The Beast (Wicked Villains 4)

With every orgasm we draw from Isabelle, I feel that control slipping. We’re playing out a fantasy I never dared allow myself to have, trading her back and forth again and again. Working together in the pursuit of pleasure instead of being at odds. For her part, Isabelle takes it all with a devious glee that I’ve never seen in her before.

It doesn’t line up with what I thought I knew about this woman. When we made this deal yesterday, I wanted her, yes, but I also wanted to punish her. What kind of princess would want to be fucked dirty the way Gaeton and I crave?

Apparently our princess does.

I pin her against my chest as Gaeton eats her out, working on her seventh orgasm. He lost his shirt somewhere along the way, but we both have our pants on still. Watching him worship Isabelle’s pussy with his mouth…

Fuck.

I’m going to keep them. I don’t know how yet, but the vision of a future together is solidifying in my head the same way all my other goals have in the past, so detailed it feels like we’re already there. Me, Gaeton, Isabelle. Together. It’s the path to reach that destination that’s still too murky. We have a lot of shit to unpack.

“You were right before, princess.” I pitch my voice so Gaeton can hear, and he slows his movements the tiniest bit.

She arches and whimpers. “I can’t … You don’t seriously want to have a conversation right now?”

“I do.” I cup her breasts with rough hands. “We decided that you were something pure to hold gently in our hands to avoid breaking. We gave you polite sex because we thought that’s what you deserved.”

She reaches for Gaeton, but I catch her wrists and guide them to the small of her back. I kiss her temple because I can’t fucking help it. She looks like a mess, every bit of fucking written across her appearance, from her tangled hair to the sweat glistening on her skin to the faint bruises marking her from our mouths and hands. I love it. Just as much as I love that there are faint nail marks on Gaeton’s shoulders from her last orgasm and bruises on his hips and thighs from where I gripped him as I fucked him last night and sucked his cock this morning.

Mine.

Not yet. But soon.

“Make her come, Gaeton. She’s not going to focus on shit until you give her that orgasm you’ve been teasing.”

He chuckles, and it must feel good because she moans again. Gaeton zeroes in on her clit, sucking and licking. It doesn’t take long before Isabelle bucks and cries out, her body shaking with the force of her orgasm. He softens his touch, giving her one last thorough kiss before he lifts his head and grins at me. He’s covered in her orgasm, and from the smug look on his face, he enjoys it as much as I do. “Seven.”

“No begging yet.” I carefully adjust her position so she’s not lying on her arms. She lets me, her breathing harsh and body languid.

His grin widens. “Nope.”

I press my lips to her temple. “Good girl.”

“I am … highly motivated.”

Gaeton shifts to lay his head on her thigh. Most of his body is on the floor while I’m reclining on the couch with Isabelle on top of me. I reach down and feather my fingers through his hair and he closes his eyes for a brief moment. The feeling in my chest strengthens. Mine. Something I never let myself consider possible before last night, and now I can think of nothing else.

Gaeton is nothing like Cohen. He’s brash and ruthless, but he’s got a heart that’s too fucking big. How it hasn’t gotten him killed before now is a mystery to me. Taking that on is a risk. If someone Gaeton cares about is in the mix, he will always run toward danger without thinking instead of engaging in a tactful retreat to find a better way.

Cohen was nearly as cold I am these days. The only place he warmed up was in the bedroom, because letting down your guard in Sabine Valley, even during the festivals, is a good way to end up dead. He was the one who set our course, the one I was willing to follow to the grave if need be.

Both Gaeton and Isabelle need someone to be that for them.

I stroke her with my other hand, a soft exploratory touch that traces over her hips and stomach and chest. Mine. She makes a sound damn close to a purr and relaxes the last little bit into me.

I can be the one to set our course. Fuck, I want to be. I am a beast in truth and not only in name, because I don’t give a fuck about plans and promises. I want them both, no matter what we agreed on fewer than twenty-four hours ago. I don’t care what these two people want right now; this is what I want. Both of them for my own. I’m selfish as shit, because I will do whatever it takes—lie, cheat, play dirty—to ensure it happens.