Page 19 of Bella and Her Beast
He’s right. What if even though I feel she’s the one, my wolf agrees, and Russell is on board, that she’s not? That is a real scenario and one I haven’t figured into this equation, nor do I want to. This revelation has calmed me to a dull low. I contemplate calling the evening off but decide against it. He’s right; even with all of this and it turns out not to be true, the feeling she gives me is more than worth it.
I retreat to my bathroom and fill the tub up with water and take a long, hot bath. One thing I’ve always done before a date filled with sexual tension was to have some me time so my primal lust won’t take over. It’s far greater than man’s, since I truly have a beast within. Usually, I would have to invoke lust within me, but thinking of Bella and her features proves to be the perfect aphrodisiac. Envisioning her deep brown skin and plump lips gets me going. The wetness of her tongue and how it felt when it brushed up against mine when we shared our kiss elicits me squeezing the head of my dick and slowly pumping it in an up and down motion. She does this to me without knowing. I want to feel her under me and see if I do the same to her. The thought of her pussy clenching as she moans through her orgasm quickens my release. I drain the water from the tub with my seed, and stand in my shower to finish cleansing myself for tonight's date. If things go the way I plan, hopefully I can share with her the truth about our destined paths.
I get out of the shower, grabbing my towel to dry my body. I go through the normal grooming routine and decide for my hair I will just wear it slicked back sans man bun. The undercut was recently done, so nothing to worry about there. I’ve never been this nervous to be around someone before. I’ve dated, tried to force love, but it never worked out. This time it is right, she is my fated love and I will spend the rest of my days under her spell and making her mine. No matter how long or short that may be.
I enter my room and look at what Russell has selected for me to wear. Feeling that it is a bit too semi-formal, I hang the slacks back up and opt for a pair of blue denim jeans and a blue button-down shirt. I choose to go without shoes; I mean, my toes are manicured. With all the changing I go through, I figure I can at least keep my feet together. If it poses a problem for Bella, I will happily slip on my beach slides. I glance at the clock by my bedside. As I notice the time, I realize that I never sent the car for her. Taking out my phone, I dial one of the special occasion vehicle companies near her and request a ride to pick her up. Once confirmed, I shoot her a text with the new instructions.
Me: Hey, love.
Bella: Hey. I’m almost ready. Waiting on my hair to dry a bit.
Me: I just want to let you know I have arranged for a car to come pick you up.
Bella: You don’t have to do that. Me and my Honda can find you with no problem.
Me: I know. I just want this to be special. Real memorable. Treat you like a Princess.
Bella: You are so swoony. Thank you. I graciously accept.
Me: They will be there in thirty minutes.
Bella: Perfect. See you soon.
I stow away my phone into my back pocket and head out towards the garden and courtyard to make sure all is going well with the setup. “How are things coming along?” I ask Russ, when I reach the atrium.
“The lights are tested and strung, the sound system is being confirmed now, and the catering staff is setting up in the kitchen. They only sent two people since the meal was for less than ten persons.”
“That’s fine. Be sure to tip them handsomely. I sent a car for Bella. She’ll be here within the hour.” Sweat beads form on my forehead. “Do you think we can get the misters going? The ones with the repellant? I know we’re dining outside and it will be cooler, but it’s hot as hell.”
“Yes, sir. I will turn the stations on for a ten-minute run then just have the fans set for a low breeze.”
I turn and look around at the scenery. The butterflies taking nectar from the garden are the perfect accompaniment to a beautiful setting. I take a stroll around the area, breathing deep, relaxing with each step I make. Thinking of ways to tell her the truth, probable outcomes, and how I would react or respond. An alert on my phone pulls me from my deep thoughts. The message reads:
Estimated time of arrival, Six-twenty-five pm.
* * *
Isabella
The long drivewayaffords me a few extra minutes to make sure my face is okay. I don’t wear make-up, really. Just the liners and glosses with tint. Since I stay reading books, biting my lips on a passionate scene or at an intense moment should not taste like anything. I use a very light, non-color powder to help control shine if needed, otherwise I keep a napkin with me to blot away any moisture. Today, I’m sweating like a pig in a slaughterhouse. After a wardrobe meltdown and a glass of wine compliments of Joy, I decided to wear a long, flowy, mustard yellow dress, with a big split. You know, casual and a bit striking. Definitely different from your normal librarian look. The dress has thin spaghetti straps that cross in the back, so needless to say, I don’t have on a bra.
The train of the dress is so long, that I’m wearing sandals with a small heel to help keep the fabric from touching the ground. Joy says that the color is a significant contrast against my skin, so I’m trusting her judgement. I’m happy in jeans and a tee shirt. Or joggers and a tank. The car comes to a stop and I can see Russ through the tinted windows.
He opens the door and extends his hand to me. “Ms. DeLaCruz, it is a pleasure to have you join us this evening. You look stunning.”
I take his hand, and he assists me stepping out of the vehicle. The yard looks the same as it did previously, except for the white aisle runner secured with decorative yard stakes and leads toward the garden where we were when I tended to his wound.
“My, the yard is so beautiful. I hope you all didn’t go through much trouble,” I shyly express to Russell, when we follow the path.
“No trouble at all. Just using things that haven’t been touched in quite some time.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yes. Greyson’s youth had its fair share of summer parties, and gatherings for celebrations of the youth variety. But things changed for him on his eighteenth birthday and well, he hasn’t been much in the party mood.”
The look in Russ’ eyes hints at something tragic. I don’t pry, instead I pat him on his hand and he returns a warm smile.
“Oh, yes, we have arrived. Now, here’s a glass of chilled wine and Greyson will be out shortly.”
