Page 55

I bite my lip, tilting my head to one side like I’m considering it. “Strip, huh? That’s awfully demanding for someone who hasn’t even taken off his own tie.”

I swear the temperature in the room drops by ten degrees. “Red.”

“Sir,” I purr just to watch his pupils blow wider. “If you want me naked, you’re going to have to work a little harder than only saying one word.”

I reach for the zipper at the side of my dress, maintaining eye contact. But instead of pulling it down, I rest my hand there. Tap my nails against the metal pull. Watch him watch me.

“See, the thing is, I don’t usually take commands from men who haven’t even said please.”

The corner of his mouth twitches. I squeal a little bit internally.

“Manners are free, Beau,” I continue. “You should try them.”

He takes a step closer, and my pulse spikes, but I hold my ground. “I wasn’t asking.”

Hello, jelly legs. I’m about to give in. I have no idea if he realizes how hot he is right now.

His eyes drop to my hand on the zipper, then slowly drag back up to my face. He doesn’t blink.

“On your knees.”

Three words. That’s all it takes. I fold faster than a cheap lawn chair. My knees hit the floor before I even realize what I’m doing.

I look up at him from the floor, and the sight nearly has me begging for… I don’t even know what. Beau towers over me, tie still loose, eyes black as ink. The expression on his face… God, it’s devastating. Not smug. Not triumphant. Just entirely satisfied. It’s as if he knew this would happen, and he’s not surprised in the slightest.

“Now that is being a good girl.”

I shiver, every nerve ending lighting up at once. My thighs press together, the slick heat between them impossible to ignore. I’m panting, actually panting, like I just ran a marathon instead of dropping to my knees.

I no longer care about how much this dress costs or the fact that it took me forty minutes to put the damn thing on and get it the way I wanted it. Beau can tear it to shreds for all I care.

“Undo it,” he says, nodding toward his belt.

My fingers tremble as I reach for the buckle and work it free. When I get it undone, I hesitate, looking up at him for permission and direction.

“Go on,” he encourages, his voice a rough command that sends shivers down my spine.

I slide the zipper down slowly, and when I finally free him, I gasp at the sight. He’s thick, hard, and perfect. I wrap my fingers around him and have to stop myself from moaning.

“Look at me.”

I tilt my head up and meet his gaze. The intensity there nearly undoes me. He reaches down, threading his fingers through my hair, not pulling, just holding.

“Open your mouth.”

I part my lips, and he guides himself forward, the tip of his cock brushing against my lower lip. I dart my tongue out, tasting him. Good lord, Beau is delectable. The perfect blend of saltiness and masculinity explodes on my tongue.

“Fuck, Whitley,” he groans. “Show me what that smart mouth can do.”

I lean forward, maintaining eye contact as I run my tongue along the underside of his length, tracing the prominent vein from base to tip. When I reach the head, I swirl my tongue around it. Beau’s hand tightens in my hair.

I take him into my mouth, his groan rumbling through the room like distant thunder. The feeling of him on my tongue is intoxicating, heavy and hot. I hollow my cheeks, taking him deeper, watching his face through my lashes as his control slips just a fraction.

“Just like that,” he breathes.

I set a rhythm, savoring the way his breathing changes, the way his fingers flex against my scalp. His other hand cups my jaw, thumb stroking my cheek almost tenderly as I work him with my mouth and hand in tandem.

“Look at you,” he says, voice strained. “Taking my cock so well. So pretty on your knees.”