Especially because it’s still ramping up. That slow, torturous finger moving in and out of me plus his thumb, oh, that wicked, wicked thumb of his, plus the hand massaging my breast and tweaking my nipple—I thought it was a myth that breasts could arouse a woman. But I was wrong. Oh, I was so, so wrong.
And everything he’s doing to me is so, so right.
“Yes,” I cry out, grinding my hips into his hand in an instinctual motion as my mouth goes dry from panting. “Please, yes.”
“That’s right,” he grinds out, “beg for it. Beg for me.”
“Please, please.” My hands clench around the material of my restraints. I have to grab something, need something to ground me as my body spirals out of my control. It’s his, he’s the commander and master of my body now. It’s going where he takes it.
He leans between my legs and inhales my scent and it’s the dirtiest and hottest thing I’ve witnessed yet, this godly, masculine man of all men, scenting me at my most secret place. And then he breathes out on me, blowing the warm air from his lungs in a warm stream across my sex, making me tremble. He redoubles his efforts on the bundle of nerves at the top of my sex at the same time he massages me deep within and it’s too much— It’s—
“Ohhhhh!” I cry as the volcano that’s been stewing inside me finally erupts.
I want to clench him to me as white light engulfs me and shock waves blast outwards from my center, singeing me from my scalp to the tips of my fingertips and toes.
One wave…and then another and…oh gods another.
My legs spasm as yet one more wave hits. The restraints hold me down so all I can do is look at my Beast with all the longing and euphoria I feel.
His eyes are wide and satisfied and…shocked.
I don’t think he expected this any more than I did.
As the last bit of pleasure spasms and then ekes out of my body, my limbs sink limp to the table and I feel like I’ve expended every ounce of energy I ever had. But it’s not like at the end of an exhausting all-nighter at the lab. I feel…sated. And so, so satisfied. Like, I didn’t even know the meaning of the word satisfaction before this moment.
I breathe out every ounce of tension and sink into the table, goosebumps rising from the cold hitting my sweat-drenched body. I couldn’t care less.
For once in my life, all my thousands of worries and concerns are quiet. It’s so blissfully quiet in my head. I sink into the beautiful silence. Gods, I want to live here. I’m so tired of carrying everything. I want to just put it all down.
So I sink into the silence, so much so that I barely feel the hands undoing the restraints on my wrists and ankles.
And when my Beast gathers me into his arms and carries me from the room, I sink against him, my mind still blissfully quiet as I listen to the solid thump thump thump of his heart in his huge, warm chest.
Ten
Beast
That didn’t go as planned. She wasn’t supposed to be a virgin. I was so sure she wasn’t a virgin. That she was a liar, just as corrupt as the rest of them.
But I was wrong. I was so wrong.
She’s a rarity, a hardy winter rose among flashier summer blooms, made of sterner stuff and all the more beautiful for it. And the way she unfurled before my eyes…
“That’s it, sweetheart,” I whisper into the silky fall of her hair. Hours of freezing torture in the tower, and she’s as beautiful as ever, her olive skin flushed from the pleasure I gave her, if a bit smudged from sleeping on the dirty stone. “Time to clean you up.”
She murmurs a protest when I set her down in the tub.
I turn the gold knobs and test the water temperature until it’s perfect. There’s a new cake of soap waiting to be unwrapped. Rose scented, of course. I lather a soft washcloth and place it between her legs. She winces with a little moan.
“Sore?” My deep voice echoes around the bathroom and brings a deeper flush to her cheeks.
Biting her lip, she nods.
“Was that the first time you’ve had something inside you?” I still can’t believe she’s a virgin.
She raises her chin, looking regal even though she’s wet and naked. “That’s none of your business.”
Still that fire in her eyes even as she gave in to me so beautifully. My cock is hard as a rock from just remembering her sweet submission.
I growl and pull her hands away from where they cover her breasts. “Everything about you is my business. You belong to me now, Daphne.”
“I don’t belong to anyone. I’m my own person.”
“Really? Is that why you’ve worked so hard to be a clone of your father?” And Adam Archer, I add silently, though I won’t say that fucker’s name. Maybe I don’t have to kill him now, since he hasn’t defiled my precious rose.
It wasn’t supposed to be about her. It was supposed to be about revenge…but now. After having her here, after watching her shatter beneath me, inhaling her virgin scent as she detonated in her first ever orgasm that I and I alone wrung from her—
To my surprise, she gnaws her lip. “That’s also personal.”
I catch her chin. “You’re not theirs any longer. You’re mine.” This is the only thing I’ve become absolutely sure of over the past hour.
She’s changing everything.
But it doesn’t mean I can’t have my revenge still.
She will be my revenge now. I will take Dr. Laurel’s daughter and make her mine. I will snatch the woman Adam Archer wants right out from under his nose. When I’m done with her, she’ll crave no one else but me.
Except maybe…maybe I’ll never be done with her. If she continues to be what she appears, if she really is pure, then…
I gaze down at the perfect beauty, naked before me. Steam rises from the tub and she groans in pleasure. Can she really be all she appears to be? There’s so much more of her to explore. Not just her body, but her mind.
The tub is one of the few modern accoutrements I’ve added to the place, along with all the modern plumbing and lighting. One of the few pleasures I allow myself. It’s large and when I reach over and turn on the jets, Daphne murmurs happily.
Other than her few spitfire moments since we finished earlier, she’s mostly been like a sleepy cat. She reaches for me again and again, and I have to capture her wrists before she tries to dig her paws into my chest.
I’ll have to train my kitten, won’t I? No touching her Master.
Only I do the touching.
But she’s had enough lessons for today.
So I gently wash her. She tries to cover herself, but I tsk and pull her hands away. After a moment, her raven head sinks back against the tall edge of the tub.
“What am I doing?” she whispers, more to herself than to me. “This is so wrong.”
“Why?” I ask, sifting my hands through her long, dark, silky hair. I pour some shampoo into my hand. I added a feminine sounding shampoo to my grocery order yesterday and the scent of roses soon fills the bathroom. She leans forward when I direct her, bowing her head.
I love the shape of her tiny, delicate skull in my hands as I massage the suds in. So much life embodied in such a fragile container. And her amazing brain. I know just how smart Daphne Laurel is.