Beauty in Autumn (Beauty #3)(8)

"I know you're just a person, just like me. You weren't born a beast."

"Maybe the beast is who I've become." He grabs at the neck of my dress and the fabric tears. It rips away from my body, revealing my heaving breasts. "Maybe that's who you want after all."

And I should be frightened, but I'm aroused by the thought of him seeing my body like this. I can't see his face, can't see what he's thinking, but I know he wants to touch me desperately. I can feel it in him, as much as I feel how tight my nipples are, how they strain to be caressed. Why am I so attracted to this stranger? Is it because of what he represents? Am I fascinated by the beast?

Or is it because I sense a kindred spirit under that mantle? That maybe he's as lonely and restless as I am...

"Shall I touch you?" he asks, and his voice is in my ear. "Or shall you touch yourself?"

My hands slide up and cup my breasts...

I wake up with a gasp and a surge of disappointment. Why did I wake up just then? It seems cruel. I wanted to see where the dream was heading. I wanted to see what it'd be like to have the beast - Ruari - touch me. To feel his hands on my skin. To see what he wanted to do next.

A little frustrated moan escapes my throat and I put a hand over the blindfold I'm wearing even for bedtime. I want to rip it off in frustration, but I don't dare. Instead, I kick the heavy blankets off of my body and lie flat on the bed, unable to go back to sleep. Not with my body throbbing with unfulfilled need.

After a moment's hesitation, I hitch up the skirt of my nightgown and spread my legs atop the quilts. I'm still thinking about Ruari as I slide a hand between my thighs and touch myself. I'm slippery with arousal, my pussy hot and wet from the dream. My breath catches as I begin to stroke myself, moving my fingers up and down my folds before sliding deeper to caress the sensitive skin around my clit. I moan at the sensation; it feels like my entire body is vibrating with erotic tension. I've never been this turned on before when I touched myself. Never. My fingers move faster, swirling around the nub of my clit, dragging my juices over it back and forth in a delicious torture.

As I stroke my flesh, I hear a low, animalistic groan.

I go still, resisting the urge to snap my thighs together. Somehow, I'm not surprised to hear the beast, not after the dream I had. "Are you watching me touch myself?" I whisper to the darkness.

"Why?"

He asks one simple word, the sound ragged and beastlike.

I swallow hard, feeling both naughty and desirable all at once. If he was disgusted, he would have turned away without a sound. But he doesn't sound disgusted. In fact, he sounds like anything but. I begin to stroke myself again, my fingers drifting through my wet folds. "Because I dreamed of you," I say in a soft voice. "I dreamed of you and it made me wet."

Ruari growls low again. "Dreamed of the beast?"

"Of you, actually." I rub my clit again, arching my back with how good it feels. "You're never quite beast or man in my dreams. You're both, and neither." I glide a finger down to my core and dip it into my heat. A ragged little breath escapes me.

Panting fills the room. I realize after a moment that it's not mine, but his. He's not leaving. He's...aroused by watching me. That makes me even wetter, and I stroke myself a little quicker, picturing the show I'm putting on for him. "Are you touching yourself?" I ask him.

He makes a sound like a snarl.

"That's not a no," I tease, and then my breath catches as I continue to rub my clit and pleasure bursts through me. My toes curl into the blankets and I arch my hips. I'm so close to coming already, but it seems unfair, especially if he's touching himself while watching me. We just got started. I don't want this to end already.

"Take the mask off and find out for yourself," he commands me. His breathing is rapid, fierce.

I'm not going to do that, though. No matter how badly I want to see his face - and to see what he's stroking. I bite my lip and ignore him, focusing in on myself. I want to come, and that need is pushing past all others at the moment. I decide to put on a bit of a show, even though my cheeks are scorching hot with embarrassment. I ignore it, though - who is here to see but Ruari? Who will ever know but Ruari?

If I'm to die by the curse, I'm going to live freely these last few days. I have nothing to lose and everything to gain.

So I push my legs apart boldly. I spread them wide and with one hand, I hold the lips of my pussy apart and stroke myself with my other hand. I want him to see everything. Let him look at how wet I am, how pink and soft.

"Take. Off. Your. Mask." Ruari growls each word out in a fierce demand. He's losing control himself, as if the sight of me is making him even wilder. That turns me on more than I could even imagine, and I arch my hips as I rub myself, imagining him and all the naughty things he might be doing to himself. Is he stroking his cock? Is it big and beastly like his form? Or as perfect - and human - as his hand was in mine?

Do I have the courage to ask?

But then my orgasm surges through me and I cry out, rubbing myself hard as I'm lost to my own pleasure. I gasp and shudder on the bed, wringing it out for as long as I can. His voice is in my mind, his hoarse breathing, the sound of his hand slapping against his own flesh. I hear him come with a growl a scant second later, and then something hot spatters across my hand.