Beautiful Beast (Gypsy Heroes #3)(134)

I laugh. Who would ever have thought I could be so carefree and happy again? He carries me past that dim foyer and puts me down in the living room with its scarlet walls.

‘Show me what’s underneath the dress, Mrs. Eden.’

I am suddenly shy. I bite my lip. He propels me to the middle of the room and drops himself onto the black couch. He leans back, his legs wide open, relaxed, wanting a show.

I undo the clasp on the high neck and pull down the zip. The dress shimmers all the way down to the floor, leaving me standing in my underwear, suspenders, stockings and high heels. I step away from my dress and slowly sway up to him. Once in front of him I stand with my legs apart. He lets his gaze travel slowly over my body.


‘Turn around and show me your bum,’ he says.

Intoxicated by the hunger in his eyes, I turn around and jut my bottom out provocatively. I look back and see his eyes rush to my crotch where the pale blue string of my thong is caught between my sex lips. Without removing his eyes from me, he takes his jacket off and pulls his shirt out of his trousers.

I turn back around and, with my hands behind my back, fiddle with my bra strap, while I slide my tongue over my bottom lip. I know that always drives him crazy.

‘Go on,’ he mutters, unbuttoning his shirt.

I take the bra off.

‘Jesus, you’re so f*cking sexy.’ The pupils of his eyes are dilated and huge.

‘What do you want off next?’ I sound all breathy and bimbo-ish.

‘That bit of string stuck to your *.’

I laugh giddily.

His expression doesn’t change. He stares as if bewitched. I used to wonder what it would be like to be with someone who made me feel so desired, so wanted, so special. Now I know. I don’t know what the future holds. But it can never take this moment away from me.

I take it off and holding it in my hand, scandalize myself by bringing it to my nose and smelling the string.

He catches his breath and standing up steps out of his trousers and boxers. He runs his hand along the curve of my buttocks. My skin burns faintly at his touch.

‘So slender,’ he murmurs, the sound warm and intimate. Then he bends down and swipes his velvety tongue slowly and tantalizingly along the crack. ‘And as sweet as sin,’ he whispers. He moves upwards, flicks his tongue on the rim of my ear, catches the lobe between his teeth, and suddenly nips me. My stomach curls and I moan.

He catches my waist and spins me around, his gaze adoring. I slide my wrists around his neck and press my body invitingly against his hardness. I am desperate to feel my breasts crushed against the dark hair on his chest and his hot, wet mouth on them. I want his hands to spread my open thighs and gorge himself on the swollen whorls of flesh there.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he pulls me toward the ceiling-to-floor windows. My palms connect with the cold surface and I see the panoramic view of the city glittering with neon lights surrounded by miles of dark desert. I feel him tilt my hips up toward him, and enter me in a fierce thrust. And I see my shining reflection open its mouth in a startled gasp.

‘You like it rough?’

‘Yes.’

He thrusts again, harder. ‘Like this?’

‘Yes,’ I gasp.

I feel him pull apart my buttocks and the next thrust is so hard and so deep that my body jerks like a puppet. My eyes swivel upwards, dimly noticing the stars like jewels in the soft blackness of the night sky. A thought hits me: All that I need is to be his. Like this. Forever.

‘Nobody has taken you so hard before, have they?’

‘No.’

‘Nobody ever will again, will they?’

‘No,’ I moan.

‘Because this is all mine. I own all of this now, don’t I?’

‘Yes, yes, yes.’

His finger drums relentlessly at the side of my clit. The sensation causes a rush of aching warmth to start flooding my body. He keeps up the thrusts and the drumming until I explode and splinter into a thousand pieces. I am slumped against the glass when I feel him climax. He comes with a fierce bark of humorless laughter.

I rest against the glass panting, slowly returning.

‘Do you know,’ he whispers close to my ear, his voice sensation soaked, lazy. ‘I dreamed about you.’

‘Really,’ I murmur. I am pleasantly satiated. I want to keep him inside me forever.

‘Don’t you want to know what I dreamed?’

‘What did you dream?’ My voice is lazy, playful.

‘We went out, we had dinner, we had sex… And then you betrayed me.’

I freeze, the blood congealing in my veins. He saw me coming!

In the glass I see his face gleaming dimly, as insubstantial as a ghost. It is a moment so simple, but so heightened because of that very simplicity. Life rarely offers such moments of profound clarity. It is as if I have trained for years for this moment. I see its preciousness glittering like a cornered rat’s eyes. Kill or be killed. Hesitating is to make the second choice.

I whisk around, eyes wide, clumsy and unsteady in my heels.

His face is tight as a carved marble bust. The glass behind my back is shockingly cold and the silence between us is leaden. Suddenly I feel the way Eve must have felt, so naked, so exposed, and so f*cking guilty.

He stands a foot away from me, touching distance, and simply looks at me. As if he is looking at a piece of modern art and trying to figure out what the artist intended to say with his senseless splashes of color. I try to imagine what he must be seeing.