Chapter 23 #2
My hands tore into his hair as I arched into his mouth. My body reveled in the friction, at the lust careening through me as his teeth grazed my nipples. I’d never thought my nipples were sensitive enough to elicit any kind of physical pleasure close to an orgasm.
But Beau almost got me there. Just from sucking my nipples. After he’d already made me come against his mouth, twice?
A magician.
The only reason I didn’t come again was his mouth released my nipple, reaching around my arched body to unlatch my bra and free my nipples.
He flung the bra across the room without even looking. His eyes were too busy taking me in.
“These are the most magnificent tits I’ve ever fucking seen.” His large hands cupped my breasts, kneading them as his mouth trailed over the ridges.
“Remember my promise?” he rasped against my skin.
“I want to fucking ruin you. Want you to scream my name at the top of your lungs. Want your body coated in my cum.”
Oh, I remembered.
Beau looked up at me. “You okay with me doing that, Hannah? Covering these magnificent fucking tits in my cum?”
My core ached with need so intense, it was almost painful.
“Yeah,” I breathed. “I’m okay with it. But I need you to fuck me first.”
I’d wanted to say it like it was an order, but it came out as a plea. Even with Beau’s lips sending sparks of pleasure through my nerve endings, I needed us to be connected in that way. Needed to feel him, even if his size made me nervous.
Beau’s body lurched, then he crawled up to claim my mouth again.
He tasted of me.
“My baby wants my cock, huh?”
I nodded, my heart exploding at hearing him call me his.
He languidly pressed himself against my entrance, as if he had all the time in the world. As if all of his muscles weren’t coiled tight from the power of his need. He rubbed upward, downward, over my sensitive flesh, my eyes rolling to the back of my head as he coated himself with me.
But he didn’t enter. Not yet. He pulled away, and I let out a groan of protest.
He grinned devilishly. I’d never seen Beau smile like that. Until we were naked in his bed with his cock teasing my entrance.
He reached behind my head for a pillow. It didn’t go under my head, though; it went under my hips, propping me up. Preparing me.
Beau looked absolutely wild with need, but he was still in control, making measures for my comfort.
“I want you to take me.” He fisted the base of his cock. “Like a good fucking girl. Are you going to take all of me, Hannah?”
I nodded, my lips dry, my body buzzing with need. “Yes,” I replied, even if I wasn’t sure it was anatomically possible.
Beau stared at me, still holding his cock. “Yes, what?”
The edges of my lips curled up, knowing exactly what he needed me to say. “Yes, Mr. Shaw.”
He let out a groan, and his cock twitched, fucking twitched at my words. He ran a finger over a bead of pre-cum at the tip of his cock then leaned down.
My lips parted for him before he even had to say a word. His finger in my mouth, the salty taste of him, his desire, drove me wild.
I grazed the skin with my teeth as he withdrew his finger, watching his muscles flex as he positioned himself at my entrance again.
I’d expected him to ease in. On account of his size, and his apparent need to torture me, I thought he would drag it out. And because he had established that he was overly concerned with my comfort.
I did not expect him to buck his hips and fill me. To the hilt. In one stroke.
I let out a muffled cry at the beautiful intrusion, made more intense by the angle of my hips.
He was big. He was fucking huge. It defied the laws of physics that he fit in there, bottomed out.
But he’d prepared me. He’d prepared me very well. My body was primed, soaking for him.
There was an edge of pain, but one that was required to offset the sheer force of pleasure at Beau’s cock inside me. If I hadn’t felt that twinge of discomfort, I might’ve come right then and there. I might’ve passed out from pleasure right then and there too.
Beau’s violent entrance set the precedent for intense, furious fucking. But he stayed where he was, filling me, utterly still.
The cords in his neck were bulging with the obvious effort it took him to stay motionless. He held himself hovering above my body, eyes glued to where we were joined.
They were wide with wonder. With a brutal ownership.
“Perfect,” he grunted. Then he plowed forward, and I cried out again, fisting the sheets.
Tears escaped the edges of my eyes. Not from any kind of pain or sorrow, but because I couldn’t handle the physical and emotional pleasure coursing through me. My body had already been turned to jelly with his lips. Now his cock.
It was too much. It was not enough. It was everything.
Beau thrust again, harder.
Black spots danced in my vision as my body tensed, ready to explode again.
“Fucking perfect for me, Hannah.” He upped his tempo.
My body submitted, wholly and completely to his thrusts, the angle of my hips making each piston of his hips mind-bending, almost too much to take.
Almost.
Beau slammed in once more, even harder, and his thumb settled right on my clit. I cried out again, this one not muffled. I screamed Beau’s name as I toppled into nothingness, bursts of pleasure sending me out of my own body into nirvana.
Beau kept pumping into me, in rhythm with the shockwaves of sensation running through me.
He let out a strangled grunt, a growl low in his chest, and then he pulled out. My orgasm was winding down, my body twitching with aftershocks, but I instantaneously felt empty at the loss of him.
Then he was jerking his cock, and warm spurts of his cum covered my heaving chest. The vision was erotic, impossibly dirty in the best way. I arched my back to give him more access to my skin.
“Fuck, Hannah,” he moaned, still pumping.
My lips stretched into a smile.
Who knew that having the man I nanny for come on my tits would be the best moment of my life?
“We didn’t use protection.” I was staring at the ceiling, breathing heavily.
It was something I should’ve discussed the first time. Or the second. Or the third.
Was that how many times we’d had sex already? We’d both been greedy, desperate to explore every inch of the other’s skin, to release the pent-up tension that had been months in the making.
After the first time, I’d been utterly spent, covered in Beau’s cum. He’d leaned down, laid a sweet kiss on my lips. We both tasted of sweat and sex.
“You are fucking glorious,” he’d growled against my mouth.
Then he’d left, going to the bathroom for a wet washcloth to clean me. But he hadn’t done it right away. He’d hovered over me, staring at me greedily as I was bathed in the dim light coming from his bathroom.
“I need a minute,” he murmured, fisting the washcloth in his hands. “I need to commit this to memory, Hannah fucking Morgan, tangled in my sheets, well fucked, covered in my cum.”
My body hummed at the energy in his words, the force in his stare. I felt like a piece of art that someone was relishing. There was no need to move, to cover myself.
I just let Beau look.
It was an erotic act in and of itself, sending a burst of dopamine through my system.
Then he slowly cleaned himself off me, surprising me by lifting me into his arms once he was done.
My hands slung around his neck with ease, but I was not yet over the novelty of Beau touching me like that. Naked.
“I’m thinking we need a shower.’” His beard nuzzled into me as he walked us in the direction of the bathroom.
Who was I to disagree?
And even though I’d truly lost count of the orgasms I’d had and had just engaged in the best sex anyone had ever had on planet Earth, my body didn’t feel sated. I needed more of Beau. Needed to continue to feel him inside me, to fully process that this was happening.
And a not small part of me was deathly afraid that the sun would rise and this … spell would break. That the harsh light of day would tear away whatever magic created tonight.
If that were the case, I greedily wanted Beau as many times as he was physically able.
Thrice was already plenty impressive.
He hadn’t come inside me any of those times. He was making good on his previous promise to coat me in his cum. I wasn’t complaining.
The act of him doing that on my skin, in theory, should’ve been derogatory. But it didn’t feel like that with Beau. It felt deliciously sordid and empowering. And a shameful part of me loved that Beau was covering me, claiming me in such a carnal way.
“We didn’t,” Beau agreed to my earlier statement about protection.
Of course he wasn’t concerned. He was a man.
“And you’re not worried about that?” My question came out sharper than I intended, loaded with all the weight I carried from being a woman used by men.
I didn’t think Beau was like that. I prayed he wasn’t.
He propped himself up on his elbow, the light from the bathroom casting him in a subtle glow.
“Are you worried about that?” He explored my face.
I chewed my lip, wondering if I should lie to sound better. “No.” I decided to answer honestly. “I have the copper implant.” Prior to that, I’d been on the pill. Except I’d caught Waylon emptying the pills into the toilet one evening, smiling, telling me “he wanted a family.”
That was before the worst of the abuse started, but even then, I’d felt sick at the mere thought of bringing a child into the world. His child.
I hadn’t argued because I’d been clutched with hope that our story might turn into a good one. And because, in my heart of hearts, I knew it was a dangerous subject to argue about.
Waylon thought the gesture of emptying my pills was romantic.
It felt suffocating. Like he was stealing my choices, especially while living in a state that did not provide other options for women who found themselves pregnant with a baby they might not want.
A baby that might not be safe for them to have.