Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 25821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Those ridges that ran around my cock pulsed, causing even more cum to pump out.
Belle glanced over at the castle, her gaze finding the window from which I watched her.
She would not be able to see me from the distance, but I looked into her face, my body giving a big shudder as the last ounce of my semen spurted out of me and made a big mess on the floor at my feet.
My barreled chest rose and fell harshly as I caught my breath, my focus never leaving Belle as I watched her gather her things and head inside.
My tail whipped back and forth, sexual agitation filling me once more because coming hadn’t eased my need in the slightest.
I could not hold back from claiming her for much longer. I could not be gentle or soft and sweet like she deserved.
I was very much the monster and animal she saw before her.
Maybe being soft or gentle and giving her space wasn’t the right move. Maybe she needed to see that my desire for her was a living, breathing animal within me?
Perhaps she needed the dominance of my touch and words to bring her to me?
And the sooner I claimed, marked, and knotted her, the sooner she would be filled with my seed and grow big with my young.
And then she would be irrevocably mine.
Chapter
Five
Belle
I’d walked the countless corridors, snooping into various rooms.
I touched every vase, ran my finger down every picture frame, and walked the halls over and over again. I was starting to lose my mind.
It had been days upon days that I’d been at the Beast’s castle, and the heavy loneliness was starting to weigh down on me. And although I was used to being by myself, this place was different. It was too grand, too vast.
I only saw the Beast at dinner, where he required me to eat with him nightly. And I was starting to look forward to those moments.
Because as the days passed and I would stare at him across the table, I started to see he wasn’t as frightening as I had first assumed.
Sure, he was massive and scary in appearance, with his hairy, animal-like body and his horns and fangs, his hands that weren’t really hands at all. And I wasn’t ashamed to admit I’d thought about what they’d feel like touching me.
Was his fur soft or coarse?
Could he be gentle touching me with those deadly claws?
More and more, I thought about such things, my curiosity rising as I caught myself staring at him for long moments over the dining room table.
I didn’t think about my father much, because I knew whether I was there or not, his life would still be the same. He would live it exactly as he had, probably still gambling, going into debt, and not thinking about how I was.
I found myself wandering into the kitchen, where I could hear pots and pans banging and Cook shouting in French to Sous Chef.
Because I didn’t know the names of anyone aside from Madame and Pierre, I’d gotten used to just calling them by their household titles. They didn’t seem to care—that was, if they bothered to address me.
I stood in the entrance of the kitchen and glanced around the corner, seeing Cook, a robust man with a shock of white hair, a big potbelly; rosy, rounded cheeks, and the most sour expression on his face that made you second-guess approaching him.
Sous Chef was the complete opposite physically, a willowy man with long dark hair he kept in a braid that hung down the center of his back. He had a milky white complexion, bushy dark eyebrows, and the most infectious laugh I’d ever heard.
Despite Cook’s terse words and sour attitude, I’d seen them joking, and whatever Cook said could make Sous Chef laugh hysterically until he was doubled over and gripping his belly.
I watched as Cook pulled out two roasted game hens and started displaying them on silver platters. Then Sous Chef finished dressing the platters as Cook prepared dessert, which I could see was a homemade peach cobbler with fresh whipped cream.
I turned away before they saw me, before Cook scolded me for snooping. I often wondered if Cook liked the dinners to be a surprise, or if he just had a perpetual attitude.
I started aimlessly walking around again, having a little bit of time to kill before I was supposed to meet the Beast for dinner. I stopped and looked at a landscape painting, the brush strokes precise, the color vivid.
A smile tugged at my lips as I felt this warmth fill me. I wondered if Beast had done this, and I laughed softly because I couldn’t see such a big monster painting something so delicate. And then I felt unfair and bitchy to think such an awful thought.