He stood there for four seconds—I counted—then continued to the bed.
He placed a champagne bucket and glasses on the bedside table.
“Thisis what you’ve been wearing underneath your clothes, the whole fucking time?” He rubbed his jaw.
I smiled at the way he spoke, unable to register that it was about me,mybody. “No, not this exact set,” I admitted. “I only have one of these. It’s the first time I’ve worn it. For you.”
I bit my lip, concerned at the way I said it. Did I sound desperate? Cheesy?
“For me.” Beau’s eyes lit up, as if it were a precious gift. He scanned my body again. “We’re getting you more of this. A lot more.”
I grinned. “I don’t think so, since it’s the best the French have to offer, and I hesitate to even think of the price.”
Beau’s features instantaneously darkened. “Who got them for you?”
My smile didn’t dim in the face of his evident jealousy and fury. It didn’t scare me.
“Cole,” I shrugged. “In his attempts to get me to seduce you.”
It seemed odd to be having this conversation while I was lying on a bed in nothing but underwear. He was fully clothed, and I’d just been on my knees for him, but I didn’t feel uncomfortable. I felt utterly at ease with Beau.
Even though my pussy was still tingling in desperate desire.
Beau blinked quickly. “Cole?”
I nodded. “So you can tamp down on the caveman rage.”
The rage in question did clear, then he turned to pour me a glass of champagne. “Cole has my compliments,” he muttered, handing me the flute. “I fucking love the way you look in those, but you don’t need fancy lingerie to seduce me.” He leaned down to press a kiss on my pebbled nipple.
“You just need to look at me,” he murmured, nuzzling in between my breasts. “You just need to smile.” His hand snaked down my navel, toying with the waistband of my panties.
“You just need to blush.” He trailed his finger over the lace of my panties, where my clit was swollen, desperate.
The light contact was torturous.
Beau’s hands went to my thighs, spreading them before he grasped a pillow to prop up my hips. He settled himself between my legs as I propped up on my elbows, glass of champagne in my hand, watching him.
His eyes were locked with mine, swiping his plump bottom lip with his tongue. “You do not need fancy lace to make me want you, Hannah. You just need to fucking exist.”
Slowly, he peeled off the panties. I lifted my hips to help him.
Instead of throwing them away, he lifted them to his nose, inhaling deeply.
My neck heated with a blush so intense that I wanted to snap my legs closed and rub my thighs together just for the sake of friction.
Instead, I clutched my cool champagne glass for dear life.
“In saying that,” he continued, depositing the panties beside him. “I’ll be buying you more. You can thank Cole for his service but inform him that no one buys my woman underwear butme.”
Before I could say anything about that statement, he spread me wider and dove in.
The contact was explosive. Champagne sloshed from the glass onto my skin, but I barely noticed.
My orgasm overcame me within seconds. I couldn’t hold out. Not after all the buildup. The release was mind-blowing, world-bending, and never-ending.
Beau didn’t stop when I came down from the first orgasm. He’d merely paused for a second, looking up at me, lips glistening. “Drink your champagne, baby.”
While he watched, I lifted the glass to my lips. The effort it took was surprising; my limbs were lead. But I managed it. Bubbles and flavor erupted on my tongue, as it ran down my throat, and met the warmth in my stomach from my orgasm.
