Now, with her mouth on my cock, there was definitely no going back.
What was the difference if our lips were on each other, but we couldn’t kiss? She was afraid, but I was a needy fucking asshole who needed her to stomp out the invisible line she’d drawn andtake me.
She worked my cock with a thoroughness I’d missed—her hand tugging, her mouth sucking, her tongue caressing. The tip hit the back of her throat and she gagged, pulling her lips off to take a breath.
I nearly opened my mouth again to remind her she didn’t have to do this, but she was already taking me back in, deeper and deeper with each pass.
My free hand dug into her wet strands, helping her with the pace. “You missed this, didn’t you?”
A moan slipped out of her as her big eyes met mine. The look caused me to throw my head back and groan.
“Fuck, Parker.”
One palm rested on my thigh, her nails digging into my flesh. Her grip on my cock became firmer as she stroked me, keeping rhythm with her mouth. She quickened her strides, resulting in my balls tightening.
“Parker, I’m going to come.” It was a warning—one she seemed to welcome as she went even faster. Her mouth remained around my cock, cheeks hollow, as I spilled onto her tongue. Her mouth popped off, and she swiped at the saliva dribbling down her chin before grabbing the body scrubber off the floor and standing.
“You know, now would be the time I kiss you,” I said, hoping to get some sort of change in attitude from her on the whole rules thing.
But instead, she poured extra body wash on the scrubber and started running it in circles over my chest. As if she hadn’t just been on her knees for me. As if my cum hadn’t slipped down her pretty little throat and she hadn’t swallowed every last drop.
“Or you can stop trying to break the rules and let me wash you.”
I frowned. “I’d much rather take the kiss.”
She paused her movements, sighing. “Beckham, if this is going to work, we have to stick to them.”
“I can kiss you and still remember you’re making your own choices with your baby.”
Something akin to hurt flashed over her eyes. “Yeah,well, I can’t.”
She didn’t have to say anything further for me to know why. I only wished she’d let up on not wanting this baby to be a burden on me. He’d never be. Neither of them would.
But rather than fight her on the matter, I grabbed the scrubber from her and turned her around, running the soap over her shoulder blades and back.
And once I was done, I hung it on the hook and massaged her shoulders, thankful that, at least for now, I could touch her.
22
PARKER
Ifrowned at my reflection in the mirror as I tugged the waistband of my skirt midway up my stomach for the third time. How was I supposed to style anything nice when all I could comfortably wear were sweats and oversized T-shirts at this point? My ivory sweater was baggy, which I was thankful for, but even then, no matter how I wore the skirt, something looked…off.
A light knock on the bedroom door had me pulling my sweater back down to cover my stomach. Beckham nudged the door open, leaning a shoulder against the jamb. His gaze roamed my body, eyes hungry despite him having been between my legs only an hour ago. We’d been sticking to my no-kissing rule, but that hadn’t stopped Beckham from getting his lips on me any way he could over the past several days.
When he made it back to my face, his brows furrowed. “Something is wrong.”
I sighed, turning back to the mirror and pinching the fabric of my knit sweater between my fingers. “I just can’t figure out how to wear this.”
Gentle steps sounded on the floor before he stopped behind me. His arms came around my waist, his hands wrapping around my own and making me drop the material. “It’s a sweater, Park. Only one way to wear it.”
I scrunched my nose, both at his statement and the way my stomach seemed to pinch slightly. I’d had random nausea all throughout the day, and I was really hoping it’d disappear before dinner tonight. “I mean the skirt.”
His eyes dropped, studying it.
“I wanted to tuck the sweater into the top of the skirt so it’d look cute, but the waistband isn’t sitting right because of my stomach.” I tugged the sweater up slightly, running a hand over my belly. “What am I going to wear in a couple months when I’m even bigger?”
He rested his hand over mine, and a tiny kick met my palm. The sensation of my baby had my shoulders relaxing a fraction. Beckham’s presence at my back had my spiraling thoughts nearly dissipating altogether.
