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Beauty and the Boogeyman	By : M8r-6 Category: +M through R > Rise of the Guardians Views: 3078 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians nor any of the characters in it. No money is being made from this story.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
WARNING: Lemons
The Next Morning:
When Adriana first woke she didn't want to open her eyes. She was too warm, too comfortable. It wasn't until she stretched her sore muscles and felt a twinge between her thighs that awareness slowly came upon her. Her eyes flew open suddenly, memories from the previous evening flooding back to her. She had married Pitch. Married him! And then she'd had sex with him! Mind-blowing, life altering, never-gonna-be-the-same kind of sex! Shit.
And now she felt. . . .different, somehow. Not in a bad way, exactly, just not normal. She couldn't pinpoint what it was exactly, she only knew she felt. . .changed. She gasped then. Hadn't pitch said that after they consummated their vows, she would become. . .immortal? Just like him. She was pulled from her reverie by a deep silky voice.
"Good morning, pet."
Adriana turned her head to see Pitch laying there staring at her with his head propped on one hand. She knew he called her 'pet' to tease her. But, oddly enough, the nickname was starting to grow on her. Pitch wore a look of relaxed satisfaction. She blushed a deep shade of red as she was reminded of all the things he did to her last night. And what she did to him.
"How do you feel?" Pitch asked.
"Okay." She responded, shyly. "A little sore."
"Perhaps I can do something about that." Pitch said and rose from the bed, turning to lift her into his strong arms, sheet and all.
"What are you doing?" Adrianna asked, startled. She clutched the sheet tightly.
"We're going to take a bath." Pitch stated, matter-of-factly.
"T- together?" Adriana managed to stutter out, shocked.
He didn't respond. Just continued to carry her into an adjoining room that she had failed to notice before.
She looked around curiously once they were inside. It was a large bathroom, the walls made of grey stone, with an oversized tub as its centerpiece.
Moving swiftly, Pitch sat her down and drew a steaming bath. She offered no protest as he stripped her of the sheet and looked her over, appraisingly. Her skin was flushed, her freckles stark. But her beautiful breasts, topped by little pink nipples, had small bruises from his mouth the night before. And her soft thighs and hips contained love marks ad well, from where he had gripped her to him tightly. "Adriana,” he said softly. Finally, movement. She wrapped her arms around her middle—to warm herself against the chill in the air, or to at last shield herself from his view?—... His hands fisted as something inside him broke. He remembered the way he had tricked her the night before and her anger and the hurt look in her eyes. He would have done anything to make it up to her. He silently swore to himself and to her that he would make her happy.
He crouched in front of Adriana and traced his knuckles over her ribs. She kept her gaze on the tiled floor, thinking, 'How can I be so shy now? After last night. . .' Pitch picked Adriana up and settled her in the hot water. He perched at the edge of the tub, wondering if he should bathe her or just allow her to soak. “Join me,” she beseeched. The words were soft, barely audible. Even still, they caused his entire world to shift. “All right.” So easily swayed. After a moment’s hesitation, he removed his robe, steeling himself against the excruciating rapture to come, and climbed in behind her. Liquid heat lapped at his skin as he drew her between his legs and settled her against his chest. Careful. He adjusted her position, or rather, tried to, but no matter her angle, his erection pressed against some part of her. He shuddered, fighting the urge to rub against her. Can’t...resist... He had the most exquisite view of her body. A strand of midnight hair clung to her dampened skin. Droplets of water clung to the soft round plane of her stomach. She was curvy and that's just the way he liked it. He soaped her from neck to waist. All the while Adriana remained still and quiet, but she was also soft and sweet, her scent rivaling all distractions, and it wasn’t long before the tether on his resistance frayed, then split and he accidentally-on-purpose grazed her nipple with his knuckles. She shuddered in pleasure. He poured warm liquid over her stomach, washing away the suds. “All done,” he rasped. “Thank you,” she replied, her tone somewhat breathless. It was clear her memories from the previous evening still plagued her. 'Well, I shall have to do something about that.' He thought, massaging her shoulders, gently. The knots in Adriana's muscles smoothed out, and she relaxed against him—while he grew tenser by the second. He could have roared with triumph. His shaft remained as hard as a steel pipe, throbbing, urging him to arch into her at last and stroke against her cleft. “Thank you, Pitch,” she said, trembling. “Welcome.” Did she sense the direction of his thoughts? Or had she finally realized she had a fully aroused male at her back? She shifted restlessly in the water, as if beseeching him...for more. He gritted his teeth. Then she moved again...and again, seeming to deliberately stoke his desire. Soon, she was rubbing against him. Pitch flattened his big hand on her stomach to stop her. Instead, he spread his fingers, covering as much ground as possible, and encouraged her to move faster. He’d fought for control. He’d failed. She arched into his touch. “Pitch.” The neediness in her tone... He stroked his pinkie at the apex of her thighs, edging ever closer to her sweet spot, letting pulse after pulse of sizzling desire leave him and seep into her. She moaned. Her head rolled against his shoulder as she released another moan. “Don't stop.”
“I don’t just crave you, pet—I’m literally starved for you.” He pushed himself against her so she would have no cause to doubt his words. “I would rather die than stop.” She shivered, the water rippling. She reached up and behind, threading her fingers through his hair. “All I need is you.” He whispered and licked the shell of her ear.
“But—” she started. They still had a lot to discuss. Like his trickery and how she had no intention of never seeing her loved ones again.
“No buts.” He pinched her chin and forced her head to angle toward his. Her eyes were at half-mast, her lips already parted and ready for his possession. Triumph surged through him. “When we’re together, it will be you and me. Nothing else. Agree.” “Pitch—”
“Agree, pet.” A torturous pause. Then, “I agree. For now.”
For now was good enough. Leaning down, he pressed his mouth against hers. She opened immediately, as if she couldn’t help herself, and he took full advantage, thrusting his tongue against hers. He demanded. He consumed. He devoured. Never had a female intoxicated him more. He would give her everything. Do everything with her. He would touch and taste every inch of her, then let her touch and taste every inch of him. They would never be the same. His water-slick hands moved to her beautiful breasts and cupped, kneaded. The water had fever-flushed her skin. Or maybe the intense heat radiating from him had done it. His palms burned so hotly he feared he would scorch her, but as he rolled her nipples between his fingers, she moaned and arched her hips, her arousal unfettered. “Can’t get enough of you, pet, and I think, perhaps, you can’t get enough of me, either.” He kissed and licked a path down her neck. “Am I right?” “Yes.” She tilted her head to give him better access. As he sucked on her hammering pulse, she dug her nails into his scalp. “The things you make me feel. It’s like poetry.” Such beautiful praise... Pressure built, driving him to rub against her with more force. He hissed at the rightness of the sensation. “Tell me what you need.” His voice was nothing more than a growl. “I will do it. Will do anything.” “You. Your fingers.” His greedy gaze tracked a path down the center of her stomach, and his hands soon followed. “Open for me.” She obeyed, spreading her knees as far as they would go. “Good girl.” He curled his fingers around her mound and moaned. She was hot enough to burn him. “Pitch,” she gasped. “Yes. Like that. But inside.” His name on her lips...a throaty wisp... He parted her, dipped a finger into the tight, silken warmth of her, and felt her clench around him. Utter. Perfection. He nearly came. A hoarse cry left her as he pulled out...and sank back in...again and again. “Move on me.” As he spoke, he urged her backside into a rocking rhythm against his shaft. Up and down, creating a dangerous friction... so insanely good... propelling him closer and closer to the edge of no return. “That’s the way.” he gritted. Water lapped over the tub’s rim only to return and stroke over his sensitized skin. Water that had not cooled in the slightest. Water that had only heated. “Yes.” She reached up to knead her breasts, just as he had done. It was too much...not enough. He should close his eyes and allow himself to calm, simply enjoy the feel of her inner walls clamping around his thrusting finger. But the sight of her...so erotic... He couldn’t look away, and his need for satisfaction continued to climb. He battled the urge to grab her by the hips, lift her, and slam her down on his erection. That was what he needed. Her, surrounding him. Her, dripping on him. This was still so new to him. Being lost in a woman: her scent, the little moans escaping the back of her throat, the way she writhed against him. He didn’t just want to please her. He had to please her. It was a need as necessary as breathing. “Tell me how much you like this,” he demanded. “So much.” Rejoicing, he fed her a second finger and began to work them in and out of her. Faster and faster. Harder. Panting, she arched to take him deeper. The heel of his palm pressed against the heart of her need, and she cried out, those wet, wet walls squeezing at him almost as tightly as a fist. “More. Please, more.” The sight of her, the sounds she made, both pushed him past all reason. He couldn’t wait a minute longer. Had to finish her. Him. Now. Just like this. With his fingers still nestled inside her, he slammed his hips forward, rubbing the long, hard length of his shaft against her. Then he did it again. And again. Hard and fast. And again. Again. All the while he worked her with his fingers and palm. “It’s so good. I’m so close,” she rasped. “Come now. Let me feel you. See you.” He thrust harder, higher, the heel of his hand pressing against her. “Pitch!” she screamed, her inner walls clenching on him, her entire body bowing. A rush of liquid heat spilled over his fingers. The knowledge that he’d brought her to climax—the sensation of it—sent him over the edge at last. He roared as sublime satisfaction slammed into him, and came against her back. Came more forcefully than he ever would have imagined possible. When the last of his shudders stopped, he collapsed against the tub and realized he had Adriana in a death grip. He loosened his hold and withdrew his fingers. In the light, those fingers gleamed. His mouth watered, wanting to taste. He licked his lips...and then the fingers. His eyes closed, and his head fell back. So deliciously sweet. How had he lived without it? Without her? He kissed the base of her neck and grinned. He’d loved every moment together, and she had, too.
- 9
- 10
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Beauty and the Boogeyman