Beauty and the Beast: An Adult Fairytale Romance

by Vivienne Savage

  “My princess,” he breathed.

  Alistair crossed to her in three steps, closing the distance and seizing her mouth. He kissed her with energy and passion, the spark between them sizzling within moments.

  And it was so much better than her dreams. So much better than the kiss of the previous night when he’d been restrained and careful. He held back nothing this time, without inhibitions or caution, claiming her with white-hot lust that sent sparks curling through her core, sizzling out to every nerve ending.

  She sighed when it ended, only to draw back and glide her palms over his chest. He wore his tunic parted again. Sliding her hands beneath it and over his chest, she searched for visible wounds and injuries. None. He’d healed overnight.

  Her eyes raised to his smug face.

  “I told you I would be fine.”

  “It’s remarkable.”

  “We heal incredibly fast.”

  “Dragons or Oclanders in general?” She smoothed her hand over his bronzed flesh, mesmerized by the hard muscle.

  “Not all Oclanders have this gift, lass. Many of us do—men and women both—but it doesn’t make us invincible. We’re only tougher to kill. Especially dragons.”

  “Are you the last?” She tilted her gaze up to his and searched his face.

  “I may be. If there are more who survived the war, we haven’t crossed paths.”

  “But what about before the war? Did you know any others?”

  “My father’s sister lost her life in the first attack.”

  Guilt washed through her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dredge up the past.”

  Alistair shook his head and stroked his hand up her back. “One day soon, I promise, I will tell you everything about my people. I want you to know, especially if….”

  “If what?”

  He gazed down at her, eyes gleaming with intensity. “Would you remain here beside me, Anastasia? As my queen?”

  Her chest tightened, too small to contain her swelling heart. “Do you really mean it?”

  “Of course I mean it. I…” He leaned down and kissed her, short and sweet. “…I love you, and I pray you can love a beast such as me in return for each day of the rest of our lives.”

  “Silly dragon, you aren’t a beast,” she whispered as she lifted to her toes to kiss him again. She savored the moment, pressing in close and twining her arms around his neck. “You’re my dragon, and I couldn’t love anyone more.”

  He turned his face and skimmed his nose against her cheek, then spoke against her ear in a husky murmur. “Are you hungry?”

  “Not for breakfast.”

  “Good.”

  He lifted her as if she weighed no more than a feather and carried her to his room next door, kicking the door shut behind them. After he set her on her feet again, Ana turned and presented her back to him.

  “Help me?” she asked. She dragged her thick mass of hair over one shoulder, revealing the tight lacings of her dress and corset.

  “Are you so eager to strip?” he teased.

  “Please,” she begged.

  With a skilled hand and a few movements, Alistair unlaced her dress. A couple tugs loosened the snug embrace it formed around her midsection and ribs, and once it fell away, he removed the rest of her outer garments. At the end, she stood in only a pristine, ivory chemise, trembling with desire and anticipation.

  “May I?” Alistair whispered against her ear from behind.

  She nodded.

  “I didn’t hear you, sweet princess. What am I to do next?”

  “Undress me,” she whispered. “Please.”

  “No.” He snaked an arm around her waist and squeezed one breast, teasing the taut tip through her undergarment. “You are to be a queen, Anastasia. You beg no one for anything.”

  “Not even you?”

  “Not even me. You are to be my equal in every way, my love.”

  “Then undress me, my king. Make love to me. Make me yours as I surely plan to make you mine.”

  “As you command.”

  Then the chemise was gone, the tie unfastened that allowed it to glide loosely down her body and pool around her ankles, removing the last scrap of modesty between her and his hands. That morning, when Fiona dressed her, she’d discovered women of Ocland didn’t wear pantalets.

  She was bare. Stripped. A chill danced across her skin, raising goose bumps down her arms and hardening her exposed nipples. Both of his strong hands fit around her waist easily, then he scooped a breast with each palm and squeezed Ana back against him.

  Alistair adjusted his stance and nudged forward with his pelvis. The ideal position wedged his stiff bulge between her cheeks, provoking a startled noise from Anastasia. She melted against him, surrendering to her own curiosity while wishing he was also absent of clothes.

  “Here I am, the shy virgin of the storybooks I’ve read so often,” she confessed in a whisper. “In the books, it’s always perfect. The girls always know what to do.”

  “Have you any doubts about what is to happen next?” Alistair teased her. He ran a circle over her bare hip, finding a ticklish spot. She squirmed. “Your behavior in our dream led me to believe otherwise.”

  Heat flashed over her cheeks. “As I said, I know what happens next, but something tells me it isn’t like the… books.”

  “It isn’t.” Alistair’s lips lowered to her throat and closed for a playful nip. Wherever his fingers drifted over her body, electricity jumped between them. “The real thing is nothing like the books in my library. Nothing like anything you’ve ever read. It will be superior to any act you’ll find in any book. In every way.”

  The breath whistled in and out of her lungs. Her emotions found an odd balance between terror and yearning, her need for Alistair unsated by dreams of kissing and mere touches.

  When he growled, the noise vibrated through his chest and reached her ears as a throaty rumble. Even in his human body, the dragon remained a powerful part of his personality. It was him. He was it. And while she’d set him free from the curse’s trap, the animal continued to lurk beneath the surface.

  Would he take her like an animal? Would he bend her over the mattress on her hands and knees, claiming her like a beast in heat? The idea of it clenched her insides, sending a bolt of electricity directly to her core.

  According to her mother, a true bride of Creag Morden lost her virginity on her wedding night.

  But she wasn’t her mother, and as far as she was concerned, she was no longer the princess of Creag Morden.

  She was Ana, chosen Queen of King Alistair, a man more kind and deserving of her affection than any crown prince from the west.

  “Kiss me again?”

  “Gladly.”

  Ana twisted around in his embrace and raised both arms to circle around the dragon shifter’s neck. She gazed into eyes as warm as toffee, flecked with hints of green through their golden brown irises.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said as he dipped his head down for another kiss. His lips trailed from her mouth down her throat. “Magnificent.”

  Lower and lower he traveled, until his mouth skimmed the slope of her breast. His lips teased tender, sensitive flesh, but never drifted to her rosy, pink nipples. The seductive taunt only made her want him more. Then he pulled away.

  “Alistair? What are you doing?”

  His low chuckle puffed warm air across her dampened skin, but he gave no answer. Instead, he took a single step back from her.

  “Do you plan to keep me in suspense?”

  “Have you never watched a man remove his clothing?”

  Anastasia bit her lower lip. She’d seen nothing of even Edward that night.

  “Almost,” she whispered. “But it wasn’t pleasant.”

  Alistair paused with his fingers on the buttons of his shirt. The questioning in his face and hesitation, mixed with concern, was all she needed to see to know she’d made the right choice.

  “But watching you isn’t unpleasant. Don’t make me
wait. I’m cold,” she added with a hint of teasing in her voice.

  “Get on the bed, Ana.”

  “Are you going to join me?”

  A slow smile spread across his face, wicked and sinful, and completely breathtaking. “Aye, lass. But I want to see you there first.”

  The silk-lined, feather down blanket cradled her as she lowered to the bed. It was cool against her bare skin, and his scent clung to the soft material. Lying before him naked and wanting, she felt a strange sense of vulnerability. Her nipples tightened, imploring her to run her fingers over a taut peak in a poor attempt to alleviate the stiffness.

  Alistair groaned. The remaining two buttons popped and scattered over the floor. When he unfastened the strap to his kilt, he let the garment fall. Licking her lips, Ana leaned up on her elbows to watch. Until their shared dream at the maze, she’d always wondered what the men of Ocland wore beneath their kilts.

  Nothing. Like their female counterparts, they wore absolutely nothing. Without his clothing, the sight of sheer, masculine perfection greeted Ana, chiseled pectorals and a strong torso above his washboard abdomen.

  He joined her on the bed, moving beside her on his knees, hiding nothing from her view. Ana leaned forward, shy at first, but increasing confidence led her index finger down a golden-red trail. The soft hairs led to the erect rod jutting from his pelvis. It flexed a little higher, angled toward his navel.

  “May I…?”

  “It’s yours to do with as you please.”

  Hers. A tiny shiver tingled over Ana’s body. Touching Alistair’s manhood was like touching silk, the flesh smooth beneath her inquisitive fingers but firm as living steel. Even better was the way his breath hitched and his pelvis thrust forward when her slim digits curled around him.

  “In our dream, I had so many wicked thoughts,” she confessed.

  “And now?”

  “I still have them, but I suppose I’m a little afraid.”

  “You never have to fear anything from me, Ana. Do you trust me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then let me show you how little the books compare.”

  After taking her hand from his cock, Alistair lavished each of her fingertips with a kiss. The stubble at his jaw scraped against her palm and down her wrist, his kisses reaching the sensitive skin of her inner forearm. With only the slightest of nudges, he encouraged her to lie back fully against the blanket.

  The path of kisses continued down her side, over her ribs and against her hip. He caressed his hands down her legs until she relaxed, and then he shifted his body between them.

  “My lovely Ana.” He pressed a kiss to her navel. “My brave, selfless princess.” His mouth trailed to her lower tummy. “My fierce sorceress queen.”

  Her whole body tensed, thrumming with anticipation and longing. Every light kiss tortured and tested her already fragile composure.

  “Your smell…” As Alistair breathed her in, the tip of his nose skimmed the crease of her inner thigh. “…it’s intoxicating.”

  The air in her lungs became insufficient, hummingbird breaths failing to quench her thirst for oxygen. Her pulse sped faster, her lust soaring higher, and then her dragon’s tongue divided the wet slit at his mercy. Her legs trembled.

  “H-how many times have you done this?” she asked, voice quivering as much as her body.

  Alistair leaned on his elbows to gaze at her. “You’re the only time that matters.”

  The sentiment, whether true or not, warmed Ana down to her toes. Her belly tightened with anticipation, relieved only by the strong fingers guiding her legs to part. Seconds later, when he touched her wet center, she melted into the sheets and closed her eyes.

  “We’ve barely started yet, lass. There’s much more to do.”

  Anastasia opened her legs to him fully, baring herself and feeling even more brazen as she did. His fingers glided over slick moisture then teased the tender, sensitive button at the apex of her folds. From that moment, nothing else mattered. Her hips jerked upward, following his touch when it withdrew. His fingers circled and teased, testing her wetness and the tight cling of her body with the occasional stroke. His fingers sank in with ease, then they were gone again.

  “I don’t think I can bear much more, Alistair. I… I need to feel you. I need to have you inside me. I want to be yours,” Anastasia hissed between her teeth, on the precipice between torture and sweet release.

  “Not yet, my love.”

  “I need it. I want… I want…” Her words were lost to moans as he glided the throbbing length between glistening folds, giving only a taste of what she desired. “…you to be mine,” she finished on a pant.

  Her dragon paused, becoming statue still and just as silent. For a brief moment, Ana panicked beneath him and wondered if she’d ruined the mood and tarnished the intimacy between them with her claim.

  “Yours,” Alistair whispered. Without another word, he kissed her hard, dominating her mouth with the tip of his tongue. The taste of her own arousal flavoring it, an inexplicable turn-on, everything about him making her writhe with unrestrained lust.

  Then he was entering her in excruciatingly slow increments, granting all of the time needed for her body to grow accustomed to his girth. After another inch, her lover’s body tensed. Every defined muscle grew taut and his breaths quickened.

  “Alistair?” She touched her fingers to his cheek. “What’s wrong?”

  After a quiet groan, his lips ghosted over her temple. “You’re so tight, Ana. That’s all. Am I hurting you?”

  “No.”

  He bucked forward, claiming her with another inch. Ana’s eyes rolled back, and she shuddered beneath him, but her impulsive nature won out and forced her to take control of the situation. He was too slow. Too slow, and she needed much more of him.

  Raising both legs from the bed, Ana planted her heels above his firm buttocks and dragged him down to meet her with one sharp tug. A fleeting bite of discomfort bloomed in her core as they joined in a snug embrace.

  “Ana?”

  “I’m okay,” she grunted out, wishing her voice sounded sensual and alluring. It was more of a croak than anything.

  He remained motionless above her until her breaths evened and her body relaxed, and then he withdrew without warning and thrust home a second time. Ana cried out in startled pleasure, gripping his shoulders tight.

  “Again.”

  Her dragon obliged with tireless strokes. She lost herself to the rhythm of their primitive dance, guided by his strong hands and sensual murmurs. Pleasure coiled within her and became a tightly wound spring ready to snap. She didn’t know where to grab him or where to hold, so she settled for touching him everywhere. Her fingers skimmed from his shoulders down to his arms, caressing thick biceps she’d admired. She stroked his back, nails biting the rippling muscle beneath her hands whenever he reached a particularly delicious depth.

  When she arched beneath him, his head dipped low. He sought her breasts with his lips, skimming the sensitive tips and nibbling each between his teeth. His mouth sealed around one tender peak and sucked. She clenched around him, and he mirrored her ecstasy with an approving grunt.

  As every panted sigh came quicker, her cries rose until Alistair shifted above her and united them at the perfect, splendid angle. One triumphant moment of bliss rippled through her core and the tension shattered, delivering her to ecstasy that consumed her like a million sparks igniting throughout her body.

  Alistair groaned out her name and stiffened. For a single, glorious moment, Ana experienced the transcendent joy of being one with the man above her. His every thought and emotion were open to her, as if they shared one body, one heart, and one mind.

  They collapsed together in a limp pile, chests heaving. Alistair wrapped his arms around her and rolled to his back while cradling her close to his side. Ana pressed her cheek into his shoulder and waited for her breaths to even. Her heart slammed an unrelenting tempo against her ribs, the air huffing in and out of h
er thirsty lungs.

  Even her dragon had worked himself up into a sweat. His brows, shoulders, and chest shone, moisture glistening over the flawless abs she had wanted to kiss. “Are you all right?”

  “Mm, more than all right,” she replied. She peeked up at his sated grin and smiled too.

  “Better than your books?”

  “Much better.” Her books hadn’t come close to describing how it felt, pale comparisons to the reality.

  “We are mated for life, Anastasia. You are my queen from this day forward. We have no formal ceremonies, only the sacred vows we whisper to one another.”

  Her head raised from the pillow. “What?”

  “I chose to share part of my dragon soul with you.” His fingers smoothed over her silky, untamed waves. Her wide, owlish eyes continued to stare into him as comprehension flooded her mind.

  “Aren’t dragons eternal, Alistair?”

  “As are their mates. Now you know the secret to the Witch Queen’s long life,” he whispered. He hesitated while watching her, losing the confidence that fueled his decision to claim her physically and spiritually. “Have I behaved out of turn? Have I upset you?”

  “I….” Ana shook her head, and her stormy eyes misted over with moisture. His hand raised to her cheek before the first tears began to fall, and then he wiped them away.

  “You are crying. Ana, please. Tell me your thoughts. Tell me if I’ve upset you.”

  “I’m not upset, silly. I’m crying because I’m happy. Because I can’t believe it’s true. None of this seems real anymore.” She inhaled a few shaky breaths, only to surrender to impulse and throw her arms around his neck. They hugged tight, laughing together, her giggles and his warm chuckles the only noise in the bedroom.

  “I love you with all of my being, with all that I am.”

  …Happily Ever After

  ALISTAIR PRONOUNCED ANASTASIA as his queen before all members of his court able to attend the grand festival that evening, and from that day forward, she slept beside him in their royal bedchamber. During their days, they made plans to rebuild the kingdom and restore Cairn Ocland to its former glory. And during the nights, her eager husband made up for his thirteen years of forced celibacy.