Chapter 27 #2
He kicked the door shut behind us, the windows rattling with the force as he walked us toward the living room.
Rather than sit on the couch like I’d expected, he wrapped his hands around my thighs and lowered my feet to the ground.
He bent, tugging my pants and underwear off.
As he slid them down, he pressed kisses to my legs.
On my knee, my calf, my ankle. Until I was standing in nothing but my T-shirt.
He lowered himself to the ground, sitting with his back to the base of the couch.
“What are you doing?” I asked as he lured me toward him with his hands snaking up the backs of my legs toward my ass.
Those big brown eyes of his looked pleading. “Ride my face, baby.”
“Beckham, I’m too heavy—”
He shook his head, reeling me closer until his chin was nearly brushing my pussy. The warmth of his breath sent shivers skating over my spine. “Don’t say that about yourself. Parker, I was made for you.”
I hated that he always knew just what to say. And how I always melted for it, too.
Spreading my legs farther, I moved until my hands were braced against the back of the couch. His fingers gripped my flesh, moving my knees onto the cushions for better support. Then he pressed his mouth to my center, and I died.
My teeth dug into my lower lip in a poor attempt to rein myself in. I’d lose it instantly if I didn’t breathe, and I wanted to savor this.
The roughness of his mustache against my sensitive skin had electricity shooting up my nerve endings. I rocked into him, relishing in the way it felt. His tongue, his teeth, his breath and lips. All of him had me teetering on the edge.
His hands urged me faster, his head tilting back to devour more of me. He sucked on my clit, tongue flicking across it, and the sound I let out was vulgar.
He moaned into me, the vibrations causing me to settle onto him further as my body lost all ability to stay upright. My fingers dug into the back of the couch so hard, I was surprised it didn’t tear.
His blissful tongue moved to my entrance, spearing me. A gasp slipped from me, and I rode his face quicker. Harder. Intent on feeling that sensation over and over and over again.
My core clenched as he moaned again, the sounds and warmth of his breathing too much to take. And when his attention focused on my aching clit, I lost all control. My stomach tightened as pure ecstasy shot through my veins. My eyes squeezed shut, my fingers digging for something to keep me afloat.
Beckham held me steady as I erupted, and when I came back down, he lowered me to his lap. He brushed damp strands of hair off my forehead, his lips pressing to each of my cheeks and my nose before settling on my mouth. My tongue lapped out, tasting myself on him.
The act must’ve awoken another beast inside of him, because he stood, lifting me with him, and bent me over the couch.
“Tell me we should stop,” he gritted out.
The clang of his belt was closely followed by the sound of a zipper.
“We shouldn’t,” I panted, arching my back so my ass was higher.
A pained breath escaped him, and a heap of clothes fell to the floor. A glance over my shoulder told me he was naked, and—
I choked on my breath.
No matter how many times I’d seen this grown-up version of Beckham since returning to Bell Buckle, it never got old.
When we were younger, we’d memorized every inch of each other.
I knew every dip of his muscles, every scar, freckle, and tan line.
But now… Beckham was all man. Hard and toned and so perfectly him.
I think I was drooling.
“Stopping would be torture,” he agreed. “And I’m clean. I was tested—”
“Please shut up and fuck me. I trust you.”
His hands gripped my hips as he lined himself up. And when he slid inside of me, the world stopped turning. There was nothing outside of the two of us. No day or night, no summer or winter. It was me and Beckham. Living and breathing for each other.
The way it’d always been.
My knees bumped the cushions as he drilled into me again and again, but with his grip on my hips, I wasn’t going anywhere. He held me up, helping me even now.
Already, I felt the tension building between my legs. He’d brought me over the edge twice now, and I was feeling the effects of it majorly.
“Come with me,” I pleaded.
His pace picked up. “Ask me that every day.”
“I will.”
“Parker…” He trailed off, but I knew what he was wanting to ask.
“I want you to come inside me.”
My demand had his thrusts turning harder, more feral than before.
I tried to keep my orgasm at bay, but the effort was futile.
My thighs shook as I released, his hold the only thing keeping me upright.
Seconds later, when it nearly became too much, he buried himself as deep as he could.
He spilled into me, and I whimpered at the sensation.
Our breaths were the only sounds that filled the room as we stayed connected. At some point, one of his hands drifted from my hip to my lower back, his fingers digging into muscles I hadn’t realized were sore.
Slowly, he pulled out, and there was no mistaking what dripped out of me as he did.
He’d barely moved before he had a piece of fabric there, wiping away the mess. With most of it clean, he tossed the rag to the ground.
I straightened, turning to face him, but my eyes caught on what he’d used to clean me.
“Did you use your shirt?”
He shot me a heart-stopping grin. “I’ve got twenty of them, remember?”
His arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me into him. I rested my cheek on his bare chest, finding his heartbeat instantly.
“I missed this, Park,” he admitted, hands running up and down my back.
“I did, too.”
We stood like that for a while, the two of us realizing this had been inevitable. We were each other’s person. There’d never be any denying that.
His touch moved to my cheeks, tilting my face until we made eye contact. “Give me a second chance.”
I arched an inquisitive brow. “Are you asking or demanding?”
“Both.” There was no shame in his voice. “Please. Don’t make me get on my knees, because you know damn well I will.”
I trailed a finger over his jawline, moving to his cheekbone. He was entrancing like this, freshly fucked and sated.
“As much as I’d love to see that, we can save it for another time.” I paused, my gaze darting between his eyes. What he was asking was genuine. Beckham didn’t have a dishonest bone in his body. “I’d give you a million chances, Beck.”
Relief sagged his shoulders, a corner of his mouth lifting. “It’s a good thing I’ll only ever need two.”
I tilted my head. “Oh, is that right?”
“Yep.” He scooped me up, my legs wrapping around him like they were made to be there, despite my belly getting in the way. “I don’t plan on ever letting you go again.”