Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 74631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
My name…
My name…
She screams my name.
I pulse and warm come spills in my hand as I let out a low, torturous groan. My body jerks with pleasure and I lean against the wall to steady myself. I take a moment to catch my breath. In the years I’ve been trapped here, I’ve never dreamed of pleasure like that. Not in years.
Next time it will be even better.
The next time I come, it will be inside her.
ELLE
The tips of my fingers trace the raised edges of the scar on my shoulder. I stare in the mirror at the small red marks that are proof that the beast really touched me. More than touched me. With the faint smell of fresh bread filtering in the back room and the clash of pans fading in the background, I sigh deeply and close my eyes as I recall the aching feel of his hard chest against my back. His warm breath teasing my neck. The sharp sting as his fangs nip my tender flesh. His hands expertly playing my body against me. A shiver runs down my body as I remember the passion I felt. In an attempt to steady my quickened breath, I brace myself against the sink. In my dreams, I imagine it was the prince. My eyes find the scar in the mirror. I know better though; a beast did this to me.
I should be dead. Why didn’t he kill me? I wasn’t myself when I crept past the gates and into the clutches of the beast. The trance took me there. The thought is terrifying. I couldn’t resist the magic of the beast. The horror of that knowledge has kept me far from the edge of the village. My heart sinks and my blood runs cold. No one has gone to the castle, no one that’s still alive to tell the tale. Everyone fears the magic and even more so the beast. And yet, I did so foolishly.
This dark secret consumes me. I haven’t told a soul, and I don’t intend to. But every night I lay awake replaying the event and having the horrific thought that in my sleep, I’ll be entranced by the magic and walk back to the wall.
Chills flow down my arms. I not only ventured past the wall; I let him have me and I survived his embrace. I thrived at his touch. I’ve never before felt the touch of a man. Yet I blossomed under the hands of a beast. My thighs clench as my core heats at the recollection. What’s worse is that I want to feel him again. I ache to feel his hands on my body. Gripping at my blouse, I pull the fabric back up in an attempt to cover the scar and turn back toward the storage room. The desire to seek out the beast is only just shy of my fear of him and what he’s capable of. My life may seem pitiful to some, but I don’t have a death wish.
I know what he’s capable of doing. The bench groans as I rest on the edge of it, recalling the lure all over again. When I was in school, two older boys were bragging about how they were going to go to the wall. How they weren’t afraid of the beast. Instead of warning them not to go, the other kids insisted they were lying. They told the boys they’d need proof. The boys foolishly grinned and boasted that they would bring back evidence of their conquest. That was the last day anyone saw them.
My throat closes and I restrain myself from going back to that place of regret. I pull the stained apron over my lap and hold onto it as if it could change what happened. I’ve felt so guilty for not pleading with them to stay away. I was too shy and embarrassed. Too skeptical that there was a beast. Although the thought of him kept me far away and I thought, perhaps, that’s why the adults had invented the idea of him. To keep us from going too far away. The other kids didn’t seem to have the same fear of the wall that I did. I felt like a coward as the two boys bragged about their intent, so I kept my lips shut tight and swallowed the need to tell them it was too dangerous. But after that day, there was more than enough fear and guilt to keep anyone else from suggesting to ever go near the wall. Or daring to think the beast didn’t exist.
A loud crash in the kitchen brings me back to reality. With a startling jolt, I jump and quickly cover the mark before tying my apron in place. The dreadful thoughts cling to me all the while. With one last reminder that I’m at work and have responsibilities, I brace myself for the long day ahead. After all, the dough won’t knead itself.