Chapter 14
Chapter fourteen
ASH
Everything is white noise and my ears are ringing.
My nails are dug so deep into the mattress, I think I’m going to puncture holes through it.
My whole body arches off the bed, and I hear myself make a sound I’ve never heard before.
It’s embarrassing, almost, like something private I shouldn’t let out.
I shove my face into the pillow and try to hide from it, but the feeling keeps rolling through me, wave after wave. Before I can catch my breath, I feel him move. He climbs up my body slowly, his hips easing back, giving me time to come back to myself.
His hands bracket my face, thumbs brushing my cheeks, and he covers my lips in delicate little kisses.
“You did so good,” he murmurs, voice rough. “I’m proud of you.” His mouth grazes my throat, softer than anything. “I’m proud of how much you gave me.”
That knocks something loose inside me. No one’s ever talked to me like that after sex. No one’s ever talked to me at all after sex, or acted like my pleasure was anything more than a biological accident.
He pulls back just enough, like he’s afraid I can’t breathe. My hands shoot up, grabbing his shoulders, and I wrap my legs around him, needing him closer.
“More,” I say, then. “Please.”
He freezes for a second, like he has to make sure I mean it. I can feel him looking at me, waiting, checking, like it matters more to him how I’m feeling.
“I’m not knotting you. Not tonight.”
“What?”
“Tomorrow. I have to give you something to look forward to.”
“Oh.” I shudder as his body presses my legs wider and his cock slowly pushes inside me.
He moves with control, with patience. There’s no rushing, no pinning me down, no commands.
He’s just holding me, like he wants me to feel every second.
And I do. I let myself feel all of it, the stretch, the pressure, the slow, steady rhythm.
I’m not out of my mind, not fogged over in the craze of heat.
I’m here, with Beckett, and he’s looking right into my eyes and flooding my ears with beautiful nonsense.
It hits me harder that I’m feeling pleasure on purpose, not just because my body can’t say no in heat.
I come again and again. It’s smaller, softer, but still intense. He whispers my name, calls me beautiful as his pace picks up. He hooks an arm under my knee and moves faster, telling me to come again. I dig my nails into his back and let go just as I feel him release inside me.
He pulls out slowly, settling next to me.
For a second, I brace for him to roll away, like all the others have, like he’s done with me and I don’t matter anymore.
But he doesn’t. He pulls me closer, tucks me into the crook of his arm, settles my head on his chest. He’s breathing hard, his heart pounding like drums at a rock show.
I lie there, staring at the little red numbers on the digital clock.
This feels… wrong. Sex has never felt like this.
It’s supposed to be messy and hazy and over before I let myself think.
It’s supposed to be something done to me, not something I share.
Not something that leaves me wanting more after I’ve already gotten it.
I don’t know what to do with that. I don’t know what to do with him.
He’s dragging his fingers through my hair, placing little kisses on my forehead.
“Stay right there. Don’t move.” Beckett groans as he slips out of the bed. I’m immediately cold, and I want to cry.
This was stupid. This was a mistake.
He’s back, peeling back the covers, with a damp towel.
“I like making a mess of you.” He’s kissing me as he drags the towel up my thighs and between my legs. Then he settles us on the edge of the bed, where the sheets are cool and dry.
He’s making satisfied noises as he strokes my back and runs fingers through my hair, lazily, like he could be here all night with nothing else to do.
I sit up and plaster a smile on my face. “I should go.” The words come out as if each is its own little sentence.
His dreamy-looking face sharpens into concern.
“Go?”
“I… I have work in the morning, yeah?”
“Stay, I’ll drive you in the morning.” Beckett scoots out of bed right along with me.
I snatch my panties off the floor, grimacing as I step into them. I hate wearing wet panties. I struggle into my dress, contorting myself to reach the zipper. His warm hands fall on mine and pulls it up for me.
“Are you all right?” Beckett asks, once the zipper is zipped tight. He’s behind me, hands at my waist. I know I could fall back into him, and his arms would wrap around me.
My mind is still reeling, full of static and humming. I scan for my shoes, spot them kicked beneath the low table, and slide my feet in. Where’s my bag? I spy it on the floor by his shoes. I reach for it, but Beckett’s arm snakes around my waist and draws me back into him.
“Ash,” he says, low and soft. “Are you okay? Did I do something?”
I suck in a breath, then another. “I’m perfectly fine. That was wonderful.” My voice cracks at the end, so I clear my throat. “I just… didn’t anticipate this going like this. You know, with the sex and stuff. I have a breakfast shift tomorrow.”
He smiles at that. He has a tooth missing on the left side. He tips my chin up with his index finger and presses the softest kiss to my lips. He doesn’t let go, just shifts his grip to my shoulder as he fumbles in his coat pocket for his phone.
“Let me get you a rideshare,” he says. He hands me the phone so I can type in my address. I’m shocked I even remember it. Before I can hand it back, he taps a few more times to get to his text messages.
“Type in your number so I can call you tomorrow. We have cake to eat.”
Alarm bells clang in my head. I shouldn’t do this. This is too much. All a stupid idea. I should walk away, forget about Beckett, forget about Pierce and Liam. But my thumbs are already moving, typing in my number. I grab my coat, sling it over my arm, and turn toward the door.
Beckett catches me with a hand on my upper arm. I brace myself. I know what’s going to happen next.
“Ash,” he says again, and kisses me one more time. And that kiss somehow hurts more than the smack that should have come.
I duck out, heart pounding, and jog down the hallway, hammering the elevator button until the doors open with a soft chime.