Chapter 47
LAUREL
My jeans and panties end up on the floor beside the bed, my bra following after Beckett gets the clasp open with irritating competence. I wing an eyebrow. “Smooth.”
“Were you hoping for a struggle?”
“A little fumbling would’ve been charming.”
“I can put it back on and swear at it for thirty seconds.”
I giggle, but the sound fades when it hits me that I’m completely naked in front of him for the first time.
It isn’t shyness. I’m standing right where I want to be, with no urge to cover a damn thing.
Reality just feels different from every version I’ve played out in my head.
Fantasy-me was fearless. She never had to account for Beckett sitting naked and hard on the edge of his bed after wanting me for years, or how much I would suddenly care about the difference between the woman he imagined and the one standing in front of him.
He catches the quiet almost immediately. “Hey. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Talk to me, baby.”
I exhale. “You’ve wanted me for years. I think I just realized you’ve had a very long time to build this up in your head.”
The teasing leaves his face. “Come here.”
“I’m already right here.”
“Closer.”
I step between his knees. Beckett puts both hands on my hips and draws me in until my stomach nearly touches his chest. “For the record, the fantasy version of you was badly researched.”
“Was she?”
“Hopelessly.” His thumb traces the stretch mark on my hip before he bends to kiss it.
“She didn’t have this. I didn’t know what would make you laugh, or what your face would do when you were nervous and trying not to show it.
” He raises his head. “And I had no fucking idea what it would feel like to have you here because you chose to be.”
My throat tightens before I can do anything about it. “You’re disgustingly good at this.”
“I’ve had time to think.”
“Seven years?”
“More than I care to admit.”
I smile, and Beckett tugs me down with him, laughing when I land half across his chest. “Very dignified.”
“Shut up.” I kiss him, and somewhere in the tangle of arms and legs he turns us until my back meets the mattress and he settles between my thighs. His mouth moves down my stomach, then the inside of one thigh, taking his time until my legs part wider on their own.
“Tell me what you want.” Every word brushes warm over skin already too sensitive from his hand in the hallway.
I know exactly what he’s doing, and after everything I’ve said tonight, I’m not pretending I don’t.
“Your mouth.” His lips skim higher without giving me what I asked for.
“Where, Laurel?” I thread my fingers into his hair.
“On my pussy.” The sound he makes is low and pleased. “Good.”
His mouth closes over me and thought becomes completely fucking optional.
His tongue drags through my pussy in one long, wet stroke and finishes over my clit, and my hips lift so fast Beckett has to catch my thighs.
“Fuck.” He does it again, slower this time, spreading me with his thumbs and licking straight through the wetness already coating me.
I’m still sensitive from coming around his fingers downstairs, and every pass of his tongue feels amplified because of it. “Oh, God.” My hand tightens in his hair. “Yes!” Beckett hums against my clit and circles it with his tongue before sucking it into his mouth. My back arches. “Fuck me—Beckett.”
One hand leaves my thigh and two fingers slide inside me, the stretch familiar now, but the combination of his mouth and his fingers is something else entirely.
He curls them and my legs lock around his shoulders.
“More.” He finds the same spot again without lifting his mouth, tongue flicking over my clit as his fingers stroke deep inside me.
I can feel him adjusting with every reaction I give him—the pressure getting firmer when my hips chase it, his mouth staying exactly where it is when I start making sounds I can’t control.
“So good!” The words come out wrecked. Beckett groans into my pussy and pushes his fingers deeper, the vibration rolling straight through my clit.
“Yes—yes, oh, fuck, yes!” He keeps it there, fingers curling into the same spot, tongue working me with a steady rhythm that has my stomach pulling tight far sooner than I’m prepared for.
I grab the sheets with one hand and his hair with the other. “Beckett.”
He doesn’t lift his head. He just sucks my clit harder and my pussy clenches around his fingers.
Another deep stroke, another pull of his mouth, and I’m right on the edge.
“Baby—” His groan answers me, fingers driving deep as his tongue stays on my clit, and the orgasm hits before I can warn him.
His name tears out of me as my thighs close around his shoulders and my pussy pulses hard.
Beckett keeps going, slower now but relentless, licking me through every last contraction.
I’m wet enough to hear his fingers moving inside me, and the filthy sound has my body threatening to start all over again.
“I’m gonna—fuck.” My voice breaks when his tongue flicks over my clit.
“Beckett—Jesus, I can’t take any more.” He stops immediately, easing his fingers from me before pressing a kiss to the inside of my thigh.
I’m still twitching under his mouth when he finally lets me breathe.
For several seconds I just lie there with one hand tangled in his hair, dragging air back into my lungs. Beckett stays between my legs, cheek resting against my thigh, one hand tracing lazy circles over my skin without asking anything else from me.
“Come here,” I manage.
He lifts his head.
“I need your mouth somewhere I can kiss it.”
A laugh warms my thigh before he moves up the bed. I catch his face between my hands and kiss him the second he reaches me, tasting myself on his tongue. The realization sends a fresh throb straight through my pussy, and I kiss him deeper because fuck, apparently I like that too.
Beckett feels it when my thighs tighten around his hips. “Already?”
“Don’t sound so proud.”
“I’m not proud.” His mouth brushes mine. “I’m fucking thrilled.”
I laugh softly, and he kisses me again, slower this time, his cock hard between us.
“You good?” he asks.
“Very.”
His forehead rests against mine. “Because I still haven’t fucked you.”
My stomach flutters all over again. “I know.”
“And?”
I slide one leg higher around his hip and pull him closer. “What are you waiting for?”
Beckett’s hand starts for the nightstand, and that’s when I notice the black frames beside the lamp. Oh.
I tighten my leg around his waist, plant my palm against his shoulder and, by sheer luck considering how much bigger he is, manage to roll us before he gets anywhere near the drawer.
Beckett lands on his back with a surprised laugh, and I come up over him, straddling his thighs as his hands catch my hips.
He already knows, and that only makes me smile as I lean across him and take the glasses from the nightstand.
Every filthy fantasy I’ve ever had about seeing him naked in them comes rushing back at once.
“Baby,” he says, fighting a smile.
“What?” I unfold the glasses and put them on him myself, easing the arms over his ears, and the second they settle into place I nearly lose the thread of what I was doing.
Beckett is stretched out under me, naked and hard, broad shoulders stark against the dark sheets, his cock thick between my thighs, those black frames sitting on a face I already have trouble behaving around.
I hadn’t imagined this nearly well enough.
My pussy throbs. Beckett sees it happen, amusement beginning at the corner of his mouth, but I hook one finger over the bridge of the glasses and knock them crooked.
The amusement disappears. Mine doesn’t. “Better.” I bend and kiss him, unhurried and sweet enough to be cruel, my nipples dragging over his chest as I shift higher.
His palms skim my thighs and settle at my hips; I catch one wrist and press it into the mattress above his head.
“Keep your hands where I put them.” His jaw flexes, all that easy teasing replaced by a concentration that sends another pulse through me.
I couldn’t actually keep Beckett Vale pinned if he decided otherwise.
He could turn us over in a heartbeat, put me flat on my back and move me wherever he pleased; we both know it.
He lets me hold him there anyway, one wrist trapped under my hand, the other palm open against the sheet as I sit naked over him and decide what happens next.
His cock presses hot along the inside of my thigh as I take my time with his mouth, kissing him until a low “Fuck” vibrates between us.
I grind forward, my wet pussy sliding along his length, and the involuntary thrust of his body tells me exactly how much trouble I’m causing.
Heat streaks through me. I do it once more just to feel another crack in his composure. “That’s the idea.”
Still pinning his wrist, I reach into the nightstand, find a condom and tear the packet open one-handed.
Beckett follows every movement, breathing harder when my fingers close around him.
Thick, brutally hard, hot in my palm. The first drag of my hand makes his stomach flex.
I roll the condom down, watching his jaw set as my touch follows it to the base. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”
“I haven’t started yet.”
A wrecked laugh answers me as I stroke him from base to tip, thumb circling the head. “Jesus Christ, Laurel.” His free hand twists into the bedding when I repeat the motion with less mercy.
“What?” I ask, all innocence.
Those black frames do absolutely nothing to soften the way he stares at me. “You’re naked on top of me with your hand around my cock and you have the fucking audacity to ask me what?”
I tighten my fingers around him. “Keep talking.”