Page 104 of Beast

Inside, a roaring fire keeps the chill away. I remove my leather cut and hang it over the back of a winged-back chair by the fireplace. I unbutton my shirt but get no further before a female voice stops me.

"Such a perfect specimen of manhood."

I spin around to see Guinevere, an older club girl, standing in the shadows by the four-poster bed.

"Guinevere, what are you doing in my room?"

Guinevere was my first experience inside a woman. I was a teenager when she took my virginity—in this very room. Olderand more experienced, she became my sexual teacher and I was her willing student.

For months we fucked in my bed, learning and exploring each other’s bodies. She taught me how to touch a woman to get the reaction I wanted. A gentle caress for a moan. The flutter of my tongue against a sensitive bud of nerves for a whimper. A slow thrust of my cock to make an orgasm last longer and the cries louder.

After a while, I wanted to experiment with other women, but Guinevere had fallen in love with me and wanted me to commit to her. I was a teenager with a permanent hard-on, and I didn’t want to commit to anyone.

She cried and begged me to marry her. But I was too young and too naive to realize how strong a woman could feel those things, and I cast her aside so I could indulge in all the club pussy I could get.

And I indulged a lot.

"So the prince has claimed a princess," she says with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “How wonderful for you both.”

There was no joy in breaking her heart. But there was also no remorse for doing it either. I was young and self-absorbed and my inexperience made me cruel.

Years later, I realize how much it must have hurt when I rejected her.

"You shouldn't be here," I say, trying to figure out why my ex-lover would be hiding in the shadows of my bedroom on the eve of my wedding.

"I know, but how could I resist saying farewell?"

"You're leaving?" I ask.

She looks wistful and nods. "Tonight."

"You're not staying for the wedding?"

“No, it’s time for me to move on. But I thought we could share a drink before I leave.” She gives me a self-conscious smile. “Call me a sentimental fool, but I thought it would be nice.”

I don’t want a drink. I also don’t want Guinevere in my room. Jennifer is the jealous type, and if she finds out my ex-lover spent time in my room the night before our wedding, there’s going to be trouble.

But I’ve done enough damage to Guinevere’s pride and I don’t want to hurt her feelings.

I figure there’s no harm in a quick goodbye drink.

I accept a glass of wine from her.

She holds hers up to toast. “To Adam and his bride.”

Our glasses clink and she takes a drink.

I hesitate but then take a sip.

It’s good wine.

It’s the berry wine from the vineyard on the edge of town.

My favorite.

I take another mouthful.

Then another.

---