throbbed in pleasure-pain as he massaged them. Now digging deeply, now moving in lighter caresses. Amarantha found herself leaning into the touch, the heat, and strength of his fingers.
His movements changed. The Beast spread his fingers to encompass the full globes of her breasts, holding them fully in his hands. Then he drew back, squeezing her breasts between the points of his fingertips until they reached the nipples, then popping off with a last pinch. Amarantha cried and writhed with each squeezing.
Then she felt the claws.
Amarantha's eyes flew open. The hands on her throbbing breasts were covered in light golden fur. Though she could feel the finger pads of a man underneath, catlike claws curved out from the tops and lightly scored her tender flesh.
Amarantha choked on her breath.
“Sorry you looked?” the Beast asked, his voice gravelly with self-mockery. He finished the stroke with a pinch and a prick of his claws. Then settled his hands—
paws ?—over her breasts again, squeezing deeply, the claws falling in a delicate arc to trace a new set of lines.
Amarantha moaned.
“Horrifying, isn't it? You wondered about the creature under this hood.
Perhaps now your curiosity will be stilled.”
23
Once more he drew his claws across her furiously red breasts, leaving fine crimson lines. The Beast stood, watching her sag inside the boning of her corset, completely undone. He reached behind her and pulled on his gloves.
“Lie back, my sweet.” Holding her shoulders, the Beast laid Amarantha on the table, tenderly arranging her hair behind her head. Unable to think past her fiery breasts, she stared blindly at the vaulted ceiling, wrapped with images of the claws and the arrows of lightning in her groin.
“Love lies bleeding,” the Beast observed, and she whimpered. He brushed a gloved finger across her cheek. “Ah, I shouldn't tease you. You can see I took utmost care with you. There is no blood. We can't allow any scarring of your beautiful flesh.
And now I shall soothe you.”
Straddling her legs, the Beast bent over Amarantha. The draping satin hood brushed against her, cool against the fire. She groaned when his tongue touched her, soothing and laving the tormented flesh. He kissed and quieted her. The gentle rasp of his tongue stroked the sparking pain away.
Amarantha felt like the melted wax of the dying candles. The music had subsided into soft, weeping strings.
The Beast seemed finally satisfied, as he gently drew her up and unfastened the silver chains from her wrists. With a last tender kiss to each trembling nipple, he again lifted her by the waist as if she weighed nothing and set her on her feet.
When she swayed, he swept her up into his arms and cradled her against his broad chest.
The Beast carried Amarantha up the stairs. Looking up into the deep cowl surrounding his shadowed face, Amarantha thought she could see a flash of white.
Something that indeed looked like the fang she had thought she glimpsed at the wedding
“No,” he whispered and turned her in his arms so that she pressed more against his chest, “don't look for what you can't unsee.”
24
He brought her to her chambers, brilliantly lit with candles, though the dawn pinkened the sky outside. Setting her by the great bed, the Beast wrapped her hands around one post to steady her. He loosened her gown, then helped her out of the sleeves and slid it all to her feet. She drew a grateful breath when he sliced the laces of her corset. He led her by the hand to the bedside, the covers turned down in invitation.
Once again she stood before him in only her stockings, ribbon garters, and the red shoes.
The Beast lifted her to sit on the bed, slipped the shoes off her feet. He pulled at the crimson ribbons and placed kisses on her thighs where they had dented her flesh, then rolled the stockings down. Each kiss seemed to travel to the place he'd touched her between her legs.
She wondered if he would touch her there
His movements changed. The Beast spread his fingers to encompass the full globes of her breasts, holding them fully in his hands. Then he drew back, squeezing her breasts between the points of his fingertips until they reached the nipples, then popping off with a last pinch. Amarantha cried and writhed with each squeezing.
Then she felt the claws.
Amarantha's eyes flew open. The hands on her throbbing breasts were covered in light golden fur. Though she could feel the finger pads of a man underneath, catlike claws curved out from the tops and lightly scored her tender flesh.
Amarantha choked on her breath.
“Sorry you looked?” the Beast asked, his voice gravelly with self-mockery. He finished the stroke with a pinch and a prick of his claws. Then settled his hands—
paws ?—over her breasts again, squeezing deeply, the claws falling in a delicate arc to trace a new set of lines.
Amarantha moaned.
“Horrifying, isn't it? You wondered about the creature under this hood.
Perhaps now your curiosity will be stilled.”
23
Once more he drew his claws across her furiously red breasts, leaving fine crimson lines. The Beast stood, watching her sag inside the boning of her corset, completely undone. He reached behind her and pulled on his gloves.
“Lie back, my sweet.” Holding her shoulders, the Beast laid Amarantha on the table, tenderly arranging her hair behind her head. Unable to think past her fiery breasts, she stared blindly at the vaulted ceiling, wrapped with images of the claws and the arrows of lightning in her groin.
“Love lies bleeding,” the Beast observed, and she whimpered. He brushed a gloved finger across her cheek. “Ah, I shouldn't tease you. You can see I took utmost care with you. There is no blood. We can't allow any scarring of your beautiful flesh.
And now I shall soothe you.”
Straddling her legs, the Beast bent over Amarantha. The draping satin hood brushed against her, cool against the fire. She groaned when his tongue touched her, soothing and laving the tormented flesh. He kissed and quieted her. The gentle rasp of his tongue stroked the sparking pain away.
Amarantha felt like the melted wax of the dying candles. The music had subsided into soft, weeping strings.
The Beast seemed finally satisfied, as he gently drew her up and unfastened the silver chains from her wrists. With a last tender kiss to each trembling nipple, he again lifted her by the waist as if she weighed nothing and set her on her feet.
When she swayed, he swept her up into his arms and cradled her against his broad chest.
The Beast carried Amarantha up the stairs. Looking up into the deep cowl surrounding his shadowed face, Amarantha thought she could see a flash of white.
Something that indeed looked like the fang she had thought she glimpsed at the wedding
“No,” he whispered and turned her in his arms so that she pressed more against his chest, “don't look for what you can't unsee.”
24
He brought her to her chambers, brilliantly lit with candles, though the dawn pinkened the sky outside. Setting her by the great bed, the Beast wrapped her hands around one post to steady her. He loosened her gown, then helped her out of the sleeves and slid it all to her feet. She drew a grateful breath when he sliced the laces of her corset. He led her by the hand to the bedside, the covers turned down in invitation.
Once again she stood before him in only her stockings, ribbon garters, and the red shoes.
The Beast lifted her to sit on the bed, slipped the shoes off her feet. He pulled at the crimson ribbons and placed kisses on her thighs where they had dented her flesh, then rolled the stockings down. Each kiss seemed to travel to the place he'd touched her between her legs.
She wondered if he would touch her there
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