Beauty Dates the Beast Page 15

  He was magnificent.

  Even though I was a virgin, I wasn’t completely in the dark. I’d seen penises in art and movies and internet porn. But I didn’t recall them being quite so big or firm. I slid my fingers along the darker tip. “There’s quite a lot of you here,” I whispered, my fingers skating down the length of him and then back up again.

  He was silent.

  I glanced up at him and saw his jaw clench, as if he was trying very hard to keep control. “Beau?”

  “Yes?”

  I pulled a lock of hair forward and tickled the head of his cock with it. I had no idea if he’d find that sexy or not, but I enjoyed it. “What are you waiting for?”

  “Waiting?” He was having difficulty speaking. His cock jerked near my fingers—fascinating.

  I ran the lock of my hair up the side of his thigh and across his belly button. The man had abs that you could eat dinner off of, they were so flat. “Aren’t you going to ravish me?”

  He swallowed hard.

  I lay back down on the blanket, fanning my wet hair out over my head in what I hoped was a seductive fashion, and the thread of control he’d been hanging onto snapped. His legs spread mine wide, and I felt the stretch of underused thigh muscles as he exposed all of me. His hands went to my folds, sliding his fingers into the most secret part of my body. I gasped at the invasive feeling and squirmed. He silenced me with a deep, longing kiss, and I felt his hips settle against mine, felt the slide of his cock against the slick juncture of my thighs. That felt … delicious.

  He pulled back for a moment, then I felt the head of his cock nudge against me. I tensed, and the next moment, he thrust into my body in one swift stroke that felt like it broke me.

  All the air sucked out of my lungs and I whimpered. It hurt.

  Beau groaned low in his throat, thrusting inside me again, stretching me to the limit. I tensed against the pain. Pulling my hips up against him, he thrust into me again. There was less pain with his next thrust, replaced with a curious fullness, a pleasure/pain mix that made me ache and crave more. When he raised my hips a third time, I followed his motion.

  “That’s it, sweet thing. Come with me.”

  He thrust into me again, and there was no pain, just the delicious sensation of being filled. I squirmed underneath him, wanting more. He slowed, his fingers reaching to tease one of my nipples. “Are you all right?”

  I nodded, suddenly shy at his intense scrutiny as I was impaled under him. He’d gone completely still, and I wasn’t sure that I liked that. “Better than all right.” I wiggled to show him my approval.

  He groaned low again, grabbed one of my legs, and hooked it behind his back. The other he grabbed and pulled over his shoulder, then thrust hard.

  And oh wow, that was nice. I dug my fingernails into his skin with his next thrust. “That was good, too,” I breathed.

  He thrust again. “And this?”

  I moaned my affirmation.

  “And … this?” He thrust again, and then again, the thrusts coming harder and faster, as if he was sure now that I wasn’t going to break. “Sweet little Bathsheba,” he said in a raspy voice, punctuating each word with a thrust. “So sexy … all mine.”

  My hands fell backward and curled into the blanket, trying to anchor into place. Our flesh slapped together hard, fast and wild. The excited pulsing grew in me again and my soft cries filled the air, mixing with his grunts as he pushed me toward the precipice again.

  And then he jerked, the cords in his neck standing out, his body tensing as he came. He growled my name under his breath, his hips rotating against mine one last, wonderful time as he filled me with his release. I leaned into it, feeling vaguely out of sorts that I wasn’t getting a second orgasm.

  It must have been apparent on my face, because he gave me that slow, lazy smile and leaned back, his fingers sliding down to the wet curls that joined our bodies together. His fingers slid right to my clit and rubbed gently, teasing my flesh. “You didn’t tell me if this was all right, too.”

  I writhed against him, his kisses swallowing my responses. Within moments I was crying his name, too.

  Once my shudders stopped, he leaned over me and pressed a satisfied kiss to my mouth.

  I stilled. “Hell.”

  His eyes flew open, studying me. “What?”

  “Condoms.” A whole box full of industrialsized ones, still in the kitchen.

  Beau looked smug. “That’s cute.”

  I sputtered. “What do you mean, ‘That’s cute’? Are you fucking crazy?” The most boneheaded virgin move ever—I’d totally let myself be seduced without protection.

  He brushed a stray lock of hair off my cheek. “Don’t worry. It’s extremely rare for a shape-shifter to make a human pregnant. Odds are that I can’t make you pregnant at all.”

  My breath exhaled in a whoosh, and I closed my eyes. “For a moment there, I was having visions of spawning a litter in nine months.”

  He chuckled. “You’re safe from that. Our biology’s pretty much incompatible unless you carry a shifter gene. Sometimes it’s latent, which is why there’s a small chance. The odds would be higher if I turned you into a shifter, but even that doesn’t always take.”

  I was silent. I knew that I had a total absence of any shifter gene in my bloodline. I was completely immune. He could bite me a thousand times and it would never take.

  I didn’t share that with Beau, though. It was just as well—he probably wanted children with some nice were-cat-lady. Just the thought made me clench my fingers into his shoulders possessively.

  He nipped at my chin, watching my expression. “Are you mad?”

  “No,” I decided to distract him. “Then what’s with the condoms that Ramsey brought?”

  He grinned. “You never know who has diseases. Shifters are immune, remember?”

  So I was the diseased one? I shoved my hand in his face and pushed him away. “Oh, very nice. You have the soul of a romantic. You and Ramsey both.”

  He grinned and licked the tip of my breast.

  “So … what now?” I asked, shivering.

  “Now, we take it slow.”

  Oh boy.

  He got to his feet and reached for my hands. “Let’s take a shower.”

  “And are you going to wash me?”

  The dark look returned to his eyes. “Absolutely.”

  Oh, my. My pulse fluttered as I put my hand in his.

  Chapter Fourteen

  One of the things I liked best about Beau’s rustic cabin was his anything-but-rustic bathroom. There was a glassed-in shower that was larger than every closet in my house and a sunken marble tub in the corner.

  I’d given the shower a couple of runs so far, but not the bathtub, and it was more tempting at the moment. So when he took my hand and steered me to the shower, I steered him back to the tub. “Bubbles.”

  Beau took my cue and began to fill up the tub, adding bubble bath—a light strawberry scent that I suspected he’d bought for me. As the tub began to fill, I smiled. “Pink bubbles? Your masculinity is in grave danger, sir,”

  “Can you blame a man for wanting to see you covered in suds?” His hand slid down to cup my ass.

  I wiggled out of his grasp. “So what are you going to do while I take a bath?”

  “Get in there with you and wash your back.” He pressed a kiss to the top of my head and then climbed into the tub, sitting at the far end. It was absurd—the big, masculine were-cougar surrounded by a frothy pink bath, and I bit my lip to keep from letting a wild giggle escape.

  He patted his lap and a wave of bubbles splashed the side of the tub. “Come sit here, sweet thing.”

  I frowned at him. “We’re both not going to fit.”

  “That’s mighty flattering of you to say so,” he rumbled, his voice mixed with a low purr, “but I assure you that your luscious ass will always fit on my lap. Now get over here.”

  As I stood at the edge, hesitating, he grabbed me by the waist and dragged
me in. I shrieked at the loss of control and the slop of water over the edge of the tub, but he didn’t seem to care. He spread his legs until my butt slid between his thighs, and I felt the heat of his cock against the cleft of my ass. He wiggled a little, getting comfortable, and then his legs wrapped around my waist, pinning me against him. “See? Cozy.”

  I snorted at that, pushing at his knee. “I told you we wouldn’t fit.”

  “You’re too focused on what shouldn’t be, you know that? Now be quiet and let me wash your hair.” And with that, he dumped a handful of water on my head.

  I sputtered, wiping the trickles of water out of my eyes as he did the same thing over and over again. “You realize it’s going to take you a million years to wet all my hair with your little handfuls?”

  The answer? A huge gush of water over my head that left my sodden hair plastered over my face. I twisted around to look at his hand, and he held a plastic pitcher in it. I could hear him chuckling. “Where did that come from?”

  “I put it in here last night. All part of the big romantic day I had planned.”

  I heard the shampoo bottle squirt and then Beau’s hands were in my hair, massaging my scalp. The scent of strawberries filled the air. “I take it you like strawberries?” I said, closing my eyes and relaxing.

  I could feel the rumble of his laugh. “Not until recently. You make me think of a strawberry. Soft, sweet, and luscious.”

  “Flattery will get you everywhere,” I teased. “Keep this up and I might let you get to third base.”

  “I already had my hand on third base,” he said, and a bolt of desire shot through me. I grew very aware of the hard line of his cock against my bottom. The heat was still strong within him, and it gave me a little shiver of excitement.

  “It’s so strange,” I said. “I’ve known you for just a week and here we are in a tub together.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “I feel like we should know each other a little better,” I said, wiggling my toes in the water.

  Beau pressed a kiss to my neck. “That’s easily fixed. So tell me about you.”

  I hated talking about me. Talking about me led to Sara, and there were too many secrets to keep. I scooped up a handful of bubbles and pretended to blow them off of my palm. “What’s there to tell?”

  “Why were you a virgin at twenty-five?”

  I splashed him. “You do not ask a girl that.”

  “Fair enough,” he said, chuckling. His soapy hands slid from my hair to my shoulders, rubbing the tension out of them. “It occurred to me that I don’t know anything about you other than you like math and you work for Giselle. Do you have a big family?”

  “Sara’s the only one I claim.” I kept my answer short and breezy. “What about you? Family?”

  “Yes.” His fingers ran up and down my back in a relaxing motion. “But we’re talking about you right now. Your parents are dead?”

  I sighed. “One is.”

  Those magical hands resumed their kneading, and I wanted to lean in and let him do that for hours. I sighed in bliss.

  “Out of contact with them?” he asked in a low, easy voice.

  “You could say that,” I admitted. “I haven’t seen my dad in ten years.” When his fingers didn’t pause, I decided to tell him just enough to get him off my case. “My birth mother died not long after I was born, and my dad married Sara’s mom when I was three. She didn’t like me much—Sara was still a baby and my dad left almost as soon as the honeymoon was over. He drove a truck for a living, so he was gone a lot, and after a while he just stopped coming home. I took care of Sara when we were kids. When my stepmom wasn’t at one of her jobs, she was piss-drunk. So I learned how to keep house and take care of things early. I did the laundry, I went grocery shopping, I went to Sara’s teacher-parent meetings. I did everything for Sara.”

  His hands had stilled on my back.

  Sara’s drunk of a mother wasn’t able to understand what happened to Sara. When she saw her daughter turn into a wolf, she went after her with a frying pan. And when I saved Sara from that, her mom tried to turn Sara over to the police for being a monster. Luckily they were familiar with drunk Mrs. Ward and her stories, so they dismissed her tales of her werewolf daughter. The betrayal devastated Sara. I was perfectly happy never to see that awful woman again.

  I picked up another handful of suds, staring at it blindly. “Sara’s always been everything to me.”

  He began to pour water over my hair. “Is that why you put her ahead of your own needs?” He didn’t sound like he was judging.

  “Mmm.”

  “And is that why you don’t date?”

  I shifted in the tub, uncomfortable. “Can we talk about something else?”

  “I’m curious. You’re lovely, smart, and delicious. Why weren’t you snatched up by some human long ago?”

  I gave him a scowl over my shoulder. “Can you drop it? Maybe I just don’t like to be touched.” I always worried about Sara’s scent every time someone touched me.

  His hands stilled on my back. “Do you want me to stop touching you?”

  I sensed the tension in his body, and I knew that if I said a word otherwise, he’d never touch me again unless I asked for it.

  “Actually,” I said, sliding a hand down the thigh pressed against my side, “I like it when you touch me. I don’t want you to stop.”

  His hands skimmed down my spine, making me shiver. “That’s very good, because I have no desire to stop.”

  “So what about you? How was your home life?”

  “Remember, I told you that my dad was the leader of the Russell clan—he actually started it. Between that and the multiple jobs he held down, he was rarely at home. Since I was the oldest, it was up to me to take care of the family. My father was always picking up stray members of the Alliance without homes and setting them up someplace they could be safe. It was a loose clan, even if we didn’t have an official designation. Were-badgers and were-eagles and all kinds of creatures. It was a rough time for a supe on their own: they had to pay protection to the vampires or the wolves. So if you weren’t lucky enough to be born into a clan, you had a hard, poor life. My father wanted to stop that, and he came pretty close.”

  Only close? The Russell clan seemed well established, so that surprised me. “He didn’t succeed?”

  Silence. Beau poured more water through my hair, rinsing it off. “When I was in high school, my father stepped into a fight between my best friend and Savannah. My friend had hurt her, and he thought it was his right as a male to claim a female. My dad disagreed. JT ripped out Dad’s throat.” A pause filled the air, and I wondered if I should speak. But Beau continued. “So Dad didn’t get a chance to finish achieving his dream.”

  I hurt with sympathy for Beau. “What did you do?”

  He clipped my wet hair atop my head and squirted body wash across my shoulders. “The only thing I could do. I challenged JT for the right to lead our mismatched clan, and I won. And then I exiled him. And spent the next twelve years getting everyone’s shit together. Went to college, got my business started, and got this place out here for quiet time. I set up the Russell clan as a corporation, and others came to us for protection. As an Alliance, we have enough power to withstand the bullying from the vampires and werewolf packs. Now loners don’t have to worry about seeking protection—they have the Alliance looking out for them. We’ve grown stronger every year, and now we’ve got a major toehold in the supernatural world. It’s come a long way.”

  He sounded genuinely proud, not resentful of the fact that he’d had to pick up the pieces his dad had left behind. I knew what it was like to put your own dreams on hold to care for others. I’d wanted to leave home and go to a college as far away as I could. But when Sara’s boyfriend had bitten her, it had changed our lives. I’d given up a full university scholarship because Sara hadn’t been able to come with me. Six years later, our lives still revolved around keeping her safe.

  �
�Your path was decided for you by family. Did you ever want something different?” I asked.

  He rubbed the wash across my shoulders, then down my arms. “Never. The clan is mine. I built it up.” His slick hands slid around my front, palming my breasts, and I gasped at the twin flickers of sensation as he stroked his thumbs across my nipples.

  I leaned back against his chest, arching under his hands with a soft moan of pleasure.

  One of his hands strayed down my stomach, leaving a sudsy trail. His breath tickled my ear. “How do you like your bath?” His fingers circled my belly button.

  Warmth flooded through me. As his other hand circled and teased my nipple, I pressed back against him, gasping. “I like it,” I admitted, blushing.

  “We’d better finish washing you,” he said in my ear, his voice husky, “before the water gets cold.” His hand slid down to the curls at the juncture of my thighs. One thick finger slid against my sex, and I bit my lip as he searched for just the right spot.

  A delicate brush, and then a rocketing sensation as he found it, his finger swirling around the sensitive spot. “Nice and slick,” he murmured, kissing my neck. My hand slid down to cover his, unsure if I wanted him to stop the tormenting pleasure or to press him to do it harder.

  “I need to make love to you again, sweet Bathsheba,” he said, licking the sensitive skin of my neck between words. “I’ll be careful if you’re too sore.” His teasing fingers slid through my folds, delving lower, and one finger slid inside me.

  I inhaled sharply, rearing back against him. It stung a little, but the initial discomfort was soon replaced by startling pleasure. “Not too sore. Should we get out of the tub?”

  Beau’s legs untangled from around me, and he grasped me by the waist and moved me onto his lap. Then he ran one hand down my thigh and lifted my leg over the side of the tub. He did the same with the other leg, lifting it over the other side, and I sucked in a breath, a little startled—and turned on—at how open I was.

  His hand slid between my legs again, teasing my parted flesh, and my hips bucked as he circled my clit. “Tell me if anything hurts you, Bathsheba. You’re still sensitive.” His hands slid under me, lifting me slightly, and I held on to the edge of the tub as he tilted me forward. Then I felt his hard cock nudge between my legs and I sank down on his body.