Chapter 6 #2
I nod, watching in the mirror as he drags the zipper slowly down my spine.
The thin straps of my dress fall away, the silk pooling at my waist before I wiggle it over my hips and kick myself free from the fabric.
I’m left in my strapless bra and a nude thong.
I never wear G-strings anymore, but the dress was unforgiving, and I’m thankful for that fact as I study Beckett’s reaction in our reflection.
“Jesus Christ, Lucy,” he practically growls.
I turn back to face him, my hands going to his belt. I tug it free and unbutton his pants, my fingers brushing over his hard length as I do. His breath catches, but I keep going, shoving his pants down to the floor, leaving him in only a pair of gray boxer briefs.
For a moment, we just take each other in, content to stare at what feels like an almost-forbidden vision.
And then our bodies collide, the force of us coming together knocking me back.
My butt hits the bathroom counter, and Beckett lifts me easily, perching me on the edge as he steps into the vee between my legs.
It’s the perfect angle for him to rock against me, for the press of his erection to tease over the thin fabric of my damp panties.
His hands make quick work of the hooks of my bra, and he gazes at my bared breasts like he’s never seen a pair before. “God, you’re perfect,” he mutters, cupping me in his hands.
His thumbs swipe over my already peaked nipples, and my core searches for more contact.
My hips thrust as his tongue swirls around one peaked bud and then the other.
He takes me in his mouth, his teeth grazing and nibbling.
One of my hands fists his hair, guiding his ministrations, while the other trails down the flat plane of his stomach, stroking him over his briefs.
His groans vibrate against my skin, and my head falls back against the mirror as the sensation overwhelms me. He abandons my tits, and I almost cry out at the loss, except his mouth is moving steadily down my stomach, his hands already tugging my underwear down my legs.
He falls to his knees before me, pressing my thighs open as he takes me in. He looks up at me, his eyes full of nothing short of wonder.
My heart clenches, and there are a million things I want to say to him, but nothing feels big enough to capture this moment.
He presses a kiss to the side of my knee. “I never thought I would find myself on my knees before you, Lucy, but I can’t think of any other place in the world I would rather be.”
I cup his cheek in my hand. “I can’t think of any other person I would rather be with.”
He turns his head, this kiss finding the center of my palm. “I want to taste you, Lucy. I need to feel you on my tongue.”
I nod, a shiver of anticipation rolling through me as his lips trace a steady path along my inner thigh. He starts with a soft kiss on my clit before he slides his tongue over me, opening me.
I have to remind myself to breathe as I watch him explore me with his tongue, the tip of it swirling over my clit before dipping inside me.
He teases me with soft flicks and gentle nips before lapping at me with the flat of his tongue.
It’s heady, not just the sensation of it, but the way he seems to revel in it.
The way he seems to be deriving as much pleasure as he is giving.
I keep my eyes locked on him, unable to look away, moaning as his hand tugs down his boxer briefs, freeing his cock.
He’s long and thick, and as he wraps his hand around himself, never letting up on me, I shudder with pleasure.
His own groan purrs against me, and I’m close to the pinnacle but never want this feeling to end.
“Beckett, I’m going to come,” I breathe.
His lips wrap around my clit. He sucks, and I shatter. My hips thrusting, riding him, as my body dissolves and is remade.
His mouth softens its pressure, placing a final kiss on my sensitive clit before he rises.
I wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck, pulling him closer and kissing him deeply. “You’re incredible,” I mutter against his lips.
He smiles, the green of his eyes almost obscured by his blown pupils. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.”
“Was it worth the wait?”
He kisses me softly. “I could’ve waited a hundred more years, and it still would’ve been worth it.”
I take his cock in my hand, stroking slowly. “I don’t want to wait any longer.”
His hips thrust in my hand. “Are you sure, Luce?”
I meet his gaze head-on. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
He reaches to the side of the counter, grabbing a condom from his toiletry bag. I take it from him, then tear it open and roll it on. He brings himself to my entrance, teasing my clit with the head of his cock.
“Wait,” I say, and he immediately pulls away. I hop off the counter and turn to face the mirror. “I want to watch.”
Beckett groans, the sound low and thick and shooting straight to my core. I spread my legs, giving him the space to slowly push into me.
“Holy fuck,” he mutters when he’s fully seated. He presses his forehead to my shoulder blade, and I arch back against him.
His hands wrap around me, one cupping my breast, the other delving between my thighs. He drags himself from me slowly before thrusting back, hard. My body has never been so attuned before, every one of my nerve endings lit up and tingling.
We release matching groans. I already feel the pressure building low within me, that familiar ache begging for release.
I watch as Beckett fucks me from behind, our eyes meeting in the reflection in the mirror.
I reach behind, needing to feel him, my hands clutching at his thighs.
Turning my head, I search for his mouth.
He gives it to me, gives everything to me, until I’m crying out his name as I come.
His thrusts grow more frantic, and he joins me a second later, burying his face in my neck, his teeth marking my skin.
His arms wrapped around me are the only thing keeping me standing as I recover. He gently spins me around, tucking me into his embrace, moving us both toward the until-now-forgotten shower.
We step under the warm water together, taking turns running soapy hands over still-sensitized skin. Beckett towels me off, then wraps me in a robe.
Hand in hand, we venture back into the bedroom. Standing before our kid-size beds, all we can do is laugh.
We tuck ourselves into the tiny space of the bottom bunk, and I’m not exactly mad at being forced to be the little spoon.
Tomorrow we’ll meet everyone for breakfast before heading back to the airport and getting on a plane.
We’ll go home to New York and go on that date.
We’ll see movies and Broadway shows and eat fancy dinners and home-cooked ones.
He’ll come home with me for Thanksgiving, and I’ll join the Thatchers for Christmas, and we’ll plan a hundred more summer vacations together.
We’ll pick a borough and find an apartment and adopt a cat and live happily ever after.
But for now, it’s enough to be here, with him, on the night of my best friend’s wedding.