Beauty or the Bitch Ch 3!

Happy Labor Day holiday weekend! Isn’t it nice to have that extra day off. Okay, I put up the Baby, I'll Find You cover again because I just love it so much! Thank you, Rosemary! BTW, Elvis is going home today! Boohoo! I’m really going to miss that little guy. I told him he’s my little boy toy, LOL!

Okay, Chapter Three of Beauty or the Bitch. Last week, Shelby dragged an unconscious Dex in her house. Now she’s got him in her bed. AND she’s taken her nightie off! What will that woman do next!? And it is a naughty story, so please be 18 so I don’t have to feel guilty about corrupting the youth.

Beauty or the Bitch
Copyright Jasmine Haynes 2011

Reporter Dexter King is about to get the story of a lifetime. Shelby Stewart was the hottest rising star in Hollywood until suddenly, she was cursed. Retreating to her mountain hideaway, far from that fairy tale life, she hasn’t been seen in ten years. Now Dex will ferret out the truth behind her fall from Hollywood grace. But will he find a beauty? Or a bitch?

Chapter Three

Shelby wrapped her arms around the cold, clammy flesh of his torso. He flopped like a fish as she tried to still his shakes. With no other method, she climbed on top of him, spreading her legs slightly to accommodate...certain parts.

She took his chill into her own body, then leached it out through her pores. Her nipples brushed his as he struggled. She resisted rubbing the tight buds against him. But God, how she’d missed the slide of flesh on flesh, the tantalizing sensation of a man resting between her legs. She caressed his legs with her calves, trying to calm him as much as warm him. Prickly hair abraded her skin, and she reveled in the sensitivity.

He wouldn’t know. She’d be gone when he woke. He’d never see her face. She would enjoy this moment, sure it would never come again.

Laying her head against his shoulder, she breathed in the sharp scent of evergreen that clung to him. The overwhelming desire to taste overcame her, and she put her tongue to the hollow at his throat. Clean male skin. His body jerked in response. She held his arms, soothed her fingers down the powerful biceps. She wriggled, searching for a better position.

Then she felt his touch at the crease of her thigh. He was growing, a persistent erection that nudged her just short of the mark.

She hadn’t expected that outcome. She’d thought he was dead to his surroundings, that all of him was dead, but with an answering rush of moisture, her body readied itself. Her breath caught in her chest, and a shudder rippled through her. It had been so long, so very long. Almost on their own, her hips adjusted, bringing him closer, until he just breached the folds. She moved. His tip rubbed her clitoris. And she almost came.

God, she wanted to come so badly it was like a physical ache in her abdomen. In her heart. She wanted to feel him inside, his arms tight around her, holding her close, keeping her safe as she jumped into the deep end.

He moaned against her ear, his breath warm. She realized then that he’d ceased struggling. His movements became sinuous, caressing the length of her body. His hips lifted, finding that sweet little spot once more.

Shelby raised her head to look at him. His lashes lay still. But he breathed deeply. His lips parted, then closed. She needed to kiss that gorgeous mouth, but didn’t want to wake him. She didn’t want to lose this feeling, not now.

Trailing fingers down his chest, his side, she lifted enough to fit her hand between them. And she touched the velvet tip. He groaned, turned his head on the pillow. She took the crown between her fingers, rubbing the skin, and encountered a tiny drop of fluid. Sliding in it, she stroked the tiny slit. His body quivered, and he growled against her hair.

One more look told her his eyes were still closed. He probably thought this was a dream, didn’t even know he was in her bed, thought he was out in that blizzard close to death. He’d find out later that he hadn’t died. But she wouldn’t tell him about this. She’d keep it for herself, for the oh-so-many cold, lonely nights that lay before her.

Shelby rose off his chest and skimmed down his body until her face rested close to his groin. Close to that beautiful tool of his. Did men think of themselves as beautiful? Surely not. But this man was. Long, thick, hard, sprouting from a nest of dark curls that sprang back when she touched them. The scent of man intoxicated her. A second bead of fluid beckoned.

She put her lips to the pearl and drank it in, then closed her mouth around him and took him deeply. His hands found their way to her head, tangling in her hair. His hips arched, grinding against her. She took a little more, then let him slide out, dragging her teeth along the underside. He groaned and writhed on the bed.

There wasn’t a part of him that wasn’t warm now, hot even. She’d done her job. She could stop. But Shelby wouldn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. She wanted him. She didn’t know his name. She didn’t care. He was the only man in the world, she was the only woman, and he was hers. She would keep him forever.

Or at least until the morning light revealed whether he would live or die of hypothermia.

But she wouldn’t let him die. She’d take life from him in the form of his delicious taste, and she would give life back to him. Heat. Warmth. Sustenance.

In this moment, she would give him everything.

* * * * *

She took him into her mouth once more. He pulsed at the back of her throat.

He knew he was in heaven and that she was his midnight angel, stealing the chill from his body and replacing it with the warmth of her mouth. He strained against her. He captured silky hair between his fingers just as her tongue, lips, and teeth captured his cock. He wanted to climb inside her, take her warmth for his own.

He wanted to come inside her. He had to come inside her. Or die. Except that he was already dead, his body lying somewhere out on the frozen ground. The bitch harpy’s voice still rang in his ears, screaming at him to get up. But he wouldn’t rise from that frozen ground, not now, not ever, never in the way she meant. Instead, he would get up for his midnight angel.

He pulled her hair lightly until he popped free of her succulent mouth. Eyes the brightest of blues in the firelight, her hair a shimmering midnight black, she looked up at him. Then she smiled. Wine red lips and a hint of a chipped tooth that had hissed when she sucked him. He brought her up to his level and took those lips. She tasted like heaven, like life. And chicken soup. He swept his tongue into her mouth, took her with it, as he wanted to take her body.

Skimming his fingers down her delicate throat to one small pebbled nipple, he squeezed, taking her moan of pleasure. A touch wasn’t enough. He had to taste. He left those luscious lips in search of the second nipple, his hands spanning her tiny waist as he lifted her to his mouth. She moaned again and squeezed him with her thighs. His cock trembled at her core. With one thrust, he could be home-sweet-home.

But he wouldn’t take his angel so quickly. He wanted, but even more he needed to make her tremble as he did.

Riding her body with his lips, he tasted every inch from the underside of her small delicate breasts, to the quivering muscles of her abdomen, to the fine curls covering her pussy. He entered her first with his fingers, tunneling into her moist heat, loving the carnal arch of her back as she took his touch. A beautiful, tight fit. Sliding out and up, he circled her clit. Again, she arched, driving him crazy with her husky moan. He needed to know what she’d do when his tongue replaced his fingers. He rolled her to her back and went down on her.

She cried out, tightened her legs around his head, and pulled on his hair. He loved it. He grabbed her butt, held her close, wouldn’t let her get away. Her musky female scent clouded his mind. He sucked the sweet little button into his mouth and tongued it. Her body rocked against him, and her cries begged for more. He gave it to her, then he drank her come, the nectar of his midnight angel, as potent as the moans she let loose into the night.

When her shudders ended, he climbed her body and nestled his hips between her thighs, nudging her opening. Pinned to the bed beneath him, she opened her blue eyes, stared at him with a dreamy, unfocused look.

“Do it again. Please do it again.”

He figured angels didn’t get much chance to engage in this sort of activity. So he’d give her whatever she wanted. What he wanted. And he drove home, deep, hard, fast.

She screamed.

“Jesus, I’m sorry.” Angels couldn’t be virgins, could they? “I didn’t know...you were a...”

“I’m not.” She closed her eyes, took a deep breath. “It’s just been a long, long time. And you’re so...big.”

“I’ll go slow. Slower.” He kissed her neck. “At least until you ask me to go faster.”

She laughed against his hair. “Okay. Do it.”

“That’s my angel.”

He sank deeper into her. He couldn’t help it, his eyes closed as he breathed in her scent and her tight passage closed around him. “I don’t think it’s ever felt like this before.”

“I really can’t remember.”

“Then pretend it’s the first time.”

She laughed again, arching and welcoming another inch. “I really don’t want to remember that.”

He buried his face in her hair and laughed with her. “I’m going to move now.”

“God, yes, I’d like that. Please make me come again. It’s been so long.”

He would do that. Over and over. Her body hot and oh-so-tight, he flexed his butt, pushed into her heat, then pulled out. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, and she raised her hips to bring him back. He came into her, giving and taking all at the same time. His pace quickened, his breath came fast, and his heart pounded inside his chest. She urged him with her moans and her fingernails. Slipping a hand beneath her thigh, he pulled one leg higher, angling her for a tighter, deeper fit, pushing them both to the limit. The pain she’d felt was long past, and she cried out for him to move faster, harder. He climbed and took her with him. Then he dove off the high dive, slamming into orgasm as if it were the glassy surface of water. Plunging deep into her, he forced her to follow, and she screamed with her release, arms tight around him, legs clasping his waist.

Then he fell asleep in his angel’s arm, and he really didn’t care that they’d be putting him in the ground by the end of the week. At least he’d died happy. Which was more than a lot of people got to say.

* * * * *

Just as the sun began to poke its head through the murky sky, Shelby rose from the warm bed and the even warmer body. At the window, she looked out on the snowbound countryside. She couldn’t see further than the first pine of the grove that surrounded the house. The snow still fell, but with less swirling, less commotion. The wind, at least, had died down. She put two more logs on the fire and tested the man’s brow. Neither sweaty nor cold. After his performance earlier, he was definitely on the road to recovery.

She couldn’t say the same for herself. But she would never forget those moments in his arms. Never forget the way he filled her, completed her, as if he were really and truly hers to have and to hold. When he was gone, which would happen as soon as the lights and the phones worked, she would hold that feeling close. It would have to sustain her the rest of her days.

---

And there you have Chapter 3! Beauty or the Bitch is already available, so if you want to read the full e-book all at once, here’s where you can get it Kindle Nook Smashwords. Then you can find out what Dex does when he wakes up in the morning and realizes he isn’t dead! Otherwise, stayed tuned next week!