The Beast & His Beauty Read Online W. Winters, Willow Winters

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Magic, Paranormal, Virgin Tags Authors: ,
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Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 74631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
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“Please.” My voice is barely a whisper. “Let me go.”

“No.” The answer comes from directly behind me and chills travel down my shoulders. He’s so close that the warmth of his breath on my neck causes a stir of both fear and desire. Goosebumps erupt down my spine and my whole body trembles within the soft silk of the dress. The beast is firm in denying me my freedom.

I stay as still as could be as the floor creaks beneath me with the shift of his weight and steps.

Then there are hands, strong and broad, on my waist. My heart pounds with how close those hands are to my skin. My dress may be well made but it is only fabric, and the heat of his hands seep through almost as if I’m naked.

The hands feel large, but human. I swallow again. “Beast?”

“Yes,” he answers. It’s him. I know it’s him. But this…this is different. Human hands mean he is not entirely a beast. If he was, there would be claws tearing through the fabric of my dress.

“Move,” he orders. The heat of his command brushes the goosebumps at my nape.

I take one step forward, easily responding to his authority. The magic around me makes it easy to obey him. A very small part of my mind tries to fear it, but the magic is as palpable as his hands on my waist. It helps me to obey. I tell myself it is keeping me safe. But isn’t the magic what brought me here?

I have no choice but to walk blindly, trusting him to guide me safely. My heart thuds in anticipation of what might happen when I stop. I sense that we are passing through the doorway of the room and out into the hallway. I listen as hard as I can to each sound, trying to discern what I can about this place I’m now being held captive in.

I cannot tell much, other than that we are in a hallway. I do not have a way to tell how long it might go on. The floorboards are even underneath my feet. It’s comfortable to walk in the house slippers, which provide a subtle cushion under my feet and allow me to keep my balance.

With my vision obscured, my awareness of my body is heightened with every step I take. I try to learn more about the beast’s castle, but my attention is captured again and again by the heat of his hands and the cool slide of silk on my skin. The distraction and the mix of emotions make it impossible to know where we’re going.

I do not know where he is taking me. I have not had time to understand this place, and my breath comes faster as we move farther and farther away from the bedroom.

I tentatively raise a hand in front of me so I will not run into a wall or anything else. Blindfolded, I haven’t been able to see how the beast’s home outside that room is decorated. Is there art on the walls? Statues on stands?

Is it destroyed from his anger and rage like the lore has sworn for as long as I can remember?

He does not make me put my hand back down, though his hands flex at my waist. The softest sound emits from the back of his throat. A shiver moves through me as it meets my ears. It is not a threatening growl. I think it may be a thoughtful noise, but I cannot be sure.

The magic continues to surround me as we move, steadying my breath and taking the fear from my thoughts. Despite the magic, my mind still questions.

Where are we going within this castle?

Why do his hands feel so human when I know he is the beast?

What will he do with me?

Heat flushes over my body as I recall the possessive way he touched me last. He wrung feelings and sensations from my body that overwhelmed the parts of me that had remained innocent. Is the memory so vivid because it just happened, or because of the magic? Does the magic want me to think of him?

What is real and what is fantasy are often intertwined in one’s mind. At this moment, I cannot tell the difference.

His hands flex at my waist once again. His touch confirms that these are the hands that touched me. Thick fingers that pressed inside me, searching until they found a barrier that hasn’t yet been broken. A wide thumb rubbed my clit. He stroked my folds and tested how slick I was between my legs.

In my haze of fear and heady, forbidden desire, I heard what he said.

Take it.

Those hands also soothed the small of my back and stilled underneath my body. They are hands with the full capability to hurt me, I have no doubt, but he used them to pleasure me.


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