Chapter 22
Beatrice had expected to wake up alone. After the shooting at the docks, when he’d come to her room to sleep with her, just to sleep, he’d already been gone by the time she’d woken up the next morning. That didn’t happen this time.
The man radiated an amazing amount of heat. She snuggled against him, his chest hair tickling her nose through the collar of his shirt. He hadn’t separated from her the night before to get undressed. She hadn’t undressed either.
Her feet were bare, but she didn’t remember taking off her heels. As she slid her bare feet along his legs, gathering more of his heat, she tried to imagine the contortions he must have gone through to take them off
His cock was hot and hard against her. Beatrice was getting used to his erections. The man seemed to always have them, but she was beginning to doubt he’d ever use them on her. She didn’t have to dread the sight or feel. In fact…
Her hand slipped between them, and she stroked over the bulge in his dress pants. She felt her own throb stirring at the thought of waking him up in her mouth again. Montrell deserved a little giving.
His arms tightened around her, pulling her close enough to trap her hand against him as a humming rumbled under her ear.
“Naughty girl,” he said with a smile in his voice.
“Naughty? I thought I was being a good girl.” She tried to stroke him again, but her hand really was trapped.
“Always.” He grunted as his arms tightened.
And she realized she wanted to make him say it. Something about him calling her a good girl always worked for her. His voice walking her through anything would work for her.
“Good morning,” he mumbled.
“It could be.” She barely wriggled her fingers, and his hips shifted into her hand. “If you gave me some room to play.”
He groaned a little, pressing his erection tighter against her before rolling to his back and keeping her with him. His arms moved down around her waist, keeping her pressed tight against him. “I’d love that. Maybe another morning.”
She shifted her torso up with her free hand so she could look down into his still sleepy face. He had sleepers in the corners of his eyes, and his sudden, jaw-cracking yawn was adorable.
“Tired?” She managed another little finger stroke. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything.”
Montrell’s breath hissed out. “Christ, you’re tempting.” He tried to capture her lips, but she shifted so his lips grazed her cheek instead.
“Morning breath,” she murmured as he trailed down over her jaw and nipped at her neck. Now she was the one shifting into him.
He chuckled against her. “Then you definitely don’t want him in that sweet mouth of yours. I go off like a rocket most mornings, and I’m feeling especially pent-up after last night.”
“Oh,” she murmured as his beard tickled her skin and his warm lips continued their progress. She shifted higher, giving him room to slide toward her collarbone.
He’d grown even harder against her hand, but his arms around her didn’t tense or try to make her hump him.
“How about a shower instead?” he suggested, his head shifting back. His eyes were searching hers.
“You mean together?” It was difficult to imagine. His bulk would probably steal all the water.
“I often masturbate in there. You mentioned wanting to watch.” His cock jumped against her. “Fuck, that idea does things to me.”
Beatrice considered his suggestion. Watching his big body tense and thrust into his hand… the thought brought a flush to her skin and another throb down below.
Montrell’s hand brushed through her hair, adding scalp tingles to the flurry of sensations building inside her. “You don’t have to worry. Our first time won’t be standing up.”
“I’m not worried.” She placed a swift kiss against his unsmiling mouth. “I trust you. Let’s do it.” He released her as she rolled over him to stand. With her back to him, she shimmied off her dress. She was bare underneath. She’d given him her underwear the night before, and the dress had a built-in bra.
Her breath rushed out as he groaned, falling back onto the bed. “So fucking gorgeous.”
When he didn’t lunge for her or anything, she could breathe again. She glanced at him over her shoulder to find his hand had replaced hers in massaging his cock through his pants.
“Are we doing this?” she asked, proud when her voice didn’t crack with nerves. She disappeared into the bathroom to give herself a moment to settle.
It wasn’t like she hadn’t been naked with anyone before. She could count the times she’d chosen to strip on one hand, though, and two of the three times were with the man she’d just run from.
What if he compared and was disappointed?
Which was a ridiculous thought. She was gorgeous, dammit. He’d even just said so.
Her arms crossed over her breasts, and her shoulders hunched on their own as the door clicked open behind her. She told herself to straighten. To turn and face him with a smile. Instead, a shiver rippled through her, chasing away the last of her body’s interest from before.
There was the sound of something rattling, and a towel was wrapped over her shoulders. Montrell hugged her from behind, but his hands were so careful to remain on the towel over her stomach as his chin rested on top of her head.
“I told you before. Only what you’re comfortable with.”
She sighed, back to feeling broken again. Her hands pulled the cushy towel around her. “I didn’t expect to feel nervous. I mean, you buried your face down there last night.”
She forced a laugh, and he released her as she turned. And almost swallowed her tongue.
Montrell had stripped off his clothes as well. The man was huge and masculine. She’d seen him naked in bed before, but there was something more dominating when he was standing up. Her eyes traced over the spread of his chest, the thickness of his arms and legs, and the way his cock jutted out from his body.
“How were you not poking me in the ass?” she asked, but the laugh froze behind her lips as a sudden memory assaulted her, reminding her she’d been raped by more men than her husband. Ice flooded her body. It had only been once. She’d learned how to escape trouble after that.
“Bea?” Montrell called softly, his nickname for her cutting through the noise in her head.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, wishing she could close her eyes but worried the fear would take over. She saw him wrapping another towel around his waist. “Sorry,” she repeated, the word clawing up her throat, needing to be said over and over.
And suddenly she was in Montrell’s arms. “Shh, I’ve got you.”
She expected her body to go into flight mode. Or maybe even fight. It’d gotten her into trouble in the past. She’d even hit this gentle husband of hers once before.
Instead her cheek cuddled against his hairy, broad chest, so different from the chiseled and smooth men she’d seen before. Her arms wrapped around him. And yes, his erection was still hard between them, but it was cushioned by two towels.
As her breathing slowed and that toxic need to apologize evaporated, Beatrice wished she could stay like this forever, warm in his arms.
“Did that Albanian rape your ass?” Montrell asked.
She flinched, and he released her. Montrell wasn’t one to hold her against her will. The flight instinct was back, but instead of giving in, she held on to him, burying her head against his chest and letting her hair curtain her face.
“Fuck,” he said, “you don’t have to answer that. Only what you want to share.”
Her heart slowed as she listened to the frantic beat of his. He was shaking.
“It wasn’t him. He didn’t believe me.” And somehow that had made it so much worse.
“Give me a name?” Montrell asked. And it was just that: a question. An offer, not a demand.
She shook her head, finally able to lift it. “It was one of the ones I ripped apart. You’ve already given me my vengeance.”
“Good,” Montrell murmured, his hand brushing through her hair. It was magic how his large fingers didn’t snag on any tangles. “It’ll never be enough, but it’s a start.” He cleared his throat. “Do you want to go back to your room? Shower alone?”
Beatrice shook her head. She clutched her own towel with one hand as the other reached for the knot at his waist.
Montrell sucked in a breath as his towel dropped to the floor. His erection had flagged a little. She’d done that. “Don’t force yourself. If—”
Her hand closed around him. She squeezed as she slid up the length of him. With the second pass, his cock wasn’t flagging anymore.
“You’re not getting out of this,” she said. “I’m so going to watch you come.” And she dropped her own towel.
His eyes devoured her. His gaze didn’t linger on all her scars. They skimmed her body, bottom to top, heat in his eyes.
Her hands stroked him from base to tip again. When she reached the head, a bead of moisture was there. She used her thumb to spread it along his slit.
He moaned, his hips thrusting. “Fuck, I got close again fast. Shower.” He pulled away, turning on the taps and giving her a great view of his ass.
Beatrice moved closer, her hands brushing over his ass cheeks. He shuddered, his big hand bracing against the tile as the other gripped his cock. “Dammit, I need…” He groaned as he began jerking himself.
“To come,” Beatrice said, kissing low on his back, letting her lips trail up to his hunched shoulder. They hadn’t even made it inside the shower yet, and he was already working himself over in rapid pulls. Her head peeked around his side, watching his erection strain, the veins pronounced. Her hands curled around his hips, skimming over the skin directly above where his pubic hair started. “Let go, Montrell. Let yourself come.”
He cried out as he pumped down hard. Cum shot into the path of the pounding water, disappearing into the steam. His big body slumped, his hand that continued to brace the wall shaking to hold him upright. His breath was whooshing in and out.
“That’s a good boy,” she murmured, kissing him right above his trembling ass.
“Fuck, Bea,” he moaned, his hand stoking himself one last time before dropping away. “I came so fucking hard.”
His cheeks were deliciously flushed through his beard as he looked at her, searching her face.
“I liked watching it,” she said, feeling heat in her own cheeks.
His cock twitched. It hadn’t yet gone soft. “You’re going to make me a two-pump chump. I can feel it.”
“Is that what you’re worried about?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow.
“A little,” he admitted with a self-deprecating laugh. “Ready to shower?”
She followed him into the water. Montrell liked the temperature a little on the hotter side, but he nudged it down a notch when he read her face. He held out his arms, and she placed herself against his chest. The water made the fit slippery, her body sliding against his.
Her surprised moan was covered by his deeper one. “This feels so good, Bea.” His hands skimmed along her back. She shimmied against him, biting her lip against the rise of sensation the second time. She’d never considered that her nipples would be sensitive. His beaded skin and chest hair felt marvelous, though.
“Can I wash you?” he asked, his hands pausing on her back. His erection pressed between them, still not soft, but she wasn’t nervous at all.
“Sure.” She turned her back to him, dragging her hair over her shoulder. “But start here?”
With soap, his hands gave her more than tingles. Waves of sensation skimmed over her from his wash turned back massage. Montrell never let his hands wander down to her ass, and she knew he hadn’t forgotten her dark moment.
She turned in his arms, and his hands shifted over her breasts. The sudden spike of a throb to her clit had her sucking in a breath as her eyes squeezed shut.
Montrell’s own breath was panting. He lathered his hands, giving her time to regroup.
Her eyes felt heavy as they opened to study the man in front of her. Montrell was the most gorgeous thing she’d ever seen, studying her nervously with those soapy hands.
“Touch me,” she offered, and he spread the soap over her chest. Each time his fingers or palm slipped over her nipples, her hips jerked.
His back blocked most of the water, and his fingers were hesitant as they skimmed over her scars. “Any pain?” he asked.
She shook her head. “They’re healed, Montrell.”
He continued to wash her, eventually cupping her breasts in his soapy hands, his fingers skimming the undersides as his thumbs found her nipples. The areolas began to wrinkle and tighten.
“Fuck, I need a taste.” His arms wrapped around her, and suddenly her feet weren’t touching the tile below as he lifted and bent her over his arms. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he said, his mouth already on her.
He took her nipple in his mouth, soap and all. His tongue wrapped around her, as if licking her clean, and flicked over her nipple hard. She gasped as the throbbing turned into a steady ache, with surges of intensity from every tug of his mouth. He began to suck in earnest, and her legs wrapped around his waist.
His erection pressed hard against his stomach as her hips surged against the length of it. It was as if the lips of her vagina were open around that length and shifted along it instead of drawing his cock inside.
“Oh, fuck!” he growled, one of his hands dropping to her ass to pull her tight against him as his head shifted to her other breast to duplicate his effort.
She felt molten inside. Hot and achy and wonderful all at once. She was horny, she realized. It felt fucking fantastic.
Her head jerked back at his hard suck, which shot a particularly intense bolt of electricity down to where she pressed against him. Her head bumped the tile wall, not too hard but enough to jolt her.
Montrell’s head lifted, concern in his eyes as his hand bracing her back shifted up to the back of her head. “You okay?”
“Don’t stop!” She dragged his face to her breasts, where she was rewarded with another of those tongue-curling tugs into his mouth. Her legs tightened as she shifted along his length, trying to ease the building pressure.
He kept up his ministration for long minutes, keeping her at the height of sensation. He’d pressed her into the tile so she wouldn’t be able to jerk back into it anymore. His head lifted, and his pupils had widened to make his brown eyes look darker again.
“Water is the opposite of lubricant.” He swallowed. “I probably can’t make you come in here. Let’s dry off and—”
“No,” she interrupted him. “I don’t want this to end.”
“Bea…” But he had no other words as he surged against her, his arms trying to pull her even tighter.
“Wanting to sink inside me?” She’d never heard her own voice sound so husky. Montrell’s body shook as he urged her legs down from his waist. As soon as she was standing on her own, he backed into the spray.
“I can’t,” he said. “You’d be too dry.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “I didn’t ask if you were going to.” Her hands skimmed up her own body, and her breasts felt extra heavy as she brushed over them. She panted through it, leaning harder into the wall. “But you want to, don’t you?”
“Fuck yes.” His hand reached for the shower controls. “Just let me cool off.”
“Don’t you dare,” she said, and he froze, looking at her through the spray.
Her hands moved over her nipples, palms grinding against them as she panted. “I’m loving how I feel. My whole body tingles and aches.” She panted as she did it again.
He straightened, his eyes watching her next pass. “Yes, Christ, touch yourself, Bea. That’s so fucking hot.”
“Not just me,” she said, her eyes dropping to his straining erection. “Jerk yourself off again. I have a better view now.”
“Naughty girl,” Montrell groaned, but his hand had already squeezed his cock.
She hummed in her throat, feeling naughty as her hands shifted so her fingers could touch her hardened nipples.
His hands were big, and his erection looked even larger within his grasp. Montrell wasn’t jerking and pulling like a madman this time. His strokes were slow, as if he wanted to draw it out too.
“Don’t just touch yourself. Be a good girl and pinch,” he told her.
The pinch sent another intense ache throbbing below. She tugged on her nipples harder.
“That’s it. Fuck, so hot.” His hand sped up to match hers. His eyes started to close as he jerked himself harder.
“Don’t come yet,” she said with another moan as everything within her seemed to tighten.
He slowed, his eyelids lifting so that he could stare at her.
Each tug on her nipples reminded her of his mouth. “I want you closer. So you’ll come on me.”
He froze as his body stiffened. Then he was surging forward, one arm bracing on the tiles beside her as his hand began jerking his cock. “Look what you did.” He groaned, his head falling back, the muscles in his neck tightening. “I can’t hold it back.”
She had no words for how powerful he looked. Instead, her mouth moved to his neck, and she sucked hard.
He moaned and shuddered against her, his cum warm between them.
Her fingers continued to pull her nipple as her thighs squeezed together. She felt like one strung-out nerve.
He panted as his head fell forward, nudging one of her hands away from her breast. Then his mouth was on her, biting down hard enough to send an even hotter jolt through her before he sucked.
She cried out as her body convulsed and her legs turned to rubber.
Montrell growled against her as he caught her in his arms, sucking her through the wave of pleasure.
The high of her body dissipated as she relaxed into his arms. He lifted his head, crushing her against him in the warmest hug. “You’re a wet dream, Bea. I think you just had a nipple orgasm.”
She blinked, rubbing her nose against him. “Is that possible?”
His chin rubbed over the top of her head. “How do you feel? Is the edge off, and you’re a little tired?”
She wanted to curl into him and tell him to hold her through a nap. At least his hot water seemed limitless. The steam around them made her feel almost dreamy. “Yeah,” she said. “But we have that meeting.”
“There’s time. Let me clean you off, and then I’d like to hold you for a while.” He pulled away, angling her toward the spray.
Watching him wash his cum off of her skin made her heartbeat pulse inside her.
“I’d like that,” she admitted, content to let him take care of her limp body.