“Now suck.”
He tilts my head with the hand at the back of my neck, manipulating me like a doll while I suck his finger, and I suck it fervently, needing to break through his calm demeaner, needing to drive him as crazy as he’s driving me. Needing to know I affect him.
And finally, finally, he breaks and pulls his finger from my lips and then his mouth is on mine.
Kissing me.
My first kiss.
And it’s the most erotic freaking thing ever, him tasting my sex on my lips.
I’m inexpert. I don’t know what to do, how to kiss him back, but I try. Still, he must sense something is a little off because he pulls back, confusion in his eyes. “Daphne?”
I feel my cheeks flame and duck my head. “Is it that obvious I haven’t done it before?”
He suddenly grabs my face with both hands and forces me to look him in the eyes. “Are you seriously telling me that was your first kiss?”
I blink and try to look down again but he won’t let me. “Tell me the truth,” he demands.
“I— I mean, I just never— I never had a boyfriend or anything.” Is he really going to make me explain this? “I just work. That’s all I do.”
His jaw clenches so tight I think it might shatter but he manages to get out, “What about Archer?”
“It wasn’t— I mean, he’d just told me he wanted more at the ball, but before that we’d always just been friends and—”
His lips are on mine before I can say another word.
And oh, kissing. Kissing is marvelous. In spite of his dominant nature, he doesn’t just shove his tongue down my throat.
He teases. He teases like a proper devil, dancing along the tip of my own tongue in a way that lights up every single nerve ending in my whole freaking body.
He breaks away only long enough to murmur, “You sweet, innocent girl. You’ve let me debauch you in so many ways when you hadn’t even ever been properly kissed?”
He kisses me again, sweet and soft, his hands creeping into my hair. Finally, long minutes later, he presses his forehead to mine. “You’re impossible. You shouldn’t be real.”
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.