Beauty Submits To Her Beast Page 7

  “Am I allowed to touch you?” Her finger itched to explore those firm cheeks and delve into his shadowy crease.

  He turned. “Later. We need to get going or we’ll be late.”

  “Where are we going?” She’d assumed they were staying here in their suite of rooms.

  “Dinner and a show.”

  “We’re going out?” That was disappointing. She wanted to spend her evening alone with this intriguing man who knew how to stroke her embers to roaring flames, then quench those fires. Realizing his lack of dress meant they weren’t leaving the mansion, she was relived.

  “Through here.” He led her through a hidden door on the far side of the sitting room.

  She frowned. He had a slight limp she’d not noticed before. “Wow, a secret passage.” The hall was long, narrow with wall sconce’s providing light. At the end, he indicated she should go up the stairs. “Oh, what about masks? We’re not supposed to leave our rooms without them.”

  “We have our own area outside. No one will see us.”

  Caitie stepped out into the late afternoon light. A brick path cut through a walled garden. She spotted benches, a small table, and a cozy swing. A perfectly formed yellow rose lured her in for a sniff. A bed of lavender surrounding a fountain added a sweet fragrance. “I’d love to sit out here. It’s beautiful.”

  He glanced around. “Tomorrow.” He grinned. “Got plans for tonight.” He led the way along the winding path to a romantically rounded gate framed by an arch of wisteria. Again, she noticed that slight limp. Did he have an injury? Or just pulled a muscle? No, she’d seen brief flashes of pain or discomfort in his eyes, but at the time, her focus had been on what he was doing or what she was feeling.

  Thinking back to the darkness and pain she’d sensed buried deep inside the man, she thought perhaps he fit the role of her beast very well indeed. He reminded her of the horses she rescued. Like many, this man had been injured, perhaps mentally as well as physically, and he kept that part of him walled off from the world. She wondered what happened and found she wanted his story.

  A horse-drawn buggy awaiting on the other side of the gate put an end to her curiosity for the time being.

  Caitie let out a squeal of pleasure. “Is this for us?” She hurried around Damon and through the gate to check out the large chestnut gelding. “What a gorgeous boy.” She glanced up. Hastings held the reins. She hid her grin when she thought of her friend having sex with the butler.

  “Come, Belle.”

  Giggling, eager to play along and see what Damon had planned, she curtsied. “Yes, my prince.”

  Damon lifted a brow. “Prince? I’m a beast, my dearest Belle.”

  She narrowed her eyes at the thread of harshness in his voice. Yeah, he was, but she saw through his pain and the face he presented to the world to the good man lurking in the shadows. Time perhaps for him to recognize his goodness.

  “Nope. The beast is a prince who is cursed. If he learned to love and was loved in return by the age of twenty-one, he’d change back to a prince.” She kept it light, not wanting to scare him off or send him deeper into those shadows he tried so hard to hide.

  “Then I’m doomed,” he sighed.

  She cocked her head. “You don’t think you’ll ever fall in love?”

  He chuckled as he helped her into the buggy. “There is that, but the sad fact is, I passed twenty-one a very long time ago.”

  Caitie laughed. “Did you know that the beast in the movie was never named? It wasn’t until a video game and a Broadway musical came along that he was named Prince Adam. According to my research, the animators dubbed him Adam as they needed to call him something besides the Beast while they worked.”

  “You did research?” Damon slid his arm along the back of the seat.

  She wrinkled her nose. “Not just the movie but the fairytale, though I did watch the DVD. One thing I read when I did an Internet search said they were running short of time while producing the film, so Belle and the Prince’s last dance was reused animation from another fairytale production.”

  “Well, that’s cheating.”

  She grinned at the affronted tone.

  The horse’s hooves clomped on the gravel path that led into a thick stand of trees. Full sun gave way to muted and dappled light.

  When the buggy stopped, Damon stepped out, then, with hands on her waist, lifted her down, letting her body skim over his. He dipped his head and kissed her the minute her feet touched ground. Lost in the feel of his arms around her, and the spicy taste of his mouth on hers, Caitie was barely aware of the horse and buggy continuing onward.

  Damon broke the kiss and grinned down at her. “Consider that an appetizer.” He took her hand and led her along a narrow path that wound through the woods like ribbon through hair.

  The mention of food reminded her of his claim of dinner and a show. “Are we having a picnic?”

  He veered off the path, taking a smaller trail. “You could say that. We have our own fine dining establishment upstairs.” He pointed.

  “Upstairs?” Her jaw dropped. Spread out before them was a large stand of tall, thick-trunked trees with a huge house nestled among trunks and branches.

  “You’re shitting me!” She recalled Bobby Betts, the kid next door and how his dad had built a tree house in their backyard but compared to this…his had been a tree shack.

  The house sprawled and encompassed several trees and had to be two stories high. With stained wood and gleaming windows—windows in a tree house?—it looked like a miniature mansion.

  Rays of sunlight speared through the leaves and sparked off the glass like light bouncing off a large diamond ring. A circular staircase wrapped around the first trunk, leading up into the branches.

  “How cool is this? Can we go up?”

  Damon motioned her forward. “Dinner awaits.”

  She paused on the second step and glanced over her shoulder. “And dessert?” She grinned as she continued up the winding stairs. “Always wanted a tree house as a kid, a place to just run and hide and escape with a book and maybe my music.”

  The wistful thread in Caitlin’s voice reminded Damon that she’d assumed the responsibility of an adult at a young age and, most likely, had missed out on many childish delights, while he, as a child, ran wild, having far too many adventures. Many with the law when he reached his teens.

  He’d wanted parents who would love him and want him for himself and not the income he provided while she’d became both mother and father to her siblings and caretaker for her mother. Neither of them had had a carefree, happy childhood. He watched her climb and sucked in his breath as she got higher and he caught teasing glimpses of her bare ass and her pink pussy.

  Need hummed through him, tempered with a dull ache. He absently rubbed his thigh. By not allowing himself to limp and show his weakness, the muscles were tight to the point of screaming.

  Pulling on his military training, he blocked the pain and continued his climb. She waited for him in front of a fancy, glass door framed in wood. His leg buckled. He caught himself, grateful she had her back to him.

  “This is so awesome. I’ve seen some great tree houses on the net, some big and elaborate enough to almost be a home, but I figured they were just pictures and not real.”

  Damon opened the door, and she rushed in. He leaned on the doorframe and watched her hurry from one window to another, from the main room to a small sleeping area and even the small corner kitchenette. She climbed a ladder leading up into the loft, came down, and stared up at the skylight above the full size bed.

  Moving cautiously, he found a panel of switches and pressed a button. The skylight slid open.

  She squealed in delight. “Please tell me we’re going to spend the entire night here.”

  “If you wish.”

  “Oh, I wish. It’s like the inside of an RV but better. It is safe, isn’t it? A big wind or earthquake won’t topple us.

  “It’s safe. Bryce paid more for this tiny ho
use than what many pay for a two thousand square foot home.” Pride laced his voice. He’d been the contractor, drawn up the plans after consulting several arborists, and had done most of the interior woodwork himself.

  He’d been Bryce’s pity project. Give the wounded war hero a job that would keep him busy for a long time, so he didn’t take his own life. It had worked. He’d poured his heart and soul into this place, and in that sense, it was his.

  “Dinner first, then dessert.” He wagged his brows. “More houses to go before the night is done, my lovely Belle.”

  She eyed his crotch and grinned impishly. “Nothing says we can’t have dessert first.”

  Damon laughed. “Behave. You’ve had enough sweets for a while.”

  “Never have too many,” she said primly as she peered into one wicker basket. “But I suppose you’re right. I found dinner, and a good thing. I’m starved. Need protein,” she announced.

  “Let’s eat on the deck. You bring the baskets. I’ll grab a quilt and some pillows.”

  They dished up, passing containers of fried chicken, potato salad, and a basket of fresh baked rolls. She sat with her legs crossed, her dress revealing lots of thigh. He stretched out his bad leg. “So, you own a ranch?”

  As much as he wanted to continue her lessons or, hell, just go trick or treating with her, he needed her rested for the evening. Besides, he was curious about her, which was odd, as he never got involved in the lives of his subs.

  “Yep. Horse ranch. For the Love of Horses. After my mom died, I took my share of the life insurance and bought a run-down house on a nice bit of land. My younger sister had a horse that we boarded out. It had been abused. I saw how, with a lot of love and care, the animal became loving and trusting in return. Shilo gave me the inspiration to start a horse rescue business. I got some funding, fixed the house, built a couple of barns as the one on the property is about to collapse, then started rescuing neglected and abused horses along with those that are abandoned.” She attacked her chicken leg as though she hadn’t eaten in days.

  Abandoned. His gut clenched at the word, and he shoved his plate aside. His heart pounded, and his throat closed up. God, no panic attacks. Not now. Not around Caitlin. He couldn’t show any weakness.

  He forced back the darkness creeping across his mind. Focus on her, how the rays of sun fall on her, how they shine on her hair, revealing shades of blonde and red, light and dark browns even golden tones. His gaze dipped to her aged-whisky-colored eyes, then her full lips.

  She frowned when she caught him staring and narrowed her gaze. “Hey, are you okay?”

  He gulped in air. “I’m fine. Good food, a beautiful woman, what more can a fella want?” He forced lightness and humor into his voice though he felt achingly cold inside.

  She studied him. “You looked lost and in pain.”

  It didn’t surprise him that she saw more than he’d like. Hadn’t he sensed that aspect of her when he’d first seen the picture of her on horseback? Instead of brushing her off, he shrugged. “We all have our demons, Belle.” He used the name deliberately to get things back to the business at hand.

  Caitie shook her head. “Don’t think I can’t see what you’re doing, Sir. You’re trying to put distance between us.” She used her softest voice, as though speaking to one of her spooked horses. She’d seen the despair, hell, she’d felt it, followed by a sense of utter hopelessness and pain, and wondered about his demons. And though he hid it well, she’d spotted his faint limp again and knew his leg caused him pain.

  From his demeanor, the way he stood and often acted, she’d bet he’d been in the military as she had several ranch hands who were ex-military and they were as damaged as her horses. As damaged as this man. The thought struck, both physically and emotionally.

  She didn’t question her instincts. He hid his pain well, but it was there. Her heart went out to him, but he didn’t need pity or useless and empty words. “I’m a good listener, Damon.”

  Damon set his plate aside. “Thanks, but we don’t have time for a therapy session. The Beast and his lovely Belle have a show to attend.” He stood.

  Caitie gathered their plates and stacked them inside one of the wicker baskets. “What do we do with all this?”

  “Leave them. They’ll be taken care of.” He held out his hand and led her to the edge of the deck where a rope and plank bridge spanned the space from the house to another tree. With dusk falling, lights flickered in the branches, and ropes of light lined the bridge. She pressed her hand to her stomach. “You know, I’m not real fond of bridges that sway and move.”

  Damon drew her close and kissed her long and deep. “It’s safe.”

  Heat settled in her center. It amazed her that one kiss from this man could send her heart racing. She who seldom got turned on by a kiss. “How about we just stay here?”

  He grinned. “Nope. Trust the builders. Now, out you go.”

  The tree house had some sway, but it was gentle, almost like being out on the ocean on a cruise liner in calm seas. She stepped out and crossed quickly until she stood on an octagon platform with a turret roof. An egg shaped chair hung from the ceiling. Another bridge led to a second platform. She groaned.

  “Perhaps you can go first. Sir. Maybe if I stare at your manly ass, I won’t think about the walkways falling apart and hurling me to my death.”

  He roared with laughter. “Fine. But if you are not right behind me, I’ll come back and toss you over my shoulder.” He crossed, and again, she noticed he favored one leg. Holding onto the rope rail on the sides, she kept her gaze on his very sexy, very manly ass. The bridge swayed and bounced.

  “One more.” He pointed.

  “Good grief. It’s a maze up here.” She vowed to explore this wonderland before leaving. She led the way and stood on another platform, this one with a hammock big enough for two. All around them, small outdoor lights twinkled in the trees turning everything into a surreal, fairytale. She could only imagine what the tree would look like once it was full dark.

  She grinned. “This is like an amusement park, but better as there aren’t a bunch of people behind and in front of you. Now what?”

  “Down there.” Damon pointed to a plank path much like the circular staircase that wound gently down to another platform. This one appeared to be the end of the sprawling treehouse and contained many spots to sit and enjoy nature.

  It too was an octagon but larger with a waist-high railing, a balcony among the leaves and branches. Sheer, white netting hung from the branches. The result reminded her of a cloud or fog drifting through the tree. Caitie stepped inside, and her heart went to mush.

  Bench seating lined all but two sides and above her head, more lights twinkled, like fireflies or winking stars. “Magical,” she breathed.

  “You like it?”

  “I love it.”

  “I’m glad. It’s mine.”

  “When you’re here, or do you own part of this place?”

  “I designed it and my company built it.”

  Caitie’s jaw dropped. “You, Sir, are a freaking genius.” She spun around in a circle, amazed and impressed. “It’s so clean and fresh. I’d worry about everything getting dirty.”

  “I had it set up yesterday.” He wrapped her in his arms and lowered his head. His lips and tongue trailed along her jawline, then traced a path down her throat. Did he feel the frantic beat of her pulse? “Time to get ready for the show.”

  “We have to leave already? We just got here.”

  He laughed. “This, my sweet, is our box seat.” He led her to the opening on the other side of the area, waved aside the netting, and stretched out his arms. “There is our stage.”

  Caitie glanced down. Light was fading, but she could still see. From their height, she spotted a lit path exiting the woods and stretching out into a cleared area surrounded by trees and shrubs. Small, round lamps were planted like flowers around the tiny clearing, forming a nearly perfect circle.

  The bushes among
the trees were shaped into formal arches, spaced equal distance on each side of the nature-formed stage. Each one had a narrow path lined with lights that meandered into the woods. From her vantage point, the stage resembled a wheel with spokes of light.

  “A show down there?” She frowned. “Are we going to be able to see?

  “Just wait.” Damon opened the seat closest to them and pulled out a box. “Time to get ready.

  Caitie peered into the box when he lifted the lid. “Holy cow!”

  She stared at a large, pink vibrator with bunny ears and a couple of small devices she wasn’t sure what they were. She picked up what looked like a purple dildo but with graduated knobs, starting with a small bead at the top and each one below slightly larger. Each bead was spaced equal distance down a thin rod. It didn’t look like a substitute cock.

  She touched the small bead the size of her little fingertip. There were five total. “What is this?”

  Grinning, Damon took it from her, fisted his hand around it and pushed and pulled it in and out of his fist. “Vibrating pleasure beads. For back door play.”

  “Back door—” Her cheeks grew warm. And wetness gathered between her legs as he mimed its use. The beads seemed to pop out of the opening of his fist. “Um, ah, got it.” Good lord, she could almost feel it slipping and sliding into her back there.

  She turned her gaze to the pink gel vibrator. Her heartrate went through the roof, and she swore she felt it humming inside her already. “That one I know.”

  Damon chuckled, picked it up, and turned it on. It thrust up and down, and what looked like two little feelers vibrated happily.

  “Oh, my.” Damn, she was hot and wet and ready for more candy. She touched another toy, this one a stubby, black dildo. She held it up. “A bit on the short side?” It looked like a big, fat, ugly pacifier for a calf or colt. Moisture dampened her thighs at the thought of trying out these sex toys.

  Laughing, Damon shook his head. “You are a surprise, my innocent, lovely Belle. That is a butt plug.” He reached down, slipped his finger into a small gel-like object with lots of tiny nubs, and pushed a button.