A Dark and Deadly Beauty

The Light of the Moon

The door had barely closed behind Electra before Beck’s broad body was against her, pressing her into the door and engulfing her in the overpowering presence of him.

Her little cottage was dim and still. The only light came through the windows,the room bathed in a wash of silver moonlight. And the only sounds were the whispers of their hazy, intimate breathing as their eyes adjusted to the darkness.

Her eyes focused, and the look in Beck’s eyes made her muscles clench.

Gone was her amiable dinner companion, her music-loving tavern patron. That man had dissolved away, every tendril of restraint turned to vapor. And in his place was a man who was nothing but a swirling, animalistic tempest of raw desire.

Electra simply stood there, memorizing his face. The way his brow furrowed. The way his nostrils flared when he inhaled, as if he was breathing in the scent of her and allowing it to sear his lungs. How his eyes were hungrily tracing the outline of her mouth. How his own lips were parted so slightly, as if he wanted to ask her a dozen questions, but dare not break the enchantment of the moment.

The moment Beck caught her lingering gaze on his mouth, the simmering heat of need between them flared into a blistering fire and before Electra could blink, his strong hand was gripping the back of her neck and pulling her into a fevered, crushing kiss.

Pleasure rippled through her body. There was no logic to the way her heart thundered in her chest, or how her flesh became a maze of raised, sensitive goosebumps in the places where his fingers kneaded her skin. They should not have this spark.

They had nothing in common except shared memories and the love of a few close friends that tied them together.

Where Electra was as warm as the sun-drenched earth on a summer’s afternoon, where Beck was as cool as the dark, pebbled bottom of a meandering river.

Her words were spiced and sharp, like a stick of cinnamon in a cup of tea. His words were briny and light, sprinkled like salt into every conversation.

Her soul was solid and severe. His, fluid and frivolous. She was iron and sinew and the hard-packed dirt of the training ring. He was ivory and mist and shifting sand.

They should not have a spark.

But where their lips melded together, where his tongue licked the seam of her mouth begging for her to open for him, nothing existed but the spark that had grown and consumed them both until there was only them,and the moonlight,and their need to be wrapped in one another.

This kiss was unlike their first.

She parted her lips and he devoured her, as if the small taste he had taken of her all those weeks ago was merely a teasing bite of the banquet of her body, and now he was desperate to consume every once of her.

As their kiss deepened, his hands began to rove her body. His calloused palms caressed the dip of her waist, the swell of her hip, and molding her flesh to his needful grip as he touched her. He took a fist full of her skirt, and inch by inch, drew her hem up towards her thighs, revealing the smooth, taut legs. The tiger stripes shimmering as though they had been crafted by ancient magic from purest amber and obsidian forged in the soul of the world.

Electra’s heart beat wildly in her chest,and she wasn’t sure if she was actually breathing anymore.

She had had lovers before. Men and women she had fallen into bed with in the early days of her training. Drunken nights spent in the arms of a cute barmaid, or lonely afternoons in an abandoned training room tumbling some charming Warfare student who was just as homesick as she was. They were simple relationships - playful, fumbling, and ultimately petered out when interest waned. And once she became Lady Electra, Master of Warfare… she had no time to woo a lover. The handful of folk she bedded since gaining her title nursing Colm during his curse had been few and far between.

But, Beck… his mouth and hands and eyes all possessed her in a way she had never known before… and she wasn’t sure she could wait any longer to have him.

Then, his hand reached the apex of her thighs, where her hot, wet core clenched in desperate need for him, he broke the kiss and pinned her with his smoldering eyes.

“I’ve wondered what it would be like to touch your skin since the day we met,” he rasped.

She wanted to reply with something sweet, flirtatious. But instead a tart, barking giggle spilled from her throat. “I was covered in cougar blood when you met me.”

“You were painted with the hallmark of your powers, and it was intoxicating. There is no creature in this world quite like you.”

“Oh…” was all she could muster.

“So let me be clear, Electra. Once I have you, for as long as we continue whatever it is… whatever this between us is… I am only yours,” he said, his hand moving to cup the mount of her s*x. “And you are only mine.”

Hearing those words from any other man would have sent her into venom fueled rage. But from Beck, those possessive and demanding words, only made her stomach tighten with anticipation.

She nodded her head, unsure of what power this man held over her to make her agree to such a thing.

He swept a finger across her slick entrance, teasing and gentle. She bucked her hips, widening her legs to allow him access to her. She was ready, desperate. But he needed something more from her.

“Say it,” he whispered. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“Yours.”

At her words, he pushed a finger inside of her, and a soft groan rumbled in her throat. His mouth was back on hers, her back still pressed flat against the door as he skillfully dipped and swirled that thick, strong finger into her heat.

He slowly built up the pressure, bringing her to the edge of pleasure before backing her away again. She ground her hips against his hand, needing the release that he was keeping just out of her reach.

Suddenly, the pleasure stopped, and he withdrew from her. She let out a disappointed, unfulfilled grumble of a growl, but fell silent when Beck chuckled.

In one fast movement, he shoved her skirts up around her waist and dropped to his knees in front of her.

“The first time you come for me, I’m going to taste it. Put your hands on the door.”

She did as she was told, a wobbling, eager mess of lust and want.

And then he hooked one of her legs over his broad, muscled shoulder and latched his mouth onto the tender bundle of nerves at the top of her slit.

And like a man starved, he devoured her.

His tongue and fingers gave, and gave, and gave until she felt like she would fall apart like a broken doll.

And when she came for him- beautifully, spectacularly- he growled against her swollen wetness and revelled in how her honey-sweet orgasm coated his lips.

“Oh my bloody stars,” she gasped, wrapping her fingers into his coarse brown hair as he pulled away from her thighs.

“I’m glad to be of service,” he smirked up at her.

She slid down the door, until she was facing him. His face was rosy, his horns glossy white in the silver light. He was handsome,funny,and kind. He was brave when others were not, cheerful even in sorrow. And every fiber of her body urged her to climb into his lap and ride the thick rod of manhood that jutted from his trousers.

So,she did.

In a blink she had him on his back, splayed in a pool of moonlight. On her knees beside him, she undid the belt of her skirt and let it fall, pooling around her. She pulled her tunic off, and soon knelt naked before him.

His eyes drank her in. The black, raised tiger stripes on her arms and legs. The full, pert breasts tipped with hard, brown n*****s. The tangle of black hair that had come loose and spilled down her back.

No one had ever looked at her bare body like this, with wonder and lust and admiration. And seeing how badly he desired her lit the fire in her core again.

She reached for the band of his trousers, and in her eagerness, she forgot her gift of strength. The sound of ripping fabric echoed in the cottage.

“s**t!” she muttered, drawing her hands back. “I’m sorry, I’ll have them replaced.”

“Electra,” his voice was strained and deep. “I don’t give a f**k about my clothes. Just don’t stop. Don’t stop touching me, or I’ll die.”

She quickly removed the shreds of his trousers, while he clumsily stripped himself of his shirt.

She straddled him, barely allowing the tip of his hard, engorged girth to graze her s*x.

“Say it,” she ordered. “If I am yours, you are mine. So say it.”

“Electra…I’m completely yours.”

With his words she took his length into her, delighting in the gasp he gave. He filled her deliciously, and her head rolled back in ecstasy.

Slowly, she rolled her hips forwards and back, setting an easy rhythm as she rode him. His eyes were closed and his mouth was open in a silent groan. His hands had wandered to her hips, not to slow or direct her, but simply to hold her.

She moved with precise grace, arching her back and loving the friction of their bodies together. With every thrust, the tension inside of her built and built, until she was moments away from bliss.

She could tell Beck was, too. The tension in his jaw told her he was holding on, holding back until she had her fill of him.

“Open your eyes, Beck. Look at how well I take you.”

His eyes opened and flew to where their bodies were joined, to where he disappeared inside of her velvet warmth. She glided his hand over his chest and bent her face towards him, placing a delicate kiss on the bow of his lips.

“Look at what you do to me,” she whispered.

With a final rise and fall of her hips, she shattered again for him, bathed in a beam of shimmering moonlight.