“You alone make those decisions? I thought I was supposed to talk to you and tell you what I wanted.”
He swung a tense glance toward me. “And I’m happy that you did, but you’re not ready.”
“I feel ready.” As I said this, he shifted his fingers a little more and I knew I’d combust and drown and float away like a feather on the breeze if he so much as breathed on my clit.
I wanted to hate him for this. I really did. All these years I’d stumbled through awkward and disappointing experiences, eventually settling into the only available explanation which was that I didn’t find much satisfaction through sex. Enter Beckett Loew, of all the damn people, and here I was, blinking at his head between my legs through upside-down eyes.
“I’m ready,” I repeated, grasping at every stitch of strength I could gather. I refused to whine. Or beg. Again. “I want it.”
“I know you do,” he said, “but if you think for a second that I’m not going to do every damn thing in my power to prevent this from being another one of your bad experiences, you’re confused.” He dropped a series of kisses on my thigh, my belly. I pinched harder at my nipples though it only made the current spiraling inside me stronger, more restless. “Now, tell me what you need.”
“Lick me,” I said on a gasp.
“Good girl.” His words rumbled like thunder against my skin and then he was there, his tongue circling me in long, lazy passes.
“Beckett, I need—please—”
Again, the words broke apart, leaving me with strained moans that seemed to start in my toes and gather speed like a dark, lusty tornado until it blazed through everything in its path. Perhaps it was better this way. Safer. A little less vulnerable. If I didn’t tell him that the only thing in the whole world that I wanted was to feel him push inside me and for it to finally,finallybe good in the soft, shattering way that everything with him was good, then I wouldn’t be disappointed. I wouldn’t have to reckon with the reality, once again, that my mind and my body didn’t always play on the same team. I wouldn’t have to accept that these kinds of relationships probably weren’t for me.
“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever tasted,” he said. “I’m going to lose my entire mind when I get inside you. You’re going to fucking ruin me, aren’t you, Sunny?”
I felt the tingle in the far edge of my eyes first and then it was lower, across my chest and down the line of my belly. It was strange, almost like the buildup before a sneeze. Suddenly, it was everywhere, that peculiar twinge spiraling and shooting out in a race of bone-melting release that was so surprising, all I could do was watch as my body shook from the force of it.
He growled into my flesh. “Mmm. Now you’re ready.”
It required real effort to open my eyes and watch while Beckett stripped out of his boxer briefs. His shaft was long and thick, jutting out from his body in a way that had me pressing my knees together. Nothing about him came off as rushed or impatient, but there was a second when his hands shook as he ripped open the condom packet.
When he climbed over me, he settled between my legs and rested his head between my breasts. “We can stop at any time,” he said, pressing a light kiss to my nipple.
The entirety of my body tensed, desperate to clench around something, anything. “Even if we stop, we’re not done. Okay?”
He exhaled on my breast and another riot of goose bumps spread across my chest. “I don’t think I’ll ever be done.”
He slipped a hand under my backside and edged my legs open with his knees. I usually hated this part, hated those eternal seconds when I willed my body to cooperate, to accommodate. When I braced for the first signs that it wouldn’t work.
But then Beck said, “Breathe, baby, it’s just me,” and all of that faded away.
I stared up at him as he pushed into me, focused only on cataloging the quirk of his brows, the pleats at the corners of his eyes, the twisted fault line of his mouth. I watched the way his throat bobbed and his jaw flexed as he sank deeper. When he dropped his forehead to mine and a soundlessfuckpassed over his lips, I didn’t even blink.
A breath rushed out of him and he rolled his hips, and I had to close my eyes against the immense, glorious weight of him moving inside me. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I couldn’t believe I was here, full—so full—and desperate for more.
“Say something, storm cloud. Tell me you’re good. Tell me you’re with me.”
“Good,” I managed. He was bigger than anyone I’d been with—all two of them—and he was bigger than any of my toys. But it didn’t hurt, probably because I was such a sloppy, slippery mess of wet. The life-altering orgasms he’d served up had also helped out. But even still, I needed him to move. To do something with all of this pressure. “It’s—it’s good. Don’t stop. Please.”
So much for doing away with the whining. And begging.
I dug my fingertips into his flanks, urging him on as he offered one tentative thrust, then another, and another. With each one, he dragged a hot, piercing stare from between my legs and up to my eyes, always waiting for some sign that I wanted to continue.
“I thought you were going to lose your mind,” I said in response to his arched brow.
“Trust me, it’s long gone,” he said on a gusting exhale.
“I was real with you.” Everything inside me tightened as he tapped two fingers against my clit. Much more of that and I’d misplace my words again. “Now it’s your turn. What do you want?”
“This is what I want,” he ground out, his eyes pinched shut and his jaw locked like he had the entire world on his shoulders.
“I don’t think so.” I shifted beneath him as I tried to find the move that would bring back all those filthy ideas, those words and promises that made me feel like I could do anything with him,beanything. Be everything. “You want to be a little wild.”
