The air became heavier, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end as my skin prickled with delightful excitement.
Nerves fluttered in my stomach. Anxiety, but the good kind.
“Hands and knees.”
The low, barked command cut through the thick silence that had descended after the sounds of my clattering keys and rustling coat had subsided.
Though there was a champagne haze in my mind, I didn’t hesitate to obey. The floor was cold against my palms.
“Crawl. To me.”
Again, I shivered at the roughness in which he spoke. It might’ve sounded cold to an outside observer, but my skin was already beading with sweat. Expectation.
Excitement.
I hadn’t even fully seen him yet, just heard the rough timbre of his words, smelled the faint hint of his scent.
I followed his voice, crawling through the living room to where he was seated in the armchair. I looked at his legs, spread to showcase his thick thighs and the cock I knew was already rock-hard. For me.
“Look at me.”
I fluttered my lashes and craned my head, almost panting from my spot on the floor. It was another act that should’ve been derogatory. It should’ve made me feel dirty. Used.
But as with anything with Beau, I merely felt powerful, that I was special. I was his. And he was content to watch me crawl to him.
His body seemed to be cut from marble, for how still he was sitting. His eyes, which were just visible in the soft light, were intent on me. They were yearning. Marveling.
“Perfect,” he uttered in a guttural growl. “Come here.”
Again, my body obeyed him before my mind had even truly caught up with his words.
I was crawling up his body like I hadn’t just seen him a handful of hours ago. Like I didn’t sleep in his bed every night.
I felt a crazed desperation for our skin to be pressed together, to wrap myself around him.
His arms fastened around me, yanking me up to straddle him on the armchair. I let out a sigh as my legs splayed on either side of his hips, the crease of my thighs pressing into where he was deliciously hard for me.
Our foreheads pressed together; his breath pleasant on my face.
“The ability to tell you what I want to do to you, to watch you crawl to me knowing I’ll be filling that beautiful pussy up in mere minutes is heaven on fucking earth.” He caressed my arms, goose bumps erupting. “It was torture. Pure torture watching you, wanting you, imagining what I’d do to you.”
“Now you don’t have to imagine,” I whispered.
“Everything you give me is beyond what I could ever imagine,” he corrected, lips brushing mine. His hands were creeping up my bare back, rubbing. But every touch was tender, in direct odds with the husk in his voice, the tightness in his lips, the hardness of his cock.
“You drunk, baby?” he asked, lips just brushing against mine.
I grinned against his mouth. “I had a few glasses of champagne, yes.”
“Good.”
Before I could blink, we were up. In one powerful move, Beau grasped my ass, standing.
I wrapped my legs around him as he carried me to his—our—bedroom. Still, he didn’t kiss me. Our mouths were inches apart, both of us breathing heavily. It felt more intimate somehow, not kissing.
The door closed softly behind us, then Beau deposited me on shaking legs.
His hands bit into my hips. “I’m going to take your clothes off, then you’re going to get on your hands and knees on this bed, presenting yourself to me. You okay with that?”
