He thrust, hard, in, out, over and over, barely able to contain his lust and pleasure. His cock felt so sensitive, especially at the tip, and he could barely hold back his climax. Then Beatrix screamed out in ecstasy and her body convulsed hard around him, milking his cock of its cream. He was so lost in lust and pleasure that he barely realized the difference between his and her orgasm. With every twitch and throb of his cock as he released his seed inside of her, her body responded with greedy, spasmic tremors, pulling more and more from him.
He didn't know how long it went on, nor what became of either of them afterwards. Crumpling atop her and burying his face in her hair, he breathed in deeply of her scent. Beatrix smelled lovely. She always smelled lovely, though.
Nestling against her sex-worn body, he whispered into her ear. "Beatrix, I'm so sorry for what I did all those years ago. I was a fool and an idiot."
"Yes," she said, whispering. "You were."
He could feel her heartbeat in her throat as he pressed his head against the side of her neck. "We can't be together and it scared me."
She breathed in deep, then out again. "Everett, I knew how you treated women before any of that. I never expected something serious to come of it. That wasn't what it was about. You might have been cursed to look like a beast, but people always treated me like one. I'm beautiful. I made certain of that. I have powerful magic. No one ever treated me like a woman, though. I was considered fearsome and horrifying and the only reason anyone bothered to put up with me was because I offered them some of my magic. Otherwise, they wanted nothing to do with me and hoped I would go away."
It was probably true. He couldn't say it wasn't.
"Maybe that would have been the only night," she said. "Maybe we never would have done it again. I wanted that night, though. I wanted to be a regular woman, if only just for a little while, and when you approached me, well... some wishes aren't possible, no matter what kind of magical powers you have. You did grant my wish that night, but then in the morning..." She trailed off.
"I'm sorry," he said again.
"I never intended to marry you. I might've been your mistress if you asked and we remained discrete, but other than that... obviously you have obligations. I just wanted to feel normal and be treated normally, that's all."
"I'll try to make amends," he said. "I owe that to you. If we make it out of this, if Father Auguste is revived, then..."
"He's not," Beatrix said, flat and monotone. "I'm sorry, Everett, but this was for naught. Father Auguste wasn't brought back."
"We..." He choked on the words. "Again... we can..."
"We don't have time," she said. "As much as I enjoyed it, that took far too long as it is."
This was it, then? They were done for? What could they do now? Fight, run?
The only thing he had to look forward to was his regained humanity. After coupling with Beatrix, the remainder of his curse was fading away. His fur vanished, replaced by tanned skin, and his mind felt less muddled and primal. He could think, understand, and comprehend so much more. His speech felt odd, but he didn't feel stupid when he talked.
Unfortunately that was literally the only thing Everett had going for him at the moment. Besides the fact that an angel cast down from the heavens was on a mission to destroy him and perhaps his entire household, when he glanced up after seeing something out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Danya standing on the outskirts of the destroyed pantry. She was staring at the sexual aftermath of his and Beatrix's foolhardy plan, both of them laying on the floor in blissful afterglow, spent.
Danya watched him, aghast, mouth open, gaping.
...
Alena and Dante didn't find Danya. As they rushed down the halls towards the source of the scream, something stopped them. Wide open and alluring, two large double doors called to them in the middle of the hallway they traversed. If they looked inside, surely they'd find Danya. This was what Dante said, at least.
Unfortunately that never happened, for a few reasons. The foremost of which was the human-looking creature roaming through the opened room, with dark black wings, little to speak of in the way of clothes, and a foreboding sense of wrongness surrounding him. Or at least Alena assumed it was a him. He had a muscular chest, chiseled and perfect like some man out of a romance story book. She couldn't see his eyes as they were covered by cloth, but she thought they might be pitch black and wanting.
When she and Dante stopped to peer into the room, perhaps to find Danya there, the thing glanced their way. It stopped, stared at them, and then it dashed forward. Dante flung her to the side, defending her from being hit by the creatures attack. This didn't help him, though.
Once she regained her composure after the sudden escape, she looked up to see Dante wounded and grappling with the demonic man. One of the man's clawed hands had raked down Dante's arm, leaving painful, red bleeding gouts of jagged flesh and ripped cloth. Dante warded him off with his other arm, but just barely.
Alena screamed for the thing to stop, to stop attacking Dante, to stop... to just stop. She screamed so loud that she caught its attention. Dante spun away and freed himself from their wrestling, but not for long. The demon had no interest in screams and he chased after Everett's younger brother once more.
Where were they, even? Alena didn't know. Granted, she didn't know anything about this mansion. The room was overlarge, with a ceiling twice as high up as she thought it ought to be. Slick, wood paneled floors stretched from wall to wall beneath her feet. They looked perfect for dancing, she thought. Maybe this was a dancing room?
Perhaps, yes. It seemed to have some other occasional use, too, though. She watched as Dante escaped towards a rack near one wall and fetched something from it. A sword? Not a large one, though, but smaller. Thin, with a rounded pommel; a fencing sword. He parried a wrathful blow from the demon, then stepped to the side and delivered a counter attack. The demon blocked it using the edge of his wing and a spray of dark feathers splattered into the air before fluttering to the ground.
They moved, the pair of them, fighting, this way and that. Dante had expert precision and grace and managed to dodge and parry most all of the demon's attacks, swerving to riposte when possible. Anything that he couldn't prevent, he minimized, just barely slipping to the side, letting claws rip his clothes instead of his flesh. It worked, or so it looked, but the demon didn't appear close to stopping anytime soon, and Dante didn't seem anywhere close to defeating him, either.
A stalemate, perhaps, except how long could that go on? Alena doubted it would work forever. One or the other would tire, and presumably Dante would be the one to do it first.
How had this happened? She didn't want this. She'd come to the mansion to find Everett, to seduce him with this rose, and yet none of that happened. That was fine, she thought. It was alright, because... because perhaps she shouldn't have done that. She knew this now, knew the folly in her oversight. She wasn't exactly thinking clearly, and the rose didn't help. Even without the rose, she might have been blinded by other new sensations.
But Dante was nice, too. She didn't know if he was very nice, or if he was very nice for her, but he was nice. She liked him and she wanted to find out exactly how nice he was and if he'd spend more time with her. Except how should he do that if he died here and now? He couldn't, and she didn't want that, and...
Fretting and worried, she toyed with a few strands of hair. She still wore no clothes, but this seemed somewhat inconsequential and unnecessary to think about at the moment. What use were clothes when a demon wanted to kill her? She touched at the side of the rose, remembering it resting there behind her ear. As soon as she did, the demon stopped and glanced her way.
The dark being had been crashing down upon Dante and pressing him towards a wall, but when Alena toyed with the rose he leaped backwards and stared t her. Caught off guard, Dante hesitated, confused, but then he rushed forward to engage in combat once more. The demon batted him aside, sending his sword flying to the other end of the ro
om. Weaponless and otherwise defenseless, Dante prepared for the worst.
His enemy seemed disinterested now, though. Alena's fingers kept playing with the rose, unbidden. She was nervous, and doing nervous things, except her thoughts kept switching to this and that and now she felt strange, and what was that lightheaded feeling glazing through her?
The rose sensed her thoughts; or, more like, it wanted to change her thoughts. It had a purpose before, given to it by the witch, Beatrix, and it saw a chance to fulfill this desire once again. Alena knew nothing about any of this. The demon sensed it, though. The magic from the rose lured it in.
The demon took large, soaring bounds, striding towards her. He crashed against the floor, sending his one piece of tattered clothing fluttering up and revealing his masculine center. Growing and stretching, jutting out from the side of his loincloth, she spotted his cock.
It looked dark and wicked, rippling and grayed with a thick tinge of purple from the throbbing veins surrounding it, reminiscent of runes surrounding a circle for witchcraft. The demon confronted her, stood before her, and threw his loincloth aside, tossing it to the ground. She gasped at his audacity and gaped at his erect cock.
She wanted to scream and run, but the rose muddled her thoughts. Tempted by seduction and lust, she crawled across the floor to the aroused demon and ogled his masculinity. Slow, tentative, she reached for his erection and slid it between her hands. The demon wasn't slow, nor tentative. He grabbed the back of her head and forced her open mouth to take him in.
Alena spluttered and gagged, feeling the head of his cock thrusting between her lips and hitting the back of her throat. It hurt at first, but she wanted it for some reason. Why did she want it? She didn't know, couldn't have said. The demon sneered down at her, watching as she greedily slurped and sucked on his cock. He pulled out and let her savor his taste, grinning as she ran her tongue alongside the pulsing, runic purple veins of his shaft.
She'd wanted to be fucked before. She wanted Everett to take her like some beast while she used the rose to seduce him. Dante had distracted her, made her feel differently for a moment. Not now, though. The rose used its magic to bring her mind back to where it was. Perhaps this demon wasn't Everett, but he seemed beastly enough, and in the end what did it matter? Sex was sex; a cock fitted tightly into her cunt.
Alena had the barest inkling of these thoughts before she succumbed to the inordinate amount of lust and lascivious need that now pounded through her mind like a sexual headache.
...
Dante gaped at the sight before him. The demon had... stopped? Stopped and rushed that sweet girl, Alena. And then he... they were... what?
He didn't understand any of this. Magic was involved, he knew. What sort? Was she a witch? He hadn't sensed it before, or at least he hadn't thought she was a witch. She still didn't have the precise magical nature of a woman of that sort, so he wasn't entirely sure what she was, but apparently she controlled some spellcrafting abilities.
Then he realized it and recognized it; the rose. He'd thought it a mere decoration before, but now he knew better. That was Beatrix's rose, and extremely powerful. Alena must have inadvertently cast a spell. Without a witch's experience or similar magical ability of her own, her thoughts would twist in upon themselves and the rose would give them form.
She'd wanted his older brother. In all likelihood, if she'd realized it before, she might have accidentally used the rose's magic on him instead of Everett. Dante had stopped her without realizing it, but now there was no more stopping.
He couldn't do anything about this, as frustrated as it made him. He watched the girl taking the demon's cock within her mouth and pleasing him. The demon grabbed at her hair and tugged hard, forcing his way far into her throat. She choked and sputtered, sending dribbles of saliva down her lips and onto the floor.
He couldn't watch this. This was horrible. But what could he do? If he attacked, the lust-driven creature might kill Alena. She was defenseless, currently only protected because of her innate sexual prowess.
Beatrix was here, though. And his older brother, Everett. Perhaps between the three of them they could...? What? Would they even acquiesce to working together? Beatrix had no reason to, but she wasn't some cold-hearted monster, either. Surely she wouldn't want an innocent woman to get hurt because of this. Right?
He needed to find both of them and rush them here to save Alena. He doubted he could do anything else to help.
...
Danya was nothing. She hated herself. How could she ever have let this happen? Or, she knew how; she knew exactly how. She'd been lulled into some false sense of need and longing that never existed. Having Michael do it was one thing, or needing to sell her body and her love as necessity dictated was another, but this...
It was too much. She couldn't handle it any longer. Everett acted so plainly before, so obvious. He wanted, he'd said. Needed, even. She thought he meant that he wanted and needed her, but in actuality it was all for his curse. He needed and wanted to deceive her, to fuck her like some wild animal. He was the beast in all of this, and yet he treated her like one to accomplish his goals. And, well, he'd done just that, hadn't he?
She hadn't seen all of it, if they'd been at it for long, but she saw the last part. Everett looked so satisfied and content, and at the same time frantic and excited. He pushed hard into the woman beneath him, whose beauty was somehow incomprehensible and incomparable, and coupled with her in desperate need.
The woman looked quite satisfied with this arrangement, too. Granted, she kept her clothes on, but somehow that added to the inherent wrongness of the whole situation. If she'd been naked, Danya might have been able to accept it more, but as it was the illicit pair seemed to want to finish fast and hide their iniquity from the entire world.
Perhaps full nudity wouldn't have helped, though. With just some of the woman's body on display, and not even the entirety of it, she looked more glorious than Danya could ever imagine looking. She liked the way she looked, or she thought she did, but now she felt entirely inadequate. There was no way she could become anything like that, and so she was useless and worthless now, wasn't she?
No one cared about her, though. The roughly fucking pair finished their dirty misdeed. Everett sank himself deep into the woman, pressing hard against her body, and Danya watched as they both twitched and spasmed and tensed in some obvious show of mutual satisfaction. Both of their faces twisted into ecstatic agony, heightening their beautifully erotic appearances. If Danya were an artist, she would paint this, and through time eternal it'd probably be a masterpiece acknowledged throughout the entire world.
It didn't matter how good they looked while doing what they did, though. It mattered that what they were doing was not what they should be doing. More to the point, they both didn't seem to care at all about any of it, but Danya did. She felt embarrassed and humiliated for allowing herself to become duped by this man in beast's clothing.
Even worse, he wasn't even the Beast of legends anymore. After this current sexual session, his body changed with a sense of finality. Perhaps the mansion wasn't entirely fixed, but Everett was. His fur shed away from his skin, drifting to the floor, featherlight, where it vanished in a puff of dust, never to be seen again. His eyes switched from an aggressive yellow to a more mild hazel, and his body overall became softer. He still looked strong, fierce, and dominant, but no longer like some cross between a human and a wolf.
Danya hated him. She hated herself. As she stared, gaping at the two of them, Everett glanced up and looked her way. He caught her watching them, but it was too late now. What would he say about it? She didn't care. Refusing to accept letting him see her cry, she spun on her heels and hurried off.
There was a demon somewhere within the mansion, but she didn't care now. She could die. It could destroy her. As long as it took away her pain and torment, she'd barely bother herself with the after effects. Why should she care, anyways? If she were dead, she didn't need to worry about a
nything.
Everett came, though. Oh, yes, of course he came. What did he want from her now? To stop her, trap her, keep her in some cage, bound to his will, to fuck and rut and mate with as he wished? The thing that upset her the most is that she'd probably like it. She wouldn't like the fact of it, or him, but he was good at what he did in regards to his sexual experiences, and he could satisfy her body whether she wanted it or not.
The idea of that bothered her to no end. She'd rather die than to accept a life as some pleasure slave; forced to give and receive enjoyment at someone else's whim.
Everett put an arm on her shoulder, calm and soothing, but she didn't want any of that. Danya tried to move away, to slap his hand and keep him from touching her, but he grabbed her waist and held her tight. He pulled her towards him and spun her around and she balled her hand into a fist and punched at his chest.
She hit him in the chin, too, then gasped. She'd never hit a man like that, never punched one. He frowned at her, staring blankly, but doing nothing about it.
She hit him again, this time with an open hand, slapping him hard on the cheek. He winced as her palm smacked against his jawline.
"I hate you," she said. She wanted him to know this because he needed to know it. He needed to let her go so she could leave right now and either die or pretend her life wasn't made of collapsed debris and shambles.
Everett choked. "Please don't cry, Danya. I... let me explain."
"I'm not crying!" She probably was crying, but what did he care?
"I needed to. It was the only thing I could think of."
"Oh, is that it?" she asked. "That's how all men are, aren't they? I don't know what to do, so, sex. That's it, isn't it? You just can't think of a thing to help or do or believe in, and so you just want to fuck someone, because you feel like you're fucked. Well, you know what? I don't want to be fucked, Everett. I want to be special. I thought maybe I was, and I thought that despite everything I'd heard about you, and what I'd seen, that maybe I could convince you I was special, but obviously I'm not."
Hunted: An Erotic Retelling of Beauty and the Beast (An Adult Fairy Tale Novel) Page 16
