She smiled. “It is not so funny when people play with your feelings, is it, Beast?” she said, as if she had searched his mind and seen all the cruelty he had exhibited toward his former lovers. And, yes, it was cruel of him to lead them on, he realized just then. The woman spoke. “If someone calls you by your name, you, Beast, shall die. You must convince someone to love you with only your personality. And it cannot be the shallow love of schoolgirl crushes. It must be time-tested and long-endured, the love of truth and unity.”
What the Hell did that even mean? A love of truth and unity. He was lost.
“I am sending you away now,” the sorceress said.
His eyes widened. “What?”
“You will be sent to an enchanted manor. Everything you need to live will be provided for you. But you will not be able to leave the grounds. If you do, you will die.”
“Then how am I to find a girl to love me?”
She laughed again, another wicked cackle. “I guess that does present a dilemma, doesn’t it? I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
The sides of the cloak rose, a sign she was lifting her arms. Beast saw a bright light, and then he was here. He’d been here for the last seven years. And now he had his chance. He had to make Beauty love him, and he had to control himself.
Chapter 7
That night, Beauty had a dream. In it, Beast came into her room, where Beauty was lying in bed naked. Beast lay next to her and stared. His eyes drank her in greedily, but he didn’t touch her.
She wasn’t sure why she was naked, but she wanted him to touch her. She wanted him to glide his fingers along her breasts. She wanted him to kiss her, to know what it felt like to have his mouth on hers. She wanted him to pull her close to him so she knew what if felt like to have her body pressed against his. Only, he did nothing but watch. It drove her mad at the same time it pleased her. Pleased her to have him so close, but aggravated her that he wouldn’t do what they both seemed to want.
“Why do you just stare?” she asked, and her words sounded more like a plea than a question.
“Because you haven’t asked,” he said simply.
She stared at him, not sure she should ask, but realizing she couldn’t take the agony of wanting him any longer. “Kiss me,” she said.
He sat up, then climbed on top of her, straddling her naked body with his clothed body. She was startled by what this did to her, how it made her feel down below: moist, warm and yearning for more. He smiled at her, then leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers, sliding his tongue into her mouth. It wrapped with hers, doing a seductive dance. She liked the feel of his mouth on hers, the scent of him, so close, a little bit earthy and rustic. She even liked the tickle of his facial hair against her chin. His mouth stayed pressed to hers, their tongues mingling, and she felt short of air, but she didn’t care. She wanted to pull him closer to feel him closer, but he somehow resisted.
He pulled away, stared at her lying beneath him. “Did you like your kiss?”
She nodded.
He smiled crookedly, his brown eyes gleaming. “If you want more, you only have to ask.”
She did want more. She opened her mouth to ask, but then she heard a noise, a high-pitched warbling. She turned to see what it was. Then, her eyes popped open. It had been a dream. She was alone in her bed, and there was a bird singing outside her window.
* * *
Beauty didn’t want to see Beast, not after that dream. She conjured breakfast in her room, thinking of croissants, fresh fruit and milk. She ate, and then the dishes disappeared when she thought she’d like them gone.
She wanted to explore the house and grounds a little, but not run into him. She went outside to the garden and saw the golden roses. They were magnificent, even prettier in bloom than they were after they’d been cut and stuffed into a bag, as were the first ones she’d seen — the ones her father had brought back.
Beauty was looking at the flowers when she heard the sound of an axe, the clop of cut wood as it was stacked and labored breathing. She rounded the corner of the manor and saw Beast, an axe in his hand, splitting logs for firewood. He wore only trousers, and she could see just how powerful and muscular he was. Even though his skin was covered in thick black fur, she could see the defined pectoral muscles, brawny biceps and toned abdominal muscles. He was strong and powerful, and she wondered what it would feel like to be held in his arms.
He was lifting the axe to chop another log when he spotted her and smiled. He set the axe down and walked over toward her. “Good day to you, Beauty,” he said, upon reaching her. She didn’t want him to know she was avoiding him, so she forced a smile in response.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked.
She nodded, but again she didn’t want to speak. Instead, she stared at him, at just how massive he was up close, just how sculpted his chest was. Perhaps cutting firewood kept his upper body so strong.
“Have you seen the roses?” he asked, his voice a little uncertain, as if he were afraid he were boring her.
She shook her head.
“I’ll show them to you,” he said, turning toward the garden. He started to hold out his hand toward her, but then, as if suddenly remembering his vow not to touch her again until she asked, he retracted the hand and said, “Follow me.”
For some reason, Beauty felt stung by his action, but she didn’t know if it stung because she wanted him to touch her and he wouldn’t. Or if it stung because she wished she didn’t want him to touch her. She followed him to the roses, and they stood next to one of the bushes, a foot or so of space between them. Beast bent a branch with a rose toward her. “Touch it,” he suggested. “I think you’ll be surprised.”
Beauty reached out her hand toward the petal, bringing it within an inch of Beast’s hand. She looked at him, and he was watching carefully to see if she would actually touch him. She bit her lower lip and decided not to give him the satisfaction. She felt the rose’s petals, and they were soft, like those of a real flower. She actually was startled by how soft they felt. “How is this possible?” she asked. “The flowers my father carried were hard.”
Beast smiled. “After they’re cut, they turn to regular gold within a few hours, gold that can’t grow and breathe, expand, or open its petals, or even wither and die. But, as long as they’re growing, they’re like real flowers. In need of love and attention, so they can open up and blossom.” He looked at her longingly and said, “Sometimes they just need the right touch, the right caress, to bloom.”
The air between them was charged, and she felt herself drawn to Beast, drawn to his words, drawn to his sweaty, musky scent after cutting wood. She had to go. She turned and tripped over a rock. She was sure she was going to fall flat on her face and put her hands out in front of her. Instead, she felt Beast’s arms wrap around her waist and pull her back to him.
She was clasped against his body, a firm, sweaty, tangle of muscles and fur. Her breath was ragged from the shock of the near fall and the quick rescue. Her heart thumped in her chest. Beast released her. “I’m sorry,” he said.
She took two steps back and looked at him. “For what?” she asked.
“I promised not to touch you,” he said, looking at her eyes, seeming to beg permission to touch her again. “I only did it to stop your fall.”
“I know,” she said, but she looked down at the ground. The grass was still green, but not particularly lush, due to the cold.
He stepped closer to her, so close that she could feel his breath on her. “I will keep my promise in the future, so long as you’re not in danger of getting hurt. I won’t touch you unless you ask.”
Beauty looked into his eyes, and it was as if they were demanding she ask him. Demanding her to say, “Please, touch me.” Or was it her eyes that were demanding that? Maybe it was another part of her body. The body that felt drawn to his, that wanted to feel him touching her everywhere. “Yes, please don’t,” she whispered, then turned and walked away.
Chapter 8
Beauty managed to avoid Beast. She would watch him chopping wood from her window, telling herself it was because she wanted to know when he finished and came inside. But, part of her liked watching him, liked watching the way his muscles flexed and bent as he slammed the axe down. Liked watching his breath become labored if he was out there a long while. Liked the memory of his musky, earthy scent. She wondered if his sweat would taste salty if she licked it off of him. And then she would have to turn away from her window and remind herself just to look and see if Beast were finished, nothing more. She knew she shouldn’t give in to her yearnings with Beast. He wasn’t even a man, but she felt the desire to be with him, and it was growing stronger.
She managed to avoid him during the day, but at night she couldn’t. He invaded her sleep. She dreamed that Beast came into her room and walked straight across to the bed, where Beauty lay in only a corset, buttoned at the front. He told her he’d changed his mind. He would take her now, if that was alright. Beauty was too stunned to reply, but she watched him with anticipation, her mouth watering at the thought of his touch.
Beast mounted the bed, climbing on top of her, bending over her, his soft warm breath on her neck. The sensation, like a hot breeze caressing her skin, made her shiver with pleasure. She wondered what he would touch next, and if it would make her body react like this. He lifted his head and looked in her eyes. She thought he might kiss her. She imagined how his lips would feel pressed against hers. How his tongue would feel inside her mouth.
But he didn’t kiss her. Instead, he lowered his head until he was right over her corset. He put his mouth on the first button, his tongue lightly touching her breast. Then he bit down on the button and Beauty felt his warm lips caress the fabric. He lifted his head, and she felt a slight tugging and realized he’d bitten the button right off. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath, anticipating his move, but she had been. She breathed out, a small shocked whoosh. He looked up at her and grinned. Then he bent his head over her corset and did it again and again. Twenty three times, he bit the buttons off the corset. She wanted him to hurry, to get it off, yet she liked to watch the way he ripped at her clothing, as if that said something about the passion with which he would take her. When her corset was completely debuttoned, it spread open slightly, exposing a sliver of skin down the center. He used his furry fingers to spread the remains of the garment, exposing her naked breasts, her tummy and the hair that hid her womanhood.
He traced his finger along the areola of each breast, the tingling sensation thrilling her and making her moist. His finger slid over her abdomen, down her hair, and right to the opening of her womanhood. “May I?” he asked, surprising her. She nodded, but he didn’t move. “May I?” he asked again.
“Yes,” she breathed out, and he plunged his finger into her. His hand was large, and so was his finger, and the sensation of his single finger sliding in and out of her made Beauty’s breath catch in her throat. She wanted to focus on the sensation, but she couldn’t linger as she felt his tongue on her left nipple. He suckled her as he gently thrust his large finger in and out of her. The pleasure was immense and overriding. She’d never felt anything as good before, and she wanted more. She heard a moan escape her lips, though it wasn’t a sound she had ever made before. It sounded beastly, almost. Though, maybe that was appropriate, given who she was with.
He moved his finger inside her faster and faster, and she felt the pleasure building. He grabbed her hair and pulled her head so it tilted back. Then, she felt him suckling her neck, and it felt so good, another wave of pleasure rolled through her. She didn’t want him to stop, and she told him so. He didn’t stop until she was spent, her body having convulsed with release at least three times. He smiled when they were through. “Did you enjoy that?”
She started to nod, but then remembered he liked to hear her answers. “Yes.”
“Good,” he said. “Next time, we’ll do more.”
More, she thought. It had been what Mme. Giselle had said. More. Yes, she wanted more.
That is when Beauty awoke, to learn it had only been a dream. She was alone in her bed chamber, wearing her chemise, rather than a broken corset. Of course, she was moist down below. While she realized it was just a dream, it had felt so real; she wished it had been.
Chapter 9
The dream he’d had last night, of being with Beauty, had tormented him. The first dream, the one of him lying in her bed and staring at her, had felt like agony, but the one last night had driven him mad. He was sure not even Sisyphus had felt as frustrated. If only the dream had been real, he would at least have felt some relief. But, it was only a dream, and everything in him was pent up and still awaiting release.
He wanted her. He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted Isabelle. He wondered if his desire was augmented by the fact that it had been so long since he’d really been with a woman, not just imagined it. And even in the dream, he hadn’t fully been with her. He’d pleasured her, just to see how she liked it, just because he wanted to see how she’d clench around him, how her bosoms would heave when she was excited, how her mouth would form a little O of pleasure. He’d wanted to know what she looked like when she really enjoyed it, what her unbridled pleasure looked like as she orgasmed.
He’d not been disappointed. Not in her reaction. Just in the fact that it was a dream. So vivid it might have been real.
He went downstairs and looked to see if Beauty were awake and roaming the house. He found her at the dining room table. He was pleasantly surprised; earlier, she had been avoiding him. It was a long table, as if it was expected to accommodate a dozen or more dinner guests. Unfortunately, it had always been just Beast. She’d chosen to sit on the end opposite from where Beast normally sat. He could take his usual position or do something different.
He chose to be different, taking a seat to her right. She was eating a plate of scrambled eggs and cheese. It was good that she was getting used to using the house’s enchantment. He hoped it meant she was starting to feel at home here. Beast closed his eyes and thought of a cut of steak and eggs. When he opened them, the plate was before him.
He looked at Beauty and started to smile. Then, his mouth dropped open. He should have noticed before. He didn’t know why he hadn’t. Maybe because dreams are like that — hard to recall until the details slam into you like a wall. But, now he was sure of it. He counted silently, the way he had last night in his dream. Twenty-three. There were 23 buttons on the corset. It was the exact color and fabric of the corset he’d ripped the buttons off of in his dreams.
Beauty was eyeing him curiously, as if she were concerned by his stare.
“Lovely corset,” Beast said.
Beauty raised an eyebrow.
“You thought of that, this morning?”
She nodded, but stared at him, as if something about what he was asking were troubling her.
Even though he knew she seemed troubled by it, he had to find out more. It couldn’t be coincidence that the corset of his dream was the one she was wearing. He didn’t fully understand the enchantment of the house, so he wondered if he was able to dream of her in the corset because she had actually worn it to bed last night. “I know this a strange question,” he said. “But, did you sleep in that corset?”
She stood up, nostrils flaring. “Tell me now,” she said coldly. “Do the powers you have to enchant this house also allow you to read my mind, to invade my dreams?”
He couldn’t help smiling. She had dreamed it, too. “No, I have no power to read minds or invade dreams,” he said. He didn’t tell her he hadn’t enchanted the house. He realized she couldn’t find out that he was a prisoner here as much as she was. Or, really, that he was the only prisoner here. That she could leave at any time and he couldn’t follow. He needed her to stay long enough that she didn’t want to leave. “Even if I had the power at my will, I wouldn’t invade your dreams. Our dreams and our thoughts should be private.”
She studied his face
a moment, then frowned. “Why did you ask about the corset?”
“I had a dream last night that I came into your room and ripped the buttons off your corset. There were 23, just like on this one.”
Her face flushed at the memory and she took a step back. “I had the same dream,” she said softly.
“I’ve always lived here alone,” Beast said. “Perhaps when there’s another person in the house, we somehow share dreams.”
She seemed to be mulling it over, pondering whether that could be true. Then she shook her head. “Or perhaps you say that you will not touch me again without my asking and then you invade my dreams to do so.”
Beast stood, too, suddenly flooded with anger. He had been nothing but kind to her, and now she was accusing him of being something he wasn’t. Something he had been trying to overcome so he could lift this damned curse. “Are you saying I am a liar? That I somehow invaded your dream on purpose, so I could violate my word? So I could take you against your will?”
Beauty paused for a moment, watching him. “I don’t know.”
“I am not a liar,” he said vehemently. “And I will never force you to be in my bed.” He picked up his plate of food, then turned to leave the room. “Enjoy your breakfast,” he said as he exited.
Chapter 10
Beast did not speak to Beauty for several days, and that bothered her. She hadn’t meant to accuse him of being a liar or trying to have his way with her on the sly. Well, actually, she supposed she had meant it at the time, but she hadn’t meant for him to take it so hard, or for him to think she didn’t believe him when he said he hadn’t.
Everything about being here was hard. She was away from home, away from things familiar, and she was experiencing new things, too. This enchanted house, and that dream. That dream had felt so real. She had wanted it to be real, and that frightened her. She wasn’t supposed to want Beast the way she did. She wasn’t supposed to have those kinds of feelings about a creature that wasn’t even a man. But, she did. She had urges. They were normal, at least that’s what the young women in the Ferus Lucunditas books were always told by their mothers, or their good married friends. It’s normal to have those urges, to let one’s husband fulfill them. But, the Beast wasn’t her husband or even a man.
Beauty and Her Beastly Love (Passion-Filled Fairy Tales Book 2) Page 4