Beauty of the Beast (Fairy Tale Retellings Book 1) Page 29

  Heat coiled around her spine like twin salamanders. She arched into his touch, overwhelmed by the enticing pressure of his exploring hands. Then two fingertips dipped below the chemise’s neckline. Isabelle worried her bottom lip as she bit back a moan. The marred pads of his fingers whispered against her bare flesh, kindling flames everywhere they touched. He strained his body, shifting closer, as his hands moved lower in a restless, intimate perusal. Then he bowed forward and ghosted kisses down the column of her throat—down, down, down—swirling his tongue over the creamy swells of her breasts, which spilled over her chemise. Both of her nipples grew painfully erect, echoing the very state of his swollen manhood. Indeed, she felt as his thick, hardening arousal pushed and jerked against her belly.

  “You are immaculate...”

  She glanced down as a blush seared her cheeks. The thin layer of silk clung to her like a second skin, and the flashing candles left very little to Adam’s imagination. His dark head inclined, he latched on to a hardened bud and tugged the coated flesh between his lips—suckling her straight through the thin chemise. His tongue joined in the dance, darting out between his lips and sweeping across her tender, erect nipple. Sensation built to a steady, throbbing hum.

  His hand kneaded her opposite breast, caressing and fondling—cupping the weight in his scarred palm. Gently he rolled the heavy flesh between his long fingers... caressed her nipple... stroked his thumb pad across the taut fabric. All the while, his tongue swirled around her veiled nipple, and the gentle scrape of his teeth drew a choked gasp from her throat.

  Then he pushed the fabric down her body and stripped the material away. The pantalettes came next. They fell to the floor, and a cool breeze kissed her naked skin. She attempted to shield herself with crossed arms; Adam prevented the movement, his sapphire eyes blazing like a fire.

  “Don’t hide from me, ma belle. Simply looking at you fills me with pleasure. I’ve never seen such beauty,” he whispered. Closing in on her again, he settled his strong body over hers like a coverlet. “Never believed it could exist in this world...”

  He kissed the center of her chest, then moved his mouth and tongue over her nude breasts and pebbled nipples. Damp, wet lips crawled across the undersides of her breasts in a featherlight touch. The wisps of his hair and forelock tickled her flesh, and she felt the burned side of his face grate against her. He nibbled lightly on the swollen peak, branding her with tender love bites, and then soothed the ache with his swirling tongue.

  His hands reached up as his lips quested lower... skimming across her clenched stomach, leaving hot lines wherever they touched. Her breasts filled his palms and spilled over those long fingers. Her insides constricted in anticipation. It took every gram of her willpower not to cry out and beg for more.

  How she wanted more. She wanted it all. She wanted everything.

  His penetrating blue eyes raked down and over her entire body in a slow perusal. Then that gaze darkened as they fixed on her inner thighs. She followed the path of his unwavering stare—and a wave of humiliation and grief crashed down at the sight of the scarring.

  “They were from him. From Raphael.” Her words choked off mid-sentence. She swallowed the lump in her throat as shameful tears pricked her eyes. “He—”

  “Shh. Don’t speak of it. Don’t think. Simply feel... Abandon yourself to my touches, to the music of my voice.”

  Anger flashed in Adam’s eyes—a searing rage that left Isabelle speechless and immobile. The sound of rustling sheets breached the silence as he slid down the length of her body and settled his head between her thighs. “My sweet Isabelle...” She inhaled a long breath as his lips pressed against those shameful scars. Indeed, his mouth tracked across her flesh, not leaving a single red line unloved. His kisses behaved like a healing balm. Those visceral memories of Raphael faded away... faded... until only she and Adam remained.

  Within the beauty of that moment, only the two of them existed. Then she felt a splash of wetness on her upper thigh and realized he was weeping. For her. She reached down and tentatively ran her fingers through his tousled hair, needing to express her gratitude.

  Her heart burned with love and adoration. He glanced at her and captured her eyes. The air grew thick with anticipation. Isabelle sucked in a breath, readying herself for what was to come.

  “I want to kiss you...” he breathed, his molten breath fanning against her wet thighs. “I want to kiss you... here.”

  Sultry breaths wafted against her very core. Adam blew lightly, and an exquisite tingling sensation roared through her veins. Her thighs grew slick and wet as his mouth hovered centimeters away—barely grazing her sensitive flesh. It was pure torture. A groan of frustration rattled her body as she instinctively grasped his neck and forced his mouth where she needed it most.

  When his lips met her skin, at last, the effect was mind-blowing. Hot waves crashed through her, and that small bundle of nerves tingled as his warm breaths bathed it. Her knees and bottom instinctively tightened while ripples of pleasure melted her insides into a quivering, hot mass. His stubbly chin and uneven flesh grazed her inner thighs, creating a delicious friction that added to the blend of mounting sensations. One hand fisted in the sheepskin blanket; the other entwined in the thick locks of his hair. His gaze crept down her body and settled between the creamy, glistening flesh of her thighs. He murmured some words in a foreign tongue. Then followed suit in two more languages. Deaf to their meanings, Isabelle wished she was more cultured.

  “Sei come l'acqua nel deserto. Ti amerò finchè ho vita.” You are like water in my desert. I will love you as long as I have life left.

  His wildly seductive voice and the mystery of his words washed over her, intensifying all five of her senses.

  “Please... kiss me there, Adam.”

  “As you command, ma reine.” His mouth slid over her wet opening—just barely—and a jolt of electricity surged within. She felt wetness seep from her nether lips slide down her taut thighs. Tremors rattled her body—a testament to the pleasure to come.

  She hadn’t the slightest idea if this was a normal interaction between a man and woman—yet it didn’t matter. A primitive, deep-rooted longing made up for their inexperience, urging both Isabelle and Adam to act on basal desire. Indeed. It seemed a perfectly natural thing for Adam to do... kissing her there, healing her own scars with his adoring tongue and mouth...

  His tongue dipped halfway inside, past the damp, quivering folds—then retracted and swirled around the tingling bundle of her nerves several times. He withdrew completely, and her palm unconsciously applied pressure to his scalp, urging him back to where she needed him most. Two scarred fingertips gently pried her folds apart, and his tongue snaked across the sensitive bundle again with a flurry of wet, firm strokes.

  Mon Dieu, she never wanted him to stop. Instinct guided each of their movements, acting like a third hand that pried open a door they’d never ventured through. One she doubted Adam ever hoped of crossing.

  He played her body like an instrument, his masterful fingers and tongue seducing her to sing for him, to bend to his will and hand. The point of his tongue flirted with the tight bundle of nerves again—

  He hesitated. “Adam, don’t stop.”

  “I want to ensure I’m pleasing you, ma belle.”

  “You are. You’re doing everything right. Believe me, I never imagined—”

  Her thoughts ricocheted against each other as two thick fingertips burrowed inside her body. Then three. Sweet, sweet agony. They moved in and out, in and out... circled the tingling bundle of nerves... rocked deep, deep within... then spread her open before seizing the swollen, aching mound between two fingertips. He rolled the aching flesh between his thumb and forefinger... gently tugged... massaged the swollen ridge...

  “Yes, Adam... there... right there. Yes—”

  An exquisite sensation mounted within as he angled his lips and drew the tip inside the hot cavern of his mouth. He latched on. Gently suckled. Her body un
consciously jerked upward, and Adam drank from her. Mon Dieu, he drank his fill. She arched against the mind-bending sensation while his tongue swirled around the swollen cleft. He blew softly, cupping her buttocks in his scarred palms... His teeth grazed the flesh in a ghostlike whisper, ripping a shallow moan from her gut. Long, firm sweeps fell across the hardened nub as he applied delicate pressure... a little more... He gave a gentle nibble, sucked on the throbbing peak... then granted just enough pressure to drive her over that edge...

  “Oh, don’t... don’t stop... Adam...”

  Hard moans rocked Isabelle’s body, shattering all coherent thoughts into breathless fragments. Her mind spun like an erratic toy top. Guided by her hand in his hair and torn pleas, he steadied her hips as he sucked on the swollen mound, drinking her deeper, deeper, consuming her. She heard him moan—and the erotic, masculine sound vibrated through her burning flesh. Colors burst in front of her eyes and spilled through every cell, every fiber of her being. Then she shattered irrevocably. And she knew, without a doubt, she’d never be whole again apart from Prince Adam Delacroix.

  Adam returned to an upright position and seated himself on the mattress. Isabelle spared a moment to catch her breath, to gather her thoughts, to allow her humming body to return to equilibrium. Not knowing what she was doing—only knowing she wanted to return the favor and kiss him there—she leaned forward and reached for the front of Adam’s trousers.

  A choked groan issued from his throat. As she grazed the thick bulge through the fabric, his head lolled backward as if in agony—yet she knew he felt only desire. Burning, raging desire. She increased the pressure of her touch and swept his inner thighs, fondling him straight through the rugged material. He was large, his massive size spilling over her palm and fingers. He jerked against her and released a guttural moan, shifting inside the confines of his trousers.

  “Undo them.” The commanding note that entered his voice sent a delicious shiver through Isabelle.

  Her hands shook as she unfastened the clasps, then slowly tugged the fabric down and over his smooth thighs. His underclothes came next; Isabelle’s gaze ran over the firm curves of his thighs, which were corded with muscle and free from any scarring.

  Her breath hitched at the sight of his swollen manhood, and she tentatively reached out, running her fingers over the velvety flesh in an experimental touch. Hot. Thick. Silky smooth. Her small hand barely fit around his girth. He jerked in her grasp and released a strangled moan. Isabelle drew her hand away and met his glassy eyes. The muscles in his throat worked as he swallowed deeply. One of his hands clasped the sheepskin blanket. He twisted the material between long, tapered fingers and sweat beaded down his forehead. Breaths hissed from between his gritted teeth as he stared down at her through smoke-filled eyes.

  “I’m sorry. Did... does my touch cause you pain?”

  His dark, sultry chuckle swelled the room and set Isabelle’s insides on fire. Then he blew out a strained breath, shook his head, and raked a hand through his damp waves. Kissed by wavering candlelight, the signet ring flashed in the dim room. AFD. Absently she wondered what his middle initial was and made a mental note to ask him later. Indeed, she wanted to know everything about him—every last detail, no matter how minute or seemingly mundane.

  “Non. Not pain, ma belle. Please,” he finally whispered, cupping her cheek with his large hand. Passion kindled within his blue eyes and set his irregular features aglow. That dark gaze glittered with mounting arousal and a primal hunger.

  “Now I am going to kiss you there...” His breath audibly shivered in his throat. She wrapped her fingers around his shaft and scooted forward, then planted a kiss on its glistening crown. Clear liquid ran from the swollen flesh and tracked down the thick length. She was rewarded with another rich moan, and his fingers tangled in her curls with an insistent pull. Every centimeter of his body felt rock-hard and inflamed, resembling newly forged steel. A fierce confidence surged through her veins and set fire to her spirit.

  “Please... I burn for you.”

  “Lie back, Adam. Lie back and relax. Don’t think... Just lose yourself in my touch,” she crooned, parroting his words from minutes ago. He obliged with a choked moan. Isabelle leaned forward, crouched between his thighs, and shadowed his sensual ministrations. She ran her tongue over the silken flesh in long slow swipes, then cupped her mouth along the side of his stiff manhood and gently suckled, drawing the thick shaft between her gliding lips. Up and down. Down and up. A little more pressure. A gentle sweep of her tongue. Then two more. He drew in a sharp breath—and the sound fell upon her ears like music.

  She gazed up at him. He threw his head back, one hand clenched in her hair, the other grasping the coverlet. She felt his thighs under her palms, hard as stone and taut. Cords of muscles clenched, convulsed, and tightened beneath her restless fingertips. The grip on her curls constricted. He surged his hips upward in a slight arch. She took the cue—positioning her lips around the swollen head and slit, taking him inside her mouth and, after a heartbeat, partway into her throat. His groans clipped off into hard, sharp grunts.

  She felt his pleasure mounting like a palpable force, felt him swelling within the cavern of her mouth. Reading his auditory and visual prompts, she quickened her movements; his grip on the coverlet tightened. Her hands joined in the erotic dance, wrapping him in the empty space below her pulsating mouth and suckling lips. Then she wrapped her lips around the gleaming crown, welcoming the salty tang and his fullness inside her throat again—

  “Ah... No more, ma belle,” he breathed in a hoarse voice. “I can’t bear it any longer. It shall be the end of me.” Adam realigned their quivering bodies. His muscular arms trembled in the candlelight, and a deep, endearing blush covered the handsome side of his face. He looked consumed. Wild. Beast-like. Deliciously disheveled and lost to passion. Exhaling a rigid breath, he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to the center of her forehead. “Are you certain?” he asked, his voice a delectable waterfall of dark wine. That enchanting, rich tone coursed through her veins and set her resolve on fire. “This is what you want?”

  She nodded, unable to speak, her voice tangled in her throat.

  “Good,” he sensually murmured, “because I’ve never wanted anything more. You, Isabelle Rose, are all I’ve ever needed or wanted. Exquisite. Honest. Courageous. Intelligent. Stubborn. Resolute. Beautiful inside and out. And loyal to your core. Every time I look at you, I’m in awe, and I find myself falling in love with you all over again. I want you now, tonight, tomorrow, and every moment after. I need you always.”

  Isabelle fought to speak, to say something—anything at all—but only a tearful, disbelieving gasp emerged. His fingertips glided down her cheeks, her neck, her shoulders, both her arms. Silence coiled around them like twin salamanders. Only the hammering of their heartbeats, the erotic crackle in the air, ruptured that quiet.

  Then his warm, ragged breaths wafted against her hairline as he urged his manhood to part her womanly folds. He slid inside her in slow, measured movements. His thickness filled her, applying a delicious pressure against the peak of her womanhood. Centimeter by aching centimeter he pushed inside her tight, wet walls and made her feel complete again. She couldn’t think, completely swept away and transported by sensation. A moan tore from her throat and echoed through the chamber; she shut her eyes, listening to the crackling candles and whispering wind. Adam’s knuckles skimmed her cheeks. She drew her eyes open and studied his concerned expression.

  “Am I hurting you?” He leaned back on his elbows, capturing her eyes with his own. His words were broken into breathy fragments, and a hoarse moan laced them together.

  “No. No, never,” she said while tears streamed down her cheeks. “These are good tears. Ones of happiness. Tears of happiness.”

  He smiled down at her, his own eyes heavy with emotion and a reciprocated adoration. Then his lips grazed her forehead again, and he whispered the declaration against her sweat-lined skin. “I love
you, Isabelle. And that shall never change. Always you.”

  The tears streamed ever harder, and her heart felt full, quite near to bursting. “I love you, my Adam. Always us.”

  His sparkling eyes said it all. He’d waited a lifetime to hear those words.

  He buried himself to the hilt in a delicious rush of movement. There was no space between them, no more barriers or thresholds to cross. Thanks to Raphael’s vile assault, the pain didn’t come. Only a dull ache and an exquisite sensation of fullness. Total completion.

  She knotted her arms around the strong column of his neck and lifted her hips, arching into him, urging him to move against her, deep within her. He met her silent command with a gentle, tentative rocking motion that reminded her of waves lapping against the coastline. Or of the shimmering waterfall feeding into Adam’s hot spring. She joined in the dance with an equal vigor and passion while his breathing grew shallower and his thrusts faster and more urgent. Nothing filled her mind except the sound of their tangled moans and rigid breaths, the feel of Adam’s essence entwining with her own. Then he hooked an arm below her undulating bottom, leaned back, and raised her body partway into the air.

  Strong, muscled arms snaked around her midsection and held her tight. Perspiration covered their bodies and dampened the coverlet. Remaining connected in the most intimate of ways, he sat on his haunches and lifted her against his scarred chest. She ground against him in instinctive and intuitive movements... brushing back and forth... swiveling her hips full circle—in one direction then the other.

  Adam trailed a single fingertip down her body, igniting her skin from breast to belly button. She varied her tempo in a soulful waltz. Adam angled his chin back and propped both hands onto the mattress, lost to pure ecstasy. Encouraged by his deep moans and even deeper thrusts, she gained a steady momentum as she made love to Adam Delacroix with her heart, her body, her soul.