Falling for the Beast (A Modern Fairy Tale Duet 2)

“Fuck me,” she whispered.

“What?” He pulled back to meet her eyes. It wasn’t the language she usually used with him, and there was a question in his eyes. Did she really want this? Was she too upset to make decisions for herself?

It made her angry. And it made her sad. She shoved at his chest with her fists. “I said fuck me.”

“Erin, baby. I’ll make you feel good.”

That was him, making her come, making her shudder and scream her way through climax. Let me take care of you. He was such a good man. But for tonight, she wanted him to be bad.

She shoved him again, her forearms against his body. “Not good, Blake. Hard. Do it hard.”

His eyes flashed with something dangerous—and seductive. “You don’t want it like this.”

“Don’t tell me what I want. I want to feel…” She considered all the things she wanted to feel. Pain. Pleasure. The soul-deep uncertainty that she had somehow named love. In the end, it was simpler than that. “I just want to feel.”

He took a step back. “I love you.”

She followed him, placing a hand on his chest, petting him, apologizing if she’d hurt him. “Then fuck me like you mean it. Do whatever you want with me.”

The decision came faster than she was expecting. And it came in the form of his hand in her hair, pulling back, turning her face up to the sky. She gasped but let her body hang by his touch.

“You want me to be rough, is that it?” His words were soft against her cheek.

“Yes,” she managed.

“You want to see what I’m really like when I don’t hold back.”

“Yes.”

“Because you still don’t know me.” His words sounded more sad than offended. “You still think there’s going to be something sweet and loving. That I can just give you a spanking on the soft part of your ass, like this is a game, and I’ll be able to stop there.”

She shivered. “Show me then.”

His hand tightened in her hair. “It’s not a fucking game.”

He bent his head and licked at her throat. Then he bit her, teeth scraping along her jaw as she cried out to the moon. Her hands fumbled for his shoulders, his arms, trying to hold on.

“No,” he said coldly. “You don’t get to hug me and cuddle me, not when you want me to fuck you. Not when you want me to show you the real me.”

He dragged her by her hair in one hand, and her upper arm in the other, to a tree. Then he pushed her against it, face-first. He positioned her arms around the tree as if she were a doll, making her hug the tree. He undid her jeans and yanked them down to her knees, using them like a rope, tying her still. And he shoved her shirt and bra up, exposing her skin to the air and the tree.

“Like that,” he said, a hardness in his voice she didn’t understand. “You stay just like that no matter what I do to you. And when I’m done, your breasts will be red and raw, and I won’t even have touched them. Understand?”

She whimpered, aroused and nervous and somehow floating. It was freeing for him to speak to her this way, for him to hurt her like this. It was freeing not to know what would happen next.

What happened next was a blunt finger pressing inside her pussy from behind. She gasped, her mouth open against the tree.

“Wet,” he murmured. “Are you always this wet? Do you walk around all day during class or work with your pussy slick as a waterfall? Or is that just for me, every fucking time?”

She shuddered. “For you,” she said, her voice high and thin. “It’s for you.”

Then his fingers were at her mouth. “Taste yourself,” he demanded.

Before she had a chance to respond, to even think about saying no, he pushed inside. She sucked on his fingers obediently, licking her juices off his coarse skin. When he was satisfied, he removed his hand. Then his heat was at her back, his cock nudging her entrance.

“You want me to scare you,” he whispered. “That way you can walk away tomorrow for what happened today. Prove that I’m really like my father. That I’m a rich bastard willing to take what he wants, who he wants, and damn the consequences.”

Dark realization washed over her. He thought she was doing this because she wanted out. He thought she was using his sexuality—his pain—against him. “No,” she cried.