How Beauty Loved the Beast

chapter Fifteen



Alcohol buzzed through Hauk’s system, relaxing his body and fuzzing his mind. The last of the guests finally stepped into the elevator. Good riddance. If they’d stayed five minutes longer, he was going to boot their asses into the elevator shaft, regardless of what floor the carriage was on.

He hung back as they left, trying not to lurk in the shadows like a creeper. Jolie blew kisses and exchanged good-byes. When the doors started to close, she grabbed his shirt and yanked him against her back, forcing them together for the final goodbye. Like he was co-host presenting some domestic tableau of farewell.

Before the doors had even finished sliding shut, she launched into his arms. “Take me to bed.”

Better words had never been spoken. He crushed a kiss against her mouth, and she responded with equal fervor. She tasted of tequila and lime, her body already hot against his fingers. Her heels beat against his ass; her tongue wrestled with his. Gods, he needed her. Now.

Determined not to stumble, he started down the hallway.

“Lights. Lights,” she murmured against his mouth.

“Where are they?”

She waved toward the computer screen that controlled everything in the condo, and he carried her that way. At the push of a button, the lights in the condo went off. Moonlight streamed through the windows, hiding the remains of the party in shadows and giving him all the light he needed to take her back to the bedroom.

Alone at last.

With each step, his heart fluttered in nervous excitement. He had no idea what she planned, but he knew he both dreaded and desperately wanted it.

As they crossed the threshold to her room, lips once again locked together, she released him to struggle with the zipper of her dress. He helped her ease it down over the arch of her back to the curve of her ass. Her body slid down his, pressing against his erection. He groaned. She tried to step away, but he wouldn’t let her.

“I get to take it off this time.” She had a tendency to remove her own clothing. Damn burlesque dancer.

He touched the back of her thigh, rubbing his thumb across the silk of her hose. He’d be happy with whatever she had on, but secretly hoped she’d done thigh-highs and garters again. She hadn’t worn them since that first night they’d made love. Part of him feared she wouldn’t again after the way he’d acted.

He gathered the fabric of her full skirt and dragged it slowly up her leg. Thigh-highs ended in lace. Gratified by her choice, he snapped the elastic of her garter belt. She shuddered.

Unable to stand it any longer, he spun her none-too-gently about. She giggled as she turned. Jolie liked a little rough in her tumble. He spread the back of her gown, pushing it over her shoulders and letting it fall. The black cotton pooled at her feet, leaving her body in scraps of black lace.

He groaned. “Turn around.”

She smirked over her shoulder. “I’ll turn, but you’re not calling the shots tonight, babe. Not on my birthday.”

Turn she did, making his heart stutter as her pale skin caught the moonlight. She arched an eyebrow, challenging him, as her hands touched the top button of his shirt. Despite the bravado on her face, her fingers trembled. She feared his rejection.

The realization stabbed at him. His brave girl, the best thing that had ever happened to him, had to fake confidence because of how he’d treated her.

He had to fix this. But it wasn’t as if his reactions were conscious choices. He’d become so programmed to back away from intimacy that it was instinctual at this point. He could choose to trust her intellectually, but his body was a different matter.

Again the fantasy of cuffing her to those sturdy bedposts rose in his imagination. Not once had he imagined the reverse.

But could he do it?

Right now he just had to reassure her she could take his shirt off. That he could do. He ran his palms over the jutting curves of her hips and winked.

Her faux confidence broke into a radiant smile as her fingers made quick work of his buttons. That was what he wanted, his girl feeling happy and free in his presence. Today was her birthday. Tomorrow was D-Day. He was going to give her the night she wanted.

“I got a deal for you,” he said before he could change his mind.

She stopped with his shirt halfway down his arms, a question in her eyes.

“Got a blindfold?” He was getting something out of this deal if she took it.

“Yeah.” She lifted her chin in that little-pampered-princess way that came out on rare occasion. “For whom?”

He grinned and dropped his button-down to the floor. “Who do you think?”

“I’ll assume that’s my concession. What’s yours?”

He shifted his weight back, centering himself, and swallowed. “Got restraints?”

The shock on her face would amuse the hell out of him if he wasn’t so nervous. Her hands squeezed his biceps, and she considered him as if waiting for him to admit he was joking. He almost did.

Apparently deciding to take him seriously, she scampered onto the bed. Leaning sideways over the other edge, ass up in the air, she dug for something underneath.

If Jolie owned something other than a G-string, he’d seen no evidence of it. Which wasn’t a problem as far as he was concerned. Watching those muscular curves sway as she searched under the bed eased some of the tension from his shoulders.

She popped back up and sat on the bed with a brown square of fabric, two pairs of fuzzy leopard-print handcuffs and a lopsided grin. “I’m not really a professional here.”

He took a nervous step forward. “I don’t think we’re going anywhere that requires training.” The fabric she held was familiar. “Is that the blindfold I gave you—”

“The first time I left the Underlight? Yup. I saved it. A souvenir of my first trip down the rabbit hole.”

She crawled across the bed to kneel in front of him, and he pushed a curl behind her ear. “I think you had the most expedited recognition I’ve ever seen. Pretty mean feat, all things considered.” Like her father.

“I think they were afraid you’d drag me down again, regardless of my acceptance,” she teased right back. Her face became serious again as she put the handcuffs between them. “Are you sure?”

The eagerness on her face was unmistakable. She craved this. If it wasn’t her birthday, if tomorrow wasn’t what it was, if he’d had a couple fewer drinks, if, if, if...then he might’ve said no. But he didn’t want to run from her anymore.

He leaned forward until his forehead rested against hers then he touched her lips tenderly with his own. Her hands twined around his neck, and he felt her need. Somehow she needed him. He cupped her face and deepened the kiss. She rose up higher and pressed her body against his. The heat of her skin felt so damn sweet.

When he released her, he looked into her eyes, dark in the moonlight and full of emotion. “No, I’m not sure,” he admitted. “But I want to try.”

“Let me know the moment you want out, and I’ll let you go.”

He nodded. “Don’t take the blindfold off.”

She waved it like a flag. “I won’t.”

“This will be a lot easier if I’m not thinking about you looking at me.”

She smiled. “I won’t. I promise.” Her eyes darted around the bed until they settled on the posters at the foot. The curve of her lips became absolutely wicked. “Think you can stretch?”

He focused on her mouth and the sexual promise in it as he headed to the foot of the bed. It was a California king, and his fingers could just wrap around the cold metal on either side.

Her eyes darkened even more as her teasing smile turned hungry. “God, I love how big you are. It’s like you could swallow me up.” She crawled to him, her hips swaying with each movement across the deep purple covers. “Although I suppose I’ll be the one doing most of the swallowing tonight.”

“I’m going to tackle you if you keep talking like that.”

She reached up and snapped the first handcuff on his wrist. She tried to tug it to the bedpost. Something ornery in him wouldn’t let her. Instead he cradled her face and pulled her in for another kiss. She didn’t resist. As their tongues entwined, she tugged his wrist again. This time he let her guide it to the bedpost and lock him in place. She stroked his other arm.

“Wait.”

She pulled back from the kiss, worried.

He reached out to touch her chest, sliding his hand over one breast and then the other to tease her nipples through the lace of her bra. “Just realized I wasn’t going to be able to do this.”

She laughed a pretty sound. Her head tilted back as her back arched, pressing herself more firmly into his hand. He rattled the chain of the one cuff, wishing he’d thought of this first. But before he could ask her to take the handcuff off, she pulled out of his reach. “My turn.”

He growled at her. She shook the blindfold at him. He considered for a moment then put his hand up by the post.

Another click, and he was tethered. His breath sucked in, nervous but more excited than he expected. This encounter was entirely in her court. She got to choose what they did. It surprised him how much relief he felt, knowing every touch stemmed from her desire.

She inhaled slowly, her chest heaving with the motion as she lifted the blindfold to her face. A wink, and she tied it on.

There they were again, the words on his lips to say he loved her. But she couldn’t see him swallow them back this time.

She dropped to all fours and her hands slid across the bed toward him. He gripped the bedposts as he watched her progress. Her fingers hit his thighs. Reflexively, he tugged back. Metal caught, and he nearly toppled forward before the chain caught again, holding him in place.

Jolie stilled, her hands light on his legs. “You okay?”

He tightened his grip and righted himself by stepping back toward her. “Yeah.”

A pause before her hands pushed against him, traveling at an even pace up his legs to the waistband of his pants. Her smile grew brighter, more excited as her breath picked up.

Touching him turned her on. He’d never seen that so clearly as he did here, stuck in place with nothing to do but watch. Her eyes were covered, so he didn’t feel the need to turn away. He could study the easy way her full lips curved. How her jaw relaxed and how the strain that sometimes creased her forehead was smoothed to careless joy.

Her thumbs slid under his waistband, tickling his abdomen. His lungs emptied as his cock hardened. But instead of lingering, her hands slid up his stomach. She groaned as she leaned into him. He couldn’t pull away. Her mouth descended onto his solar plexus, kissing the base of his rib cage and tonguing the line between his abdominals.

He tensed, muscles quivering. He couldn’t do this. “Stop.”

The heat of her mouth backed away immediately. He missed it as soon as it left.

“Is that what you want?” she asked.

He licked his lips. No, it wasn’t. He shook his head. She couldn’t see that. “No,” he said. “Don’t stop.”

Her fingers pressed against his abs to steady herself as her mouth reached his neck. He ducked his head down, and her teeth found his ear, biting lightly on the lobe. She liked to do that, he’d noticed. Which was good, because he liked it, too.

“When you mean it, say ‘anarchy,’ and I’ll unlock you,” she said.

While she was in reach, he kissed her temple. “I’ll remember.” An alternate word for “no” would give him a chance to think about it, to make sure he was making a decision and not letting the inhibitions he wanted to defeat make the decision for him.

She pulled her head out of reach, and her hands slid up his stomach. As her nails lightly grazed his chest, he knew without a doubt that he did, indeed, want to beat his. He wanted her here, like this, not just for her happiness but for his own.

He deserved to be touched.

* * *

Mine, mine, mine, mine. Jolie touched his chest with her fingers and then her cheek, giving herself time to grow accustomed to its texture. Though he’d had his shirt off before, she’d never felt like it was okay to take her time and really get to know the feel of him. This was special, and she cherished the trust it took to let her touch him at her own pace.

His breath came hurried, a mixture of tension and lust sending his chest heaving. At the moment she thought tension had the lead, but she could fix that. She just had to keep him from saying the safe word.

With her eyes shielded, each touch was heightened, each sound more intense as she stroked then kissed Hauk’s chest. Her hands slid to his back as she kissed sideways from his sternum. Her lips found his nipple and she flicked it with her tongue. He jerked, as he’d done the one time before that she’d gotten her mouth there. But this time he couldn’t get away.

And he didn’t say the word.

She bit down lightly, and he murmured praise to his gods. She sucked, and he groaned.

“Like this,” she told him, blowing cool air against his damp skin. “We deserve to be always like this.”

Slowly, firmly, she explored his skin, kissing, touching, blowing and tasting. When she started, the chains rattled with each wordless jerk against her onslaught. As she continued, invading him intimately, he relaxed until he sagged against the chains, his breath ragged.

She slipped her hands down the plane of his rippling abs to the buckle of his pants. He tensed again. She kissed down from his ribs as she undid the button. Delving her tongue into his belly button, she unzipped the fly.

“Jolie...”

The plea walked the edge between begging her to stop and to continue. Afraid of pushing too hard too fast, she walked her hands back up his chest and kissed paths she’d already trod. He moaned, and for the first time his body pressed to hers.

She whimpered eagerly, leaning into a touch that felt like a validation. “God, Hauk.” She kissed back down to the waistband of his pants. Farther, then, pushing the leather around his hips. She nuzzled against the satin-smooth skin of his erection. “You want my mouth here, baby? Is this what you’d like?”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Please, sweetheart. Please.”

She took him in, filing her mouth with his velvet-coated hardness. The metal rattled again, this time as he struggled to get closer to her. She kneaded her hands into his ass, loving the feel of his muscles. He didn’t seem to mind this time as he gasped in pleasure at the ministrations of her tongue.

As his breathing increased to a pant, she cradled his balls, teasing him gently until he was close to the edge.

Then she pulled away.

He moaned in need. “What are you doing?”

She slid off the bed down one pant leg. “Taking your boots off.”

“What? Why?”

“Because. I want to.” She made quick work of the laces before reaching back up to stroke him idly again. “Do you mind?”

“No,” he said, voice infinitely frustrated.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll make it worth your while.”

He shifted his weight, lifting one foot then the other to allow her to remove the boots.

As soon as they were gone, she rewarded him by continuing her attentions on his cock. He relaxed again and shifted into her touch.

Her own breath caught at the feel of his surrender. She wanted to push further, to slide his pants down until he was naked before her. But she didn’t want to startle him into ending the gift he gave her now.

Softening her approach, she slowed the tempo, lavishing care on him with all the affection she felt.

Affection? Or love? She hadn’t brought herself to say the term, but she had started to accept it. She rolled the word through her mind as her mouth moved around his sex, letting the feeling flow through her. Hopefully a little of it came through to him.

He moaned. “Gods, I want to touch you.”

She pulled back and kissed him gently. “And I want to pull these off. May I?” She slipped her fingers into the inside of his waistband. “Please?”

He swallowed. “Yeah.”

She started to push.

“Wait.” He sounded worried.

She stopped. “If you don’t want to...” She’d be kinda crushed. She’d turned greedy when it came to Hauk and wanted all of him.

He sighed. “My left leg. The machinery is exposed. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Relieved, she smiled. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her. Or at least, he had a reason more substantial than that. “I’ll be careful. I promise not to touch the metal below the skin. I’ve been pretty good about it in workouts, haven’t I?”

He didn’t immediately say no.

She nuzzled against his hip. “Oh, please, Hauk. Let me have all of you. I want you so badly. All of you.”

His weight shifted before once again he leaned into her touch. “Okay.” It was a whisper. It was enough.

Reverently she slid the last of his clothes off. One foot lifted then came down softly, the other up and then down with a muffled clank. He shook at the sound. She pressed her face against his good thigh, comforting him. Thanking him.

She couldn’t see him, but she knew he was there, fully exposed before her. Keeping her promise, she clutched his good thigh with one hand and used the other to softly stroke his balls and the skin just behind. Her mouth returned to his cock, more forcefully this time. She would make him come, bringing his body the sort of relief he gave her heart by baring himself.

But before she could finish, he said, “Anarchy. Anarchy.”

Disappointment sank into her. Groaning a protest she pulled back. Hauk didn’t sound unhappy. What had she done wrong? She fumbled blind fingers to his right wrist. The cuffs opened without a key. Frustration hollowed her insides as she depressed the switch.

He moved swiftly, the click of the other lock sounding almost immediately. Instead of disappearing, he pounced. She toppled back onto the bed, surprised by the ferocity when she’d expected a retreat.

His mouth closed over hers, diving into her with a hunger she took and matched. He yanked her underwear off. Landed on top of her again, crushing her into the mattress. There was no space between them as his rough skin scorched her.

God, she wanted this. Him. All over her, inside her. Nothing felt as good as Hauk.

His hips shifted until he was between her thighs.

“Condom,” she gasped. “Bedside table.”

“I’m naked,” he countered.

“I’m blindfolded. Pick.”

His weight lifted as he surged to her left. A wrapper crackled, and he was back on top of her. She lifted her hips in expectation, but he didn’t take her. Instead he gathered her wrists and pinned them above her head in one powerful hand.

“Come on, Hauk. Come on. I want you. Please.”

“I love you.” His voice was raw as if the words tore from him.

She moaned, thrilled to hear them again. “I—”

His other hand landed on her mouth. “Don’t. Don’t say anything unless it’s my name or instructions. Just listen. I love you.” He kissed her throat, his mouth demanding and perfect as his hand left her lips.

Craving for him—his words, his body, everything he had—overwhelmed her. She had no choice but to do as he commanded. “Wesley, please. I need you inside me.”

With a groan he took her, his cock filling her completely and perfectly in one deep thrust. “I love you so much, Jolie. I can’t help it.” Another thrust.

Heart pounding, she cried out in joy and shifted to let him in deeper.

“I love you inside and out. I love to hear you laugh.” More strokes, more declarations, each feeding the insatiable hunger he’d created. “I love the way you f*ck me. I love talking to you and fighting with you. I love the way you look and the way you feel. I love the way you think. I love you. No matter what you do or don’t feel for me, I love you.”

Each word marked her as his. She let it happen, shedding her fear to belong to him body and heart. The pressure built as he stretched her from her pinned hips to her pinned hands and again inside from each crashing thrust. “Hauk—”

“Don’t. Don’t answer me. Please don’t.”

If he wasn’t ready, her response could wait. They would make time. “More,” she demanded instead.

He thrust harder. “I love you,” he repeated.

She wrapped her legs around him as tightly as she could, urging him on. “More, Wesley, more. Never enough of you.”

“Gods, I love you.” He released her hands to cup her jaw. His cheek pressed against hers, bracketing her face.

She reached around him, one hand pressing his shoulders, the other his hip, as close as she could be. “Wesley. My Wesley.” Another firm thrust.

She dropped into ecstasy like a free-fall. “God!” Her arms released as her body shook, waves coursing over her in pleasure.

He cried her name and convulsed. She grabbed onto him again, pulling her lover against her to ride out the last of the spasms.

His arms heaved her against him as he tumbled them sideways. “Don’t leave. Don’t leave,” he pleaded. “Stay.”

“I’m staying.” There was no question of it.

He calmed then, holding her. She wriggled close as she could, so happy to be lying side-by-side with no tension between them. She slid a leg over his hip to keep him close. It was the metal leg, but he either didn’t care or didn’t notice.

His hands stroked her back. His face nuzzled against her, closer than he should be able to because of the distortions on his face, and even that was good because it was him.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“Wesley,” she breathed.

He cut her off with a kiss.

She pulled back. “Take off the blindfold.”

His fingers caressed her temple. He was going to do it.

He shifted, and the side of her foot slipped between the bands of his leg. Something caught the side of her arch and jabbed into it.

She yelped in pain.

He froze. “Shit.”

“Blindfold, Hauk. Get it off.”

But he wasn’t paying attention. “Shit.” He carefully removed her foot. “Oh, baby, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay.” It hurt, but that was nothing compared to the fear that she’d lose him again.

“You’re bleeding.” His voiced sounded so bleak. He let her go and shifted away, as if he were leaving the bed.

She reached for the blindfold to take it off herself.

“Hold on.” His weight left the mattress. “I don’t have my clothes on.”

“Who cares?” A minute ago he didn’t care. “Hauk?”

“Where’s your first aid kit?”

She took the blindfold off. His ass disappeared into his pants as he strode into her bathroom.

Disheartened, she leaned back against her pillow. “Under the sink.” The cut was worse than a scrape, but not doctor-worthy. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

He returned with the kit and sat on the bed, his eyes downcast.

“Hauk...”

With gentle fingers, he cleaned the cut but didn’t respond.

“Hauk.”

“How badly does it hurt?”

“Ex-dancer. That’s nothing.” She hadn’t gone pro, but she’d been close enough that working on seriously dysfunctional feet was once a norm.

He pressed at the spot, and she barely held back a pained squeak. “Damn, woman. I think the bone is bruised.” He finally looked up, self-recrimination all over his face.

“Hauk, don’t. Don’t blame yourself.”

He shook his head. “I knew better. I knew this could happen. I just want you so badly I lost my head.”

“I knew it could happen, too. But I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.” His voice was loud. “You’re injured the day before Ananke springs their plan. And why?”

“Because I need you.” She shifted her weight and gripped his shoulder. “You keep talking like you’re the only one with needs. You’re not. I needed this tonight. I needed you to make love to me. I needed your skin against mine. I still need it. I’m scared shitless about tomorrow, but I can handle it because I have you here, not just distracting me, but making me whole. Keeping me strong. That cut? That’s nothing compared to what you give me.” As his expression softened, she relaxed back onto the bed. “You want to play doctor for a couple of minutes, that’s fine. Then lie back down and let’s forget about it. I’ve danced en pointe with a whole lot worse.”

His fingers trembled as he bandaged her foot. He didn’t say anything, but she could tell by the hunch of his shoulders that he still took too much blame.

So careful. They still felt they had to be so careful around each other. She was pushing him hard, but that had always been her way, and tomorrow loomed so close. Was she too pushy for their own good?

He ran his fingers gently across her ankle, a hopeless longing on his face. She had no idea what the best way to go from here was. The side of her foot was wrapped. Reaching forward, she tugged on his shoulder. He tensed, that natural reaction against touch still his first response. But this time he let go enough for her to pull him down next to her.

They lay face to face, and he stroked her hair back over her ear. “I’m working on it,” he told her.

She placed a hand over his heart. “I know. Thank you.”