Chapter 42 Because… Six Months!
BECAUSE… SIX MONTHS!
ASHLEY
Beckett’s seated at the edge of the bed beside me, sleeves rolled, tie loose, jaw shadowed from the day.
The jacket’s long gone. And this man, my husband…
He looks like trouble.
A toy rests in his palm, and he turns it slowly, considering all its possibilities. And then he handles a few of the others, carefully, deliberately, like he wants to know all his options…
My throat goes dry.
“So…” I clear it, try again. “You have a plan?”
His gaze lifts to mine. “A plan?” he says.
Then that crooked smile.
“Oh no, sweetheart,” he says, “we’re going to wing it.”
Of course we are.
And yes, I normally would want to know exactly what was happening, but I also know Beckett.
And I’m all for it. Damnit, tonight, I want to be wrecked.
Then he picks up a small, curved vibrator, and flicks it on.
The quiet buzz is immediate. A little obscene.
I can barely breathe.
Not taking his eyes off me, he slides off the bed, kneels there.
“But you do have a plan. I can see it in your eyes.”
“Maybe.” Oh, that crooked smile…
He grabs my calves, and with a little jerk, pulls me towards him. Once I’m positioned to his liking, he leans forward and…
He kisses the inside of my ankle.
Then the vibrator grazes the tips of my toes.
I gasp—half from surprise, half from the tickle that jolts straight to my core.
His smile is wide now, a slow, sinful grin that’s making me ache.
Like when he was dancing up on that deck.
And that’s all it takes. My skin is on fire.
His mouth moves up to my calf—warm, lingering kisses—and the toy follows, buzzing along my shin, inching higher with every breath I take.
“Beckett…” I whisper, head tilting back against the pillows. “Take off your shirt. I want… I want to look at you.”
He pauses only a second—then yanks the shirt over his head in one motion. His chest is bronzed from the sun, all heat and muscle, but it’s the faint trail of hair down the center that undoes me—soft, curling. I know exactly how it feels when I drag my hands across him.
His eyes hold mine. “Your turn.”
A beat.
“Take off your dress,” he says. “For me.”
I push up from the bed and shift onto my knees, the mattress dipping beneath me. For a second, I hesitate—then I reach for the hem and pull the dress up, slow enough that I feel every inch of fabric slide over my skin.
Over my hips.
My waist.
My ribs.
I lift it over my head and let it fall to the floor at my side.
I stay there, kneeling, heart thudding.
Beckett doesn’t move to help. He doesn’t speak.
He’s just watching me like I’m something he doesn’t want to miss a second of.
“I want to see all of you.” His voice comes out hoarse, making the ache between my thighs pulse to life.
My hands drift up then, fingers finding the front clasp of my bra. They shake—just a little. Not from embarrassment. From anticipation.
I work the tiny clasp free.
Click.
The cups fall open, and I let my breasts spill into the warm air between us.
Beckett exhales and then licks his lips. Like he’s starving.
And still—he doesn’t join me on the bed.
Instead, he presses the vibrator, still humming, into my palm.
“Touch it to your nipples,” he says, voice rough with restraint.
I blink up at him.
He isn’t smiling, he’s totally serious. “I want…” He leans forward, eyes locked on me.
He wants to watch.
And I…
I’m under his spell.
I glance down and touch it—just the tip of the vibrator—lightly against my nipple. It tightens, peaks with the slightest vibration. Oh, my God.
I shiver.
He still hasn’t laid a single hand on me, and yet I’m hot everywhere, and wet, craving so much more than his gaze.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice thick. “God, Ash… after everything I’ve put us through—all the darkness—you’ve always been my light.”
When his hand lifts—just slightly—I see it: the tremble in his fingers.
“I want to touch you, suck on you,” he murmurs. “Tug you into my mouth. Mark your skin with my teeth…”
The silence after that is thick and full of promise.
“But right now? I just want to look at you. All those nights away, I imagined you, like this, and… I want to watch.”
His voice breaks a little. “Touch it down your belly, Ash.”
I drag the vibrator lower. Over the curve of my ribs. My navel. My stomach.
I don’t flinch when it passes over the soft silver lines at my hips—reminders of what my body’s done. What we made together.
My skin isn’t taut the way it once was. But his gaze doesn’t waver.
“Oh, God, Ash…” he breathes. “Open your legs, beautiful.”
My knees part slowly. Willingly. And I feel wanton, vulnerable. But safe. “Now,” he says, rough. “Touch it over your panties.”
My hand dips lower, the soft hum pressing against the thin fabric stretched over me.
His breath catches.
“Are you wet already?” he rasps.
I meet his eyes, tilting my head. “Are you hard?”
He groans. “So damn hard.”
“Then I want to see, Beckett.”
For a second, we’re suspended there. And then he moves.
Off the bed in one fluid motion, he strips—quick and rough, no teasing now. His socks. His pants. Shirt already gone. And finally, his boxer briefs.
God.
His body is… amazing. A little leaner than I remember, but still… him.
The piercing catches the light, and I don’t know why that glint sends a jolt through me.
But he doesn’t climb back onto the bed.
He drags a chair forward. Sits. Legs spread. Eyes burning.
And he wasn’t lying about being hard.
“Now,” he says, voice nearly a growl. “Where were we?”
And how the hell is this one of the sexiest moments of my entire life?
We’re not even touching.
“I was…” Is that my voice? Breathless. Shaky. “Doing… this.”
I touch the vibrator to my center, over the fabric of my panties, and my hips tip forward without me meaning them to. The hum sends a slow ripple through me—deep, insistent—and I drag it upward, then back down again.
I feel him watching.
Not passively.
Intently.
My skin is burning up by now. My breasts feel heavy, sensitive. My thighs tremble. I roll my hips just a little, teasing myself, teasing him, and the knowledge that he’s seeing everything makes everything about this more intense.
Sharper.
God. We’ve been together for years. Built a life. Made children.
And somehow… we’ve never been this bold.
I circle myself slowly, intentionally, letting the pleasure build without rushing it. Letting him see how easily I unravel when he’s paying attention like this.
Beckett’s hand closes around himself, just below the piercing. I see it. The way his fingers tighten. A stroke of his thumb. The way he licks his lips like he’s starving.
“Stop,” he says suddenly.
I freeze, breath caught.
“Take off your panties, gorgeous. And try the purple one.”
I reach for it—the heavier toy, smooth and curved, with a soft ridge meant to press and thrum where I’m already aching. It looks… wicked. Like it could do some serious damage.
I peel my panties down my legs and kick them aside, heat rushing to my face as I realize how exposed I am. But Beckett’s gaze doesn’t waver. If anything, it darkens.
“Good,” he murmurs. “Now… just a little.”
I position it, the cool silicone making me gasp, and ease it in just the slightest bit.
“Stop,” he says, voice rough. “Pull it out again.”
I do. Slow. Controlled. Watching his jaw tighten. Watching his hand stroke himself in time with my movement.
“I want to watch you fuck yourself, babe,” he says quietly. “I want to see what you do when you forget everything else.”
My breath comes apart at that.
And I realize—I’m not embarrassed.
I’m free.
And God help me… I want him to keep watching.
I slide the toy in, deeper this time. My body clenches around it, greedy. Desperate. I can’t tear my eyes away from Beckett—sprawled in the chair like sin itself, fist working slow and steady over his thick cock.
Not touching the piercing.
His eyes burn into mine, darker than I’ve ever seen them.
"God, Ash…" Rough. Growly. “You look so fucking good like that. You don’t know….”
I slide the toy out. Push it back in.
His jaw flexes. “Fuck yourself harder, beautiful. Let me see what you like. What you need.”
I moan. I can’t help it. That pressure’s already spiraling through me—gathering, demanding.
“What are you thinking about?”
“You.” I don’t even hesitate. Thrust. Moan.
“I’d stretch you slow, babe. Real slow. So slow you’d lose your goddamn mind.” His fist tightens. “Then I’d slide deep… fist your hips… fuck you hard enough to remind you who you belong to.”
My legs are shaking.
“That’s right. Come for me.”
His voice is a growl.
Heat explodes behind my eyes and I’m trembling, thighs clenching, and still, I don’t look away.
And neither does he.
And there, in his eyes, the sharp edge of surrender.
His lips part. His chest seizes.
“Fuck—Ash—” He groans, body bowing forward as he comes, hand still stroking, cock twitching, thick release striping his abs.
I’m still clutching the toy, shaking. He’s spent and gorgeous and wrecked.
We’re both panting.
I turn off the toy.
And finally—finally—I close my eyes.
A breath. Maybe two.
Then I feel the mattress shift. Beckett’s body, beside me. Mine.
His mouth brushes my shoulder. The corner of my collarbone. A taste. A kiss.
No regrets.
And then we just breathe. Skin to skin.