Page 47 of Beast

I whimper, hating how my body reacts to his touch, how the ache between my thighs intensifies. “Gaston, please...”

“Please what, nena?” he murmurs, his lips brushing my ear. “Tell me what you want.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, unable to look at him. “I want...” My voice trails off, the admission too shameful to voice.

“That’s what I thought.” Gaston grips my hips tighter, his fingertips digging into my skin. “You want me to take you, to claim you.” He grinds against me, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through me. “And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

He yanks down my pants until they’re around my ankles. Gaston runs his fingers through my slick folds, a pleased rumble escaping him. “So wet for me, baby girl. You’re aching to be filled, aren’t you?”

I bite my lip, trying to hold back the moan that threatens to escape.

“Answer me,” Gaston growls, his grip on my hips tightening.

“Y-yes,” I breathe, hating how needy I sound.

“Good girl.” He presses a kiss to the side of my neck, his teeth grazing my skin. “Now beg me to fuck you.”

I take a shaky breath, the words caught in my throat. “Please, Gaston...I need you to fuck me with your big cock.”

He rubs the head of his dick between my thighs, bumping my clit and sending sparks of pleasure through me. Without warning, he thrusts into me, filling me to the hilt. I cry out, the sensation both painful and pleasurable. Gaston pauses, giving me a moment to adjust, his breath hot against the back of my neck.

“You feel so good,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough with desire. “The perfect fit for me.” He pulls out slowly, then slams back in, setting a punishing pace.

I brace myself against the counter, my knuckles turning white as I grip the edge. The sounds of our bodies meeting fill the air, mingling with our harsh breathing and the constant moans that tumble from my lips.

Gaston’s grip on my hips is bruising, his thrusts deep and relentless. I can feel the familiar heat coiling in the pit of my stomach, the pressure building with each thrust.

“That’s it,” Gaston growls, his voice strained. “Take my cock. You love the way I fill you, don’t you?”

My response is a whimper, the pleasure bordering on pain as he drives into me.

“Answer me,” he demands, punctuating his words with a particularly hard thrust that steals the breath from my lungs.

“Y-yes,” I manage to gasp out. “I love it, Gaston. I love the way you fuck me.”

“Good girl.” Gaston’s thumb finds my clit and I shudder. Expertly he strokes me in time with his thrusts until I’m writhing and moaning against the counter.

“Please,” I sob, so close to the edge I can taste it. My vision blurs as I glance over my shoulder, seeing Gaston’s face twisted in pleasure and concentration.

Gaston leans in, his breath hot against the back of my neck. “Now come for me. Let me feel you clench around my cock.”

I whimper, the coil of pleasure tightening with each snap of his hips. Gaston fingers rub in tight, relentless circles over my clit.

“That’s it, baby girl,” he murmurs. “Let go for me.”

The sensation is overwhelming, the pressure building until it finally crests, washing over me in waves of blinding ecstasy. His next stroke sends me hurtling over the cliff edge. I cry out, my walls fluttering and clenching around Gaston’s thick length as my orgasm tears through me.

Gaston growls, his hips slamming forward as he chases his own release. “That’s it, beautiful. Milk my dick. Fuck, you’re amazing.” He buries himself to the hilt and spills himself inside me.

We stay like that for a long moment, both panting and spent. Gaston presses a kiss to the back of my neck, his grip on my hips loosening.

“That’s my good girl,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough. Gaston pulls out slowly, a trail of our combined fluids dripping down my thighs.

I wince at the sensation, my body trembling from the force of my orgasm. Gaston chuckles, his fingers tracing the curve of my ass. I feel a pang of guilt, knowing that I’ve given in to him once again. But the afterglow of our encounter makes it hard to regret.

He grabs a towel off the counter and gently wipes me clean, his touch surprisingly tender.

Once he’s finished, Gaston pulls me into his arms, cradling me against his chest. I can’t help but melt into his embrace, the familiar ache between my thighs a constant reminder of what transpired.

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