Beautiful Beast(12)

The roof is covered in wisteria, throwing the reflection of the columns and dripping plants into the still water. There are white orchids growing in large bronze pots and loungers with cream cushions.

Made speechless by the unrivaled luxury and beauty, I walk toward the edge of the pool. There are rose petals floating in the water.

I hear him come up behind me. I turn around and look up at him. ‘Wow,’ I whisper.

His eyes are hidden by shadows. There is a slight tension in his body. ‘Feel like a midnight swim?’

I am suddenly wary. ‘I didn’t bring a swimsuit.’

‘There are swimsuits in the changing room, I believe,’ he counters.

‘I didn’t come here to sleep with you,’ I say, and my words hang between us. Both of us know that’s a lie.

‘Pity. Still, I’m only inviting you for a swim.’

I bite my lower lip. ‘OK, let’s swim.’

In the changing rooms, I find some plain black bikinis. I get into one and, after slipping on a toweling robe, nervously go back out to the pool. The air is warm and scented with the smell of the countryside. His back is to me and he is naked, but for a pair of briefs. He turns slightly when he hears my approach, and smiles.

And he takes my breath away—he’s the sexiest, most delicious thing I’ve ever seen. I gape at him like a silly teenager with a crush. The air changes between us. I feel goosebumps scatter quickly on my skin like millions of insect legs. A shiver goes through me, and between my legs a strange throbbing begins.

I breathe in deeply. What the hell am I doing?

I force my eyes away from him. If I’m planning to sleep with him, I should have drunk more alcohol at the restaurant.

‘Could I … er … have a drink?’

He turns fully then. Tattoos. Muscles. Ripped body. And a beast of a cock, barely held in check by his swimming trunks. All as if carved from glowing marble. There is no fear or shame in his face. He is the most self-assured, beautiful thing I have ever seen. Powerful male sexuality radiates from every pore of his impressive form. My mouth feels dry and my body does something it has never done before.

It aches for him.





Eleven


SHANE

She stands in the glow of the lamps with absolutely no idea of just how fucking beautiful she is. She looks like she’s made of porcelain, or fairy dust. I want to go up to her, strip her naked, and ravish her right there on the cold tiles, but I can see that she is so nervous, her knuckles show white where she is hanging on so tightly to the edges of her robe’s front.

‘Sure, you can have a drink. What do you want?’ I say, ignoring my raging hard-on, and sauntering over to the concealed bar to the left of me. She trails behind.

‘Vodka and orange juice,’ she says.

I pick up a bottle of Grey Goose and a tall glass. ‘Say when,’ I tell her, and begin to pour.

I am nearly halfway up the glass and she is still staring at it. I carry on pouring, my eyes on her face.

‘When,’ she says.

I stop pouring and put the bottle on the bar. She lifts her eyes to mine. What kind of strange, sexy creature have I got standing in front of me? No woman has captivated my interest like she has.

‘You can fill it to the top with orange juice now,’ she says.

I don’t move. ‘You’ll drown if you drink this much alcohol before you get into the water,’ I say softly.

‘Oh! I guess I should have asked you to stop pouring earlier.’

‘What’s the matter, Snow?’

‘Nothing’s the matter.’ She bites her lower lip. It is sweet, glossy, and plush. A whore’s mouth in an angel’s face. I picture her lips on my abdomen and going lower still. My cock hammers and heat churns in my balls. Fuck, my dick is begging me to throw her against the nearest wall.

‘Is this what you have to do before you let Lenny touch you?’

Her eyes fly open, and she takes a step back from me as if I have struck her. ‘You have no right. You know nothing. Do you hear me? Nothing!’ she cries and then she begins to run.

My reflexes are fast, propelled by the hellfire of lust burning in my blood. I catch her easily and spin her around to face me. She gasps, sharp and sudden, and looks up at me with startled, wide eyes. Her robe is gaping open, and I can see the soft curve of her breasts as they rise and fall with her agitation. Hell! I want to fuck her senseless. I can feel myself pulsing.

‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,’ I apologize. My voice is tight with frustration.

‘No, I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I overreacted. I’m just nervous. You’re the only friend I have. I don’t want to fight with you.’ Her voice is wobbly.

I let go of her forearms and flash her a good imitation of a grin. ‘So, let’s not fight then. How about a swim?’ I say, and, turning away from her, dive cleanly into the pool. With slow strokes I swim away from her. I’d need to do fifty laps to burn off this sexual frustration.

When I reach the other end, I turn back to look at her, and she is sitting at the edge with her legs moving languidly back and forth in the water. In these surroundings she is like a fantasy figure, a figment of my imagination. I experience a strange sense of possession. The urge to mate with her is primal, strong and rabid. If I was an animal, my fur would be bristling, my tail out and wagging stiffly, and my ears erect.

The drive to mount a woman, possess her and claim her as mine is an unfamiliar one. Sure, I could write a whole fucking encyclopedia about the impulse to mount a woman, but to possess and claim her? I exhale the breath I am holding and, swimming back to her, grab her feet. They are small and soft.

She giggles. ‘That’s ticklish.’

‘Are you coming in, Miss Dilshaw?’

She doesn’t stand and take off her robe the way any other woman with a body as dazzling as hers would have. Instead, she slips it off her shoulders awkwardly while still sitting, and pushes it off her hips and thighs just before she slides into the water. I catch her in my arms.

Her body is narrow and slippery. She gazes up at me, her lips slightly parted, and her eyes so dilated they are almost black. And it’s clear I’m not the only one who fucking wants it bad. She wants it too.

‘You can let go of me now,’ she whispers.

‘Give me one good reason I should.’

‘Because I want you to,’ she says.

‘Liar,’ I counter softly. ‘Here’s what I think you want. I think you’re aching for the taste of my cock.’

‘Mighty sure of yourself, aren’t you?’ she scoffs, although bright red is crawling up her neck and into her cheeks.

‘Shall we put it to a test?’

She looks alarmed. ‘What do you mean?’

I move my head closer and she jerks back.

‘What’s the matter? Don’t trust yourself to resist even a little kiss?’ I taunt.

‘I trust myself,’ she says, and, holding her chin high, closes her eyes like a schoolgirl expecting her first kiss. This is unfamiliar territory! It’s been a long, long time since any woman behaved in such a virginal way. If I wasn’t bursting out of my trunks to get to her, I would have found it funny.

I pull her toward me, bend my head and touch my lips lightly to hers. Her reaction is explosive. She moans, her hands snake around my neck to twine in my hair, and she practically melts into me. The water laps around us as her mouth opens and her nipples are like little pebbles burning against my chest.

I kiss her full and hard, my tongue pushing into the warm softness of her mouth. And there is not a damn thing tentative about the way she sucks on my tongue. She looks like a little spring flower, but she kisses with the kind of wild, reckless passion that blows my mind. She does it with the kind of desperation of someone starving.

I wrap my hands around her waist and push her upwards. Water cascades down her beautiful body, as I lift her onto the edge of the pool and place her firmly on her butt. I haul myself out. Getting on my haunches, I untie her bikini top. It falls away easily.

‘Shane,’ she whispers, my name catching in her throat.

Her breasts are small and perfectly formed, the areolae, shy rose buds. She gazes up at me, her eyes enormous, the eyelashes wet, and her delicious mouth swollen and red. My lips brush the side of her neck and she leans her head to the side and offers me her throat. It is a call to mate as much as it is when a female wolf lifts her rear and exposes her vulva to tell her alpha that she is in heat. My tongue trails down the silky skin. I’ve done this a thousand times before, but this time my movements are jerky with urgency.

I lay her on the cool tiles and wrap my lips around her nipple. She groans and closes her eyes. My hand slides down her body and moves toward her bikini bottom. I hook my fingers into it and suddenly she starts struggling under me. I lift my head in surprise.

Her hands move to cover her breasts.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she says.

I feel a surge of searing temper. This is fucking bullshit. I’m too old to play these cock-tease games. I grab her wrists and pull them apart and hold them high over her head so her breasts are exposed to me. She does nothing to stop me. Then I look deep into her frightened and excited eyes.

‘Well, I’m fucking not,’ I grate. I don’t hide the feral hunger in my eyes as I let my gaze roam her whole body, lingering lustfully on her breast, as if I own it all. And in my mind I do. She will be mine if it’s the fucking last thing I do. ‘I will have you, Snow Dilshaw. Fucking count on it. Not tonight, but you will be mine. And you know it too. You just like dragging things out. But you’re wetter than you’ve ever been, aren’t you?’