Page 75 of Rescued By the Beast
It's the greatest test of self-control of my life. I should look away, leave, avoid further torture, but... I can't.
And then, as if to tease me, he takes off his underwear too.
My nails dig into the bed sheet as I struggle not to make a sound.
He is the most stunning man I have ever seen.
Every inch of him seems sculpted to perfection. Tall, broad shoulders tapering to narrow hips, long, powerful legs. His sun-kissed skin is stretched over muscles that move with mesmerising grace. His eyes, golden and framed by thick lashes, carry an intensity that takes my breath away. His short, blond hair, sensually tousled, only intensifies his raw, irresistible charm.
And he is completely naked.
When he turns around, my eyes drift down to his long, heavy member that swings with his movement, only to disappear behind the curve of his perfect bum.
By the stars...
He is huge. In every possible way.
A wave of wild desire washes over my body. My hair stands on end, my feline gaze sharpens, and I can't contain a small purr that vibrates in my throat.
He moves with a grace that only someone so sure of himself could have, walking to the bathroom without any embarrassment, without even looking back, oblivious to my perversion. Showing off his perfect, firm, round bum, each step emphasising his defined muscles, sculpted as if by divine hands.
A part of me, the wild part, the part that is beyond control, has an insane desire to mark that body, to leave my marks, teeth and nails, on his skin. The other part, the part that tries to maintain a minimum of reason, reminds me that he has no idea who I really am. It reminds me that I am cursed, that I am just a cat.
The water begins to run, and the sound of the shower fills the space, like music calling me. He left the door open, not knowing that for me it is an invitation, a provocation.
Before I realise it, my paws move silently, instinctively, to the bathroom door. I peek from afar, lost between deep fascination and frustration, unable to do anything but watch.
The steam dances in the air, covering the bathroom with a hot, thick mist that ripples under the yellow light.
I am petrified, standing on the threshold, but the rest of me... the rest of me is on the verge of madness, wavering between sanity and desire. The urge to transform myself and go to him is an irresistible temptation, but it is impossible, in so many ways...
Mark is under the shower, the water running in lazy streams down his sculpted body. I swallow hard when he tilts his head back, the golden strands of his hair darkening under thewarm cascade. His eyelids flutter, his lips parted in a silent sigh of pleasure.
My chest rises and falls in an uneven rhythm, and I can't look away as his hand slowly slides down his defined abdomen, tracing the path the water runs. My eyes widen as his cock stiffens, throbbing and doubling in size, his hand about to touch it.
Then he does.
His hand wraps around his own hardness, and a hoarse sigh escapes his mouth. My heart stops, then races almost painfully. He leans against the tiled wall, the muscles in his arm and back tensing. His hips move in a lazy rhythm, as if savouring every moment, every stimulus he provokes himself.
The sound of the falling water is muffled by the sound he makes — a low, hoarse moan, laden with need. My name.
“Sandra...”
It's a broken sound, full of desire, as if he's on the edge of the abyss. My body trembles and I struggle to keep a loud purr from escaping me. He's lost in pleasure, lost in the image of me, the female version, in his mind.
The way his fingers squeeze, the way his body leans forward slightly, the way he gasps my name again and again — it all hits me like a bolt of lightning, incinerating any sense of rationality I might still have.
My claws dig into the floor. My chest rises and falls, my fur bristling and my skin throbbing with unbearable heat.
I should leave. This is very wrong.
But I can't.
His thrusts grow faster, each movement more eager and urgent, the wet sounds reverberating in the space. He lets out a deep roar, the sound primal and wild, his muscles contracting as his free hand punches the wall with force. Even from a distance, I can feel the explosion of energy as he reaches climax, his pleasure marking the tile in powerful jets, an expression of pure surrender on his face, my name escaping his lips in a hoarse moan.
I stand there, on the threshold, watching the man who, without even realising it, already completely possesses the woman he desires.
Chapter 25
