‘I can help with that, though.’
His eyes hold mine, half arrogant command, half desperate plea. My fingers tremble a little as I start unbuttoning his shirt, way slower than either of us would like. His hand moves to one of mybreasts, cupping it possessively, tweaking my nipple so I let out a soft moan, before I finally push the shirt off his body, my hands trailing over his skin, feeling the warmth and wanting more.
His stomach is ripped, all muscles and strength. I drop my head forward and kiss one of his pecs, then move lower, over the ridges of his abs, tasting the hint of saltiness, his masculine beauty.
My hands find his belt and unfasten it, dropping it to the floor, then the button of his jeans, and the zip. I struggle with them slightly; I’m too agitated for my fingers to fully cooperate, but then I’m sliding them down his body, crouching to get them off. He steps out of his boots at the same time, so he’s naked before me. And I do mean,rightbefore me. I glance up at him, my mouth dry, my lips tingling, before I push my head forward and take him in my mouth, all the way, so he hitches at the back of my throat.
‘Fuuuuck,’ he groans and steps back, against the door. I smile to myself as I keep driving him to insanity with my mouth, strength firing through me, pleasure flooding my veins. I taste him and moan, move faster, but Beau’s shifting, his hands beneath my arms as he lifts me away, holding me so he can stare into my eyes. There’s a flush along his ridged cheekbones, the effect I’ve had on him powerful enough to make my knees tremble, then he’s moving me to the bed. He pushes me down gently, hands on my hips, so my elbows are on the mattress, bent at the waist.
His hands roam my butt, sliding under the waistband of the thong, and I grind backward, silently begging him for more.
‘Stay there.’ I hear his footfalls, angle my face to try to see what he’s doing, but he’s back a second later. There’s the telltale ripping of a foil packet, a pause, and then one of his big, stronghands is guiding the lace of my thong aside as he pushes into me from behind, possessing me completely, filling my body, hitting parts of me I didn’t know existed.
It’s my turn to swear as I dig my nails into the soft quilt and whimper with the ecstatic pleasure he’s unleashing. One of his hands moves from my ass to my sex, and his other to my breast, which he rolls and squeezes until my body is a complete mess, wet and overheated, throbbing with the pleasure he’s inflicting with such skill and ease. His name tumbles from my mouth, over and over, as he thrusts into me and stays buried deep then eases out. I push my hips back further, begging him for more.
He laughs, a hoarse, wild sound before he presses his tip to me, but just his tip, just enough to drive me crazy. To make me beg in a way I thought I never would for a man. Not ever, and definitely not after Kirk.
‘Please, god, Beau, please,’ I cry.
‘What do you want?’ he asks, the hand on my clit moving faster. I roll my hips with desperate hunger.
‘You. This. Everything.’
He moves his hand from my breast to my butt and digs his fingers in. ‘Please,’ I cry again. ‘Please, Beau, please, now.’
He moves deeper and I exult, my voice shrill and loud in the hotel room.
But he’s still holding back, tormenting me, making me curse for a different reason as I jam my hips down, taking matters into my own hands. I start to rock back and forth, moving fast and hard over his length, riding him, just like he promised I would, all night long. His hands on my hips start to guide me, moving me,helping drive me to climax, so I explode with him deep inside, my body racked with pleasure, every part of me shaking.
‘Beau,’ I cry, with no idea what I want to add, just that his name feels really good in my mouth, that the way we are together is almost too perfect to be real.
‘Come here,’ he says, pulling out of me. When I straighten and try to stand, my knees almost buckle. He reaches out and steadies me with his strong hands, then moves me where he wants. Toward the mirror, with the vanity in front of it.
‘I want you like this,’ he says, pushing my hips forward again, running his hand over my spine. ‘I want to watch you fall apart, and I want you to watch too.’ Then, lowering his voice so it’s just a sexy rasp: ‘Eyes front, Bailey James. Don’t forget this time.’
My eyes latch with his in the mirror and a shiver runs the length of my spine as something other than sexual heat bursts inside of me, something I quickly ignore. What room is there for anything but desire when he can make me feel like this?
‘I’m watching,’ I say, with the hint of a challenge in my voice. Like I don’t believe he can make me feel as good as he just did, when in reality I have no doubt whatsoever.
‘Good girl.’
Heat flames my insides. Who can resist ‘good girl’ when uttered with that perfect gravelly drawl of his?
He takes me once more, and this time he’s in complete control. No teasing, no making me beg, just the sheer, euphoric mastery of a man who can click his fingers and make a woman come. I watch us both as I fall apart first, and then again, and finally when Beau comes in a harsh explosion, his cheekbonesdarkened with heat, his eyes briefly closed and then latching to mine, as he rides me through the waves of pleasure.
But Beau promised me ‘all night’, and he’s a man of his word. A man of skill too, because he massages my body, using the scented hand cream that came in the hotel amenities kit, and by the end of the massage, we both need more. But we don’t rush it—we don’t need to. We’ve got all night, remember?
He goes from massaging me to kissing me everywhere, sending me over the edge again with his mouth, and then his hands, until I’m almost asleep with exhaustion, my nerve endings completely spent. Or so I think. Because when he puts his own cowboy hat on my head and challenges me to ride him like I rode the bull, a rush of excitement stirs me right up anew. I straddle him and he latches one of my hands in his, holding me like he showed me how to hold the rope on the bull, and then he’s bucking his hips, grinning, like he’s trying to throw me off. But there’s no hope of that.
I keep one hand in the air though, like a professional bull rider, and roll my hips, moving with him as though we’re one line, and this time, when I explode, he’s right there with me, a powerful, desperate release just as the sun starts to light up the outside sky.
We wake late, after nine, and I don’t rush to move out of bed. I can’t. I know we agreed we wouldn’t do this, but falling asleep in his arms utterly exhausted is its own kind of nirvana. And even though I slept like a rock, somehow, on some level, I was aware of him the whole time. I felt his chest moving, his warm arms around me, the strength of his body right there, a solid wall to my side.
It doesn’t occur to me to worry about his family, about what they’ll think if they notice that he didn’t come home. I don’t think I have the capacity to care.
I fell asleep on a wave of sheer, blissful exhaustion.
He moves a little, like he’s somehow sensed I’m awake, and I blink up at him, smiling slowly. No regrets. ‘I need coffee.’
