The BBW and the Beast: A Shifter Retelling of Beauty and the Beast (A BBW Shifter Fairy Tale Retelling Book 1) by Sylvia Frost Page B
Authors: Sylvia Frost
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control.”
“You’ve gotten much better at not throwing mugs.” Bel shrugged, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I didn’t know zucchini could piss you off that much.”
“That’s not the kind of control I’m talking about,” he said roughly.
“Oh?” Bel said, suddenly feeling as light as helium and slightly disconnected from her body.
He really does like me.
“Look at me, Isabella.” Even though his voice was no more than a gravelly whisper, it still resonated through the kitchen, through her bones.
Bel met his gaze and was startled by the intensity in his green eyes. Those eyes didn’t just promise a few sweet kisses. Those were fuck-me eyes.
“I’ve tried to respect your personal space. And I’ve succeeded, but if you come near me again tonight, I’m going to take you.” Without glancing down at his plate, he scraped a zucchini onto his fork and popped it into his mouth. He chewed it once and swallowed. Then he dropped his fork. “You’re right, the zucchini is delicious.”
“T-take me,” Bel stammered.
He smiled at her, the first smile she had seen from him in weeks. Keeping his desire for her secret had cost him, she realized. And now that he was finally being honest with her, some part of him had been set free. He seemed lighter, lithe, and ready to strike.
“Yes,” he said, completely conversationally. “I’m going to steal you from that chair right there, throw you over my shoulder, and carry you to my bedroom. Then I’ll lay you down on the bed and take you, hard and fast.” He sniffed the air like he was taste-testing a new bottle of scotch. “I know you’re wet. I can smell it.”
Bel was paralyzed, feeling like she should leave, but knowing somehow that she wouldn’t. That whatever happened tonight, she wouldn’t run away. Not from her feelings and not from him.
He stood up, the wood of the stump chair moaning against the hardwood floors as he pushed it backward. “Now” – he motioned to the doorway – “if you’d like to leave, Isabella, you’re welcome to. I won’t stop you, but if you stay, the only promise I can make is that you won’t be leaving this room in any way but over my shoulder.”
What am I doing?
Bel stood up too, and she watched with a strange kind of satisfaction as he flinched. He didn’t want her to go. He needed her badly. She straightened her shoulders, her nervousness falling away.
He was counting on her being afraid so he could feel as if he had control. He should’ve tried a different strategy.
She sashayed around the table, making sure to sway her hips as she did. Then, gingerly, she laid a hand on his chest. “Oops.” She tilted her head, making sure that it gave him a glimpse of her shoulders and the cleavage beneath.
He stood completely still for a moment, silent, and Bel wondered if he was going to do anything at all. She shook her head and started to move her hand away, but his hand shot out and captured her own. Then, before Bel could even process it, he was levering her over his shoulder in some kind of weird judo move.
Bel meeped in surprise. Just how strong was he?
She meeped again when his other hand made contact with her butt, toying with its full cheeks. Then he adjusted her so that his mouth was right near her ear and said, “I never break my word.”
Anxiety and desire drained all coherency from Bel until all she could do was say, “Mmm.” There was no denying it; she was in his hands now. Literally and figuratively. She’d probably have to buy new panties tomorrow. These were now officially soaked.
Samson turned and kicked the kitchen door open. Bel assumed he’d set her down, but no; he managed to haul her up a full flight of stairs and down yet another hallway that Bel didn’t remember existing, until they were standing in front of a dark, tall door Bel had never seen before.
Her head pounded with blood, but she kept her eyes open. Each time she closed them, the strangest fantasies
“You’ve gotten much better at not throwing mugs.” Bel shrugged, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I didn’t know zucchini could piss you off that much.”
“That’s not the kind of control I’m talking about,” he said roughly.
“Oh?” Bel said, suddenly feeling as light as helium and slightly disconnected from her body.
He really does like me.
“Look at me, Isabella.” Even though his voice was no more than a gravelly whisper, it still resonated through the kitchen, through her bones.
Bel met his gaze and was startled by the intensity in his green eyes. Those eyes didn’t just promise a few sweet kisses. Those were fuck-me eyes.
“I’ve tried to respect your personal space. And I’ve succeeded, but if you come near me again tonight, I’m going to take you.” Without glancing down at his plate, he scraped a zucchini onto his fork and popped it into his mouth. He chewed it once and swallowed. Then he dropped his fork. “You’re right, the zucchini is delicious.”
“T-take me,” Bel stammered.
He smiled at her, the first smile she had seen from him in weeks. Keeping his desire for her secret had cost him, she realized. And now that he was finally being honest with her, some part of him had been set free. He seemed lighter, lithe, and ready to strike.
“Yes,” he said, completely conversationally. “I’m going to steal you from that chair right there, throw you over my shoulder, and carry you to my bedroom. Then I’ll lay you down on the bed and take you, hard and fast.” He sniffed the air like he was taste-testing a new bottle of scotch. “I know you’re wet. I can smell it.”
Bel was paralyzed, feeling like she should leave, but knowing somehow that she wouldn’t. That whatever happened tonight, she wouldn’t run away. Not from her feelings and not from him.
He stood up, the wood of the stump chair moaning against the hardwood floors as he pushed it backward. “Now” – he motioned to the doorway – “if you’d like to leave, Isabella, you’re welcome to. I won’t stop you, but if you stay, the only promise I can make is that you won’t be leaving this room in any way but over my shoulder.”
What am I doing?
Bel stood up too, and she watched with a strange kind of satisfaction as he flinched. He didn’t want her to go. He needed her badly. She straightened her shoulders, her nervousness falling away.
He was counting on her being afraid so he could feel as if he had control. He should’ve tried a different strategy.
She sashayed around the table, making sure to sway her hips as she did. Then, gingerly, she laid a hand on his chest. “Oops.” She tilted her head, making sure that it gave him a glimpse of her shoulders and the cleavage beneath.
He stood completely still for a moment, silent, and Bel wondered if he was going to do anything at all. She shook her head and started to move her hand away, but his hand shot out and captured her own. Then, before Bel could even process it, he was levering her over his shoulder in some kind of weird judo move.
Bel meeped in surprise. Just how strong was he?
She meeped again when his other hand made contact with her butt, toying with its full cheeks. Then he adjusted her so that his mouth was right near her ear and said, “I never break my word.”
Anxiety and desire drained all coherency from Bel until all she could do was say, “Mmm.” There was no denying it; she was in his hands now. Literally and figuratively. She’d probably have to buy new panties tomorrow. These were now officially soaked.
Samson turned and kicked the kitchen door open. Bel assumed he’d set her down, but no; he managed to haul her up a full flight of stairs and down yet another hallway that Bel didn’t remember existing, until they were standing in front of a dark, tall door Bel had never seen before.
Her head pounded with blood, but she kept her eyes open. Each time she closed them, the strangest fantasies
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