Chapter 29
CLOVER
God damn. I thought getting the head in would be the hardest part, but the more he pushes into me, the more it hurts. I feel like I’m losing my virginity again, the slight burn, how I have to suck air in through my teeth. I assume he’s about midway when I cry out softly.
“I can’t stretch that much,” I say, a little tense. “I can’t do it.”
He doesn’t break eye contact with me. “Look down, sweetheart. I’m about halfway, you’re doing so good.
It’ll fit; we just need to go slow. Is that okay?
I can help.” He spits on his fingertips and moves his hand down to my pussy, rubbing my clit firmly.
When he squeezes it between two fingers and pulls gently, I’m ready.
I feel myself getting wetter, and I breathe out through my mouth.
“Are you alright, darlin’? Check in with me. ”
Fuck. The mouth on this man. Talking dirty always gets me off when I’m reading smut or when I’m just fantasizing, but a respectful mouth? Who would’ve thought?
“I’m okay, Beck. Please don’t stop.”
He gives me a second, but I’m impatient. The burning feeling from the stretching has melted away since I got more wet, and I just want him inside of me now. I wiggle my hips to encourage him.
“There she is,” he soothes. He slowly pumps in and out of me, letting me get used to him before he pushes his entire length into me. Fully bottomed out in me, he groans and pauses as I adjust. I can feel myself pulsing around him, but I can’t control it.
“You feel so fucking good,” I pant. “I need you. Fuck me, Beckett. Please, I need you.” I’m begging, and I don’t give a single fuck.
He takes a breath and holds it for a moment and then pushes his hips closer against me, rocking slowly.
It’s a bit uncomfortable at first, I’m not used to his size, but the pleasure overrules any other sensation quickly.
He pulls back and surges forward again, carefully pounding into me in a slow, measured pattern.
I grab onto him, my fingers searching for a place to get purchase, and I eventually sink my nails into his shoulder blades.
He inhales sharply and his eyes find mine, staring at me as he picks up his pace.
“If you keep scratching me, this ain’t gonna last long, baby,” he strains out.
“It feels too fucking good.” A moan comes from deep in him and it feels like a challenge.
I dig my nails in deeper and drag them along his back.
He reaches between us and pinches my clit again, making me squeal.
This does something to him. His expression shifts to something primal and he pounds into me, bottoming out with every thrust. Now, I’m holding onto him with my nails because I’m being moved every time he’s slamming into me, and I feel them scraping along his skin.
Whatever language I’m speaking at this point isn’t a recognizable one. I’m trying to beg him and encourage him, to tell him I’m going to come, and tell him how perfect he feels inside of me. It’s all jumbled. I finally stop even trying and just whimper, because it’s all I can do.
“That’s it, baby. Come for me. Come on this fucking cock, Clover. Tell me whose little cunt this is. Can you do it, sweetheart? Are you going to come for me?”
His words are emphasized by every movement he makes, making it all a bunch of single words instead of sentences. I can’t respond. All I know is I feel my whole body tense up and I cry out. “I’m coming,” I try to say, but he knows, based on the smile on his face.
“Yes, baby, god you’re squeezing me so tight,” he groans, trying to keep the pace. I know he’s going to come soon, too.
“Please,” I whisper, and I feel the warmth of him spilling inside of me as my eyes roll back.
When he rolls off of me, I reach for him, wanting to touch his face. He pushes his cheek against my palm and kisses it a half a million times. We both laugh quietly, sporadically, basking in the afterglow of this.
He brushes a tear off my cheek that I didn’t even realize was there.
“Are you okay, darlin’?”
“I think so,” I answer. “Lots of endorphins, I guess.”
“I’m going to go get you some water, sugar, and a warm cloth, okay?”
I nod, and he leans in to kiss my forehead.
“I’ll be right back, don’t move.”
He brings me a hot washcloth first, since the bathroom is right off his bedroom. He pulls a pair of sweatpants on and closes the door quietly behind him to go get the other stuff.
I’m well aware of my tears now, and they’re flowing.
I’m still in love with Beckett Hayes Hollis, and I don’t think I can let it go this time. I just don’t know if he feels the same.