17. Chapter 17
Chapter 17
Mira
B eau left the bathroom door open in case Pari came looking for me.
He helped me get into the bathtub first, and then slid in behind me, pulling me into him. It was intimate—I mean, the sex had been intimate, but this was more so. It was romantic, and I hadn't expected that from Beau. He was a good man. A decent man. He was kind and sweet. He loved his daughter. But…I knew his reputation. He fucked…a lot. He wasn't the kind of man who was going to settle down; he was the fuck ‘em and forget ‘em type. And, yet, there was a sincerity in how he took care of me before, during, and after sex.
I rested the back of my head on his shoulder. One of his hands cupped my breast and played with my nipple almost absentmindedly. While the other was wrapped around my stomach, stroking, soothing, igniting.
His thighs caressed mine as he surrounded my body with his.
Of all the things I'd expected when I'd knocked on Beau's door weeks ago, this was not one of them. But there had been something between us as soon as he asked me to come inside his home.
"I don't want to be a cliché." I kissed his forearm. "Does this change anything, or do we continue as—"
"Fuck yeah, it changes…fuckin' everything." He kissed my hair. "I want to sleep with you from now on."
His grip on me tightened when I nodded. I felt safe . I closed my eyes to soak up that feeling. Asha had told me that she'd never had that with any of the men she'd been with. She believed that the wiring in our brain circuitry was too frayed for us to have healthy relationships with men.
Maybe this was my chance for one.
I felt a surge of joy within me at the thought. I could be loved by someone who wasn't Asha or Pari—wasn't blood. Could a miracle like that happen?
"I'm assuming we won't tell anyone." I didn't want to be Beau's dirty secret, but I'd seen how his family was with me, and I could only imagine how his mother would feel about us being a couple.
"We'll take it slow, let people get used to the idea, yeah?"
It shouldn't hurt that he agreed with me, but it did. I'd hoped he'd say that he was proud of us and wanted to show me off.
Red flag. Red flag. Red flag.
"Yeah," I said, keeping emotion out of my voice. We were having a lovely time, and I didn't want him to feel pressured to give me more.
I'd learned early on that I could get clingy. My first boyfriend after I left my parents' home was a waiter at the diner I worked in, and he'd told me when he ended it, " It's like you've been starved for attention, and you kind of suck a relationship dry. I just wanted us to have fun. I'm not ready for commitment. You come across as desperate, Mira ."
When I told Asha about it, she'd pointed out that I was starved for attention, and I'd fallen for the first boy who'd given me some.
"Happened to me, too—wanted to marry and make babies with the first guy I fucked. But, you know what, Mira? It's better to sleep around and get the physical release than to get your emotions entangled. In any case, I don't think a man would stay with someone like us if they knew our truth—and how horrible would it be to be in a relationship where you can't speak your truth? Better to fuck and forget, Mira."
I hadn't learned that skill. Maybe I would've as I got older and more experienced, but all my plans of growing up slowly were derailed when Asha got pregnant and fell sick. I'd had to become a responsible adult real fast.
"What are you so deep in thought about, darlin'?" Beau nuzzled my ear as he spoke.
Live in the moment, Mira. He's here now. The past is done. The future isn't here. Live in the now.
"I'm too lazy to think," I lied.
He laughed. "I tired you out, yeah?"
"It's the best kind of tired." I turned so I could face him. "May I ask you another cliché?"
He smiled. "Yes, darlin', you may."
I felt shy, but I really wanted to know. "Was it…was it okay?"
He laughed. "Are you askin' me if it was good for me?"
I grimaced. "That does sound kinda lame."
He stroked my cheek. "No, Mira," he said, his tone serious now. "Not lame. It was amazing. I just hope I made it good for you."
"You know you did." I rolled my eyes. "I was screaming my head off."
"Best sound in the fuckin' world." He cupped my face. "You're incredibly beautiful, inside and out. The way you take care of everyone around you. The way you look at me like I'm a sex god—"
I punched him playfully on his shoulder. "Sex god? I've never said that to you."
"But you were thinkin' it," he teased.
He was right. I did think he was one of the sexiest men I'd ever seen. He gripped the back of my neck and yanked me to him. He dropped his mouth on mine, and I poured all my longing, all my affection and love for him into that kiss.
I'd fallen in love with Beau Bodine, I realized, and I wanted him to feel it in my kiss, in my touch. Because if I said the words out loud—knowing how he handled relationships—he'd be gone before I could even say, I'm not expecting anything in return .
He shifted me so I straddled his waist, and pressed his erection against my core. "I'm hard again…for you."
I moved my hips to feel him fully, and sank onto him, taking him balls deep inside of me. I felt full in the best way possible. I felt whole .
I looked into his eyes as he gripped my hips and raised me on top of him, building a rhythm that was already making me shake.
"Lean back, darlin'," he barked.
I did, and he put his mouth on my tits. He suckled the first one, and then the other nipple. He wasn't gentle but then I didn't want him to be.
I was drowning in Beau. He was taking over my body and my mind. I couldn't do anything but feel.
"Come for me, darlin'. I want to see you come. I want to feel you milk me," he urged his finger on my clit, strumming, pulling, stroking.
My hips were moving in counterpoint to the snaps of his as he filled me again and again, the friction maddening.
I felt the forerunners of my release start deep, deep, deep inside me, and when it happened, I let out a whimper as that was all the energy I had left. I leaned into Beau and rode the orgasm—it was long and hard, piercing in its intensity.
"That's it. Keep milking me."
He held on to me, thrusting up inside me again and again. He was pounding into me as if driven by the mad desire to find oblivion.
He let out a guttural sound, and then found his release.
"I want this every night," he mumbled against my boob. "I want you all the fucking time."
I stroked his hair. "I want you, too, Beau." And, I love you .