Page 37 of Beautiful Beasts

“Oh fuck, Bella. I love it when you beg. Do it again. Beg me to stop,” Gus groans as he grinds his dick into my thigh.

I suck in a shaky breath, I want to refuse to do what he is asking, but my mouth betrays me as tears fall from my eyes and roll down my face. “Gus, they trusted you.” I try to reason with him.

“This is your fucking fault, you whore. You are the one that made me do this,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Liar,” I whisper.

“The way you look at me, the way you talk to me, you are the one who was asking for me, so now you fucking have me,” he says with coldness and desire.

I want to scream at him and tell him he is wrong because he is, but I am too scared to do or say anything again.

Gus chuckles in my ear as he cups my bare pussy. He pushes two fingers between my folds. My stomach twists and turns as he shoves two fingers into my dry pussy. My walls don’t wrap around him; at least my body is listening to my brain. His breathing becomes rapid as he moves his fingers in and out of me at a rough pace that matches his hip thrusts against my leg. His hand tightens around my throat, and I close my eyes, letting the tears fall down my face.

The last thing I remember is him groaning in my ear as another piece of me is stolen.

Once a whore, always a whore.

26

Dante

“Curve” by SoMo

I push back into my chair with a frustrated groan and stare at the screen of my laptop. Normally I can find out whatever the fuck I want about someone, but this Bruce fucker is like a damned ghost. It is as if he never existed, and it is starting to piss me off. The more I try to find shit, the deeper the black hole becomes. I know he didn’t just fucking disappear. He is just starting to fucking play.

I rest my head against the back of the chair and run my hands over my face. My eyes burn, and my vision is becoming blurry from staring at this fucking screen for so long, and I want to throw the fucker against the wall. But I won’t.

We have been searching and searching for Bruce, and so far, he is in the motherfucking wind. He will show up eventually. Fuckers like him can never stay in the fucking shadows for long, and if he believes Bella belongs to him, we need to push him to the point he has no choice but to come out of hiding.

He wants her; I know he does, and the more we make sure to keep her away from him, the more intense his desire and need for her will become.

By now, he has to know we are on to him, and if he were smart, he would be as far away from here as he can get, but something tells me he is biding his time. He is waiting for the right moment to strike again, but we will be ready and waiting for him this time. He is playing a dangerous game, one he will not fucking win.

I lower my hands from my face as my office door opens, and Bella walks in wearing another one of my shirts and what I am assuming are Harley’s boxers. She has been staying locked away in Harley’s room. I want to ask her what is wrong, but I can tell, even now, that she isn’t ready to talk about it. All I can do is remind her that I am right here and am ready to listen when she is ready.

I rest my fingertips against my lips as I watch her close the door and slowly turn around. Even in the dim light, I could see the dried-up trail of tears that ran down her face, making my heart ache and my blood boil.

She sighs as she walks across my office and around my desk. Stopping between me and the desk, she rests her hands on the edge as her eyes meet mine for the briefest moments before looking away. A small smile crosses her lips as she looks around my office and shakes her head.

“What?” I ask in a curious and amused voice.

She turns back and looks at me. Now that she is closer, I can see the tear marks are not dry; they are fresh, evidence that something has happened, but her eyes are pleading with me to leave it alone.

“I need you, Dante,” She says as her voice cracks on my name.

“I’m right here,” I say calmly, doing my best to reassure her.

I don’t know what the hell is going on inside her head, but whatever has her on edge, I know that I can help it disappear, at least for a little while.

“Please help me forget,” she begs and demands at the same time.

The darkness swirling in her eyes is the same darkness that makes me feel as if I am drowning and can’t breathe.

I stand up, press my body against hers, and push her against the desk. I press my hands on either side of her body and lean in, ghosting my lips against hers. “I will do whatever you need me to do,” my voice is low and filled with passion, need, and love—three things I don’t deserve but are made possible because of her.

She tilts her head to the side, her eyes rapidly searching mine. “Claim me,” she says barely above a whisper.

Fuck me.

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