Her Beast (Beauty and the Captor 1)

His tongue glided across my lips, parting them, and I felt his tongue at my opening. He pressed inside and I couldn’t slow it down. I rocketed high no matter how slowly my fingers moved. His tongue penetrated me, stroking inside me, and I tumbled over the brink.

“You’re so fucking responsive,” he said, not displeased. And then he stood up and his fingers moved to the buttons of his shirt.

“Wait,” I said and shot straight up.

He chuckled. “What is it?” he asked indulgently—as if he didn’t know.

“I want to…May I please undress you?” I said, only mildly surprised by my own boldness.

He nodded and I crawled to the edge of the bed. On my knees, I unbuttoned his shirt. My hands still trembled, but not like before. I slipped the shirt off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor while I took in the sight in front of me. Broad shoulders, chiseled chest, his arms covered with sinewy muscle. My mouth watered just looking at him.

I glided over his hard flesh and he let me. And he didn’t stop me when I leaned forward further to sample his skin with my lips. I’d only intended to see what it was like—to kiss a man like that—but one press of my lips against his throat, and I was addicted.

I covered every inch of his neck, and then his shoulders, and then I moved lower, kissing a trail down his chest. When my lips brushed across one nipple, he sucked in his breath. So, I tested the other nipple, and the response was the same.

A powerful tremor rippled through my body, realizing there were multiple things I could do to make him respond. But before I could test the waters any further, he yanked me upright.

“You have a very talented mouth, Pet, but unless you want me to put it to better use, I suggest you rest those lips.”

I knew what he meant, and yes, I did want to do that. But I also wanted something else. And it was going to happen. He wouldn’t change his mind now, would he?

Just in case, I reached for the fly of his jeans before he could stop me. And he didn’t brush my hands away when I unzipped it. I gasped though when his cock sprung free—I’d almost forgotten the massive size of him.

He chuckled, though whether at my boldness or my response to the sight of him, I didn’t know.

“Eager, are you?” he asked, but he didn’t seem the least bit bothered by it.

“Yes.” And just in case there were any misunderstandings about what it was I so eagerly wanted, “I want you,” I said, my voice stronger than I would have expected.

He eyed me for a moment, again contemplating something. I hoped he wasn’t debating whether to deny me. I didn’t want to be denied. Not of this.

“Please,” I whispered, hoping to persuade him.

He shucked his pants without taking his eyes off me, and I was fairly certain that meant I’d won.

And then, instead of telling me what to do, he climbed on the bed and took me with him, laying me back while he hovered over top of me. I reached for him again. I wanted to feel him beneath my fingers, but I’d barely made contact when he captured both my hands in one of his and yanked my arms high up over my head.

“Tell me what you want.” The sly light was shining brightly in his eyes, but I also got the feeling he needed to hear me say it. He needed to know this was what I wanted.

“I want you to fuck me,” I told him, blushing only a bit more than I already was.

He looked at me. He wasn’t deciding anything—he’d already made this decision. He was just looking at me. He was making me wait—we both knew it. And while I was probably supposed to lie there complacently, I couldn’t. I thrust my hips up toward him, imploring him. I tried to lean up enough to reach his lips, but the way he had me pinned kept him out of my limited reach.

“Please, Master. Fuck me.” I felt empty even though I had no idea what it was like to be filled. I wanted to know. Now.

And he was done tormenting me. He positioned himself between my thighs and I could feel the head of his cock at my opening. Yes, this is what I wanted. I writhed, trying to draw him in, but he held still, refusing to give in. When I stopped, he nodded, as if to tell me that’s what he’d been waiting for—for me to stop trying to take charge.

And then he was inside me, stretching me. He moved slowly, filling me one overwhelming inch at a time. So stretched, it felt like I was burning around him, but the sensation began to fade, and in its place arose a sense of fullness, completeness. Thousands of nerve endings fired, making me want to move…writhe…thrust…fuck.