and general pillar of the community.

  It was crazy to hear about the park renaming, but not anything that surprising considering my dad’s place in this town. Well, that and considering that literally no one - including the Shelter Harbor historical society - can remember who the heck Marsden was, or why the park is named after him.

  Who better than Jacob Hammond?

  Mom and Dad and Sierra get out of their car parked right in front of us just as Rowan’s distinctively loud Indian motorcycle goes roaring past us.

  It’s an important day, and rightfully so. But my mind is honestly everywhere but on the fact that my family’s name is about to be emblazoned across the park where I learned to ride a bike, or where Sierra broke an arm on the monkey bars.

  It’s on the man whose touch I can still feel from the night before.

  Whose lips I can still taste.

  I force a smile to my face though as my mom puts her arm around me, all of us making our way to the gazebo in the middle of the park where the white folding chairs and podium is laid out for the dedication ceremony.

  “I’m just glad I’ve got so many of my babies at home for once!” she gushes, giving me a squeeze.

  Well, all of us except for Kyle, who’s got a work thing and gets a pass. But even if “work” wasn’t “the FBI”, Kyle would always get a pass being the golden boy in our dad’s eyes.

  After all, he’s got two sons, and one of them didn’t manage to almost get himself killed escaping an armored truck robbery with Silas Hart.

  But that’s in the past, and it should stay there.

  Mayor Thompson finishes her speech, and the crowd of people assembled in the park cheer as my dad takes the small stage. There’s a plaque given, and more words about everything our he’s done and how the Hammond name is a “pillar of the community.”

  But it’s not thirty seconds into Dad’s acceptance speech when I look up into the crowd, and my heart jumps.

  Silas stands at the back of the crowd, watching it all. He’s cleaned up from the t-shirt and jeans look I’ve seen him in so far back in town, wearing a charcoal grey suit this time, the jacket open to a well-fitted shirt, and a tie.

  Silas Hart has never worn a tie in his entire damn life. Hell, he didn’t even wear one to prom.

  He nods and claps when my dad accepts the award, and again when he ceremoniously cuts away the sheet covering the new sign for the park that’ll bear our name.

  Watching him there, I’m not thinking about the “good” Hammond name, and its established place in this town.

  I’m thinking about the boy that wasn’t from the right side of town.

  The boy with the broken past.

  The boy with the home I couldn’t visit.

  The boy that was all wrong for me that I couldn’t and had no intention of ever saying no to.

  What was I thinking?

  When you’re young, you know everything. More than that, you know everything, and anyone who tries to tell you otherwise is wrong.

  I realize now, as an adult, how moronically self involved that is.

  I was drawn to Silas because of that darkness that followed him. I was pulled into that storm inside his eyes, heedless of what anyone had to say about it. Because back then, no one was going to change my mind.

  I blink as the crowd cheers again, realizing I’ve been staring at Silas for the last few minutes across the crowd.

  He’s staring right back at me, and as the crowd claps as my dad leaves the stage, I tear my eyes away, remembering to bring my own hands together. I glance back after a second, but he’s gone from the spot he stood moments before.

  “Congrats, Dad.” Rowan claps Dad on the shoulder as Sierra throws her arms around him.

  “Pop-pop!” Carter squeals as our dad picks him up.

  “Hammond Park, huh?” Rowan grins, pushing his hair back from his face. “So are we on the lookout for any Marsden descendants looking for blood today?”

  My dad chuckles deeply, a warm rumbling sound. And I’m turning to smile at him when I suddenly see his face drop as his whole body stiffens.

  I turn back, following my dad’s cold stare, and there he is.

  Silas.

  Silas, eye-to-eye with my father for the first time since that night in the ER waiting room.

  “Oh-” my mother starts, bringing her hand to her mouth and drawing in a breath as she sees the boy who was all but a third son to her standing right in front of us.

  Dad clears his throat slowly, his eyes never leaving Silas. “You’ve got a lot of damn nerve, son,” he says gruffly. His eyes dart to Rowan,
and then me. I cringe, wondering if everything from last night is written all over my face.

  Silas slowly shakes his head. “I don’t mean to start anything, sir, I just-”

  “You just what.”

  Dad steps towards Silas, his large frame drawn up high and protective.

  Stella reaches out with a hand. “Dad-”

  “Dad, I asked him to be here.” Rowan steps forward, shaking his head at our dad.

  “You what?” Dad turns a stern scowl on our older brother, narrowing his eyes at him.

  “It’s an important day, sir,” Silas says slowly. “I know-” he clears his throat. “Whatever the past, I didn’t want to miss something important like this for the Hammond family.” He looks my dad right in the eye.

  “No matter what happened.”

  Dad holds his gaze a moment longer before he mutters something under his breath and looks away.

  “You do what you like, son.” He turns back to Silas, his look solemn as he towers over him.

  “Just stay away from my family.”

  My mom is still looking at Silas like she wants to either cry or hug him - maybe both. Dad puts an arm over her shoulders though as he turns. “Let’s go.” His eyes drop meaningfully to me, his look stern.

  I look back at Silas for a moment, wanting to say something, but knowing I can’t.

  “Good to see you, man,” Rowan mumbles, nodding stiffly at Silas as my dad glowers at him.

  Silas’s eyes dart to mine, holding them just for a second before he nods, turns, and walks away.

  My sisters and Carter and our parents start to walk back to the cars. Rowan blows air out through his lips.

  “Well, fuck. That went well,” he growls.

  I shake my head. “Dad’s never going to forgive him, is he?”

  “For that night?” Rowan frowns and looks at his feet.

  “Maybe? Probably not?” He sighs. “I don’t know, Ivy.”

  “Even though he knows Silas was only there that night stopping you from doing the job.”

  “Jacob Hammond and his convictions,” Rowan mutters. “You know Dad. In his eyes, Silas fucked up my path, even though I never wanted that path anyways. I’ve told him a hundred different ways what happened that night, and what could have gone so much worse if Silas hadn’t been there.”

  “He just doesn’t care?”

  “He just sees Silas as the root of it all. I mean, Dad had a certain idea for all of us growing up, and a plan he thought we’d all follow. But then I’m busted stealing that six-pack, you’re dating Silas Hart, Stella’s off talking fuckin’ marriage with that asshat Mitch.” He shrugs. “That night was just the culmination of a lot of shit, Ivy.”

  “And Silas got the full brunt of it.”

  Rowan snorts. “Oh, believe me, I took a fucking sermon from Dad in that hospital bed. If I wasn’t his own flesh and blood, I’d be as gone as Silas, trust me.”

  “Silas was basically his flesh and blood,” I say heatedly, my face darkening as I think of the unfairness of it all.

  My brother nods. “I know, Ivy.” He meets my eyes. “No one said it was fair, it’s just the way things shook out.”

  He frowns. “How is it, by the way? Seeing Silas, I mean.”

  I swallow the heat from my face as I casually reach for my phone as a sort of cover. “Oh, fine,” I shrug. “I mean, you know, the past is the past. We were kids back then.”

  “You loved him back then,” Rowan says quietly.

  I look up from my phone, swallowing the pain and the memories that threaten to come tearing out as I put on a forced smile.

  “It was a long time ago, Row.”

  He nods before he glances at his watch. “Hey, I’ve got a bar that needs opening.” He looks up at me with a grin. “Feel like helping?”

  “Does it come with a free drink?”

  My older brother laughs as he puts his arm around my shoulders. “Today, Slimy, it comes with three.”

  Chapter 23

  Ivy

  “You shouldn’t be here.”

  He sees me coming this time, sitting on the roof of his boat and watching me as I come down the docks towards him.

  “I should be wherever I want to be, actually.”

  He shakes his head, his jaw tight. “Not here.”

  I ignore what he’s said as I step over the side of the boat. “Silas, what my dad said-”

  “What your dad said is fucking true.” His words come sharp as he climbs down from the roof until he’s standing right in front of me. “I can’t be near you, Ivy,” he says icily. “I can’t be near you or anyone like you, it’s why I fucking left in the first place!”

  It’s only then, in the shadows cast from lights further down the piers that I see how strained he looks. His face is drawn, his eyes burning into mine as he slowly shakes his head. He looks hurt - broken from all those years ago.

  “I’m not your ‘bad boy’, Ivy,” he says quietly. “I’m not your walk on the wild side or whatever. I’m just bad. That’s it. My world and your world shouldn’t ever mix.” His chest rises and falls slowly as his eyes lock onto mine.

  “Done yet?”

  He glares at me. “What?”

  “I said are you done yet, with all your shitty excuses.”

  Maybe it’s seeing the hurt in his face, and being reminded of that knocked-down-but-not-broken boy I fell in love with all those years ago. Maybe it’s being so close to him after being apart for so long - the proximity of pheromones my body remembers.

  Or maybe it’s that I’m just confused, and scared, and looking for something to grasp onto in the storm of my life. And come hell or whatever happened in the past, he’s always been the lighthouse in that storm.

  But in the end, none of it matters.

  Because right then, I kiss him.

  I don’t even know why, or what insanity possesses me to do it, but before I know it, my lips are pressed to his, my hands sliding up his chest to his collar to pull him into me.

  But when I do kiss him, the reasons why become irrelevant - lost in the whirlwind of that moment.

  He holds back for one shred of second before he’s growling into my mouth, his arms wrapping tightly around me and pulling me into him. He kisses me hard right back, and I moan as his tongue finds mine, his hands sliding across my body.

  The reasons leading to this moment don’t actually matter, because we’re right back to that passion from before. It’s the visceral need for each other we’ve always had, before we decided to pretend it wasn’t there. He’s pulling at the hem of my dress as my hands drop to tug feverishly his belt, and none of the years matter as we pull away pretenses and clothes and come together.

  His hands slide down to cup my ass beneath the short dress, pulling me up as my legs wrap around his chiseled waist. He carries me into the houseboat, his lips never leaving mine.

  It’s small, bare.

  Perfect.

  His strong muscled arms lay me down across his bed, finally pulling the dress from my body and letting it drop behind him on the floor. His eyes lock onto me, devouring me like I’m a meal he’s been waiting a lifetime to feast on. His shirt and his jeans join my dress on the floor before he’s crawling over me, his mouth crashing into mine again.

  I gasp as he breaks the kiss, his lips sliding down my neck, down to my breasts. My back arches as he takes a nipple between his lips, one hand slowly sliding over my soft belly towards my panties. His fingers slip under them, and I moan as he finds me wet and ready for him. My legs spread as if remembering this dance, and as he moves further down my body, I lift my hips as he pulls them down my legs.

  He kicks his boxers off, and I can feel my blood run hot at the sight of his body after all these years.

  His chest, those grooves of his hips.

  That perfect cock that I’ve never forgotten.

  He’s got more tattoos and more scars than I remember, but it’s all coming rushing back as he wraps his arms around me, kissing my body.
We’re bare but for the necklaces and our memories of each other, and I can feel his thick cock so hard and throbbing against me there between my legs. My body remembers what the mind never did.

  His lips drag low again, leaving kisses in their wake.

  “No-no,” I murmur with a moan as his tongue flicks across my thigh. “I want you now.”

  His eyes drag up to mine up the length of my body. “If you think I’ve waited eight fucking years for this and that I’m not going to taste you as much as I can, than you are sorely mistaken, gorgeous.”

  God, his mouth.

  I jolt as his tongue drags through my wetness, teasing over my clit and making my hips buck from the bed. He’s merciless in his teasing, his tongue and his fingers pushing me higher and higher, until my body sings and I feel like I might pass out with the gasping breaths I’m somehow managing to suck in.

  His tongue rolls across my clit again, and I come, biting my hand and gasping as the orgasm practically elevates me from the bed against his mouth.

  And I remember now that I’ve never come as hard or as earth-shatteringly as I did with him.

  And never since him.

  He starts to crawl up my body as I lay there like a puddle, but I grin and pounce, flipping him over. He laughs as I jump on him, sitting astride his legs and bringing my mouth down to his neck.

  Now it’s my turn.

  My lips kiss and bite and suck their way down his body, remembering every hard inch of it. My eyes drink in the newer tattoos, the scars I’ve never seen.

  “What’s this?”

  My lips and my fingers linger on the round little scar on his side the looks like I’d imagine a bullet hole looks like.

  He shakes his head, eyes sparkling at me. “It’s nothing.”

  “Silas-“

  “It doesn’t matter,” he says softly, kissing me. “None of it does.”

  I somehow drag myself from his lips, but only because there’s more of him I want to taste. I push him onto his back on the bed as I make my way down.

  God, he’s big.

  So hard, throbbing in my hands, like iron and silk. I stroke him as I wet him with my tongue, teasing and making him groan.