Happy Valentine’s Day
Beast Bonus Extended Scene
BONUS SCENE (UNEDITED AND SUPER NSFW)
“Admiring my cutlery?” the Beast asked, gripping my waist. I pushed him but it did little to sway his oak of a body. He laughed as I pushed him again. I struggled to get by his massive frame. Whatever warmth had come with his laugh quickly turned cold. The Beast shoved me to my knees and my gasp turned to a whimper as my knees hit the floor, flesh and bone grinding against the hard tile.
His erection was a massive tent in his sleep pants. Demanding. I could practically see it beneath the thin, silky material. It was almost a threat the way it jutted out.
The lump in my gut, the bruising of my knees…it all told me what that threat was.
What it would mean if he followed through.
I struggled against the hand on my shoulder, trying to stand up, but all that did was bruise my knees further. I waited, feeling a sense of abject hopelessness. He was going to force me to do this whether I wanted to or not.
I waited for him to make a move.
And I waited.
“Just do it!” I yelled. It was just like with the apple. I didn’t want him to do it, but this lingering threat was like watching the sky go black before a tornado and never feeling the storm. I was just staring at the darkness.
Feeling the fear.
Minutes passed and nothing happened except the occasional caress of his thumb on my shoulder. I expected him to pull himself out and force me, but he did nothing. I was prepared for it even. An idea struck me as I entered what felt like the fifth minute of gut-wrenching silence. With my eyes closed I said, “If you put it in my mouth, I will bite it off.” I was sure there would be punishment for what I said, but I had to say it.
I had to at least try.
I heard shifting and then suddenly my bottom lip was being tugged on. I opened my eyes, surprised to see Beast on his knees, tugging at my lip. “I believe you,” he murmured. My shoulders dropped and I released an exhale I should have kept inside. I should have stayed coiled, should have steeled, but I thought he was releasing me of my punishment. I thought he wasn’t going to do anything more and I was so relieved.
Then as soon as the breath left my body, the Beast lifted me up. He threw me on the kitchen counter. I gripped the cold granite, eyes widening as he placed his arms on either side of my body, bracketing me.
He moved closer, his erection pressing against my slit. The fabric separating us was so thin, like butterfly wings. It could tear effortlessly and it would be easy for him to enter me. His erection was steel hard against me. My eyes were locked with his, watching for any flicker of emotion. I was waiting for the tornado to burst through or the night to finally clear.
His eyes flickered, but before I could decipher the emotion, thoughts flew out the window. His cock pushed aside the fabric of my panties and just the satin of his pants separated us.
It was so unlike last time.
It was torture, but of a different kind.
I gripped the marble countertop and threw my head back. This time the Beast didn’t force me to look at him. I could feel myself clenching as he teased me. Rubbing against me, parting me slightly, but never entering me, not even letting me feel him. I knew it was on purpose that he stayed clothed. He was going so slowly. It was cruel. He was cruel, but not for the obvious reasons, the reasons that had robbed my sleep all the previous nights. All I could think about was the tip of him teasing me.
And that it wasn’t enough.
That I needed to feel more.
Please! My eyes popped open, afraid that I’d said the words aloud. His own narrowed, as if he could hear the words, see the struggle inside me.
“I hate you,” I whispered instead, pulling myself up so I could see into his eyes. All I saw were my own looking back at me.
“That’s not what your cunt says.” The Beast laughed. I screamed, but I wasn’t sure if it was at what was happening or because he hadn’t entered me.
“My cunt and I…” I panted. “We’re not on speaking terms.” I raked my fingernails across his cheek, drawing three thin lines of blood. His eyes darkened to pools of liquid black and I feared the consequences of what I’d done with my entire being—until he smiled. It was a cruel and wicked smile, but it was also amused. Whatever my punishment was, it at least would be playful.
He pushed a little more inside me, not enough to actually be inside of me, just enough to spread me and torture me with the almost and barely-there feeling of his fabric-covered flesh. It was like I wasn’t in control of my body anymore. My arms reached out but they didn’t seek to harm him or to push him away. I watched as if through a window as I clung to his shoulders, gripping the clenched muscles.
At the same time I gripped him, he pulled out.
Instead of rejoicing the emptiness, I mourned it. He left me panting and angry and…dejected. I folded my arms, trying to stymie the urges and feelings overwhelming me.
“Wait…” The word slipped out and I could hardly believe I’d said it. I snapped my mouth shut immediately but it was too late it. It was out there. Hanging. The meaning behind it just as heavy as the silence that followed.
His eyes narrowed again and he pressed back to me. I thought his cock was going to enter me, but instead his fingers returned. Soft. So light. Barely even a caress. My mouth fell open, but not in protest.
In a sigh.
God, I should be telling him to leave. My mind was in turmoil, caught between wanting to push him off and pull him to me. His cheek was bleeding from where I’d just scratched him, small sprigs of crimson dripping down the five o’clock shadow. Still nothing was as intense as the shadow of the promise he ripped into me. I looked away just as he entered me.
I gasped as one finger drove deep, as if to reach the end, saying with his movements what he couldn’t say with his words: he would conquer me. My arms fell from their folded position, fingers turning to claws, gripping the counter so I wouldn’t grab him. Asking him to stay was all I could give up.
I bit my lip, determined not to sigh or gasp anymore. Then his finger curled inside me, brushing against that spot that made my toes curl. My heart hammered in my chest. Another finger entered me, maybe more. His hand came up, grasping the back of my neck, drawing my eyes to his. His fingers curled in my hair—so tight, so demanding, but such a beautiful pain.
He stretched me with his fingers. I could hardly believe the sensation, hardly believe he could fit in me, but at the same time nothing had ever felt so right. My own drifted up from the counter, gripping his shoulders. My feet wrapped around his thighs.
I entered some alternate state of bliss, a state where it was okay to give up pieces of myself, where it was okay to feel pleasure from the man who brought me infinite pain. I thought I could feel him entering me with another finger—was it four now? My head fell on his shoulder and he groaned. I heard the sounds, wet, slippery, as he plunged in and out of me with his fingers. My toes curled around his thighs, my fingers tightened on him, sighs escaped me. I was floating, getting high on the steady rhythm of his fingers.
He slid himself from my body and I moaned, aching the loss. Slippery wet, I saw all five fingers had been inside me and his hand was entirely coated with me. In a moment of brief insanity, I lifted my own to touch his. He jerked his hand back and before I could think, threw me and spun me around, pinning me to the counter. My fingers grappled with the edge. He was on me, wet, tongue licking a hot trail from the bottom of my slit to the top.
A moan escaped me, my brain short circuited. It would have been impossible to stop him. If I thought I was high before, I was overdosing now. The air around us was a melody of sex–soaked, scorching, his own groans vibrating against my skin. Seconds later I sobered, though, my eyes popping open.
His tongue was probing lower and lower.
“Wait!” I spun my ahead around, trying to look at him. I kicked my feet, trying to scoot up the counter and away. He was going to lick and suck me there. I knew that people did that, I’d been a virgin not a complete prude, but it just…it seemed so dirty.
Beast growled low, the sound vibrating through my body. He put his hand on my lower back, holding me into place. The edge of the counter pushed into my stomach. I felt I should argue more than I actually wanted to, because when he’d been licking me, it had awakened something within me. Something that matched his animal growl.
With coiled hesitation, I settled into his tongue. He licked another slow, hot line, sucking me, probing me, and I lost myself. My body was pure sensation. Thoughts disappeared inside themselves. All I could think about was the coiling in my core, the need that was raging through my veins like fire.
I knew I was supposed to stop, that I was supposed to hate him, supposed to detest his touch, but I could feel myself climbing higher and higher. It was as if I was on autopilot, like my body knew what it was after.
In that single moment, a moment so small you could hardly measure it, the tables turned. The water had been leaking through, but because I was so busy trying to damn the flood, I hadn’t worried about the leak. I hadn’t noticed the trickle of excitement. Of passion. Of electricity. Throbbing and shocking my core and body with pleasure. By the time I noticed, I was like a frog in water left to boil.
I hated myself so much. A hate that would eventually drown me. But that didn’t stop the aftershocks of pleasure from pulsing through my body. For a moment I rested, utterly spent, the counter cool against my cheek. Then, realizing how much I’d given away, I quickly scrambled up the counter, rearranging my nighty as best as I could. It was pointless, all the fabric in the world couldn’t hide me now.
With quiet hesitation, I watched the Beast, waiting for him to make the next move. His eyes narrowed momentarily, and he leaned forward, as if to pull me back, but then he stood up. I watched as Beast wiped me off his chin. Watched as he said nothing as he licked the remainder of me off his fingers. Watched as he left without another word.
He walked away with such an easy gait, as if what just happened was nothing to him. As if he hadn’t just opened me up, explored me, discovered me in a way no man had ever done before.
I watched him disappear down the hallway, feeling a scream stuck in my chest. I couldn’t bring myself to get off the countertop. My gaze flickered to the knife on the ground, and I imagined stabbing it into my own heart.
I was lost. If this terrible man could make me lose myself so completely, what did that mean? The only reason I hadn’t disappeared entirely was because he’d left. If he’d kept going, however, I don’t know what would have happened. If he’d kept going, I wasn’t just going to come, I was going to fade away.