Chapter 39Beck. Mid December, Present #3
His mouth found her throat, dragging slow, wet kisses along the frantic beat of her pulse. She gasped and arched into him, her fingers tunneling into his hair, tugging him closer.
"The first thing I fell in love with was your loyalty," he murmured, voice thick with desire as his mouth brushed lower, teasing over the swell of her breast.
"The way you fight for the people you love..." His tongue flicked over her nipple, slow and firm, pulling a broken gasp from her lips. She arched against him helplessly, her back bowing, thighs tightening around his hips, trying to drag him closer.
His hands traced the soft curve of her ribs, grazing the sensitive underside of her breasts, just barely brushing her skin.
"Then it was your strength," he whispered against her ear, sending a shiver straight down her spine. He kissed the spot beneath her ear, his scruff rasping over her skin as he let the words sink deep into her trembling body.
His fingers drifted lower, skimming the softness of her stomach, making her gasp and rock into him instinctively, silently pleading for more.
"Your grace," he rasped, drinking in the way her lashes fluttered, the way her body trembled with the force of her need. He hadn't even truly touched her yet, and she was already coming apart for him, beautiful and desperate.
His thumbs hooked into the waistband of her skirt and tights together, dragging them down in one slow, merciless motion. He peeled her bare inch by inch, savoring every fucking second, until she lay before him in nothing but the sheer lace stretched taut between her thighs.
He threw the skirt and tights to the floor without looking, too consumed by the sight of her trembling. For him. Only for him.
Déjà vu slammed into him, memories of the first time he'd seen her like this, years ago, the way she'd clung to him then, the way she was looking at him now. Changed, but somehow still the same. Still his.
He dragged his mouth up her thighs, pressing bruising kisses against the quivering muscles until he reached the slick, lacy barrier between them.
With a guttural groan, he mouthed against the soaked fabric, the heat of her making his cock throb painfully.
She keened, hips lifting off the bed, chasing his mouth.
"Your determination," he said raggedly, kissing her just above the lace, just below her belly button, making her whole body shudder.
He tugged down the ruined scrap of lace down her thighs and tossed it aside, exposing her fully to his starving eyes.
Her pussy was dripping for him, pink and glistening, her clit swollen and begging for his mouth, his fingers, his cock–everything he had.
"Your beauty," he murmured roughly, as his hands roamed over her like a man lost in worship. "Just the cherry on top."
Her eyes locked with his, wide and dark and burning with the same desperate, soul-deep need ripping him apart from the inside out.
He shifted lower, trailing hot kisses down her stomach, lingering at the faded marks at her hips, kissing them. His hands cradled her hips like she was something sacred, a gift he'd been searching for his whole damn life.
"I love you," he whispered, the words branding into her skin. A shudder tore through her, her fingers weaving tightly into his hair.
When his mouth finally found the slick, needy heat between her thighs, she cried out, her hips jerking violently against his face. He groaned, the raw, addictive taste of her flooding his mouth, sending a jolt of hunger straight to his cock.
He licked a slow, deliberate stripe up her soaked slit, his tongue swirling around her swollen clit, teasing it. She bucked under him, grinding her pussy against his mouth, desperate for more friction, more pressure.
He devoured her like a man starved, flattening his tongue and dragging it over her again and again, then closing his lips around her clit and sucking hard, wringing ragged, broken moans from her lips.
He slipped two fingers inside her tight, fluttering heat, and she gasped, her body clenching greedily around him, so wet, so ready for him.
He fucked her slow and deep with his fingers, curling them inside her, stroking that sweet spot, while his mouth never let up. Every broken whimper, every desperate cry she gave him, he drank down like it was the first sip after a drought.
When she shattered, she screamed his name, her entire body convulsing, locking around his fingers and tongue. But he didn’t stop. He kept working her through it, licking her, coaxing more desperate cries from her until she was trembling violently, sobbing from the force of her release.
Only when she collapsed against the mattress, spent and twitching, did he finally lift his mouth from her, his lips and chin slick with her release, his heart hammering so hard it hurt.
"I want you inside me," she breathed, her voice rough and pleading.
He froze, every muscle in his body snapping taut, a strangled noise tearing from his throat. She grabbed his face in both hands, dragging him up into a savage kiss, tasting herself on his mouth, owning him. Her thighs fell open, wide and shameless, offering herself up without hesitation.
Her hands were frantic, clawing at his belt, yanking his pants and briefs down with furious, desperate motions. The second she freed him, her hand wrapped around his cock, hot and heavy in her grasp.
He choked on a groan, his hips jerking into her hand instinctively, his cock throbbing, as she stroked him with slow, teasing pulls. His entire body vibrated with restraint, every instinct screaming at him to take her, to bury himself in her and never let go.
"Shit," he hissed through gritted teeth, his hands tangling in the sheets by her head to keep from slamming into her hand. His chest heaved, his thighs trembling from the effort it took to hold back.
She only smiled wickedly, her thumb circling the head of his cock, spreading his pre-come over the flushed tip until he was gritting his teeth to keep from exploding.
"Goddamn it," he groaned, tearing her hand away and pinning it to the bed, needing a second to breathe.
"You keep that up, and this is gonna be over before it even starts," he ground out, his forehead dropping to hers.
It had been way too long since he had sex, about five years too long, and he was about to lose it before they even really got started.
Sure, he had chances, women had tried, but he couldn't do it.
He hadn't wanted to. And when the need did creep in, his hand and the memory of her were all he ever needed.
Before he could stop himself, the truth came tumbling out.
"I haven’t been with anyone else," he blurted out, the truth tearing free before he could stop it.
She stilled, her wide, dazed eyes locking onto his.
"I wouldn’t be mad if you had," she whispered, hesitant.
He shook his head roughly, cupping her face in his shaking hands, forcing her to see the truth burning in his eyes.
"No one else... it was never you,” he rasped.
Her breath hitched, tears gleaming in her eyes before she crushed her mouth to his, desperate, claiming, hers.
"I know," she whispered against his lips. "I know."
They tore at each other, messy and frantic, all tongue and teeth and broken gasps. She wrapped her legs around his waist, dragging him down into the cradle of her body, grinding her soaked pussy against the thick, pulsing length of him.
He barely managed to strip the last of their clothes away, too frantic to care about anything but skin. Warm, slick, trembling skin that molded to his, burning him.
Their mouths moved with no rhythm, no patience, only raw, aching hunger until all he could taste was her and all he could feel was her pressed against every broken place inside him.
"I missed you," she gasped against his mouth, her voice cracking, raw with too much feeling. His chest clenched and he dropped his forehead back to hers, breathing hard.
"Every single moment," he murmured, voice thick and shaking. "Of every single day."
He gripped the base of his cock, dragging the thick, blunt head through her dripping folds, spreading her wetness over himself. She whimpered, her hips bucking upward, silently begging for him.
"Do we need to–?"
"I’m on the shot," she panted, dragging him into another searing kiss. Still, he held her gaze, needing her certainty, her permission.
"You’re sure?" he rasped, the tip of his cock nudging against her entrance, teasing them both.
"I want you. Now." Her nails dug into his back, her hips rocking up to meet him.
With a groan, he pushed inside her, the thick head of his cock stretching her open.
She cried out, her back arching, her body clenching around him so tight he nearly lost it then and there.
Her fingers clawing at his shoulders as he sank deeper, inch by relentless inch, until he was seated fully inside her, buried to the hilt in her scorching heat.
He stilled, trembling, overwhelmed. She was so tight, so hot and wet around him, it felt like heaven and hell all at once. He stayed still for a moment, trembling with the effort it took not to just take her, to not just lose himself in the heat and tightness of her body.
"Fuck," he ground out against her skin, every muscle in his body straining. "You feel...so good. So fucking good."
Her hands roamed wildly over his back, her nails raking down his spine, urging him deeper, harder, more.
He started to move, slow at first, savoring every agonizing drag of her slick heat around him. Every thrust tore a whimper from her lips, every grinding shift of his hips had her gasping, writhing beneath him.
The slick sounds of their bodies slamming together filled the room, along with the broken cries and desperate gasps she couldn't hold back. She clung to him, her legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper, harder.
"More," she sobbed against his mouth. "Please, more."
"Anything," he groaned, thrusting harder, faster, until the world narrowed down to nothing but the slick, wet heat of her around him, the way she cried his name.
He shifted his hips, grinding his pelvis against her clit with every deep thrust, and she shattered with a strangled scream, her pussy clenching around him so hard he saw stars. He fucked her through it, relentless, loving, claiming her with every stroke.
When he felt himself spiraling, helpless, he reached between them, circling her swollen clit.
"Come with me," he gasped against her mouth. "Please, Baby. Come with me."
She sobbed his name as she shattered again, her body locking down on his with brutal, perfect force.
He slammed into her one final time and came with a raw, broken groan, spilling into her in hot, shuddering pulses. He stayed buried deep, grinding against her as aftershocks wracked both their bodies, their hearts hammering in sync.
She reached for him blindly, a broken sob tearing from her lips as she pulled him into a kiss that was fierce and frantic, tasting of tears, of years lost and finally found.
He kissed her back just as fiercely, his hands roaming over her, touching every inch of her, breathing her in like salvation.
For a long, breathless moment, they stayed locked together, tangled in each other like they could fuse their broken pieces back into something whole.
He pressed his forehead to hers, brushing slow kisses across her temple, her cheek, the swollen curve of her lips, like a man worshiping something he had nearly lost forever.
She sighed, a soft, shaky sound that bled into him, and curled even closer, her fingers sketching slow, aimless circles across his chest.
"So..." she whispered after a long beat, her voice still husky. "Now what?"
"Now we argue over what to watch, settle on Law & Order, and you make me the worst cup of coffee I’ve ever had," he said, grinning softly.
She smiled. "Right. We spilled the coffees you brought on the stairs."
He dipped his head and pressed a kiss to her temple, lingering there.
"Exactly how I want every morning to start. Terrible coffee, and you," he murmured against her skin. He kissed her, slower this time. "Always you."
Outside the window, the world stirred awake with the low hush of a morning barely born.
Later, there would be bitter coffee and bickering over shows they’d already seen a dozen times.
There would be laundry piles and grocery lists and all the ordinary pieces of a life built together.
There would be arguments and apologies but no more running, no more slammed doors. Only the stubborn choosing of each other, again and again, and the beautiful, messy work of love lived out everyday.
But now, there was only the slow glide of her fingers through his hair, the breathless sound of her laughter against his skin, and the quiet, aching truth that, somehow, after everything, they had found their way home.