Chapter 24 – Brinley #2
“Don’t you dare come yet, Beau.” I suck his tip into my mouth and swirl my tongue around the head.
The muffled swear words spilling from Beau’s mouth fill me with a sense of pride.
He wants me , the girl in the background with her glasses and her diaries.
He wants me so badly that he has to count his breaths to keep from coming down my throat.
I move my head slowly up and down, lips stretched around his width. I love watching his cock get shiny with my saliva. His abs ripple with the effort of holding himself back. He could so easily thrust deep into my mouth. He could ignore my request and come down my throat, but I know he won’t.
His hand fists in my hair, a leash with no tension on it yet.
“Fuck, Brin. Look at this fucking mouth. So pretty wrapped around my cock. So pretty taking me.”
His thumb drags across the corner of my lips where they're stretched tight.
“All the times this week I had to sit across from your brother and pretend I wasn't thinking about exactly this. About my cock in your throat. About what a filthy fucking secret you are.”
His head tips back against the wall. “ Goddamn, baby. Slower. I'm not coming yet.”
I hollow my cheeks, sucking before pushing him deeper into my throat.
His hands grip my hair harder and pull me away. “Brinley, baby, I swear to god, if you don’t climb on my cock right now, I’m going to fucking lose it.”
He falls to his knees and sits back on his heels, fisting his cock. Biting my lip, I crawl over him and wrap my arms around his neck for support as I line my pussy up at his tip. He hisses with pleasure as I slowly slide down his cock.
“Fuck, Brinley baby,” he mutters. “So hot and wet for me.”
His hands close on my ass, hard enough to leave fingerprints as I begin to move.
“Look at you. Look how fucking obscene you look bouncing on my cock. I dream about this. About you stretched around me, soaking through my jeans before I'm even all the way in.”
His teeth find my collarbone, his mouth open, hot. “Tighter, baby. Squeeze. Make me feel you. Don't let me forget for one fucking second who this body belongs to. God, this pussy was made for me.”
His thumb circles my clit, slow enough that I want to scream.
“You know how I know? Because no one else has ever touched you here. Not really. Not like I do.” His teeth scrape my earlobe.
“Any other guy you might've fucked? He would've had a stranger underneath him.
Only I know what sounds you make when you're about to break. Only I know how hard to press. Only me, Brinley baby. Only ever me.”
He grabs my hips as I rock against him. My inner muscles burn pleasantly as they stretch around his length, the small bite of pain giving an edge to the pleasure. Like citrus juice elevating a dish.
God, Beau’s really in my head if I’m thinking like that while he’s fucking me.
We fall into a slow, sensuous rhythm. Even kneeling, Beau’s leg muscles are broad enough that it’s hard for my knees to reach the floor and give me leverage.
I settle into grinding my clit against his pubic bone between him pulling me up on his cock a few inches before I settle back at his base.
The heat of my first two orgasms reawakens, slowly growing with every slide of his cock.
It builds in my thighs and lower belly, climbing up toward a new climax.
Beau’s mouth is everywhere. Kissing my neck, nipping at my ear, kissing my temples and shoulders and lips. My skin is alight from his touch. I can feel him everywhere—inside me, around me, all over me. My pussy contracts around him and he shivers.
“Close?” he pants.
When I nod, he cradles my head right before he dives forward, putting me underneath him so he can fuck me slow and deep.
He braces his weight on one arm while the other reaches between us to strum my clit.
He’s an expert at touching me, and he uses his devastating talent to drag me along to the end with him.
“Come with me,” he whispers.
And I do, my body wracked with white heat and smothering pleasure while he fills me. I watch him strain to keep his eyes open so he can watch my face. He looks at me like he’d be happy to see me, and only me, forever.
It makes me shiver.
We lie together, legs entangled as we come down and catch our breath.
Beau’s skin is warm against mine, a welcome contrast to the slightly chilly floor.
For one quiet moment, everything almost feels okay.
Like maybe we can survive this. He pulls me against him, into the crook of his arm, and I let him.
After a long time, Beau rolls away from me, muttering that he should go.
He looks over at me like he’s making sure I’m still there. Waiting for me to say something to stop him, but I can’t. He knows I can’t.
Then he gets up and gets dressed. His jeans, shoes, underwear are in here. He has to walk out to the café to get the T-shirt I threw. I can’t see him pull it on from my angle on the floor, but I can see him glance back at me once.
I hope and don’t hope that he decides we need to talk.
But he disappears instead. I hear footsteps followed by the chime of the bell as he opens the front door and walks out.
Beau leaves first.
He always leaves first.
I lie on the floor of my own coffeeshop with my underwear in a pile somewhere by the espresso machine and the smell of him still on my skin, and I understand for the first time what temporary really means. It means I'm always the one left counting his footsteps as they go.