Breaking Beauty (Twisted Tales, #1)

by Teresa Mummert

  “What movie do you want to see? Something scary?”

  “You know I have nightmares.”

  “You can just sleep with me.”

  I knew I must have made a crazy face because he began to laugh. “Just come to bed with me instead of waking up in the middle of the night,” he explained with a shrug. “You can keep this room for all your things and just stay with me for now on.”

  “What? You want me to share a bed with you?”

  “You do all the time anyway. Why not?”

  “Well, for one, it may get a little crowded when you bring your dates home.” I used air quotes when I said the word dates because he used that term loosely.

  “I don’t bring girls here anymore, ‘Belle.”

  I suddenly realized it had been a long while since someone stumbled up the steps with hushed whispers. “I guess you’re right.”

  He rolled his eyes, clearly getting annoyed by me. “Are you ready to go or what?”

  “Yes!” I pushed from my seat and hurried out of the door to follow him outside. I was surprised when we went to the garage to get his car instead of the motorcycle.

  “What?” he asked as he unlocked the door.

  “I like it when we ride the bike.”

  “I thought it scared you.” The left side of his mouth rose. “Don’t worry, Beauty. You can press your body up against me all night tonight.”

  He winked, and my knees wobbled, threatening to give out from under me. This was going to be an interesting night.

  FOURTEEN

  THE THEATER WAS PRACTICALLY empty, and we decided on seeing Clearwater, a movie about a serial killer terrorizing a small town. Mason got me three different kinds of snacks, and we scored seats in the very back row because it was such a late showing.

  “I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight,” I muttered as the opening credits began. Mason grabbed my hand, giving it a small squeeze.

  “I won’t let anyone hurt you, Beauty,” he reassured me, a playful smile on his lips. But as the drama began to unfold, I started to feel sick to my stomach. The main character was being forced into her room as the killer began ripping at her clothing. He shoved her down on the bed as she struggled to get free from his grasp.

  “You okay?” Mason asked, his hot breath against my ear. I nodded before looking over at him.

  “Why?”

  “You’re about to break bones in my hand.”

  “Oh.” I let go of his fingers, shaking my head. He grabbed my hand again.

  “You want to sit on my lap?” He asked. At first, I thought he was teasing me, but there was nothing but sincerity in his eyes. I nodded, and he patted his leg.

  I glanced around before slipping from my seat and settling on his lap, curled against his chest. I could lay like this all night, not seeing another moment of the film, and it would be one of the best nights of my life.

  Mason’s fingers slid along the edge of my skirt, absentmindedly drawing out odd shapes on my flesh and causing goosebumps to erupt wherever they slid.

  The characters on screen were now performing the gratuitous sex scene that always comes before someone gets murdered.

  My mind was lost in the thought of his touch, the gentle way he was holding me when I knew Mason Locke was anything but gentle. I squirmed, readjusting myself on his lap when he groaned.

  “Am I crushing you? I can go back to my seat.” It felt like the weight of my guilt was going to cause us both to go crashing through the floor.

  He chuckled quietly and shook his head. “You better not get off my lap, Beauty,” he whispered into my hair, his voice low. His fingers gripped my thigh possessively before sliding a little further upward under the fabric.

  “Mason,” I breathed, eliciting another animalistic noise from the back of his throat as his hand slid between my legs.

  His fingers moved further until they brushed against the damp fabric of my panties. I sucked in a hiss between my teeth. “You’re wet for me.”

  “We’re in public.”

  “So?” He asked, pressing his fingers against me as I felt him growing harder beneath my bottom.

  “People can see us.”

  “Beauty, it’s pitch black in here, and the few people that are here are focused on the movie.”

  “Not you.”

  “No, not me. I can’t seem to focus on anything when you’re around.”

  “I don’t understand you,” I blurted out.

  His eyebrows pulled together as he scanned my face. “What does that mean?”

  I looked down at my hands, twisting my fingers together. “One minute you're pressed all against me and saying something dirty and the next you’re telling me you don’t want to... you know. And I’m just finding it very hard to know what it is you want from me.”

  “There are a million guys who would be better for you than me.”

  The rejection stung. “What is it you’re not telling me?” There it was, the question that had been gnawing at the back of my mind all evening.

  “Belle,” he groaned.

  “You know what, nevermind. It’s none of my business.” I tried to stand, but his arms banded around my waist and held me firmly against him. “Stop it,” I whisper-yelled as I tried to push against him, but he was too strong and only groaned again in response, this time it had an entirely different meaning, and I felt my face grow hot.

  “Will you just sit here and watch the damn movie?” He growled in my ear.

  I folded my arms across my chest, angrily as I scowled toward the screen. I could see him shake his head out of the corner of my eye. I didn’t care how ridiculous I was being.

  “You’re acting like a child.”

  “You’re acting like an asshole,” I snapped.

  He chuckled quietly, his chest vibrating against my back. “I thought I was being awfully nice to you,” there was a sinister edge to his tone as his fingertips ghosted down my bare thigh. I swatted his hand away, eliciting another laugh from him.

  “You’re not funny.”

  “And you’re not mad at me.”

  “Yes, I am!”

  “Really?” His lips were against my ear now, and his breath caused a shiver to run down my spine. “So if I touched you, you wouldn’t be wet and willing for me right now? I can smell how much you want me.”

  His fingers slid up under the edge of my skirt, and I let my eyes fall closed, lost in his touch.

  “Beauty?” He asked, his voice deep and filled with hunger as he found the edge of my panties and pulled them to the side, his fingertips running along the crease of my thigh.

  “Yes,” I sighed, running my tongue out over my lips.

  “Yes, you’re willing?” He asked, amusement in his voice.

  His tone snapped me out of my trance, and I tugged my skirt down over his hand. “Stop trying to distract me. I’m not going to stop being mad at you.”

  “I don’t give a damn how mad you are at me. His thumb slid over my clit, and I stiffened, a bolt of pleasure shooting its way through me. “I still haven’t punished you for slapping me.” He pressed against me again, and I gasped. “You were a very bad girl, Annabelle. Now you’re going to be a bad girl for me here.”

  His dirty words should have revolted me, but I felt my body go slack against his, my back pressed against his muscular chest.

  “You’re teasing me. It’s not nice.” My words came out as more of a whine than I intended.

  He began to rub against me in small circles, and my hips began to move against him, desperate for more of his touch.

  As actors on the screen screamed for their lives, I let out a whimper. “This isn’t fair,” I panted. But he was relentless.

  “I want to make you cum right here with all these people around.”

  The pressure was beginning to build, and everything seemed to fade into the background. My sole focus was on his hand and what he was doing to me.

  His finger slipped inside of me, and I gasped, but I couldn’t stop mysel
f. I moved against him, riding his hand, rubbing my ass over his stiffened cock, barely restrained in his pants. He growled in my ear, and I could feel just how much he was enjoying this. His other hand snaked around me, grabbing my breast roughly over my shirt. His fingers pinched my nipple, causing my back to bow at the sudden shot of pain. He slid a second finger inside of me, my body stretching around him, desperate for him to touch me more. He could have screwed me right here in this theater, and I wouldn’t have said no.

  “You’re a dirty girl, ‘Belle,” he whispered in my ear. “I like it. I like how crazy you get for me, baby.”

  I was so close I had to bite my lip to keep from moaning. His free hand slid over my mouth, covering it with his massive palm to keep from letting my whimpers and cries from being heard. I stilled as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of me. My body clenched as waves of euphoria rippled through me.

  “Fuck, just like that, Beauty. Come all over my fingers for me.”

  My body shuddered, my brain in a fog of lust and frustration.

  He readjusted my clothing, pressing his lips against the top of my head like he didn’t just cause me to experience a mind-numbing pleasure.

  I watched as those fingers that had just been inside of me went into his mouth, his eyes closing momentarily as he sucked my juices from his own hand.

  FIFTEEN

  WHEN THE MOVIE ENDED, I couldn’t get out of the building fast enough.

  “In a hurry?” Mason asked, a smirk on his lips as he unlocked the passenger door of his Mustang and pulled it open for me. I glared at him as I slid inside of the classic black car. He rounded the vehicle and got in the driver’s side, hesitating before starting the engine.

  “Why do you do that?” I asked, turning to look at him.

  “Do what?”

  “It’s like you get pleasure from turning me down and breaking my heart and then doing something... dirty to make me happy again.”

  “I break your heart, Beauty?” He asked, his head angled as he looked me over.

  “No.” I shook my head, letting my hair fall against my face to help obscure his view of me. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I don’t like telling you no.”

  “Then why do you do it?”

  “Because you don’t fit into my world, ‘Belle. Where do you see this going? You really want the picket fence dream with a guy who owns a strip club?”

  I shrugged. I tried not to think too much about what he does when he’s not home.

  “Well, I don’t want that.” His tone was harsh, and I flinched as I stared out of the window, watching the night drag by as we sped toward his place. After a moment, he sighed and placed his hand on my knee. I knocked it away as I turned to look at him.

  “Who said I wanted that from you?”

  “So, that’s not what you want?” He asked, and I knew there was a challenge behind his words. “So if we slept together and I brought home a date, it wouldn’t hurt your feelings? Come on, Beauty. You’re not like that. You’re not like me.”

  “I’d have to care for it to hurt my feelings,” I mumbled, unable to force the malice into my tone.

  The muscles in his jaw began to jump under his taut skin. I’d clearly irritated him. Good.

  We rode in silence for the rest of the trip. When we reached the house, I didn’t bother waiting for him to shut off the car before I was out the door and hurrying inside. I took the stairs as fast as I could, slamming the door to my bedroom before throwing myself on my bed.

  A moment later, there was a knock. I ignored it.

  “Beauty?” Mason called from the other side of the door.

  “Go away!” I snapped before throwing a pillow at the wall.

  “I just wanted to let you know that my bed is still open to you if you need me.”

  “I don’t want to come to your stupid bed. I don’t want to be in your stupid house,” I trudged to the door before yanking it open. “And I don’t want you!”

  His eyes narrowed before he shook his head slightly. “You’re a bad liar.”

  “You’re a bad person,” I retorted before wincing.

  He took a step back, shoving his hands deep into his jean pockets. “That’s what I’d been trying to tell you. I’m glad you finally decided to listen.”

  He turned and stalked off down the hall, closing the door to his bedroom. He usually left it cracked so I could sneak in quietly if I had a nightmare. I flinched. It felt like he had built a wall between us when he closed that door.

  I curled up in the center of my bed and cried silently until I couldn’t hold onto consciousness any longer.

  Thankfully, I had made it through the night without any issues. But the next morning, I didn’t want to look Mason in the eye. I was acting like a child, and after all he had done for me, he didn’t deserve it, even if he did drive me crazy.

  I traipsed down to the kitchen, my head throbbing from a night of crying. Mason was standing with his back to me as he prepared a mug of coffee. I took a moment to admire the way his muscles pulled and flexed while he moved.

  “Sleep well?” He asked, and I jumped, not realizing he had heard me enter.

  I cleared my throat and went to the cupboard to grab myself a mug. “Good as can be expected,” I replied, my voice barely audible. When he turned around to take my glass, I realized how exhausted he looked. “You didn’t?” I asked as he handed me back my coffee.

  “Not used to sleeping alone anymore,” he admitted, and my heart panged in my chest. I took a small sip of my drink, wincing as I burned my lip. He stared at me for a long moment before turning his attention to the refrigerator. “Are you hungry?”

  “I don’t need you to make me breakfast.”

  “I like cooking for you.” He pulled out a carton of eggs and grabbed a dish of chopped fruit.

  “I didn’t get a chance to tell you,” I cleared my throat, struggling to summon the courage to tell Mason about my job interview. “I got the job... at The Tavern. They called yesterday to let me know. I figured I could pick up a few shifts and, you know, pull my own weight around here. Or maybe even save up to get on my own feet.”

  “I already told you, I don’t want your money.”

  I walked up behind him and placed my hand timidly on his back. He stiffened before straining his neck to the side. “Go wait in the dining room. I’ll bring it to you when it’s ready.”

  I nodded, chewing on my lip as I let my hand fall and turned to retreat to the next room.

  I slammed the spatula down on the counter. Hunter wouldn't be content until he destroyed me. I couldn’t let him hurt Belle in the process. I’d been fucking up left and right, getting sloppy. I had too much on the line, too many secrets to allow everything to fall apart like this, especially over a woman.

  But she wasn’t just any woman. That was the problem. She’d gotten under my skin. And I had no right to demand the things from her that I’d been taking. If she ever found out what had brought her here, she would never talk to me again. No, she would probably have me arrested. I couldn’t risk it, but I did it anyway. I wasn’t the only person who would be taken down if she ever got wise to the type of man I really was.

  Still, I fucked her with my fingers in the theater like we were a bunch of fucking teenagers. I couldn’t get her scent and her taste out of my mind. Hell, I’d jerked off three times since then, and I still have half a hard-on just at the thought of her. It was a sickness inside of me. A sickness that made me crave her in depraved and twisted ways.

  It didn’t take a genius to figure out my childhood had fucked me up beyond repair. In order to thrive, I needed to take control. Control of my life, of my business, and control of any woman I put my hands on.

  But Belle had a messed up past too. I couldn’t just take her as I wanted. It could scar her for life. So I had to be content with the little pieces of herself she’d been giving me. It would have to be enough because soon, all of this would be over. Way too soon.

  SIX
TEEN

  WE ATE IN SILENCE. I pushed my food around my plate, no longer feeling at home in the expansive space.

  “Cadence is getting married soon,” I said, not looking up to meet Mason’s gaze. I could feel his eyes on me.

  “You’re still going?” He asked, his mood noticeably darker.

  “I’m the maid of honor,” I replied.

  He shook his head in disapproval, and I set my fork down on my plate. “Why don’t you like her?”

  “I told you. She’s not good for you.”

  “She’s my best friend.”

  He shook his head.

  “What?” I asked, but he didn’t respond. “What, Mason?”

  “Nothing. You just make it a habit of caring about people that don’t deserve it.”

  “Everyone deserves to have someone care for them.”

  He looked up at me now, his gaze making my heart stutter. “Not everyone, ‘Belle.”

  “You mean... not you.” I sighed. “Mason, you helped me when no one else gave a damn. You took me in. You took care of me when I needed someone the most. Why do you think you don’t deserve the same?”

  He cleared his throat, shoving his chair back as he stood, plate in hand. “We’re not talking about me. We were talking about Cadence.”

  “I have to go to the wedding.”

  “No, you don’t.” He walked the length of the table and grabbed my plate.

  “Mason,” I groaned, pleading with him to understand. He turned back to look at me, clearly frustrated that I wasn’t just accepting his opinion. “I’m going to the wedding.”

  “Fine. I’m going with you.”

  “What?” I didn’t mean to sound so shocked, but it was the last thing I expected for him to say.

  “You heard me, ‘Belle.” He walked into the kitchen, and I pushed from my seat, following after him.

  “You want to go with me? Like... a date?”

  He rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of amusement in his expression. “Call it whatever you like, Beauty. But I don’t want you having to sit through that by yourself. I want to be there for you.”