floor.
I hear another sound, up the staircase that leads to Klara’s room. It’s a low murmur, like two people talking quietly, not wanting to be heard. I’d bet my arm it’s Marcel. I’ve seen how he looks at Klara, and how she looks at him, when she thinks no one will notice.
They won’t hear me. They’re too wrapped up in their own whispered conversation.
That means I just have to watch out for Jonas.
I cross over to the west wing, the forbidden part of the house. It’s only been nine hours since Mikolaj chased me out of here. He looked so angry I thought he’d strangle me right then and there.
Before I was propelled by simple curiosity. Now I’m driven by something stronger.
I climb the staircase and walk silently down the long hallway. As I pass Mikolaj’s office I peek inside, in case he’s stayed up working. It’s empty.
I come to the master suite with its heavy double doors. I turn the latch and slip inside, thinking for certain he’ll still be awake. It’s only been an hour since he dropped me off at my room. I expect to hear his low, clear voice, demanding to know why I’m back here already. But the suite is dark and silent.
I cross over to the bed.
There he lays. My beast. My enemy. My captor.
He’s naked on top of the covers, wearing only a pair of boxer shorts. For the first time, I have a full view of his body.
Every inch of his skin is covered in tattoos, except for his hands and face. His body is a living, breathing piece of art. It’s a complete tapestry of patterns, images, and swirls in shades of gray, blue, and oxblood.
Beneath the tattoos, planes of lean, hard muscle. He’s more ripped than a male dancer. I see the deep cuts of his abs, then his hipbones, then the waistband of his boxer shorts, barely covering his cock.
My mouth waters and I have to swallow hard.
I almost put that cock in my mouth.
I don’t know how in the hell I got the courage to do it. I unbuttoned his pants and it jumped out like a snake, twice as big as I expected. It was terrifying and I had no idea what to do with it.
At the same time, I was fascinated by that smooth, bare skin. It looked like the softest skin on his whole body. When I held his cock in my hand, it felt like it had a life of its own, twitching and throbbing against my palm.
I expect him to wake up any second, with me standing over him. He’ll probably be furious.
Right now, his face is totally relaxed.
I’ve never seen it like that.
It makes me realize how beautiful Mikolaj is. His features are so sharply defined, they’re almost godly. What would he look like if he were happy, if he actually smiled? It would be too much. I don’t think I could stand it.
I stare at his face a long time.
I’m looking at the man he could have been. A man without anger or bitterness. A man without pain.
Now my heart is hurting, and I don’t know why. Why should I have sympathy for the Beast?
But I do. Some bizarre connection has grown between us, without either of us wanting it.
I slip into his bed, expecting him to wake any second.
He’ll wake up now that I’m lying next to him.
Now that I’ve rested my hand on his stomach.
Now that I’m sliding it into his shorts . . .
He sighs—a long, slow, masculine sigh. It makes my thighs squeeze together.
I have his cock in my hand. It’s warm, half-hard, getting harder by the moment.
I bend over and take it in my mouth.
I can smell his skin, warm and musky with sleep. And I can taste his cock, which has a flavor all its own—rich, salty, and compelling. It floods my mouth with saliva. My tongue slides easily over his smooth flesh, the head of his cock filling my mouth.
The harder he gets, the wider I have to open my jaw.
I have no clue how to give a blowjob properly. I’m just trying things out as I go—sometimes licking, sometimes sucking, sometimes just sliding my lips and tongue around on it.
Really, I’m just doing whatever feels good to me. But it seems to work well enough, because his cock has gotten equally as hard as it was before in the billiards room, when I danced for him.
Mikolaj’s hands thrust into my hair, holding my