‘Yes... Yes. Do it!’
‘I can’t wait for you to beg me to come.’ I lick the seam of her pretty mouth. ‘And I can’t wait for you to beg me to make it stop.’
As I release her head, she whimpers, rolling her lips in as though to mute the sound. If I wasn’t completely sober before, I am now. Her reaction . . . it’s everything. My hand on her breasts, her back pressed to my chest, her desperation chasing my touch as she fucks the air, her gasps all vowel and no sound. This experience is raw. Heady. Addicting. One word repeating over and over in inside my head.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
The muscles in my abs tense with raw need as I press her against the wall again, pulling on her hips as I drop to my heels like a penitent. In an instant, I’m sliding the flat of my tongue through her slickness as I worship at the altar of her pussy, and the room is filled with the sound of her sweet gasps and cries. The way she rocks back against me, the sounds she makes—it all drives me to fucking distraction, my hands tight and my tongue pressed against her slickness, unable to get deep enough. Feel deep enough. Have enough. Be enough.
Chapter 28
OLIVIA
Oh. My. God. Drunk Beckett is another level of demandingly sexy.
‘Don’t come,’ he rasps, his voice thick with need. ‘Not yet.’
My hands splayed across the wall, my ass in his face. I’m wearing shoes because he we wants me to, and I amlovingthis. Why is it I despise being bossed around by him, but I thrive on his bedroom commands?
Is it the novelty?
Is it him?
‘Ohhh...’
So I like being bossed around by the man I tell myself I can’t stand?
‘Spread your legs. Wider.’
‘Yes!’ And, apparently, I also like having my ass spanked. And squeezed.
‘You’re so fucking sexy.’ His words vibrate right though me, and I cry out with my knees locked. My palms against the wall are the only thing keeping me upright. ‘I wish you could see this. How wet you are for me. How pink and pretty.’ My insides begin to pulse, and my knees tremble. I’ve never had anyone go down on me like this.Standing. From behind.It feels so dirty. I’ve never felt this much intensity—never needed the release of orgasm so hard as Beckett tastes me like he’s a starving man and my pussy is his feast.
I can’t process a thing—I think my knees are truly going to buckle as my orgasm begins to crawl through my insides, gathering and building until I’m fit to burst.
‘I can feel you,’ he growls. ‘I can feel you coming on my tongue.’
The dual sensations of his words and his tongue push me over the edge. It’s all too much—his touch is too much—and I try to move away, but his fingers spear inside me, pinning me in place. My orgasm twists, heightens, and threatens to wash me away as he begins to work me wetly.
‘Please, it’s too much,’ I whimper between panting breaths. And before I can process what’s happening, Beckett stands, turning me for a savage kiss, a kiss that’s mean and possessive. My back flat against the wall, I’m like a butterfly pinned as he pulls my knee over his hip, and his fingers slip between my legs again.
‘No more, please.’ I can taste myself on his tongue, hear how wet I am. ‘I need you inside.’
‘You want me to fuck you?’ his deep voice rasps.
‘Yes.’ More than anything. ‘I can’t come again,’ I whisper as his finger swirls my clit. ‘Not like this.’
I know in that second that I shouldn’t have spoken, not as he blinks, his dark eyes staring down at me in a dare. Not as he swaps the pad of his finger for the rasp of his thumbnail.
I cry out. I am pure electricity. And I am coming again. And again.
And then I’m limp, lying across him as Beckett lifts me as though I weigh nothing. My arms slide around his neck and my legs cross as we kiss. The surface of the dining room table is a shock, but not quite as shocking as how he grasps the backs of my knees, spreading me as though I were a magazine he has an avid interested in.
‘Remember this place?’
‘How could I forget.’ I roll in my lips to stop myself from giggling. ‘I ate my breakfast here.’
‘Hmm.’ His eyes narrow. ‘I seem to remember you wanted something else eaten in here.’ My body jolts, and I moan as he draws his finger through my wetness, my pussy reactive and overstimulated. ‘Maybe I was mistaken.’ His mouth suddenly ghosts over me, and as he straightens again, his lips shine with my wetness.’ Maybe you’re only in the mood for urt.’
