Chapter 23
twenty-three
HANNAH
I was Alice, tumbling down a rabbit hole into a whole new world where Beau Shaw kissed me like I was the most precious thing on the planet, like I was irreplaceable.
Just as I was about to open my mouth to tell him he was mine too, that he had been mine, the fire that I had been expecting caught hold.
Not a fire.
A firestorm.
A volcano.
His lips caught mine again, his strong hands at my hips, lifting me. When I wrapped my legs around him, his palms found my ass, and he pressed me tighter against his body, his hard length, our mouths still moving desperately.
I knew we were moving through the house, but I only faintly registered it. Time and space ceased to exist. All there was was Beau.
Then there was the soft sound of a door closing before my back hit a mattress that smelled of Beau’s all-natural fabric softer, juniper, and him.
Beau’s bed. I was on Beau’s bed. In his room.
I had never been in Beau’s room. That would’ve been crossing boundaries. Boundaries were now a thing of the past.
At least I hoped to hell they were.
As much as I wanted to take it all in, there were more pressing things demanding my attention.
Beau. Kissing my neck. My collarbone. His hands clasping my hips before rolling my pants and panties down at the same time. No hesitation, no devastating slowness. Only pure, frenzied passion.
My intention from the moment I crawled toward him on the couch was to end up naked in his bed.
In that moment, I was halfway there. The scent of his sheets already seeping into my skin.
I immediately felt self-conscious at my pussy essentially staring at him while he was still fully clothed, my knees instinctively knocking together.
Beau’s hands met my knees right away, exerting gentle pressure to pull them open.
“No.” A thread of dominant desire hummed beneath the single word.
I found the courage to look at him. He wasn’t looking between my legs as I’d expected. His eyes were glued to mine.
“Nothing about you, Hannah, is going to be less than perfect to me,” he rasped. “And you do not have to be self-conscious about the pussy you’re going to present to me. The pussy I’m going to taste every inch of. The pussy I’m going to fuck. Cover with my cum.”
I physically felt his words between my thighs, the pussy in question throbbing with need.
As his thumbs made tender circles on my kneecaps, the veins in his muscled forearms were ridged, showing the way he was clenching his body, forcing it to be still. “Do you feel comfortable with me, Hannah?”
Unable to speak, I nodded. I felt unbearably nervous. Excited. More turned on than I ever had in my life.
“Do you feel safe with me?”
Again, I nodded without hesitation.
“Then you’ll do everything I ask in this room.” His voice sounded deeper now. “You feel uncomfortable or unsafe, you tell me straightaway. I do something you don’t like, that takes you to a bad place, you tell me immediately.”
His words cut through the haze of my desire, slicing through my ribs, my chest. To settle in my heart.
Beau. Beau was incredibly wild when turned on. I could see the outline of his erection through his jeans, the tense line of his shoulders. He looked nearly feral with desire, like he wanted to lay waste to my body. He’d literally just told me he wanted to cover my pussy with his cum.
But he was ensuring that I felt safe. Because of what he knew about my past. And somehow, he said it in a way that didn’t make me feel broken or fragile.
It made me feel safe. Protected.
“I need to hear you tell me, Hannah,” he clipped out the command. “That you’ll speak the second you feel anything. That you don’t like anything.”
“I don’t think you’ll do anything to me I won’t like,” I managed to rasp, my lips swollen from his kiss.
His mouth twitched upward in a wolfish smile.
“It’s going to be my mission to ensure that you don’t merely like anything I do to you.
” His tongue peeked out to sweep across his bottom lip.
“But there are a lot of things I want to do to you, Hannah.” He was still rubbing circles on my knees, my bare pussy right in front of him.
He hadn’t so much as glanced downward.
“Once I get started, Hannah, I’m going to get carried away. I’m going to want to do everything I’ve spent months dreaming of, planning in great fucking detail.”
My breath caught. He’d been planning this for months.
“But you sitting here, cheeks flushed, lips red from my kiss, pussy fucking glistening, that’s enough for me.” He squeezed my knees. “It’s fucking everything. You’re not going to disappoint me by saying no to something in here. Everything with you is a gift, Hannah.”
My body couldn’t handle him saying much more. I’d imagined Beau throwing me in here and taking me like a caveman. I’d been craving that. I’d been worried I wouldn’t be able to handle that.
But Beau Shaw establishing a safe space for me before fucking me? How could that make me feel even more turned on?
His palm slid down my inner thigh, eyes still locked on mine as he moved slowly. My breathing was almost nonexistent when he reached the apex of my thighs.
“Absolutely fucking soaked.” He let out a low growl when he felt how wet I was. “Tell me. Now. Tell me you’ll speak up if it’s too much.”
“I will,” I squeaked, unable to handle saying more.
“Thank fuck,” he groaned. Then he spread my legs apart. His eyes left mine and zeroed in on me.
There.
I wanted to squirm. No one, save my gynecologist, had paid that much rapt attention to my vagina.
Waylon had used it as a means to an end. He’d glance at it, leer at it, make me feel dirty—not in a good way. But he wouldn’t stand in awe of it. Like Beau was doing. Would never run his eyes over it as if he were committing it to memory.
When Beau’s fingers lightly trailed through my hair, I was glad I was an optimistic groomer, hoping on the off chance someone—Beau—would see me, parting me to explore all the places of my pussy except my swollen, hungry clit.
I wriggled with the need for friction, release, arching my hips upward to him.
I twitched vigorously as his thumb rubbed against me, dipping inside before he slowly pulled it out and lifted it to his lips.
Through hooded eyes, I watched him taste me. Watched his eyes roll back in ecstasy. My teeth sank into my lip and I savored the stab of pain as I suppressed my moan.
Then his hands were at my thighs, spreading me even wider. There was no place for nerves about how much of me was being exposed to him, not when he gave me one last wild glance before getting on his knees.
Like he was going to worship.
Except he was going to feast.
The hair of his beard scratched deliciously against my inner thighs as his mouth worked my pussy. When his tongue found my clit, everything exploded in sensation. I fisted the sheets, arching myself up to him, letting out a stifled scream.
Beau didn’t stop, didn’t even pause as the most intense orgasm of my life washed over me.
He kept going, lapping me up, gorging as I writhed through waves of pleasure, one orgasm melting into the next.
It was months of pent-up desire, never truly sated.
Months of tension, of anger, emotion I’d been holding being released from my body in ripples of ecstasy.
Just as I feared I wouldn’t be able to handle the intensity, just as I was about to beg Beau to stop, his lips left my pussy.
I sighed in relief.
Our eyes met, and I jolted from my haze. Beau’s lips were moist, his eyes dark, jaw wired with a wicked smile. He’d just devoured me. But he still looked like a man starved.
“I’ve imagined, in great detail, what this would taste like. What you would smell like.” He leaned down to my pussy then took an audible inhale.
I didn’t even have it in me to feel self-conscious. It was impossible to feel self-conscious when a man looked at you the way Beau was looking at me.
When his nose nuzzled against my pussy, I jerked in pleasure. Then he laid his hands on either side of my hips, pushing against the bed to stand.
“It puts every one of my fantasies to shame. Hannah,” he said darkly, tugging his thermal over his head.
Through my haze, I noted his perfect, muscled torso, the defined abs, and a dusting of dark hair. However, I didn’t get time to be astounded by all that he was because he was quickly divesting himself of his pants and underwear.
Then Beau Shaw, object of my fantasies, my ire and my literal boss, was standing in front of me, naked, cock at attention, staring at the pussy he’d just ravaged. Literally.
Again, I didn’t get a chance to explore him in his entirety, because Beau was not a man to stand and pose. He was a man of action.
His action was him leaning back down, stopping to lay his lips against my pussy, the contact causing my entire body to spasm as his fingers pressed into my hipbones.
Then he traveled upward, lazily laying gentle kisses all over my naked skin.
I might’ve been worried about the way my stomach wasn’t completely flat, that I didn’t have any kind of defined abs, that my body was curved. My running had helped define the muscles of my legs and made the difference between my waist and hips more pronounced, but I was never going to be “skinny.”
Beau showed nothing but pure appreciation for my shape, as if every piece of skin were sacred. He continued to peel my shirt upward as his mouth roamed to the base of my ribs. Then he peered up at me.
“Arms up, baby.” He gazed up at me, ordering hoarsely.
Wordlessly, I obeyed him, then he pulled the shirt over my head, tossing it aside.
That left me panting and naked except for my thin lacy bra.
Beau’s eyes homed in on my pebbled nipples—visible through the sheer fabric. He let out a low hiss, leaning to suckle them over top of the fabric.