He’s famous for his long—sword.
–Cyrano de Bergerac
The next week passes in a flurry of work and heated moments: shifts at Bodean’s, chores for Granny, Beast’s wandering hands, more rejections from New York, Beast stealing scorching kisses at work, or in Granny’s hallway, or in the barn while everyone else is cleaning up after supper. We barely have any time alone. We can’t get any peace at Granny’s, not with her and Grace under the same roof, and if we go to Jude’s, although the party scene has calmed, there are still people coming and going all the time, even with school out of session.
We haven’t told anyone we’re together, other than Granny, but we haven’t kept it a secret either. Although there is a lingering worry about Grace’s potential reaction, which is enough for both of us to keep it relatively quiet and between ourselves.
I don’t mind. I kind of like it that Beast waits until no one is looking before he brushes back my hair when we’re target shooting out on the back lawn. Or during dinner, when I touch his leg or hold his hand under the table. It’s like a secret world between us and no one else knows the language.
By all appearances, Grace is none the wiser, but the others, not so much.
One night, Jude and I run into the house to grab the fixings for s’mores. We’ve finished Sunday supper and chores and decided to have an impromptu bonfire in the firepit out back.
We’re about to head outside, arms laden with chocolate bars, marshmallows, and graham crackers, when Jude stops.
“Fred.” His lips are quirked up, but his eyes are serious. “Beast is a big man. His heart is twice the size of us mere mortals’. Be careful with it.”
The corresponding organ in my chest twists. I swallow. “The last thing I ever want to do is hurt him.”
Jude watches me carefully and then nods once.
Back at the bonfire, we hand out goodies. Grace and Reese scoured the trees for enough sticks for everyone, and before long we all have marshmallows toasting over the flickering flames. The conversation turns to an upcoming trip.
“You won’t stay away long, right?” Grace asks Jude.
“It’s just a weekend trip, Gracie. Fitz and Annabel haven’t seen their parents in months, and I should probably meet them before Annabel’s daddy comes after me with his shotgun.”
“He wouldn’t do that,” Annabel says. “He has a .357.”
“Beast is staying to look after you and Mr. Bojangles.”
My eyes lock with Beast’s across the fire. There are more than mere physical flames heating the air between us. As if he can read my thoughts, one of his brows quirks up. I tear my gaze away.
“When are you leaving?” I ask.
“Next weekend,” Reese says. “Leaving Friday, won’t be back until Monday. We’ll miss Sunday supper.”
When the next Sunday supper arrives, it is quiet and subdued with only Granny, Grace, Beast, and me. And then Beast has to go home to feed Mr. Bojangles, Jude’s fluffy white cat, and take care of some work for Jude in his absence.
He has to rearrange his schedule to accommodate their needs, and he does it without question. And they just assume he has no other plans or needs of his own. I want to screech at them on his behalf, but I let it go. None of my business. Except, isn’t it? If for no other reason than that I want to spend time with Beast, and they’re impinging on it. No, no, let it go.
Later that night, I’m on the roof staring up at the stars, alone. Granny fell asleep on the couch downstairs watching American Horror Story. I got her sucked into it. She loved the season with the witches, thought it was a hoot, and has been binge-watching it since at every opportunity.
Grace is in her room, where she will likely stay for the rest of the night, and I’m thinking about Beast. In town. At his place. Alone.
Alone.
The word becomes a drum beat pulsing inside me. This might be our only chance to actually be alone until . . . until for-ev-errrr. Okay, slightly dramatic, but still. I can feel time slipping away, as inexorable as the tide. Within another month—sooner maybe—I’ll have enough savings to move back to NYC and find a place to live while continuing to search for work.
But there’s no way I can get to Beast’s place tonight. I can’t take Granny’s car. They would hear me leave. They can’t know I’m gone. Grace would freak and Granny would probably shoot me. It’s at least ten miles, which would take forever to walk.
But there is one other option.
An hour later, I’ve parked the old beach cruiser on the side of Jude’s house. I cleaned it up and helped Granny put on new tires the other week. I’ll get it back in the morning before anyone can miss it. Grace doesn’t know it exists yet, so no risk of anger from the teen queen.
I knock at the front door and a few moments later, it swings open.
“Hi.”
He’s staring, motionless. My heart beats faster. The lack of expression kickstarts my urge to ramble.
“Sorry to barge in on you like this. It’s just I wanted to see—”
In one quick slice of movement, his hands cup my face and his lips are against mine.
I manage to squeak out words between kisses. “Oh, good.” His mouth presses against the corner of my jaw. “I was worried you would think me,” he nips at my ear, eliciting a gasp that doesn’t stop the flow of words, “weird, desperate,” a lick at my neck, “wanton. But I needed to see you.”
He shuts the door and locks it, his eyes on me. He slides his arms down to my waist. His big, strong hands hoist me up against him like I weigh less than Mr. Bojangles. My legs lock around his waist and he presses me back against the wall. His mouth is on me, melting me from the inside out. I’m about to turn into a puddle of Fred when he pulls away and turns his head to look down at the floor.
Mr. Bojangles is weaving around Beast’s legs, purring up a storm.
I stifle a laugh. “Bad kitty.”
Beast kisses my smile and then steps away from the wall, walking down the hallway toward his room without ever putting me down. Mr. Bojangles prances after us, but Beast slips into his room and shuts him out.
Next thing I know, a soft mattress is under my back, and Beast is towering over me, holding himself up so he doesn’t crush me, eyes heavy lidded.
I’m ready to start peeling off clothes and riding this stallion. I push my hips up against his, needier than Mr. Bojangles, rubbing myself against his hard length.
He pulls away, far enough to take my face in his hands, eyes searching mine. Then he traces over my features, gazing at me with clear devotion. It’s everything. He’s loving me with his eyes in a way Jack never did. Like I’m a treasure. A prize. Like I’m the Firefly Legacy Edition, signed by Joss Whedon.
This kind of care requires no words. And it’s more effective than anything anyone could ever say with mere words.
“Beast,” his name is a whisper of need on my lips, “I want you.”
He points at himself, then me. Me, too.
I press into him, sliding my tongue into his mouth, absorbing the sensations, memorizing everything to lock it away for safekeeping.
He pulls back to sign, Scared.
“Of what?”
His smile is small but definitely uneasy. Too fast.
“We’re moving too fast?” I ask, but he immediately shakes his head no. “Oh, you’re worried you’ll be too fast.”
Already was. Ducks his head to kiss me, hiding the embarrassment.
“It’s okay. We have all night and actually, I think it’s pretty hot.” I swallow, “Knowing that I can make you feel that much. That turned on. Because I am right there with you. You’re not alone.”
He signs again and my brain is a fuzzy haze of need and want and desire and I have to focus to figure out what he’s trying to tell me. I want to taste you.
“You want to taste me?” My stomach flips.
He nods.
“I may have just came from you asking.”
He grins. Now? he spells out.
“Um, yes.”
His fingers trip along the waistband of my shorts, rubbing soothing little circles along the delicate skin of my abdomen.
His lips move from my mouth down my neck, fingers plucking at my top. He leans back so I can whip it off over my head and throw it somewhere. His eyes are locked on my chest.
I’m wearing the simplest of bras. It’s white, for god’s sake. I look like a teenager. On top of that, my chest isn’t the best or the biggest. Beast’s hands are so large I’m nowhere near a handful, but he’s staring at my chest like it’s the Ring of Sauron. I guess size is irrelevant.
He traces his fingers around the globes, circling with careful fingers until he’s almost at the tips and I’m more than ready for the final contact. But then he pulls away.
I groan. “Beast.”
With a wicked grin he leans down and sucks one nipple into his mouth through the cotton. I arch back, my hands going to his hair, threading through the strands. One big hand spreads across my stomach, holding me in place while he uses his other hand to tug the cup of the bra down. His mouth covers me, the heat of it hot and demanding. He lavishes attention on first one and then the other and then he pulls back again, his breath hot and heavy.
Desire is a living, wild thing inside me. Beast kisses down my stomach, tugging at my shorts, pulling them down and off along with my panties until I’m completely bare.
There’s no room for embarrassment or worry. His hands are worshipful, rubbing soothing lines up and down my thighs, his eyes hungry. He presses my legs apart with careful strokes while he gazes down at me in wonder.
He leans in, tugging my legs over his broad shoulders, one and then the other, his breath feathering over my heated flesh. My body is as taut as a bowstring stretched tight and waiting for release.
It’s relief and torture when he finally kisses me. At first, it’s just a careful press of his mouth. Rubbing his lips up and down in soft, sweeping motions. And slowly, the pressure increases.
He’s using everything I’ve shown him, from the first kiss so many weeks ago to the other night when I bared myself to him, guiding his touch. When his tongue finally comes into play, he presses it in slow circles, just like I used my fingers, stroking me with deliberate effort.
When I groan and arch underneath him, I’ve become a feral creature, holding his head in my hands because I’m about to burst. I roll my hips back and forth, undulating against him, concerned only with my own satisfaction. Only then does his tight control shatter. His tongue thrusts inside and my spine bows with the force of the orgasm ripping through me.
He doesn’t let go, instead staying close and gentling his movements as I ride the waves of pleasure until I’m boneless and shaking in the aftermath.
He rests his head on my thigh and looks up at me, his eyes churning with his own leashed desire. Then he stretches up, covering me with his body, braced on his elbows. I’m surrounded in the best of ways.
“You’re still wearing clothes,” I complain, running hands up his shirt-covered back, lifting it enough to play at the skin just above his belt.
He nuzzles my neck in response.
“It’s my turn.” I shove at him playfully.
His breath stutters against my skin, a physical manifestation of everything he’s holding back. He moves away, kneeling on the bed next to me.
I sit up and cross my arms over my chest in a fake pout. “Time to join the naked party, buddy.”
His smile is slow and his eyes dip to my breasts before returning to my face with a lopsided grin.
I tug at his shirt, pulling it over his head. Reaching back, I unsnap my bra and slide it down my shoulders. Beast’s eyes are on me, tracking the movements with no attempt to hide the heat in his eager gaze. I push at his big shoulder. He lies back on the bed without resistance, his breath coming out in ragged gasps.
He stills. Watching. Waiting. The bulge in his pants twitches and I tug at the buttons. He helps me undress him until he’s as naked as I am.
“That’s better.” I take him into my hand.
He hisses a breath between his teeth. His hands clench into fists at his side. His head falls back, but he doesn’t close his eyes, watching me from beneath lowered lids.
Bending over, I take him into my mouth and revel in the way his body twitches and strains, thighs rigid, stomach muscles bunching and tensing.
I lift up to say, “It’s okay to touch me.” I grab his hand and put it on my head. His fingers tunnel into my hair.
I lick him like an ice cream cone and then suck on the tip before moving down as much as I can.
His hand flexes against my scalp, the air filled with his rough breathing and the wet sounds of my mouth. Having this giant of man at my mercy floods me with heat and melts everything inside me, a wave that’s empowering and arousing. Within minutes, he explodes, shuddering and shaking until his whole body relaxes back on the bed, eyes shut. A gentle hand tugs on my hair, his other pressing at my shoulder, encouraging me to move up from my position between his legs.
Complying, I snuggle up next to him and he wraps an arm around me, pulling me into him and kissing me on the mouth.
He leans back. Embarrassed.
“Dude. Any longer and you might have broken my jaw.”
He shakes his head, rolling his eyes at my exaggeration.
“We’ll build it up. It’s not a big deal if you last longer. It’s not like I take forever. In the meantime,” I grin, “this is fun. There’s nothing to be ashamed of here. I like that I turn you on that much. Because you turn me on the same.”
To illustrate the point, I run my hands down his chest, spreading them around his hips, grabbing his butt.
He laughs silently. We spend long minutes enjoying the feel of skin pressed together, reveling in the intimacy of learning each other’s dips and valleys and freckles and scars.
At some point, I must doze off because I’m jarred awake by a pan clanging in the kitchen.
I sit up, glancing around the empty room. I grab one of Beast’s shirts from a drawer. It smells fresh and clean and it goes down past my knees.
Padding down the hall, I stop in the doorway of the kitchen. Beast stands at the stove, putting together a midnight snack. Mr. Bojangles flicks a tail at me, then chases after some invisible foe in the hallway.
Something sizzles on the skillet in front of him. His sweats are slung low on his hips, his back a perfect sculpture of muscles and sinew. I’m getting horny again just watching him.
And he’s all mine to do whatever I want with.
For now, Delores Umbridge sneers. I eject her from my brain with a good old-fashioned expelliarmus. This night is not meant for thoughts of tomorrow. If this is all I get, I intend to enjoy every second.