PETALS AND THORNS Read Online Free Page A

approval, and she blushed to feel the satin of her dress fall off one nipple. She wanted to sigh in exasperation, yet an exquisite sensation ran through her. Shivers of pleasure flowed from her nipple—exposed to the cool air and warm candlelight—down to her groin.
    The Beast dabbed her lips with an embroidered napkin, then offered her a small bite of bread, solicitously buttered for her. Sweet and light, the bread carried the sunshine thrill of the butter into her.
    “Your dining method will take all night.”

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    “We have all night,” he murmured, and she could hear the pleasure in his voice.
    Bite by luscious bite, he fed her the meal. Amarantha fell into a sensuous dream. With each tidbit, the Beast murmured to her, telling her how much enjoyed watching her. Both her breasts gleamed bare now, framed by the red satin. The candles burned down. After a last sip of brandy and the final bit of chocolate melted in her mouth, Amarantha declared she could eat no more.
    “Then we shall move on to dessert,” the Beast said. The dishes vanished, leaving the glossy wood clear of all but the elaborate candelabras.
    “I thought we just had dessert.” She giggled.
    “My dessert,” he clarified, and Amarantha lost a bit of the giddiness. A clock chimed midnight, echoing through the house.
    “But first I must ask you a question.”
    “Oh?” she asked a bit faintly.
    “Amarantha, my bride, will you beg me to collar you, chain you to my bed, and fuck you?”
    The room spun, not just from the wine.
    “No!” It came out harshly. But then, he deserved that, speaking so crudely.
    Amarantha looked away, afraid to see his response.
    “Very well,” he said, his voice even. Not at all surprised, Amarantha realized.
    “I shall ask you again tomorrow night.”
    Amarantha turned back to him. “My answer will still be no. Words like that will never pass my lips.”
    “We shall see.”
    Amarantha shifted in her chair, wishing she could draw up her gown.
    “Come here then. It's time for your punishment.”
    “You would punish me for saying no?” she whispered.

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    “No, this is the punishment for your hesitation this afternoon, recall? It was your first transgression, and I shall keep the punishment light. Now come here, or I shall have to punish you for resisting me.”
    All dreaminess gone, Amarantha got up. The Beast slid back from the table and indicated that she should stand in front of him. Taking her by the waist, he lifted her to sit on the table. Drawing a silver chain from under the table's edge, he hooked it into a loop she hadn't noticed, sewn into the cuff just under the tender part of her wrist. The Beast drew the chain tight, pinning her hand to the table. He did the same with the other hand. Then he carefully swept her hair behind her shoulders so none of it hung forward.
    Amarantha began to cry. “I'm frightened,” she whispered.
    “Are you? You know I won't harm you.”
    “Do I know that?”
    The Beast settled himself back into his chair, shrugging his cape back and moving up so he trapped her dangling feet between his muscular thighs on the sides, the chair in front and the table behind her rounded calves. His chest, broad under the black suit he wore, didn't appear deformed.
    The Beast slipped a black gloved finger into the swag of satin still clinging to the undersides of her breasts. With a sharp tug, the fabric pulled free. He let it flutter to the floor and, from the depths of his hood, seemed to be surveying her naked breasts, now conveniently at eye level for him, offered up by the stiff corset like yet another platter of delicacies. Amarantha tried to still her breath, but her heart pounded, and her anxiety made her tremble. She could see how her panicky breaths only made her breasts bounce for him, but she could not stop it.
    “We need music,” he murmured, and it began to play, dark chords sifting eerily up from the depths of the manse.
    The Beast raised a gloved finger. Amarantha caught