I didn’t know that just being with another person could make me feel like this—like I was a dormant robot out of battery and then he came along and plugged me in. But even as the thought hits me, I bite my lip. That’s not quite true. I felt like this one time before, but it was a long, long time ago and I gave up on ever having it again. Or anyone ever wanting me back in the same way.
I glance up at the Beast as he leads me towards what I assume is the kitchen or dining room. Does he feel the same way as me? Why is he doing all this? Why does he have the Battleman’s research downstairs? Is he— Does he actually feel something for me or is this still all about my dad and Adam?
It all feels so real.
But I suddenly feel sick to my stomach and almost lose my appetite thinking that this all might just still be about revenge. That I’m just a pawn to him, naïve and foolishly giving my heart when he doesn’t—
“You’re quiet. That usually means you’re coming up with a thousand disaster scenarios to worry about.”
I freeze and stare at him. How does he know that about me?
He chuckles. “Stop worrying for once and let’s enjoy dinner. You must be hungry after all our exertions earlier.” He lifts his good eyebrow and smirks at me, then pushes through a door and leads me into the kitchen.
Gods it sends butterflies flittering through my stomach every time he’s flirty like that. And look, the kitchen is on the first floor after all.
I glance briefly around at all the modern appliances that have been installed, though the overall feel of the décor is still castle-chic. It’s really a beautiful blend of modern and antique, burnished stainless steel appliances amid stonework.
There’s a small wooden table with plush chairs off to the side of the kitchen, a cozy little space to eat by a large bay window.
The Beast puts his large, warm hand to the small of my back and leads me towards the table, already set with plates heaping with food.
“Shrimp broccoli stir-fry.”
“It looks and smells amazing.” And it does. Being in his presence, his hand on my back, suddenly my appetite has come back full force. When I’m with him, all my doubts and worries disappear. Foolish maybe. Definitely.
But there’s just something about him. I can’t explain it. It’s the farthest thing from logical, when usually logic is what I pride myself on.
The pull to him is undeniable, though.
And when he pulls my chair around so that we’re sitting thigh to thigh, I love it. Every touch thrills me. Settles me.
I want to sink into him and never look back. Nobody warned me it could be like this. I’m helpless to his magnetism.
Maybe he sees it in my eyes because he reaches out and runs his hand up my back to my neck. He settles his hand there and massages slightly at the same time he takes a forkful of shrimp, broccoli and rice and lifts it up to my mouth.
My bottom lip trembles as I open to him. It feels luxuriant and naughty to let him feed me. It was one thing while I was sick in bed.
But here, both of us sitting at the table, it’s— It’s—
“Lick the fork clean,” he murmurs, the pressure on my neck intensifying just the slightest bit, sending a shiver through my entire body. Shit, how is him feeding me so hot?
I nod and run my tongue along the tines of the fork before finally, sensuously releasing the fork and chewing my bite.
His dark eyes flare and then he takes a bite of his food from the same fork. A simple act but one that feels ridiculously intimate.
We repeat this little dance for several more bites until I’m all but squirming in my chair.
Okay, screw dinner. I want him to shove the plates to the floor and for him to put that sinful mouth on me.
Even the memory of earlier has me wet.
Which reminds me…
“I’m not wearing anything under this sweater,” I suddenly blurt. Then I lick my lips and lean in towards him. “And I’m probably making a wet spot on your nice chair.”
If I thought his nostrils flared earlier, it’s nothing to the way his pupils darken and his nose huffs out like a bull.
“I don’t know whether to take you across my lap or praise you for being a very good girl.”
His hand stays on my neck while the other, which he’d been feeding us with, drops the fork and immediately reaches beneath the hem of my sweater. And goes straight to my sex, where he dips his finger right in.
He hums in satisfaction when he finds me as wet as I promised and his finger slips in with ease. He pushes in up to the first knuckle. Then the second.
I squirm in my seat and drop my legs open to give him easier access. I don’t even really mean to do it, it’s becoming a reflex. He touches and I respond. I never imagined being mastered could feel so— so—
“Ohhhh,” I moan and he smiles and his finger pulls out of me with a slick, slippery noise.
“Enjoy your garnish, my sweet,” he says, then he lifts the finger he just had inside me, glistening with my own wetness and paints my lips before slowly, oh so slowly, shoving his huge, manly finger in my mouth.
“Now suck.”
He tilts my head with the hand at the back of my neck, manipulating me like a doll while I suck his finger, and I suck it fervently, needing to break through his calm demeaner, needing to drive him as crazy as he’s driving me. Needing to know I affect him.
And finally, finally, he breaks and pulls his finger from my lips and then his mouth is on mine.
Kissing me.
My first kiss.
And it’s the most erotic freaking thing ever, him tasting my sex on my lips.
I’m inexpert. I don’t know what to do, how to kiss him back, but I try. Still, he must sense something is a little off because he pulls back, confusion in his eyes. “Daphne?”
I feel my cheeks flame and duck my head. “Is it that obvious I haven’t done it before?”
He suddenly grabs my face with both hands and forces me to look him in the eyes. “Are you seriously telling me that was your first kiss?”
I blink and try to look down again but he won’t let me. “Tell me the truth,” he demands.
“I— I mean, I just never— I never had a boyfriend or anything.” Is he really going to make me explain this? “I just work. That’s all I do.”
His jaw clenches so tight I think it might shatter but he manages to get out, “What about Archer?”
“It wasn’t— I mean, he’d just told me he wanted more at the ball, but before that we’d always just been friends and—”
His lips are on mine before I can say another word.
And oh, kissing. Kissing is marvelous. In spite of his dominant nature, he doesn’t just shove his tongue down my throat.
He teases. He teases like a proper devil, dancing along the tip of my own tongue in a way that lights up every single nerve ending in my whole freaking body.
He breaks away only long enough to murmur, “You sweet, innocent girl. You’ve let me debauch you in so many ways when you hadn’t even ever been properly kissed?”
He kisses me again, sweet and soft, his hands creeping into my hair. Finally, long minutes later, he presses his forehead to mine. “You’re impossible. You shouldn’t be real.”
I giggle at that. “Of course I’m real. And I have to say, kissing is amazing.”
He growls low in his throat. “Let’s rephrase that. Kissing me is amazing.”
I laugh again, so fucking happy. He only wants me kissing him? Fine with me. “As long as it’s a two-way street, buddy. Kissing me better be the only amazing kissing you’re doing, too.”
He pulls back and looks at me like I’m an alien. “You’re definitely not real.” He shakes his head. “Now eat up.”
He puts another forkful of food to my lips.
I obey, all the kissing having excited me more than ever. I’m more than curious to see what he might have in store for us after dinner.
But when I’m full and can’t eat anymore, he grabs my
hand and doesn’t lead me up the main staircase.
Instead, we head to the servant’s stairs that head down.
Nineteen
Beast
She’d never been fucking kissed.
I have claimed all of her firsts.
She’s mine completely.
But when she finds out all my secrets? When she finally sees beneath the mask? What then?
I’m not proud of the abject fear that clenches my chest at the thought. I clasp her hand as we head downstairs simply because I need the contact with her skin. Me, wanting human contact. That alone should tell me how fucked sideways I am.
We arrive downstairs and I don’t turn on the lights. I know this place so well that navigating in the dark past my gym equipment is easy. I could flip the switch…but I want her trust. Need her trust.
And she doesn’t balk but only holds tighter to my hand as I lead her forward. The small demonstration of her faith in me makes my balls tighten.
She’s so trusting.
But she’s never trusted anyone else with her kiss or with her body.
I want to press her against the wall right here and thrust inside her, bury myself so deep that I don’t know where I end and she begins.
But no, I can’t. Not when I’ve only just found out how very innocent she is.
Soon. Soon, but not right now.
She deserves the smallest slice of normal. She never had a childhood. And now I know there were no first dates, no fumbles with boys in the dark…
I have to bite back a growl even at the thought but I just give her hand a slight squeeze as I lead her forward.
I can give her everything she never had.
Starting with a first date.
I flip on the lights and she curls into me, blinking against the light. Every time she does that, naturally turns into me, fuck, but it kills me.
When she finally realizes where we are, her eyebrows scrunch in confusion but she also smiles up at me. “Bowling?”
“Bowling.”
She laughs, still looking confused.
“You ever been?”
She shakes her head.
Of course she hasn’t. Did she ever take a day off in her life from studying and working to ever do anything fun, just for herself? I can already guess the answer is no. Her bastard father forced her to grow up isolated and when she got old enough to be useful, he drained her dry. She was only ever a thing to be used. She’s as much his victim as I am, she just doesn’t see it yet.
My hand squeezes into a fist before I force myself to relax it.
“Come on,” I urge her over to the rack of balls.
“They’re all huge,” she says, hurrying over with her hands clasped together and eyes bright. She’s excited and I fucking love seeing it. “I’m not sure I’ll even be able to pick it up.”
“That’s why I had a Daphne-sized ball delivered yesterday.”
I pick up a small, deep purple ball on the bottom. The finger holes are so small I don’t even think the tips of my fingers would fit inside, but Daphne takes it delightedly and her delicate fingers slip inside with no problem.
Her bright eyes come up to mine. “It’s a perfect fit.” She gives a hesitant half-swing. “And it’s not too heavy for me.” She beams up at me.
So fucking trusting and easy to please.
I can’t help drawing her close in spite of her bowling ball smushed between our stomachs and kissing her. Her lips are just as soft and plush as before, but less wooden as she learns how to kiss back.
Her first day ever having been kissed. The thrill of it still goes straight to my cock and I’m glad for the bowling ball separating us so she can’t feel how hard I am. I’m going to keep this a PG date, godsdammit.
So I pull away with one long, last lingering kiss. When I finally pull away, her pupils are blown and she looks absolutely dazed.
From a fucking kiss. Killing me. Fucking killing me.
“First the shoes.”
I pull out two pairs from the low drawer underneath the bowling ball rack. Also in yesterday’s delivery. There’s a fresh pair of socks for her. She steps out of her slippers and sits daintily on the bench to put them on beside me as I do the same.
But then she stands up and heads towards the single lane, and it hits me all over again that she’s not wearing any pants. Not even any fucking underwear.
She’s a virgin vixen.
I want to punish her. I want to please her. But most of all, I’m determined to give her tonight.
“How do I throw it?” She takes a terrible first experimental swing that would have sent the bowling ball flying into the wall had she actually let it go.
“Not like that,” I chuckle, walking the short space between us and lining myself up behind her. My cock is very conscious of her bare bottom only inches away. But if I’m to master her, I can certainly master myself.
It doesn’t mean I won’t remind her of what’s between us.
So I lean over from behind, my breath in her ear. “Start by standing like this.” I straighten her up so she’s facing the pins. “And hold the ball like this, nice and loose and ready to release.”
I reach around to help her rearrange the ball and her breath hitches. I smile and stroke her wrist with my thumb as I pull back.
“Good. Just like that,” I murmur, my breath making the hair by her ear flutter. And yes, I do enjoy the shiver I feel go down her spine in response.
“Now what?” she asks, her voice slightly breathy.
“Well, you’re right-handed, so you step with this leg,” I slide my hand down from her waist to her left hip until my hand is settled on the outside of her left thigh. “And then swing with this arm.”
My arm braced behind hers, together we take a practice swing. “And see those little arrows on the lane down there?”
I point to the marks on the floor and she nods. “Those are guides. If you aim for the fourth one over, you can get a strike. Going for the one in the middle will give you a split.”
She nods, biting her bottom look, looking adorably concentrated. “I wanna try.”
“Go ahead, baby.”
I step back and sit on the bench. “Remember to face the pins. If your body is tilted even the littlest bit, that’s the way the ball is going to go when you release it.”
She turns and makes a face at me. “I got it, Mr. Know It All.”
I smirk and gesture for her to continue. She gives several practice swings before finally releasing the ball. It rolls about two feet before landing in the gutter and moving slowly, very slowly down the lane.
Daphne stomps her foot. “I want to go again. That wasn’t— I just lost my grip before I was ready!”
“Of course you did, baby,” I humor her. “Don’t worry. The ball’s coming right back.”
I had a new mechanism installed when I inherited the place so her ball returns up the shoot quickly and she’s up again, glaring down the lane. She does make an attempt to square up her body parallel to the pins, but at the last second she twists diagonally and the ball ends up right back in the gutter.
She throws her hands up and spins around, the hem of her sweater lifting to reveal a tantalizing amount of thigh.
She notices me looking and her annoyed expression fades. She comes towards me, the vixen expression back in her eyes. “Why don’t we do something more entertaining?” She tries to climb in my lap.
I laugh and grab her by the waist, depositing her on the bench beside me. “When was the last time you tried something you weren’t naturally good at the first time? No, no, this is quite entertaining enough. Plus, it’s my turn now.” I nip her on the lips and then pull back.
I grab my favorite ball and head towards the lane. I’ve spent more hours than I’d ever admit down here on endless lonely nights. I know the quirks of this lane and when I wind up and release, the ball flies out of my hand and down the lane. It explodes into the pins and they’re all knocked over.
Daphne jumps up
and claps. “You got a— What do they call it? A knockdown?”
Fuck, she cracks me up. “A strike, baby. They call it a strike.”
She grins at me as she comes over, holding her ball to her stomach. “Okay, I wanna learn. I’ll be a good girl and listen.”
Does she know what those words do to me? I’m very tempted to toss away the bowling balls and take her up on her earlier offer, but the light sparkling in her eyes is too much to turn away from. Fun is a foreign concept to her, so I tell my dick to shut the hell up and together we go back to the lane.
The machine has reset all the pins and she lines up again, doing several experimental swings that would definitely have ended up as gutter balls if she’d let them loose.
We spend the next thirty minutes working on her form and she gets that familiar expression on her face like when she’s studying a hard problem she has to solve.
And when the first ball goes straight enough to actually make it all the way down the lane and actually strikes some pins, she whoops so loud and starts jumping up and down, I grin wider than I ever have maybe in my whole damn life.
This woman. This fucking woman.
I grab her up in my arms and kiss her. She swings her arms around my neck, which makes me immediately tense up but then her lips are on mine. Her cheek is mashed against the leather of my mask, but it’s like it’s not even there for her, she’s so eager to get at my mouth. As if I’m a whole man to her.
Gods, I want to devour her. And as much as I’ve been patient, she’s thrusting her groin against mine, lifting a leg to wrap around my ass to pull me into her…
But she’s touching me. Touching… She could feel, or if she—
I finally growl and grab her wrists, yanking them away from around my back. She’s startled and breathless and her leg drops.
Then I grab her around the waist and carry her the two feet to a smooth wood-paneled wall and thrust her up against it just like I dreamed of doing when we first walked in the room.
I hold her wrists above her head and kiss her and she keens underneath me, that one leg again coming up to snake around my thigh and urge me into her.
Billionaire’s Captive: A Beauty and the Rose Box Set Page 11