Beautiful Beast by Aubrey Irons (25)

Mrs. Tottingham insists on cooking, of course, but I sit in the kitchen and chat with her while she does. We camp out at the little breakfast table in the kitchen, eating her crazy good fish tacos until we’re stuffed, and gabbing away - me about drunk audience members at shows and scummy managers, her about biker-boyfriend Earl and how Charlotte might come out and visit her for a while.

The food is awesome, the conversation great, and the company perfect. But mostly, I love it because it takes my mind off the little nagging thought that won’t get out of my head, and hasn’t for the last few days.

It’s the little whisper that’s getting harder to ignore and the little truth that’s getting impossible to deny.

I might be falling for Sebastian Crown.

It’s wrong and masochistic, and it probably means there’s something fundamentally flawed in me, but pretending it’s not there is getting to be too much. Pretending I don’t crave being around him, or don’t clench my thighs tight together at the thought of him touching me, or don’t turn to mush inside at the thought of his kisses…

It’s all becoming impossible to ignore, and I’m not sure what that says about me.

After dinner, full and content, I step outside into the dusky evening light. I take a seat in one of the back patio chairs, watching the sun go down when a flash of something catches the corner of my eye, pulling my attention.

The loose, neon yellow bit of caution tape flutters in a breeze, flickering against the side of the gaping opening to the cottage off behind the ruins of the greenhouse. I stand before I know why I’m doing it and making my way through across the grass under the quickly dimming sky to the front door of the cottage. I pause, chewing on my lip and playing with my fingers as I re-read the Fire Marshal’s warning taped across the front door.

Screw it. This place was my home.

I open the door and slip under the tape. I step inside, gingerly at first and praying that the floor won’t collapse on me. But really, the place feels sturdy. Actually, most of the house looks and feels fine, if you ignore the fact that one whole wall is missing. I take the stairs slowly, though they feel sturdy enough, and I pause at the door to what was once my room - my sanctuary. The smell of smoke still lingers in the air as I reach out and push it open.

I swallow as I step into my old bedroom, glancing around at the places things used to be. A scorch mark where the chair I used to practice in once stood. A strip of caution tape fluttering against the place where a shelf full of old, well-loved vinyl records lived. A dark water stain against the wall and the floor where my bed once was, by the window that doesn’t exist anymore.

It’s strange being in here - the room bare now, the walls blackened, and the whole wall to the outside missing, with the Crown Estate looming against the purple sky.

“You know this place is off-limits.”

I shriek- actually shriek as I whirl.

“You scared the shit out of me.”

Bastian smiles. Well, Bastian’s version of a smile at least.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“Have not.”

I have been. Sort of. Kind of. Me staying aloof the last few days has been my own way of trying to turn off the dirty thoughts, and the craved contact, and the whirlwind of emotions that come with wanting Bastian all the time every freaking day.

It hasn’t helped anyway.

“Scared you aren’t able to control yourself around me?”

Yes.

“What are you doing in here?”

He raises a brow. “What are you doing in here. There’s a sign on the door in case you missed it.”

“You seemed to have too.”

“No, I just ignored it.”

“Well, same.”

He smirks.

“Well, look who got bad ass.”

He steps toward me, and I want to step back, but I don’t. Actually, I even step into him, shivering at the closeness of him.

He holds up a white plastic bag.

“Hungry? I got delivery.”

I grin. “Prison life, am I right?”

“It’s tough in here.”

“What’d you get?”

“Fish tacos.”

I laugh and then shake my head as he looks at me questioningly.

“Mrs. Tottingham literally just made those for dinner.”

“Shit, seriously?”

“Seriously. You should pay attention more.”

“Maybe I just had another kind of taco on the brain.”

I roll my eyes. “How have you ever been laid before?”

“Money, good looks, arrogant demeanor?”

I groan. “Yeah, that’ll do it I guess. You know, for some girls.”

He smirks. “But not you, right?”

“Nope.”

“Totally immune to that shit, huh?”

“It doesn’t even register for me.”

“It must just be the big cock then.”

I blush scarlet, feeling my body tingling in places it shouldn’t around him - feeling my pulse skip a little as those eyes drag over me.

“So, how about it.”

I swallow thickly. “How about what?”

I want him.

Badly.

Bastian steps closer, his eyes piercing into me as that grin spreads across his lips.

“I- I already ate,” I say quickly.

“Funny, I’m starving.”

“Good thing you’ve got dinner right there,” I say it brightly, trying to deflect - trying to convince myself not to let this go where I know it’s going.

“I think I’ve got dinner right here actually,” he growls, moving into me.

I gasp as he drops the bag, his hand snaking around my waist and pulling me close. He leans down, his lips inches from mine, and when his arms pull me in tight against him, letting me feel how hard he is, I whimper.

“I’ve never been in your room before.”

“I’ve never had anyone up here.”

“I know.”

“Creep.”

“Prude.”

“Pervert.”

“Take your fucking clothes off.”

I moan.

His arms pull me tight, and my lips are crashing into his before I know it.

Bastian growls into my mouth as he suddenly lifts me off my feet, my heart racing as he steps forward, my back hitting the wall of my old bedroom. Black soot falls from the ceiling around us, but I’m barely aware of it as he grinds into me. My legs go around his waist, and I can feel his thickness pressing against the seam of my jeans, throbbing so hard against my slit.

I groan as I arch my back, rocking my hips against his thick erection as he pins me to the wall. His hands slide up my sides, pushing my arms above my head and holding them there by the wrists.

“You’re still wearing clothes,” he growls.

His lips brush up the side of my neck, making my breath catch. One hand holds my wrists above my head as the other slides down over my collarbone, teasing around my nipple through my tank top. He moves lower, and I moan as he pushes the tank top up over my belly, his hand tracing over my skin as he pushes it up over my breasts.

“You have any idea how much I wanted to fuck you in this room when we were in high school?”

His lips dip down, and when they close around one pink, tender nipple, I gasp.

“In your dreams,” I moan. “High school me wanted nothing to do with you.”

Lies.

High school me moaned into her pillow and squirmed under the covers late at night imagining doing filthy things with the beautiful asshole who lived one hundred feet away.

“High school me wanted to do terrible things to you.”

“And older wiser you?”

I gasp as his hand skims across the waist of my jeans and pops the button. His deft, strong fingers slip under, teasing over the front of my panties before he pulls the zipper down, slowly.

“Still want to do terrible things to you, except now they’ve been simmering for nine fucking years.”

He starts to push my jeans down over my hip. I pull my hands away from his grip and bring them to his shirt, scrambling to undo the buttons on his Ferragamo shirt as his fingers tease over the front of my panties. He groans, grinding into me - my tank top pushed up over my breasts and my jeans around my thighs. My panties soaking through.

“And what sort of terrible things did you want to do to me back then,” I whisper breathlessly, shoving his shirt off his shoulders and leaning forward to bite the skin of his collarbone.

The darkest, dirtiest part of me wants to know - needs to know. Years of hating myself for fantasizing about him, for getting soaking wet imagining him coming into my room and doing almost literally this exactly to me.

No sweetness, no tenderness, no prince charming. I wanted the beast in all his glory. I wanted Bastian to take me with all that anger, and lust, and hatred and raw need.

…And I hated myself for it.

He groans, fingers sliding up into my hair and pulling it into a fist as his other hand pinches a nipple between his thumb and finger.

“I wanted to fuck you on that little white princess bed hard enough to break it.”

I moan as his fingers twist my nipple, making my breath catch as the pain and the stabbing pleasure shudder through me.

“I wanted to tie you up and tease you until you were so wet it was dripping down your thighs, and then claim every part of you and make you mine as you begged me for more.”

I groan deeply, undulating my hips against his throbbing hard cock through his pants.

“Wanted sounds like past tense,” I moan.

His hand tightens in my hair, his fingers twisting my nipple enough to make me gasp.

“Your bed was over there, wasn’t it.” He growls, nodding to the place it once stood.

I nod.

“Good.”

I shriek as he lifts me up and drapes me across his shoulder. His strong hands slide over my ass, yanking my panties down and delving between my legs as he strides across the scorched, burned-out room missing a wall. I moan as his fingers stroke through my slick folds, teasing me and making me squirm against him.

He kneels and pulls me off of him, and I gasp as I’m suddenly on my knees where my bed used to be.

“Stay just like that,” Bastian growls into my ear, making me shiver with anticipation.

His fingers hook into my panties and my jeans, yanking them a little further down until they’re tangled around my knees. He slips the tank top up and over my head, but when I go to lift my arms, he stops me, pulling them behind my back and suddenly twisting the tank top around my wrists.

The blood roars like fire in my veins as I feel the tightness of my own clothes binding me - the jeans holding my knees together, the tank top tied around my wrists. Bastian tosses his shirt on the ground and slowly bends me forward until my cheek is against the Ferragamo fabric on the ground with my knees bent and my ass up in the air. My body pulses with raw need and sweet agonizing anticipation, and when I hear him pull at the buckle of his belt, I start to whimper.

“Tell me,” he purrs, his voice filling my ears and consuming all of me. “Tell me what you wanted me to do to you back then.”

His words send a shiver through me as his lips brush my ear. He’s leaning over me, and I moan as I feel his thick cock brushing my thigh.

“I told you,” I pant. “I wanted nothing to—”

“Bullshit,” Bastian growls.

His hand slides over my back, smoothing over my ass and down between my legs to tease my slit. His finger slides easily inside, and I cry out, my body straining against the binds as his thumb starts to circle my clit.

“Tell me.”

“You,” I gasp. “I wanted you.”

“How,” he groans, the sound of foil tearing sending a shiver through me.

“Just. Like. This.” I cry out as his thumb rolls over my clit, punctuating each word.

He moves behind me, the tearing sound of a foil making me shiver, and I moan when I feel the sheathed head of his cock tease over my opening.

“That bed might be gone,” he purrs into my ear, his teeth nipping at my earlobe as he pushes the head inside.

“But I’m still going to fuck you hard enough to break it.”

The scream catches in my throat as he drives in all the way with one powerful thrust. His hips slam against my ass as his cock fills me to the brim. I whimper for him, moaning and gasping as his hands tighten around my hips. He pulls out slowly, only to drive back in, making my whole body shudder as he fills me.

My breath is gasping against his shirt, my nipples and my shoulders dragging across the blackened floor as Bastian starts to claim me. He groans, his hands tightening on my waist as he crouches over me, driving his perfect cock in and out until I’m moaning deliriously. He grabs the tank top around my wrists and pulls me up, making me moan wildly as the new angle has him stroking against that perfect spot inside. His lips find my neck, one hand moving around to the front of me to rub circles over my clit as he slides himself in and out of me.

There are no words, only panting and moaning and the sound of our bodies coming together faster and faster. I twist my head around, kissing him hungrily as his hand moves to my breasts, rolling my nipples and pulling me against him as his other hand rubs my clit in delirious circles.

Blackened, burned, and ruined from what it was before, but here I am, having arguably the best sex of my life with Bastian Crown in my childhood bedroom.

Something is indeed wrong with me, but in this moment, fixing it is the very last thing I want to do.

His hand slides back to my wrists, pulling me tight against him and rolling my clit faster and faster under his fingers. His thick cock fills me to the brim over and over until my head’s spinning and I’m literally seeing spots dance across my eyes.

“You know, it’s probably best that we never did this in high school,” he groans into my ear.

“Why- oh fuck- and why is that?” I moan.

He slides the hand on my wrists up and around to my neck before he slides his fingers across my panting lips. He pushes two inside, and I’m moaning as I close my lips around them and suck.

“Because I would have ruined you for every man that came after.”

You might have anyway.

His fingers roll over my clit, his thick, beautiful cock drives in deep, and his hand pulls my jaw around to crush his lips to mine.

“Come for me, Ana,” he growls into my lips. “Come for me right fucking now.”

He swallows the scream that shatters from my lips, and my whole world explodes as I go crashing over the edge. It hits me like a thunderclap, exploding through me and sending my whole body reeling as the pleasure pulses through me.

Bastian roars as he buries himself inside of me, and the feel of him exploding deep inside has me gasping as we go crashing to the floor.

Time stops for a minute. Maybe more. Maybe I don’t count because maybe in that moment, I don’t care if a hundred minutes or a million minutes pass us by.

Slowly, Bastian rolls us over to our sides. He undoes the tank top and rubs my wrists, and then helps me kick and push my jeans the rest of the way off.

He stays buried inside of me, both of us still trying to catch our breaths as our bodies press tight together.

“I think we broke the bed.”

His low chuckle rumbles through my body.

“I think we burned the house down.”

* * *

We make love twice more, each time a little less frantic and raw and a little more meaningful and drawn out. The first is there in my old room, while he’s still inside of me, spooning me from behind. He just rocks his hips slowly, hitting that perfect spot over and over and over again until I’m choking out my release and shuddering against him, heedless of the soot and grime coating my knees, my arms, and my sides.

The second time, after we’ve literally streaked back to the main house, giggling like freaking kids as we sneak in through the back door and run up to my room, is even slower. That time, we’re in the shower, soaping the black soot from the burned out bedroom from each other’s bodies. That time, it’s me straddling him as the water pelts down on us, face to face and moving slowly - so agonizingly slowly until the release hits us like a wave and drags us down.

I don’t realize it until I can feel his breath rhythmically against my neck, his arms tight around me under the covers of my bed that this is the first time I’ve ever actually slept with Bastian Crown.

“It’s a good thing you aren’t one of those girls, huh?”

I grin, snuggling back into him.

“The ones who go for money, good looks, and arrogance?”

“Don’t forget about the big dick,” he mumbles sleepily.

As if I could.

“Yeah, good thing,” I say with a grin on my face.

We’re quiet for another minute, and I’m almost sure he’s fallen asleep when I feel his lips press against my neck.

“But, if you were one of those girls…”

“You’d be my first choice.”

“Knew it.”

I grin.

“Night, Texas.”

“Goodnight, asshole.”

His arms tighten around me, and it’s the sound of his breathing and the smile on my face that sends me to sleep.

* * *

“Damn it’s going to be good to see Austin again.”

I make a face as I drag my dad’s suitcase through the departures terminal.

He chuckles. “Aww now c’mon honey. This is going to be good for me.”

“I know, but I just got you back.”

“You never got rid of me, you know.”

I smile wryly. “A little too close for comfort.”

“Well don’t fret. I think my firefighting days are over.”

I shake my head at him as he grins.

I’m not happy with Dad’s plans to go back to Austin for a while now that he’s been discharged from Holy Cross, but he’s dead set on it.

“Well, what am I going to do, go live in the big ole Crown mansion?”

“Yes, exactly that. Dad, there are like twenty bedrooms in that place. Plus me and Mrs. Tottingham doting on you.”

He makes a sour face. Probably the same one I’ve picked up.

“It’d feel like a hotel.”

“And?”

“Honey, I hate hotels, you know that.”

The truth is, I know his mind was made up before he even told me about reaching out to Mac and Abby back in Austin - our old neighbors and good friends of my parents. And I know my dad well enough to know that his mind being made up redefines the word “stubborn.”

So here we are, in the East Hampton Airport, so Dad can catch an executive jet usually reserved for corporate CEOs and billionaires to JFK in New York for his connecting flight to Austin.

…All courtesy of Bastian, actually.

“You packed your meds, right?”

“Yes ma’am, in my carry-on right there.”

The hospital says Dad is more than good to go. The meds are just to aid in any lingering healing going on with the smoke damage to his larynx and to ward off any infections.

I unzip the side pocket of his bag and pull them out as we roll through the mostly empty terminal.

“You know it says you can’t drink on these.”

Dad’s face falls.

“Damn, you sure?”

I sigh heavily. “Oh, yeah it says no drinking right here. It even specifies no Texas whiskey. And no dry heat, no southern States, and no long flights…”

I trail off and glance up to see him grinning at me.

“Cute.”

“You seriously don’t have to go.”

“Ana-Belle.” He grins at the name only he calls me, bringing me into a hug.

“I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

“Lies. You’re going to Austin.”

He chuckles. “Nowhere off the mortal coil, I mean. All right?”

I squeeze him hard. “Better not.”

“I’ll even limit myself to cigars every other day with Mac.”

I push back and punch him in the arm as he laughs.

“Asshole.”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I won’t even freakin’ barbecue.”

“I’ll call Abby and spy on you, you know.”

He shakes his head, smiling. “Look, they’ve got the spare room, I haven’t seen them in years, and I’ve got a ton of personal time to take. Plus,” he shrugs, “between you and me? I could use some time away from this place. I think you of all people can emphasize with that one.”

I look down glumly.

“And how about you, kiddo?”

“What about me?” I say quietly.

“What’s next for you?”

“I don’t know.”

I don’t actually. That much is true, even if I’ve been putting off even thinking about. What am I doing back here, especially now that my dad’s out of the hospital and on his way? Even if I want to tell myself that I’m here to fulfill “the deal,” it’s a thin excuse at best.

“I guess just tying up loose ends,” I shrug. “You know, planning my next move.”

“You know when you’re busy planning for life, it’s busy planning something new, right?”

I grin at one of my dad’s favorite little lines. “You’ve mentioned it once or twice.”

We step up to the self-check-in kiosk. Dad frowns as he tries to navigate the screen.

“Well, what’s keeping you here?”

I know why I’m still here.

Bastian.

Diving into the deep end.

Breathing in the forbidden.

Drowning in sweet, dark, beautiful mistakes.

Escape.

“Just…” I sigh. “Honestly, I don’t know. It’s easy, I guess.”

I look up to see my dad looking at me intently, mulling something over in his head like he’s debating saying it.

“You left here for a reason, honey,” he says quietly.

“Dad—”

“I never needed the exact details, but I had a pretty good idea.” He nods, his face grim. “I stayed, and I still worked for that boy for two reasons and two reasons only. One, because you seemed like you were doing pretty a-okay after you left. Whatever happened here—”

I go to open my mouth but he shakes his head.

“Let me finish. Whatever happened here to light a fire under your butt about leaving, you bloomed once you did. Anyone could see that. I was sad to see you go, but I knew there was something bigger out there for you.”

The kiosk spits out Dad’s boarding pass with a little chiming sound.

“I know there still is.”

We turn and start to head for the security line.

“What was the second reason?”

Dad looks up. “Hmm?”

“You said you kept working for Bastian for two reasons.”

He flashes a grim smile.

“He came and talked to me after you left.”

My brows go up as I shiver. “He what?”

“A week after you left. Came to my office, sat down, and promised me that he and any guy like him would stay away from you if I stayed.” Dad shrugs. “That was a win-win deal for me, kiddo,” he says softly.

I’m still trying to process this when suddenly, we’re at the boarding pass only checkpoint. I look up at my dad, confusion on my face, warmth on his.

He pulls me into a hug.

“Listen, I’m fine, and this place doesn’t need you. Your life does though. Go back to it. New York, LA, your music - you’ve got dreams.”

He pulls away and ruffles my hair.

“Keep chasing them and don’t let the past pull you back.”

* * *

I stop at Hallaway’s Market in downtown South Neck on my way back home. I tell myself it’s to get some of their homemade ravioli to bring back to Mrs. Tottingham for dinner tonight, but really, it’s for one of the very few things I ever missed about this place.

Their homemade, mint chocolate chip ice cream.

One scoop on a sugar cone later, I’m walking out to the parking lot with four bags of organic veggies, pasta, and other dinner makings hanging off my arms, desperately trying to lick at the errant drips of mint chocolate chip.

“You need a third arm.”

I glance up, smiling curiously.

“You’re still in town.”

Tyler Van Der Haus smiles that quite honestly killer smile of his. Helen of Troy had “the face that launched a thousand ships.” Tyler Van Der Haus has the smile that dropped a thousand panties.

…Or at least soaked them.

“Back in town. My mom’s going through some stuff.”

I frown a worried look, but he waves it off.

“It’s being taken care of,” he says grimly.

He nods at my bags, shaking off the momentary dark cloud. “Let me give you a hand with those.”

He slips the grocery bags off my arm and then smirks at the cone.

“Mint chocolate chip?”

I nod. “The best.”

“It’s only good when it’s the green kind.”

“I know, right?”

He scoffs. “Fuck that bullshit organic white mint chocolate chip. I want chemical green food coloring.”

I grin as we approach my truck.

“You know, I’ve been crying myself to sleep.”

I raise a brow as I turn to him.

“Why do I have a hard time believing that.”

“You never called.”

I roll my eyes and look away.

“You didn’t think I would, did you?”

“I was hoping you would.”

I shake my head. “No, you weren’t.”

Tyler puts the groceries in the truck bed and turns to me, one hand pushing fingers through his thick hair as that handsome smile plays across his strong jaw.

“I was. I’ve been waiting all alone every night.”

“Now that I certainly don’t believe.”

He grins.

“C’mon, Tyler. A nightcap on your boat? Really?”

I give him a look.

“What?” he says it with all the innocence of a cat with a live bird still twitching between its teeth.

“Tyler, I’ve known you for far too long to not know what that means.”

“And?”

I raise my brow at him.

“Like you said,” he moves close as my back presses against the side of the truck cab.

“You’ve known me for too long. Have you ever known me to beat around the bush?”

His eyes flick across my face, zeroing in on my lips like they’re the target he’s aiming to hit.

A prize he needs to claim.

“You’ve got some ice cream,” he murmurs, his hand coming up to brush a thumb over my chin. “Right…here.”

He starts to lean in. And again, every single girl I went to high school with would kill me for this, but I turn away, letting his lips brush my cheek instead of the lips he was going for. I shake my head and push him back.

“Tyler—”

“No, huh?”

I shake my head, and his brow furrows.

“Crown?”

I turn sharply, my eyes darting to his dark, scowling look.

“What?”

“That fucking piece of—”

He shakes his head, looking away.

“Is…everything okay?”

“No,” Tyler growls. “No, it’s not.”

Tyler’s eyes burn fiercely for a second before he smiles that charming, armored smile - clearly forced this time.

“So, he made a move, huh? Took him long enough.”

“I should go,” I say quickly.

“To him?” Tyler laughs thinly. “Well shit, guess we all owe him that four grand now.”

I freeze, my hand on the door handle as I slowly look back at the smug, gorgeous prick of a man grinning arrogantly at me - like he knows something I don’t.

Something tells me, he does.

“What are you talking about.”

Tyler just shakes his head. “Jesus, that guy can’t let shit go, can he. Leave it to Bastian to still be hell-bent on a fucking bet nine years later.”

“Tyler, what are you talking about? What bet?”

He looks at me curiously, eyes narrowing “You seriously don’t know?”

I shake my head and his smile fades as he whistles and looks away.

“Forget it,” he mutters. Tyler Van Der Haus - life of the party, constantly gaining Tyler never mutters.

“Just stupid high school shit, Ana.”

“What sort of stupid high school shit.”

A horrible chill creeps through me.

“I think you know,” he says evenly, in a tone that makes my skin crawl.

“So nine fucking years later, he’s got you back here to just prove a point. To who I don’t know. Me? Himself? Fuck, I don’t know. Who the hell ever knows with that fucking guy.”

I frown. “Is something going on between you and Bastian?”

Tyler laughs bitterly.

“There was a bet, Ana. And it looks like he won.”

The cold feeling creeps down my back sending a tightening feeling through my core.

“You know what I think?”

Tyler’s eyes meet mine.

“Love to.”

I glare at him. “I think you’re full of shit.”

He laughs, bitterly. “I know he didn’t win before. Hell, I mean if anyone had gotten you back then—”

“Gotten me?”

“You know what I mean.”

I do, and it’s making me feel nauseous.

The night of the graduation party. The night of going off alone with Bastian to his boat.

The tequila.

The kiss.

The hands.

The saying yes.

The way my clothes fell to my feet.

“Close your eyes, Ana.”

The moment of sweet, aching anticipation - like waiting for the drop at the top of a rollercoaster. The knowing this will burn me, but wanting the heat so badly I don’t care anymore.

The camera flash, the shattering of my heart.

All of it that happened that night. And all of it, apparently, a fucking bet.

The ground sways under my feet.

“I’m leaving,” I hiss at Tyler.

He laughs bitterly. “Are you seriously mad at me for this?” He rolls his eyes, looking away. “Ask yourself why he’s got you back up at that fucking house of his.”

“Goodnight, Tyler,” I spit, whirling and yanking the door of the old pickup truck open with a rusty squeak. I throw the ice cream cone to the ground as I get in and slam the door shut.

“Ana.”

I freeze as the engine roars to life, my lips tight and my hands gripping the wheel. Tyler leans into the window, his face grim, and his eyes narrowed.

“Go ask the fucker why.”

“Why what, Tyler,” I spit out.

“Ask him why Josh Stedman cheated on you.”