Kept by the Beast

by Sasha Gold

  “I should take this off,” she whispers.

  “Don’t you dare.”

  I prowl over her and she looks up at me, her eyes shining in the candlelight. I like to take it slow with her but I can’t. Not tonight. Not when she’s wearing that sweet little bit of lace just for me. Clasping her waist, I pull her under me and settle between her thighs.

  When she clasps my hips, the lace brushes my skin, the hint of friction sending a shot of lust through my body. I’m hanging on to my sanity, barely, but when she wraps her legs around me, everything slips away. Primitive need grips me and I press against her wet core, thrust hard and deep.

  She clings to me, gasping as I drive into her. I wrap her hair around my fist, tug her head back and crush my mouth to hers. When she parts her lips, I stroke my tongue deep inside her. It’s indecent. Lewd. Filthy. I slam into her. Every movement is brutal, but all I can think is how much I love this woman. Need her. I’d lay my life down for her. Yet, when we come together like this I need to dominate her and I fucking love how she submits to me.

  Her body tightens beneath me. She gasps with each breath. Soft, plaintive sounds that drive me wild. Her breath fans across my neck.

  Trig…

  My name. I need that. To hear my name on her lips when I’m buried deep inside her tight body. Her fingertips dig into my shoulders and she whimpers my name. I feel her need. She’s close. She’s near. She’s almost all mine.

  “Maggie,” I rasp.

  A soft cry brushes my ear as she breaks beneath me. Shattering. Drawing me over the edge after her. Yes. Mine. All mine. I thrust once more and come deep inside her.

  I roll, taking her with her and she lays across me, limp. I’m so lost to her. She has no idea. Her head rests on my shoulder.

  “Trig, I love you,” she whispers. “So much it scares me.”

  “I love you too.” I say the words without hesitation.

  After a few moments, she sighs. “Did you bring me the Shrimp Alfredo?”

  “Don’t I always?” I stroke her back and even though I’m spent, I love the way her outfit leaves her back bare. I run my fingers down her spine all the way to the small of her back. Damn. This thing has zero back. None. The seam goes almost all the way to the curve of her ass.

  I’m still inside her and getting harder by the second.

  She snickers. I smack her ass and she responds by wriggling, daring me to smack her again, making me hard as granite with the slightest squirm.

  “Sassy girl,” I tell her.

  “Yes,” she whispers. “But I’m your sassy girl.”

  “You are,” I tell her, folding her in my arms. She is mine. All mine. From the first moment, I met Maggie I wanted her. To hold her, to kiss her, to fix every single thing for her. I never imagined along the way she might fix me. And I never thought I might have her in my bed, but now that I have her here, I won’t let her go. She’s mine. My sweet Maggie.

  My sweet fix.

  Epilogue

  Trig - four years later

  I pull to a stop across from the hospital employee parking lot and see Maggie waiting at the entrance. Hard not to miss her, a gorgeous redhead dressed in teal scrubs. She waves, like she’s trying to flag me down. What does she think? That I won’t see her? That she’s not always on my radar?

  Our son sniffles in the car seat. He’s nine months old and has decided he hates riding in the truck. The only thing that keeps him from yelling is the CD I have playing. Some kids’ music Jane gave me. It’s awful. Little Potato Munchkins. Jane and Wes claim the music is the best thing for driving with fussy kids. The singing is all done in voices that are about six octaves too high. Tristan loves the music, but he still wants his mama riding back there with him.

  For the last mile, his sniffling has gotten louder with each passing tract. It’s like he knows we’re almost there. He’s got a mama radar.

  I park by the curb and get out. Maggie gives me a sweet kiss. I open the door for her and she settles next to Tristan. Immediately he starts babbling happily.

  “My baby boy,” she murmurs. “I missed you today.”

  I smile as I pull out of the parking lot. Maggie only works on Fridays, and occasionally fills in on other days for other respiratory therapists. Every Friday afternoon, she climbs into the truck and tells Tristan the same thing.

  We drive home, talking a little about her day. When we get home, Michael, Seth, Jimmy and Thomas meet us at the truck. It’s the last couple of weeks of summer and they’re working for me a few days a week. Michael’s in charge and keeps them busy, mucking stalls, cleaning tack and checking the fence line.

  I take Tristan with me to the barn to see the horses while Maggie gets cleaned up from work. She doesn’t like to hold our boy until she’s gotten out of her scrubs, showered and dressed in clean clothes. Tristan grumbles when she disappears into the house, but I tell him we’re going to see Tex and he brightens up.

  Michael’s got Tex in the cross ties, grooming him. Tex loves any attention he can get and when Michael works his coat with the curry comb, he stretches his neck forward, turns just a little and purses his lip. He’s the only one of my horses that acts like a ham when he’s getting brushed.

  Seth, Thomas and Jimmy, watch the display, chuckling.

  Tristan laughs too, stretching his hand out to the horse. I step closer to let him pet Tex’s nose. My horse has no problem, bucking and trying to dump me when I get on him, but he’s always gentle with Tristan and the boys.

  “The barn looks good. You boys about finished?”

  “Yes, sir,” Michael says. “Dad’s going to be here in a few minutes.”

  He tosses the curry comb into the bucket of brushes and uses a softer brush to bring Tex’s coat to a gleam.

  The boys have been a big help to me this summer. They’re just here a couple of days a week but they’ve worked hard and I’ll miss having them around once school starts. It’s hard to believe how much they’ve changed in the last few years. Jane and Wes have completed the adoption process on all four. They’re all Kendals now.

  For the most part, it went smoothly until Michael’s hearing came up. It was about two years ago, just as Maggie was finishing up her degree. Out of nowhere, his father showed up and what should have been an open and shut case, turned into a lengthy ordeal. The lawyer’s fees added up. Wes and Jane were going through their savings at a pretty good clip when finally, the judge threw out the father’s claim.

  By then we’d heard enough from the social worker to understand more about Michael’s first few years. Not any of it was good. Michael sat through the whole thing, stoic and unfazed. It was Maggie who started to fall apart. The testimony upset her so much I wouldn’t allow her to go to court.

  Thankfully, the judge didn’t allow that part to go on too long. When all was said and done, I wanted to do something for them so they could go celebrate. Maggie came up with the idea of sending them on a vacation and we sprang for a trip to Disney for Wes and Jane and the four boys to go to Disney for a week.

  Wes drives up and greets me with a mile-wide grin, waving a brightly colored CD.

  “Little Potato Munchkins Christmas Carols,” he says with wicked glee. “Jane ordered it for you.”

  I stare with a mixture of horror and disbelief. “It’s August!”

  Wes waggles it temptingly in front of Tristan’s face. “Look what Uncle Wes brought, for his favorite potato munchkin.”

  Tristan babbles excitedly, recognizing the weird little characters.

  Maggie comes out of the house dressed in yoga pants and a loose t-shirt. Her hair hangs past her shoulders. Tristan reaches for her and after she hugs Wes she takes him from my arms.

  “Ooh, is that the new Christmas CD?” she asks Wes.

  “Hot off the press.”

  “My radio doesn’t play Christmas songs,” I grumble.

  “I didn’t think it played anything but Stevie Ray Vaughan,” Wes said. “I guess anything’s possible.”

&n
bsp; The boys come out of the barn, looking dusty and tired, but happy. Thomas is going into fifth grade and even though he’s the youngest, he’s almost as tall as Michael. He’s counting the days till he can play football and I’m sure he’ll do great things on the field.

  “Good work, guys,” I tell them as they pile into Wes’s car.

  Maggie and I wait until they’ve disappeared down the driveway and go inside.

  Later, when we’re finishing dinner, and Tristan sits in her lap, snuggled against her, I’m struck by how Maggie’s only twenty-three. Lots of women her age are going out, dating, partying. I never imagined she’d want any of this domestic life. I never thought I would either, and yet, the evenings with her and Tristan are the sweetest part of the day.

  “Dinner was good. Let me do the dishes,” I tell her, kissing the top of her head.

  I clean up while Maggie gives Tristan a bath. I get into the bathroom just as they finish up. She bundles him into a towel, with a hood that makes him look like a frog. Jane got it for him. My sister-in-law’s out of control with the stuff she buys Tristan. She watches him every Friday while Maggie works and is crazy about him.

  She calls Tristan her baby fix.

  Maggie settles Tristan down for a nap, rocking him and singing him lullabies.

  The soft singing works on me at least as well as our boy. I lie in our bed, sink into the bedding as I listen. She hums a tune I don’t know, probably a song from Ireland. Every so often one sneaks into her evening lullabies. I close my eyes, drifting off contentedly.

  Last night we made love twice, and again this morning. Maggie might be shy but I can always coax her into letting go of her inhibitions. I know just the place on her neck where my kiss will render her helpless. And there’s a spot an inch or so below her ribcage, a little to the left that makes her whisper dirty little promises to me, promises that make her blush when I remind her the next morning.

  She’s deep inside me, part of me. I’m hers and she’s mine. We’ve been this kind of mix-up from the first time our eyes met. I smile as I drift into a light sleep and then, sometime later, I awaken. The room’s dark and she’s slipped under the covers beside me.

  “Trig,” she whispers. “I have something to tell you.”

  Her words have me wide awake. I pull her close. “What’s that?”

  She strokes my arm with her fingertips. I can feel her heart beating fast and wonder what’s got her worked up.

  “Next year, Tristan’s going to get a baby brother or baby sister.”

  I play the words over a few times in my head. This isn’t a surprise, really, and yet it is. When we decided to start our family, I knew I wanted lots of kids, but didn’t want to push. I left the decision up to Maggie. I smile and kiss her and revel in the idea of another child.

  “Thank you,” I say on an exhalation.

  She laughs softly.

  “You laughing at me, sassy girl.” I growl and nuzzle her neck.

  “No. It’s sweet, you thanking me.”

  Neither of us speak for a while. We’re both lost in thought about a new little one joining our family.

  “You said the same thing when Tristan was born,” she says after a while.

  “That’s how I feel about it. About everything. All the time.”

  “Me too.”

  Her breath catches.

  “Shhh, I soothe. Don’t cry.”

  “It’s just happy tears.”

  I tuck her next to me and wrap her up in my arms. Lowering my hand, I find her hand covering her tummy. I settle mine on top of hers and hold her as her breathing deepens. Imagining another baby to love keeps my thoughts moving. It takes me a long time to fall asleep, but I don’t mind. Holding Maggie while she drifts off to sleep is perfect.

  THE END

  *** BONUS CHAPTER ***

  Maggie surprises Trig for his birthday. She arranges a steamy night in a historic hotel, with a wicked plan to play new games. It's the best birthday Trig can remember, and reveals a deeper love than either of them ever imagined.

  CLICK HERE for the BONUS CHAPTER

  Thank you for reading Sweet Fix. If you enjoyed this story, please consider leaving me a review.

  One more bonus book, The Virgin’s Offer, by Alix West. In case you didn’t know, Alix West is my alter ego, writing steamy, 19th century Texas Westerns with over-the-top alpha cowboys. I hope you enjoy it.

  From the cover

  Sophie Kerr needs a foreman to run her ranch. Not just any foreman, Zach Briscoe. Zach’s been watching out for her for years, but he’s not going to put up with any more of her sass. If she wants him to stay, she’ll need to let him run things. What’s more, she’ll need to hand over control to him – right after she apologizes for her backtalk. An apology she’ll need to make while over his knee.

  The Virgin’s Offer

  Alix West

  The Virgin’s Offer - Chapter One

  Sophie Kerr paused before knocking on Zach Briscoe’s cabin door, listening intently for any sign her foreman might have a woman in his bed. But the only sounds were the creak of Zach’s footsteps. Better the floorboards than the bedsprings.

  She knocked softly and waited.

  The evening was still, the moon rising on the horizon. On Saturday evenings, the ranch hands went to town to play cards, drink and carouse. She didn’t approve, but it was good the men weren’t around to see her outside Zach’s door at this hour. They’d be shocked she wasn’t in her usual trousers and chaps. Tonight she wore a dress. Her laciest, most feminine dress, complete with corset and stockings. All to convince him to stay on as foreman of the Kerr Ranch.

  The door opened and Zach appeared. His shoulders spanned the width of the doorframe and his head barely cleared the top. His eyes, the color of turquoise, widened and then darkened. Looming over her, he seemed even more intimidating than usual.

  His lip curled with obvious displeasure. “What the hell are you doing?” He pulled her inside, slamming the door. “Good thing none of the men are here.”

  She tried to swallow the knot lodged in her throat. “I came to talk to you.”

  He held her arm in his grip, encircling her wrist with his work-roughened hand. Heat sparked from his touch. She tried to give him an imperious glare, but he was head and shoulders taller. Her I’m-the-boss attempts were always easier from atop a horse.

  His eyes flashed with fury as his gaze drifted down her dress. Awareness bloomed inside her, starting at her breasts and further down her belly, to gather between her legs.

  His gaze bore into hers. “You going somewhere, or did you get all prettied up to come see me?”

  “I came to see you. To talk about w-work.”

  Now she started stammering? When she needed her confidence more than ever?

  Her words sounded pathetic. While dressing that evening, she’d rehearsed her speech, but all her sensible arguments drifted away. She felt like a fool, standing in his cabin on a Saturday evening in her best dress.

  He arched a brow. “You’re a lot of trouble. You know that? Maybe I’ll just leave you in charge of the ranch since you seem to know how to do everything so much better than me.”

  She shook her head, rejecting his words. Zach was a tyrant – ruled the Kerr Ranch like it was his own kingdom. It was because of him the ranch hands followed orders, and it was because of him cattle sales had doubled in the last year. The ranch needed him. She needed him.

  “What if I double your wages?” She knew the question of wages was hardly an issue, but she was desperate. When he’d taken the last group of cattle to auction, she’d offered him half the profits. He told her to give it the ranch hands instead.

  “Double wages…”A smile tugged at his lips as if the suggestion amused him. He stroked his thumb under the cuff of her sleeve. “Mrs. Rawls offered me triple just yesterday. Guess word’s gotten around how I don’t care for backtalk because she came right out and said she’d do anything I told her to do. I think she’s sorta lonesome.”
/>
  Sophie pulled away from him as jealousy burned inside her. Julia Rawls’ husband died of a fever last year and she’d been making eyes at Zach ever since. Sophie always assumed he’d be there for her, that he had a certain fondness for her. He’d run her father’s ranch for two years now. He taught her how to ride, rope and even how to two-step and waltz when she was eighteen.

  She was twenty now, but he still watched out for her. Her father never gave her the time of day, too busy with travels and visiting his mistress. After he passed away she wondered how she’d manage on her own, but Zach stayed on, protecting her from cattle rustlers and cutthroats and every other sort of nasty character. Now he was leaving – leaving her to fend for herself.

  A trunk sat in the middle of the cabin, the lid open. Lamplight flickered across the room, casting it in a soft, amber light. Was he packing? Already? He was angry with her. The latest row started that afternoon when they’d had an argument about a new bull she bought at auction. It had quickly turned into a heated debate. Zach told her if she wanted him as a foreman, she’d better start asking permission before buying livestock – especially a dangerous animal like a bull.

  Permission! Like she was five and not almost twenty. She’d called him an arrogant, cantankerous beast which only made him more furious. She ran her fingers along the top the trunk, aware of a coldness filling her. A feeling of vulnerability and loneliness. The trunk stood empty, but soon it would contain his belongings. Her heart pinched with pain.

  “I can’t run this ranch without you,” she whispered, keeping her back to him. Tears burned her eyes.