I slide the toy in, deeper this time. My body clenches around it, greedy. Desperate. I can’t tear my eyes away from Beckett—sprawled in the chair like sin itself, fist working slow and steady over his thick cock.
Not touching the piercing.
His eyes burn into mine, darker than I’ve ever seen them.
"God, Ash…" Rough. Growly. “You look so fucking good like that. You don’t know….”
I slide the toy out. Push it back in.
His jaw flexes. “Fuck yourself harder, beautiful. Let me see what you like. What you need.”
I moan. I can’t help it. That pressure’s already spiraling through me—gathering, demanding.
“What are you thinking about?”
“You.” I don’t even hesitate. Thrust. Moan.
“I’d stretch you slow, babe. Real slow. So slow you’d lose your goddamn mind.” His fist tightens. “Then I’d slide deep… fist your hips… fuck you hard enough to remind you who you belong to.”
My legs are shaking.
“That’s right. Come for me.”
His voice is a growl.
Heat explodes behind my eyes and I’m trembling, thighs clenching, and still, I don’t look away.
And neither does he.
And there, in his eyes, the sharp edge of surrender.
His lips part. His chest seizes.
“Fuck—Ash—” He groans, body bowing forward as he comes, hand still stroking, cock twitching, thick release striping his abs.
I’m still clutching the toy, shaking. He’s spent and gorgeous and wrecked.
We’re both panting.
I turn off the toy.
And finally—finally—I close my eyes.
A breath. Maybe two.
Then I feel the mattress shift. Beckett’s body, beside me.Mine.
His mouth brushes my shoulder. The corner of my collarbone. A taste. A kiss.
No regrets.
And then we just breathe. Skin to skin.
DAY 6, ENSENADA
ASHLEY
The next morning, I wake up and see Beckett sitting on my side of the bed, wearing nothing but those boxer briefs, holding two cups of coffee.
