PETALS AND THORNS by JENNIFER PARIS Page B

thighs, pressing against her entrance.
    “You're wet for me.”
    “Always.”
    He pushed in, and Amarantha stilled.
    “Yes?” he asked.
    “Yes. Oh yes.”
    And he pushed into her, widening, stretching, and filling her. Amarantha moaned at the sensation, feeling the tight tissues give way to him. He pulled back a bit, then pushed hard and deep, filling her to the hilt. Amarantha cried out her pain and pleasure.
    The desire spiraled through her as he rocked inside of her, withdrawing and stroking. She convulsed with each deep thrust, feeling the tension build. Hot blood filled her, and Amarantha pulled at her chains, begging in earnest.

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    He drove them both hard, his pounding rhythm accelerating to the relentless peak. Amarantha screamed when she shattered, and he followed her down, clinging to her as the last of the enchantment released him.
    Amarantha stirred when he withdrew from her. Her husband unlocked the collar from her throat and tossed it back over the pillows. He moved around the bed, removing the manacles. Amarantha stretched her limbs and curled up in grateful relaxation. He returned with a towel and slid her thighs apart, cleaning her with tenderness. Humor glinted in his green eyes when he glanced up to find her watching him.
    “Love lies bleeding,” he said. “Though not too much.” He tossed the towel aside and gathered her against him. He stroked her dark hair back from her forehead. “I can't believe you did this,” he said in wonder.
    “My Lord Beast—”
    “Roland,” he interrupted. “I'm myself again, so I have my name again.”
    “Roland.” She smiled and ran her fingers over his broad chest, feeling him shiver. “I was willing to take the Beast.”
    “I know, my love,” he answered, kissing her softly. “And make no mistake, I'm still that man.” He reached up to roll a nipple between his fingers, then pinched it, grinning when she gasped. “That's how I came to this, and you should know the story.
    “I have always been a man driven by my desires. As you have experienced.”
    Amarantha shivered.
    “Yes. You, my sweet innocent, have been the best of partners. So responsive to all of it.” He trailed his fingers through the damp hair of her sex and smiled at her quivering answer. “I thought I saw it in your eyes when I found that portrait. I hardly dared hope.
    “Not all of my partners were equally excited by my games. And I confess, in my recklessness and arrogance, I didn't always take my lover's wishes into

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    consideration. If I hired a courtesan, then I thought I owned her for the night and could do as I pleased.”
    Amarantha stared at him.
    “I warned you I am a beast inside. I warned them too. But one courtesan—she thought to tame me. She was a witch and practiced tricks on me. We fought for dominance, and I, well, I won.” Roland's sensuous lips twisted in self-deprecation. “I chained her to this bed, collared her, and tormented her until she begged me to fuck her. Then I refused and left her there for the day.”
    “You didn't.”
    “I did. When I returned and freed her, she cursed me. Never to enjoy the day.
    Never to enjoy another woman unless she chose this. And chose it out of love. She turned my servants into ghosts and declared that I would wear the corrupt face of the beast that had tormented her.
    “Every night since, I've wandered this manse, driven by desire I couldn't relieve. Every day I've slept and wondered what kind of woman would ever choose that way.”
    “I don't know what kind of woman that makes me.” Amarantha sighed as Roland stroked her sex and nuzzled her throat. She dug her nails into his chest, and he hissed in pleasure. He rolled her onto her back and slid inside her. They groaned together as they joined, the desire shimmering around them.
    “Amarantha,” Roland said with a hint of a growl, “it makes you mine.”
    Her eyes widened as he stroked deep inside her.
    “Just as you are mine,” she gasped.
    “Yes. Forever