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She broke the curse, but when the prince stands before her, she begs him not to let the beast die. He proves the animal is still there by bending her over the banister and spanking her raw, his praise a growl in her ear as he takes her against the wall.
Dawn light slipped through the curtains. Belle woke tangled in sheets that smelled like him—but wrong. No fur. No musk. Just clean linen and soap. She turned. Alexandre sat on the edge of the bed, watching her with those gold eyes, but his hands were still. Careful. He reached for her hair like she might shatter. She caught his wrist. "Don't. Don't you dare pet me like I'm some fragile thing." Her thighs pressed together under the sheet. She needed to see it—the flash of teeth, the growl. "I broke a curse for the beast. Not for a prince who's afraid to bruise me." His jaw tightened. Something dark flickered in that gold gaze. "Belle—" "Show me," she whispered, and her voice shook with want, not fear. "Show me you're still in there."
She pushed him onto the edge of the bed and climbed over him, straddling his chest. His hands reached for her hips, but she pinned his wrists above his head. 'No,' she breathed, lowering herself onto his mouth. 'Let me take what I want.' His tongue found her, desperate and hungry, and she rode his face until she came undone, his muffled groans vibrating through her. When she finally slid down his body and took him in her mouth, she felt the tension leave his shoulders—he was terrified of hurting her, but here, with her in control, he could surrender.