33. Elouise
Elouise
Waiting next to my car in the dark garage, I watch as Beckett climbs out of his truck, his long strides closing the distance between us up the driveway.
The drive here was the longest three minutes of my life. Just enough time for me to freak out, get myself under control, and freak out again.
His footsteps sound like the beat of a drum reverberating through the quiet neighborhood.
Breathe, Elouise. Just breathe.
Beckett doesn’t break stride when he reaches me, he just hooks an arm around my waist and propels me through the door that leads into the house.
I hear the sound of him blindly slapping at the garage door button, and the matching rumble of the door lowering.
And a second after the house door clicks shut behind us, I hear the soft clunk of him turning the deadbolt.
We take a moment to kick off our shoes, then Beckett is back to guiding me forward. Through the living room, past the kitchen, and up the stairs.
I don’t know if he’s been up here before or if he’s just good at guessing, because we pass my old room, a bathroom, James’s old room, and then we’re there. At the open door leading into the master suite. My room.
Framed photos from family vacations line my pale blue walls.
My queen-sized bed, nightstands, and dresser are made of chunky wood painted a silvery grey.
And white curtains match my white bedding.
Bedding that’s unmade. The blankets still tossed back from when I got up for work this morning, and that somehow makes this moment feel even more intimate.
Because this is it, the real me, and Beckett’s here anyways.
Beckett’s chest expands against my shoulder as he inhales. “It’s perfect. Exactly how I imagined,” his voice is a low rumble that I feel everywhere.
Before I can respond, Beckett is striding across the room to the door that leads into the master bath. Reaching inside the doorway, he flips on the light, causing illumination to streak across the room. Across the bed.
From the other side of the room, Beckett faces me, “I need to see all of you this time.”
My throat works, but I can’t think of anything intelligible to say. Instead, I take off my cardigan.
One piece of clothing, that’s all I’ve removed. But he’s looking at me like I just stripped naked.
Fuck it.
The distance between us gives me the confidence I need to strip. So, keeping my eyes on his, I grip the bottom of my tank top and pull the material up over my head.
He doesn’t move closer, but he drops his hoodie to the floor at the same time.
Thank you, past self, for wearing cute underwear today.
With trembling fingers, I undo my pants and slowly drag them down my legs.
Beckett’s chest is heaving, and as I stand upright, he reaches back with one hand and tugs off his t-shirt up over his head.
While his shirt is covering his face, I unclasp my bra and let it fall away from my body.
A choked sound leaves Beckett when his vision clears, and he sees that I’m left in nothing but my thong.
While he works to undo his belt and jeans, I hook my fingers in the top of my panties and discard them into a pile with the rest of my clothes.
“Goddamn,” Beckett wets his lips and takes one step, moving to round the foot of the bed towards me.
But I step to the side, putting the bed back between us.
He stops, and a wicked gleam fills his eyes. “Babe,” he says it like a reprimand while he palms the erection straining the front of his boxer briefs.
I tip my head towards his hand, “Take them off.”
The look in his eyes is predatory, but he doesn’t hesitate. And before I can blink, he’s completely naked.
Jesus.
My eyes won’t look away. Can’t look away. I had him in my mouth, down my throat, but I didn’t get to see him. Not like this. And dear god, he’s perfect.
Beckett uses one hand to squeeze the base of his cock, “This what you want, Smoky?” His other hand grips his length, stroking up and down.
I can’t do anything other than nod.
“On the bed.” It’s Beckett’s turn to command.
And it’s my turn to obey.
Not thinking of anything beyond pleasure, I climb onto the bed, reclining back against the pillows.
Beckett steps up to the foot of the bed, the glow from the bathroom casting him in light and shadows.
I’m waiting for him to tell me what to do next. But he doesn’t. Instead, Beckett releases his hold on himself and darts his hands forward, gripping me by my ankles.
In one swift motion, he pulls me all the way down the bed until my ass is right on the edge.
A shocked gasp escapes me, turning into a moan when he lifts my feet into the air, his grip loosening so he can slide his hands down to my knees, then the inside of my thighs.
Spreading me wide, Beckett moans, “Fuck, Babe.”
With nothing else to hold onto, I reach up to grab my own tits. Squeezing them, pinching my nipples .
Beckett’s eyes dart back and forth from between my legs to my chest, and he lets out an even louder groan.
“Beckett,” his name is a plea. I need more. I’ve never been more turned on in my life and I need more.
Instead of responding, he drops to his knees and closes his mouth over my pussy.
My back arches off the bed, the sudden sensation causing me to release a strangled cry.
“Oh my god. Beckett. Oh my god.”
His tongue laps at me. Against me. Into me.
And when his lips close around my clit, my eyes snap shut.
“Beckett!”
Lost. I’m completely lost in the feeling of him.
His warm breath, soft lips, talented tongue. His fingers pressing into the sensitive skin of my inner thighs.
I’m close. So close.
Then he stops, and a whine crawls out of my throat.
When I pry my eyes open, I see Beckett standing again. “Do you have condoms?”
I blink at him a few times.
Oh, yes, condoms. Because we’re smart adults.
“Drawer,” I pant while stretching an arm out, pointing to my nightstand.
I almost stop him, wanting to tell him I’m on birth control and that I can’t wait another second before he’s inside of me, but I don’t. That decision is best left for when we’re both thinking straight, and when I can form complete sentences.
Beckett slides the drawer open, and his soft curse reminds me that there’s a small pile of vibrators sitting there waiting to greet him.
“Oh, um…”
“Another time,” Beckett cuts me off, then digs around until he finds the unopened box of condoms.
Turning to me, he holds it up, making a show of breaking the seal, “You’ve been a good girl. And that makes me very happy.”
His eyes are pure lust and I feel his words prickle over my skin. Praise from Beckett is the aphrodisiac I didn’t know I needed in my life.
I watch as he steps back between my spread thighs, slowly rolling the condom down his length.
Holding the base, he presses his tip to my clit and my back arches, my head pressing back against the mattress, my eyes automatically closing.
“I told you before, Smoky. Eyes open.”
His palms run up and down the outside of my thighs, finally curling around the top, gripping me. “Can you do that for me?” He pulls me closer to him, sliding my ass further off the edge of the bed. “Can you watch what happens next?”
“Yes.” I nod my head, my hands tangling in the blankets at my sides. “Yes.”
I feel his cock bump against my entrance.
“Eyes on me.”
My mouth opens to promise him that I will, but he slams forward, burying the full length of his cock inside me. And instead of giving him a promise, I give him a cry of pure pleasure.
So good.
So big.
So much.
There’s no waiting, no pausing. Beckett pulls back, almost all the way out, then thrusts forward again. His moans mixing with my own.
Over and over.
His hand grips me. Pulling me closer. Keeping me grounded.
Each time our hips meet, I can feel the vibration roll through my body. My breasts jiggling with each hit.
Just as my eyes start to close, a pinch on my nipple has them flying back open.
“If you want to come, you’ll keep those pretty eyes open.”