Beauty’s Beast

by Black, Stasia

  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.

  Sh
e 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.

  Who the hell was I kidding? Things can never just be PG between us.

  I lift the bottom of her sweater and whip it off over her head.

  Exposing her perfect, beautiful body and nipples so hard I have to have them in my mouth this fucking second.

  I suckle her left nipple into my mouth even as my hand traces the same curves I caressed earlier. Down her hip to her outer thigh, but this time I massage around to her ass. So plump and round in my hand. It reminds me of how this sweet little ass peeked out at me every time she bent over to throw the ball.

  I give a quick swat but that only makes her thrust her groin against mine again, seeking friction. It’s a good move because there’s certainly friction to be found, I’m so hard in my pants, I’m like a heat-seeking missile, solid and pointed straight towards her warm, slick pussy.

  I know she’s slick because after I squeeze her luscious ass, I tease a finger between her thighs and she’s absolutely drenched for me. Dripping down her leg, even.

  All I want is to open my pants and thrust inside her. To impale her against the wall and fill her with my cum. To mark her from the inside out as mine.

  My cock pulses against her with the need. It would be so easy…and she wants it, if her whimpering, hip thrusting, and little breathy pleas are any indication.

  But there’s so much she doesn’t— Can I really, when she still doesn’t even know—

  Frustration bubbles over at my own indecision until I bark, “Down on your hands and knees.”

  She pauses, definitely seeming startled by my sudden u-turn, but she’s a quick study because as soon as I let go of her wrists, she bends to the floor and takes position, so beautifully obedient, her peach-shaped ass upturned towards me.

  I’ll reward her so good. So, so good.

  I immediately get down on the floor behind her. “You’re doing so well. You handle everything I throw at you. You’re beautiful. Fucking perfect.”

  I brace one hand beside hers as I bend over her and bow my forehead to her spine, between her shoulder blades and trace my other hand over her plump breasts and down her stomach to the heated heaven between her legs.

  I lift my head just enough to whisper in her ear, “Do you want to feel me?” I nudge my still-clothed cock against her sweet ass. “The real me?”

  “Yes,” she all but chokes out. “Please, oh, please. I want to feel you.”

  There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation in that answer so I reach down and give us both what we’ve been wanting.

  I release myself from my pants and my long, hard cock finally gets to meet her sweet flesh. I play with her pussy as I press my length between her ass cheeks.

  She arches her back, thrusting her ass back up against me. “Gods, you feel amazing,” she breathes out. “Please. Put it inside me. I want it.”

  My cock pulses again, so close to her dripping pussy. But I am in control here and have already decided how this will go down…even if it was a deviation from my original plan. Like she does with everything, Daphne screws with my equilibrium in a way like no one else before her.

  But in this, at least, I’m holding on to the last scraps of my sanity, and mainly because her naked body is beneath me and my fat cock is stretched between the most gorgeous ass cheeks on the gods’ green earth. Never have I felt more like master and commander of my own destiny and also on the edge of completely losing my entire self—will, soul, and mind—to the tiny woman beneath me.

  Paradox. That’s her.

  But she’s my fucking paradox to tame, like trapping a whirlwind.

  I smack at her pussy lightly. “Remember who your master is,” I chide lightly, before slipping first one finger and then a second inside her, stretching her, at the same time strumming her clit with my thumb.

  That silences her, apart from a series of pleasured moans and squeaks. I finally give in to my own desires and thrust myself up and down the natural channel made by her round ass cheeks.

  So fucking beautiful. So fucking hot.

  I need more. I need so much more. This is torture, knowing her pussy is so close. But sadism comes with the territory when you’ve been made a monster, so it’s nothing new. And even the barest touch of her soft, perfect skin… She bucks so enthusiastically back against me as I rile her up, closer and closer towards her own orgasm.

  Her pitches rise in pitch.

  “That’s right. That’s right. Ride my hand. I’m fucking your ass cheeks and it’s so damn hot. You have ass cheeks any man would fucking die for.”

  Her cries reach a scream as my words take her over the edge. I lie on top of her so that my cock is sandwiched between our bodies and I fuck her ass cheeks even more fervently. I curve my fingers back in a come-hither gesture, teasing at her g-spot even as my thumb keeps at her clit.

  She thrusts back into me like a bucking bronco, a wild animal in the height of her pleasure. I jack my hips forward as my spine lights up, my balls tighten, and—

  I cum so fucking hard that I own the entire fucking universe, everything I ever, ever fucking wanted complete in this moment, clutching
this beautiful woman to my body and sharing the apex of pleasure with her.

  But even as the world blinks back in, I know—this is only the beginning. If it felt that good to cum outside her, what would it be like to be face to face, that pussy that’s clenching like a vice around my fingers sucking the cum from my cock, her lips on my lips, looking into her eyes as we draw the pleasure from each other and share it—

  But would we really be sharing it if she doesn’t even know the real me?

  Can it ever be anything more than a mirage, like the mask I wear?

  I bow my forehead to her spine again, not willing to lose this moment just yet. If I clutch her to me tight enough, she’ll never leave, right?

  I release her right then.

  Because that’s not a man’s logic, it’s a boy’s. The point of all of this was to make her crave me and be unable to live without me.

  So why do I feel like she’s the one who’s mastering me instead?

  Twenty

  Daphne

  I blink my eyes lazily awake. I’m still in the Beast’s arms. He’s running his fingers through my hair. I lick my lips. I couldn’t have been asleep more than half an hour.

  We have a habit of falling asleep like this for naps in the afternoon. In front of the fire, me curled into his big, warm body. Usually after some sort of festivity that leaves me naked, and him still clothed, like always. But both of us well-sated.

  I don’t move even though I’m awake, wanting to hold onto the moment for a little while longer. Today over lunch, he stripped me and set me on the table, feasting on me instead of lunch before our afternoon nap. Gods, he makes my body absolutely electric, and after I cum, I turn into a limp rag, liquid in his arms, and become quickly sleepy. I’d always heard it was guys who fall asleep after sex but I swear I’ve never found a more effective sleep aid.

  The last few days have been…indescribable. When I’m with him, everything else disappears. Our ‘date’ last night was so sweet, him teaching me how to bowl. Then it turned so hot, feeling him skin to skin against me.