Her Beast_A Dark Romance Read online

“My clit. Please,” I whispered, trying to direct him to where I needed him, but he chuckled and kept up with the light glide.

  “Show me,” he said.

  “What do you mean?”—not that it was difficult to guess.

  “You know what I mean. Put your fingers on your clit and show me how you like it.”

  He’d touched me expertly before, so I knew he didn’t need my guidance. This was part of the things he liked to make me do. And I was aroused enough that I didn’t hesitate. My cheeks burned hotter, but I slipped the hand he’d released down, covering my clit and rubbing fast, trying to quench the fire that was blazing hotter than ever.

  His eyes were focused on what I was doing, and it made me even hotter to know he was watching me. I writhed against my own fingers, while my moans grew louder.

  Then he put his hand over mine, slowing my fingers. “Don’t rush it,” he said.

  I obeyed, but it was different, moving slowly, languidly on my clit while he watched. It was an entirely new kind of erotic.

  And then he released my other hand and stood up. He moved to the end of the bed and leaned down until his mouth was just inches from me. I could feel his breath on my wet lips while his eyes stayed fixed on my fingers. And then it wasn’t only his breath I felt.

  His tongue glided across my lips, parting them, and I felt his tongue at my opening. He pressed inside and I couldn’t slow it down. I rocketed high no matter how slowly my fingers moved. His tongue penetrated me, stroking inside me, and I tumbled over the brink.

  “You’re so fucking responsive,” he said, not displeased. And then he stood up and his fingers moved to the buttons of his shirt.

  “Wait,” I said and shot straight up.

  He chuckled. “What is it?” he asked indulgently—as if he didn’t know.

  “I want to…May I please undress you?” I said, only mildly surprised by my own boldness.

  He nodded and I crawled to the edge of the bed. On my knees, I unbuttoned his shirt. My hands still trembled, but not like before. I slipped the shirt off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor while I took in the sight in front of me. Broad shoulders, chiseled chest, his arms covered with sinewy muscle. My mouth watered just looking at him.

  I glided over his hard flesh and he let me. And he didn’t stop me when I leaned forward further to sample his skin with my lips. I’d only intended to see what it was like—to kiss a man like that—but one press of my lips against his throat, and I was addicted.

  I covered every inch of his neck, and then his shoulders, and then I moved lower, kissing a trail down his chest. When my lips brushed across one nipple, he sucked in his breath. So, I tested the other nipple, and the response was the same.

  A powerful tremor rippled through my body, realizing there were multiple things I could do to make him respond. But before I could test the waters any further, he yanked me upright.

  “You have a very talented mouth, Pet, but unless you want me to put it to better use, I suggest you rest those lips.”

  I knew what he meant, and yes, I did want to do that. But I also wanted something else. And it was going to happen. He wouldn’t change his mind now, would he?

  Just in case, I reached for the fly of his jeans before he could stop me. And he didn’t brush my hands away when I unzipped it. I gasped though when his cock sprung free—I’d almost forgotten the massive size of him.

  He chuckled, though whether at my boldness or my response to the sight of him, I didn’t know.

  “Eager, are you?” he asked, but he didn’t seem the least bit bothered by it.

  “Yes.” And just in case there were any misunderstandings about what it was I so eagerly wanted, “I want you,” I said, my voice stronger than I would have expected.

  He eyed me for a moment, again contemplating something. I hoped he wasn’t debating whether to deny me. I didn’t want to be denied. Not of this.

  “Please,” I whispered, hoping to persuade him.

  He shucked his pants without taking his eyes off me, and I was fairly certain that meant I’d won.

  And then, instead of telling me what to do, he climbed on the bed and took me with him, laying me back while he hovered over top of me. I reached for him again. I wanted to feel him beneath my fingers, but I’d barely made contact when he captured both my hands in one of his and yanked my arms high up over my head.

  “Tell me what you want.” The sly light was shining brightly in his eyes, but I also got the feeling he needed to hear me say it. He needed to know this was what I wanted.

  “I want you to fuck me,” I told him, blushing only a bit more than I already was.

  He looked at me. He wasn’t deciding anything—he’d already made this decision. He was just looking at me. He was making me wait—we both knew it. And while I was probably supposed to lie there complacently, I couldn’t. I thrust my hips up toward him, imploring him. I tried to lean up enough to reach his lips, but the way he had me pinned kept him out of my limited reach.

  “Please, Master. Fuck me.” I felt empty even though I had no idea what it was like to be filled. I wanted to know. Now.

  And he was done tormenting me. He positioned himself between my thighs and I could feel the head of his cock at my opening. Yes, this is what I wanted. I writhed, trying to draw him in, but he held still, refusing to give in. When I stopped, he nodded, as if to tell me that’s what he’d been waiting for—for me to stop trying to take charge.

  And then he was inside me, stretching me. He moved slowly, filling me one overwhelming inch at a time. So stretched, it felt like I was burning around him, but the sensation began to fade, and in its place arose a sense of fullness, completeness. Thousands of nerve endings fired, making me want to move…writhe…thrust…fuck.

  But he kept up the exquisitely slow plunge. And then I could feel him pressing up against the barrier inside me. He seemed to hesitate, though his body thrummed with tightly strung energy.

  “Please,” I begged shamelessly. I didn’t care about the stupid barrier. I wanted him inside me, filling me completely.

  Reluctant acquiescence—for once, he didn’t want to hurt me. At least, not like this. But he got it over with quickly. One, hard thrust and he was through.

  The pain of my tearing hymen seared through me, but it fizzled quickly. He was inside me, every bit of me filled with his cock.

  He remained still for a moment—I think he was giving me time to adjust to him. But when I wriggled against him, letting him know I was ready, he withdrew, only to plunge back in. Thousands upon thousands of nerve endings. Sensations. A fire that burned bright, and brighter still every time he thrust inside me.

  I needed to move with him, so I wrapped my legs around his hips, drawing him in deep and thrusting my hips up to meet him. I needed to touch him, but my hands were still pinned above my head. I tried to tug them free, but he held tight.

  “What is it you want, Pet?” he gritted out between clenched teeth.

  “I want to touch you. I want my hands on every part of you.” I was too caught up in the fast climb for embarrassment or modesty.

  He released my hands and I reached out, running my fingers greedily over every inch of him I could.

  His pace increased, and his sounds began to mingle with mine. Loud. Too loud, I thought vaguely, thinking of all the people passing by outside. But I didn’t care. I didn’t care if the whole world could hear us, or see us, just so long as Derek kept fucking me.

  At some point, his pace had begun to lose its rhythm. Every thrust was frantic. Hard. Pounding into me and bringing me so close to the brink, I wasn’t going to be able to fight it back much longer.

  And when he looked down at me, there was a wildfire blazing in his eyes, and something else too – something that was both fierce and tender. I couldn’t hold back any longer. My hips thrust up to meet him one last time and I screamed out his name as tsunami-size waves of the most exquisite pleasure surged through my body.

  “Oh fuck, Scar. Your pussy
feels so fucking good,” he groaned then and I could feel him swelling deep inside me as pulse after pulse of his liquid heat began to fill me.

  He stayed there inside me for a long time while the aftershocks of my orgasm continued to ripple through me. Eventually, he withdrew though, and I couldn’t believe how empty I felt. It was as if I’d been incomplete my whole life and finally, with him inside me, I’d been whole.

  He laid down next to me and pulled me against his chest. I could hear his heart beating, and I knew it was a sound I would never tire of hearing. He was silent for so long that I began to think he’d fallen asleep, but then he spoke. And I wished he hadn’t.

  “I have to go, Scar. And you need to be on that train tomorrow,” he said, and my world started to crumble.

  “Don’t go.” It was all I could force out, but in those two words was every reason, every bit of feeling I had, every ounce of love that I felt for him. Yes—love. I was done denying it. It was what I felt, right or wrong.

  “I have to go back there. I have to get rid of the body before anyone realizes he’s missing. If I don’t…”

  “Then I’ll go with you. And I’ll help. And then we can leave—together.”

  “No, we can’t.”

  Suddenly I was tired of being told what I could and could not do. Maybe what we’d just done had banished the fear of him I’d still felt. Or maybe, in my post-orgasmic stupor, I wasn’t thinking straight. Whatever the reason, I refused to listen to him. Not in this. He could tell me to kneel, to crawl, to hand over my body and soul, and I’d do it. But he could not tell me we couldn’t be together.

  The thought occurred to me that perhaps Derek didn’t want us to be together. That, while he couldn’t bring himself to sell me, he was otherwise happy in his life without me. But no, if I was being honest, and not letting doubt and worry reign supreme, I could clearly see that he did want me. Something had changed in him since that first day, and he wanted what I could offer more than anything he’d ever had before.

  And if I was wrong, too fucking bad.

  “Yes. We. Can,” I said as I pushed off him and sat up. “You put me through hell, and I’ve come out of it stronger. I know myself better than I ever did before and I’ve accepted parts of myself that I never thought I could. And you, you’re not the same person you were when you first walked in that room—and you know it. Maybe it’s crazy—the circumstances that brought us to where we are—but we’re here. I’m not going anywhere without you. And you’re not leaving here without me.”

  It was true. It was all true. What he’d done may have been wrong, but would I have gotten to this point without him? And if what he’d put me through meant he could cast off his dark past and live as a whole person again…well, I’d do it all over again if I had to. Because that’s what you did for someone you loved. For the man who had all your heart, you were willing to go to hell and back.

  We’d been there, in hell, in the years we’d been apart and in the weeks or months since being thrust together—I really had no idea how much time had passed, now that I thought of it. But we’d been in hell, and now we were walking out of its flames together. Together—whether he was ready to admit he wanted it or not.

  He was silent, eyeing me, assessing me. But I wasn’t backing down. Not this time.

  Eventually, he leaned up. He didn’t say a word. He held me tight against him and he kissed me. A kiss that was filled with all the things he wasn’t ready to say—maybe he didn’t even know how to say. But he meant them, the emotions he conveyed with his mouth instead of his words.

  And that was fine with me because we had more than enough time now—all the time in the world, actually—to learn to say all the things we wanted to say. His kiss told me he was staying, and that was all that mattered.

  We would have to go back to hell together, but just for a little while. Just long enough to cover our tracks so that no demons could ever follow us out.

  And that’s just what we did. Twenty-four hours later, we stood in front of the blazing wreckage, the funeral pyre of a man who had been a friend, and a father—though he was worthy of neither title.

  I still didn’t know how to feel. Neither did Derek, I think. But we would sort it out together. Together—that was all that mattered.

  We walked away without a backward glance. I held two thick envelopes tight in my arms. One contained our future—all the documents we would need for our new life. The other held the past—the documents, the list of patrons, pictures—the proof we would mail to the state’s FBI branch. Marcos was dead, and soon, his empire would be too.

  And our new life had only just begun.

  To be continued…

  Preorder the next book in the Beauty and the Captor series:

  Her Savior

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you for taking the chance to read my book. I hope you have enjoyed reading this book as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it.

  Even though Derek and Scarlett’s story is only starting, I’m already feeling those characters come to life, and I have so much in store for them in the next two books! (up for preorder now)

  I hope you will continue reading the series, and I truly hope you enjoyed this story. If you’d like, please leave a review for the book. Your support really means a lot and keeps me going.

  I wrote this book for the readers who crave darkness. Keep reading. The story has only just begun…

  Nicole

  More Information

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  Her Savior

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  Also by Nicole Casey

  Dominating Vyolet

  Protecting Maya

  Pursuing Yvette

  The Billionaire’s Desires

  A Weekend with the Mountain Man

  Dominating Vyolet

  A Dad’s Best Friend BDSM Romance

  The Viera Triplets Series Book 1

  Book Description

  Dominating Vyolet

  How could it be wrong when it feels so right?

  Vyolet

  I’ve been a good girl all my life.

  As a schoolteacher and the oldest Viera triplet, I don’t ruffle feathers.

  When Dad’s best friend comes back to town, everything changes.

  Evan’s intense, dominant and off-limits. I ache to run my hands across his muscled chest.

  My sister says older men are better at everything.

  Well, guess I will find out what it means to be with a real man for myself.

  Evan

  I’m back, and little Vyolet is all grown up.

  Sweet. Gorgeous. Gentle.

  Everything my filthy desires crave.

  I’ll bind her wrists.

  Feel her curves under my body.

  Pull her hair while I take her rough from behind.

  I know it’s wrong.

  I know taking her could ruin everything.

  But I don’t care.

  I will make her mine.

  Whatever it takes.

  Prologue

  VYOLET

  I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t overwhelmed by the future ahead.

  My mind was in constant overdrive as I overthought everything but that was what I did best.

  Some days, like this one, when my alarm went off at the crack of dawn, I would curl up on my side, tucking my knees to my chest as if to protect my heart from cracking any further but it never worked.

  Instead, I would grow lost in memories or ensnared in scenarios that didn’t exist anywhere but in my mind.

  There was a lot to consider, after all.

  Could I do this? Did I want to?

  The answer was yes, of course. The choice was obvious.

  But the loneliness was devastating, especially on those cold winter mornings when I wanted
to do little else but secure myself beneath the depth of the goose down duvet and forget about the rest of the world, at least for the short time I permitted myself.

  The alarm tinkled again and I reluctantly shoved aside the matte mauve comforter, reaching for my cell phone to silence the bells.

  Instinctively, I glanced to the right as if I expected someone to be there or at least to see a sunken imprint on the white pillowcase next to mine but it was only wishful thinking.

  The time for that had passed now.

  I stretched against the silk of my simple silk nightie and made my way to the ensuite bathroom, flicking on only the track lighting against the oval mirrors.

  Everything was in its place as it always was, not even a stray splatter of toothpaste against the gleaming glass.

  The order gave me a semblance of peace, as if my life had not been thrust into a whirlwind of chaos over the past five months.

  When all falls apart around you, there is always cleaning, I thought wryly but I was more sad than amused.

  My struggle to regain control was pathetic, not charming.

  I turned on the shower, allowing the steam to fill the bathroom as I stared at my reflection.

  Allowing my nightgown to fall to the floor, I studied my naked self carefully.

  Nothing much had changed, not from a physical standpoint.

  I still possessed the same fair prettiness I had before it had all begun.

  My hair was still worn in its long layers, falling in a light blonde waterfall to hide the tops of my breasts demurely.

  “You are like a painting of Eve in the garden of Eden. Pure and untouched by darkness,” Maya teased me once and in that instant, I could see her point.

  I wish my only sins were eating the forbidden fruit, I mused. Although that is kind of what I did, isn’t it?