Beauty’s Beast

by Black, Stasia

  She glares at me but then I can tell my words sink in. “That still doesn’t mean—”

  I scoff. “How about the fact that Adam had his father pay off said Disease Control investigator so that said lab report never saw the light of day? And I was shuffled off to a private hospital where no one knew where I was. The infection became so bad when I was in the ICU I coded twice. I died. Do you understand? They succeeded. They killed me.”

  “Oh my—” She comes forward at this and tries to reach for me but I block her hands with my forearm and glare at her.

  “Don’t. Touch. Me.”

  More tears glaze her eyes. “Oh, Logan. I had no idea. I should have been there. I would have been there. It kills me that I wasn’t there when you needed me.”

  Her eyes move back up to the ruined half of my face but she doesn’t wince this time and she doesn’t look at me with pity, either. Her eyes are full of…of some sort of feeling. She’s looking at me with a familiarity beyond that of just submission or the excitement I’ve seen her exhibit in our sexual discovery during our time together.

  She’s looking at me like…like she knows me. She’s looking at me just like she used to. But she can’t be. Not now when I’m a—

  I shake away the thoughts and turn away from her again. I can’t bear to have her eyes on me anymore. It’s too much, too soon. Especially when she still thinks her father and her precious Adam are innocent. I know she does.

  She wants to believe everyone in the world is good.

  But at least now I finally know she is as innocent as I think I always secretly hoped she was, even if I lost all my own naiveté long ago and told myself no one is innocent. I think maybe I’ve stumbled across the one person in the city, maybe the whole fucking world, who still is.

  The same innocence that allowed her to open to me like a blossoming flower is what keeps her from being able to believe her father and Adam are the monsters I know them to be.

  It stings, no it fucking hurts like an ax to the chest that now that I’ve finally told her the truth, she doesn’t believe me. That her loyalty to them is so steadfast.

  But she hasn’t turned away from me either. Not even when faced with…my face.

  “Logan,” she starts but I shake my head in one decisive no.

  The time for words is done.

  “Come with me.” I reach out my hand. It’s true I’ve been a bastard. I’ve locked her away in a tower and chased her through the labyrinth. I’ve scared her and thrilled her and showed her parts of herself she never even knew existed. And now I’ve revealed myself to her. Her old friend, deformed inside and out.

  But now I give her a choice. A proffered hand. To take or leave.

  Will the girl of my dreams take it? Her perfect bronzed skin glows in the firelight. The princess who was always far too good for me even before I became the Beast lurking under the bed in the stories.

  But Daphne, being Daphne, clasps my hand almost the moment I extend it.

  I don’t give her a chance to second-guess herself. I wrap my fingers around hers, engulfing her small hand in my huge one, and head for the stairs.

  I sweep up the stairs, only slowing when Daphne calls out, “wait, Be— I mean, Logan, I can’t go as fast as you. My legs aren’t as long.”

  I slow down but my impatience is bristling. I won’t believe she truly means it until— I shake my head. I just need to reestablish a sense of order. For both our sakes.

  I take her to the one place she’s never been.

  My bedroom.

  It’s pitch black inside and I release her hand, not flipping on the light but walking over to the lamp on the nightstand. I click it on and the room is cast in dim light.

  “Why are the curtains drawn?” she asks, coming in and turning around slowly.

  “No more questions,” I bristle. She’s looking at all my things as if hunting for clues. She won’t find many. My room is all but bare. There are some books on my nightstand. My laptop on the desk in the corner.

  She opens her mouth like she’s going to ask another question anyway but I beat her to the punch. “On the bed.”

  For a second, she just stands there before me, the perfect specimen of woman.

  But more than that, she is my Daphne. The beautiful girl I watched blossom into a woman before my eyes back when I was a post doc student working for her father. I didn’t notice her much until she turned eighteen. There was a dance—a ball, I guess those pretentious fucks call it. But she was there and suddenly Dr. Laurel’s kid daughter was all grown up, glowing and gorgeous and all woman. She’s only grown more beautiful over the years, but even back then, she was heart stopping.

  Afterwards, I’d come across her in the study carrels of the lab, head bent over, glasses slipping down her nose as she poured over the latest research reports, determined to help her father save her mom. She was always alone. Her father certainly had no time for her, other than for her help with his research.

  She gave and gave and gave, taking care of herself and her father and slavishly devoting herself to research. But who took care of her? She asked nothing for herself. She’d spent her whole life in service of others. And as far as I can see, she’s still living the same way, slavishly taking care of her selfish father and his company with no thought to her own needs or wants.

  Not anymore.

  “Logan,” her eyes are full of that same intense emotion I saw in her eyes earlier, but more. There’s desire. The desire, at least, I’ve come to recognize. And then come her words, “Logan, I want to touch you. I want to touch you everywhere.”

  But I’m already shaking my head. A man can only be pushed so far before he breaks. Can’t she understand that? I don’t say another word. But I will remind her that she is mine. That this changes nothing. That I won’t allow it to change anything.

  So instead, I walk to my bedside table again, open the drawer, and remove a sleeping mask. I prepared the room, planning for this moment, even if I never imagined it playing out this way.

  I walk slowly back over to her, my back straightening with every step. Yes. This is who I am now. In command.

  I am the Master here. And she is the object of my desire, who I will pleasure beyond the heights of imagination. I will claim her completely and eventually, her loyalty will be to me alone.

  I cover her mouth with a finger when she opens it again. Silence. And with my other hand, I slip the mask on over her head, and finally, finally, over those searching eyes of hers that see far too much.

  A wave of calm sweeps over me as soon as her eyes are covered. She can no longer see the monster.

  I am only the Master now.

  Twenty-Two

  Daphne

  He takes my hand and leads me forward. The mask is annoyingly thick. I can’t see a thing. But I…I trust Logan.

  Logan.

  I still can’t believe it. How could it be Logan, after all these years? And the terrible story he told me. His face. What he believes Dad and Adam did— I have to set him straight. Dad could never— And Adam, he’s—

  My leg bumps into something soft and Logan commands in the Beast’s voice, “On the bed.”

  I immediately start to climb on the bed, already conditioned to obey that voice. But it’s Logan! Logan was always so soft-spoken and gentle. I don’t know how to reconcile the two in my head.

  “On your back.” I obey. Just like every time I’ve given in while under this roof, it feels so shockingly good to give in and follow directions without fighting or weighing every pro and con a million times like I always have to do in the outside world.

  I know that wherever the Be— Wherever Logan will take me will be amazing. Gods, it’s been Logan this whole time. Logan who touched my body. Logan who touched me down there. Who touched inside of me. Who watched me come undone and scream out in pleasure. Oh my gods. My face flushes so hot I think my skin might burn off.

  But just as I go to cover my face with my hands, Logan snatches my wrists and lifts my han
ds over my head.

  “That’s right, my kitten,” he murmurs, sounding like a confusing mix of Logan and the Beast, skimming his hand up my forearms to my wrists and quickly and efficiently shackling the soft, padded wrist cuffs on.

  It’s cold in the room without a fire going and chill bumps rise all over my skin.

  Logan makes a tut tut tut noise. “Don’t worry, I’ll warm you up soon, kitten.” His hand skims down my body, blazing a path of heat as it goes. Just like always, my body lights up at his touch.

  “Just this once, I’ll give you a choice,” his warm breath comes at my ear. He’s on the bed with me, I felt the dip of the mattress as he climbed on and his warmth at my side.

  He shifts my body to the side and slaps my ass, giving me the delicious sting that I love. “Do you want me to take you to the space where you can zone out and lose yourself in the pain and pleasure? Do you want to float away and entrust yourself to my capable hands? I’ll take care of you. You know that I will, precious.”

  He soothes the sting he just caused, rubbing in the warmth on my ass where he just smacked.

  “Or,” he whispered, his voice taking on a deeper growl, “do you want to continue what we started downstairs. Do you want to explore what a man feels like? What I feel like, inside you.” A thrilled shiver runs down my spine, only rocking me deeper when he continues. “But mark me, once you feel me inside you, there’s no going back.”

  His voice goes darker still. “Once I claim you, you’re mine. There will never be another man for you. I tried to deny it for years, but you’ve always been mine, Daphne.”

  Everything he’s saying is overwhelming and I want it. I want it all so badly, I didn’t even know how badly until it was offered on a platter by this delicious, damaged man. There are still so many unanswered questions, so many things I need to know.

  But there’s only one thing I need to know before I give him this answer.

  “Tell me this—am I yours? If I- If I say yes,” my voice trembles, “If I say yes, will I be the only one for you, too?”

  A low groan is all the response I get before his lips crash onto mine. And then I’m not cold anymore, because his body is covering me.

  “Little fool,” he finally pulls back long enough to say, “I was always yours.”

  He was always—? Wait, does he mean—?

  But before I can question it any further, his commanding lips are on mine again. I still marvel at the amazingness that is kissing him. His soft, plump lips. The expert, exquisite play of his tongue against mine. But then he’s gone again, nipping at my lips with his teeth. But then his tongue is back at its devilish work, at the same time his hand tracks down my body to my breast.

  It’s even more tortuous with the mask on because I have absolutely no idea where he’ll strike next. I’m helpless before him with my hands strung up above my head, spread out before him like a feast. And oh, how he feasts.

  His mouth breaks away from mine and I whine, but it’s cut off by a sharp gasp when his hot lips sucker on to my left nipple, suckling and then nipping again with those damnable teeth of his. My back arches and I cry out at the same time a wave of wet heat gushes from my sex. Oh thank goodness he didn’t tie down my ankles. Twisting and writhing my legs together is the only relief I can find because he’s straddling my stomach when all I need is something for friction between my legs.

  Although I can’t deny that feeling his smooth, velvety hardness against my stomach isn’t also a huge turn-on. Again I hate the blindfold. I want to look at it more. I want to touch it. My face flames, but gods, I want to— I want to lick it. I want to do every wicked thing to Logan’s body.

  Logan! Holy shit, it’s Logan on top of me. It hits me all over again and I squirm even harder as a new wave of heat hits.

  How many afternoons did I daydream about what it would be like to kiss Logan Wulfe? I had such a huge crush on him. It was the one indulgence I allowed myself. I thought it was harmless because there was no way he could like me back—dorky, nobody little me. No boys ever liked me like that. I was too bookish, far too nerdy, not pretty like the other girls who knew how to do their hair or what to wear, and I never knew what to talk about. I never knew what movies were popular or what was on TV.

  But Logan, he was one person I could actually talk to. And he was so handsome. Girls liked him. They liked both him and Adam. But Logan spent time with me. We’d talk for hours sometimes in the lab while we waited for lab results. I was so much younger than him, I knew he probably thought of me as a dorky kid sister, just nineteen while he was in his late twenties.

  But now to find out he liked me, too. Liked me, liked me.

  And now he has his hands on my—

  He slips a hand down between my thighs and—

  My back arches off the bed and I cum hard. Fucking hard. Logan. Logan. Oh fuck, this is Logan. Logan wants me. Logan called me his. He said no one else could have me.

  The orgasm keeps going and he rolls my clit. “That’s right, baby, keep calling my name.”

  Oh shit, was I saying all that out loud? But screw it. I’m finally with Logan. Logan’s about to be my first.

  “Logan,” I scream even louder, lifting my legs up to get as much contact with his body as I can. “Please, please,” I’m begging even before the orgasm comes all the way down. “Please, Logan. I want it all. I want you inside me. Please, I dreamed about this. I want to be with you. I want you to do it. To make me yours. Please, Logan.”

  “Oh fuck, Daphne.” He presses his forehead to my breasts. “You don’t know what you’re asking.” I hear the vulnerability in his voice, the dominant man sounding suddenly conflicted. “I’m not sure if this is right, if you know what—”

  Damn him. “I know what I want. Don’t tell me I don’t know what I want.” He’s stripped me bare in so many more ways than one. So for once in my life, I’m going to ask for exactly what I want. “I want you to fuck me. Please fuck me with your huge cock. I want you—”

  “Oh,” I cry out as he shifts and impales me.

  “Like this,” he breathes out, voice dark. All I can do is nod and focus on all the foreign sensations flooding my body and mind.

  “Your sweet little cunt is gripping me like a vise,” he hisses, “and I’m barely an inch inside.”

  There’s more to go? This isn’t it?

  Maybe panic flashed on my face or something because he’s immediately soothing. “Shh, you’re all right baby. You can take me. Let yourself go. Give yourself over to me.” His voice deepens with command. “Stop thinking. Give the thinking over to me.”

  I nod fervently. Yes, that’s what I want right now. I want him but I don’t want to have to make decisions. I’m so tired of making decisions. I want him to lead and I want to follow because oh, I know it’s so good to follow where he can take me.

  “That’s good,” he croons, shifting his hips and pressing relentlessly further inside me. I cry out in surprise at the invasion, widening my legs and cradling them around his hips. Finally, a touch he’ll allow. I wrap my legs around him and lock my ankles around his back.

  As if this drives him crazy, he grunts low and his hips piston forward, shoving the last several inches in. My chest arches up at the intrusion, thrusting our chests together, my hard, pebbled nipples rubbing against the bristling hairs that dust his chest.

  “You’re inside me,” I whisper in amazement. “Logan, you’re inside me.”

  “The first and the last,” he says darkly before grabbing my face and crushing his lips to mine. And then, like he has to imprint his words on my body like a solemn vow that needs a ceremony to seal them, he begins to piston in and out of me.

  I don’t know how to describe it. It’s uncomfortable at first but not exactly painful. He’s so large. I cherish it. I’ve never felt more feminine. But not delicate. He’s not treating me like some little delicate piece of glass to put up on a shelf for fear of breaking.

  No, I’m a woman now. Raw. A woman to be fucked. A
nd that’s what he’s doing. He’s fucking me and…and making love to me at the same time, I think. Or maybe I’m over-romanticizing it. Maybe I’m—

  “I must not be fucking you hard enough if your brain is still working so hard in there,” he says low. “I guess I’ll need to do more to distract you.”

  Oh, shit. “No, Logan, I’m here with you, I swear. This is just all so—”

  But he’s already pulling that amazing log between his legs out of me. I clench at the loss and feel like crying. No, I didn’t mean to ruin it. Please, I want to beg, I’ll do better next time.

  Logan only flips me over on the bed, though. “Hands and knees.”

  “Are you going to…punish me?” I ask, breathless. I think back to the spankings he’s given me here and there. The playtime with the roses and thorns. Do I want this to be that? But then I remember. I finally remember and my whole body relaxes.

  I’ve given up the decision making. Oh thank the heavens. It’s all too exhausting. How have I even kept it up all these years?

  Logan must feel the wave of relief in me and know what it means because he immediately slides a hand down my shank, rubbing my ass sweetly before landing a sharp smack, then soothing the hot sting with his hand. “That’s my good girl. Give yourself over to me. No more thinking. For this little while, turn off that beautiful mind of yours.”

  Then he leans over me from behind and his breath is hot on my ear, causing wisps of hair to tuft with each word. “I take that back. You’re allowed to think about two things and only these two things. You may think of me. And you may think of your pleasure. But that is all. Am I understood?”

  I nod.

  “Out loud.”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, what?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Another smack of my ass. “Good girl.”

  And he’s right there, hard and hot and thick at my entrance again. I gasp as he shoves back in with no preamble. As if, now that he’s taken my virginity, he can just take me whenever he wants. Now that I’m his by rights.