The Beast

16

HAZEL

Movement on the bed wakes me up. I rise and click on the lamp, turning aside to look around. The soft glow of the light illuminates the grey sheets and the large, nude body that indents them.

Ronan lies beside me, nude. His arm covers his face, bent at the elbow and flexing his bicep. I can't see his face, but I wouldn't be able to study it even if he revealed it–not with the six feet of bare, chiseled muscles displayed before me. I stare at his black tattoos and scars on his torso that beckon me to trace them. His erect cock is in his fist, surrounded by a pool of semen on his thighs and abs.

My heart races in my chest. His cock twitches in a gentle rhythm, in beat with my heartbeat.

I don't blink, don't breathe. Mesmerized and terrified by the thick, long cock presented to me. It's a perfect representation of the estate. Tall like the estate's towers and veiny like the estate's endless halls.

It's obvious that he had been beating his cock as I ignorantly slept beside him. He doesn't hurry to hide it—typical of him. Ronan is a proud man. But it's his arrogance, his shamelessness, that makes me rub my thighs together and blush.

Ronan loosens his fist on his cock. But even as he releases it, it remains where it is. Erect, throbbing, beading at the tip with semen.

Ronan sits up and turns his head. He rises from the bed, a streak of semen running down his thigh. Making me swallow and realize how thirsty I am.

He walks to a dark corner of the bedroom and closes a door. When I hear water running, I realize he's in the bathroom. Cleaning himself from the mess he made. As his cock gets cleaner, my pussy gets dirtier as I think about him masturbating as I slept. My skin gets hotter, and my throat drier. I look around the room frantically, aware of the danger I'm in. But no one will come and save me from the lord. No one will come and save me from myself. From the infernal heat between my legs that makes my pussy melt, my hands sweat, and hairs at the nape of my neck curl.

I turn on my side, facing away from Ronan's edge of the bed. My only option is to hide and act like nothing happened. As tempted as I am to reach out and explore that cock, I'm sure I wouldn't survive it. I'm not ready to take him inside. He would destroy me.

The doot creaks open, and Ronan returns to his side of the bed, sinking into the mattress. I remain stiff. Stiff like the cock I had awakened to.

There's a long stretch of silence before Ronan speaks. His deep, rumbling voice fills the dark room and washes over my skin like a stroke of his hand.

"You don't need to fear me. I wouldn't force myself on you."

I lick my lips, praying my voice doesn't crack as I reply, "I know."

"Good." He replies. And that seems to be the end of the conversation because he shifts on the bed and stills, taking his final position for sleep. I don't want the conversation to end here, though. My body is still rippling with disorienting lust. There's a flame between us burning hotter than ever, and I don't want to exhaust it. I've always been too curious for my own good, attracted to danger.

"Ronan," I whisper. "What were you thinking of as you..." I can't finish the sentence.

He grunts. The sound is quick and harsh. "I was thinking of you as I beat my cock, Hazel. Is that what you want to hear?"

My sex clenches. A gentle throb awakening, calling out for a release that I can't offer. I doubt masturbation will satisfy this deep, aching desire for this man. Only those calloused hands, thick cock, powerful thighs, and wicked tongue could sate me.

I sigh shakily at the thought of his tongue. He says such sinful things with it. I'm sure it would wrap and contort inside my pussy just as sinfully.

"I want to fuck you," he says, voice steady and calm as if he's merely ordering me to dust a shelf. "But I won't pressure you."