Chapter 37
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Beck
I slid my hands up her thighs, taking her skirt with me. “You know what this calls for.”
“I know you’re trying to get into my knickers,” she replied leaning back on the desk and opening her legs.
I was trying. And I wasn’t hearing any complaints.
“But I don’t know what occasion you’re referring to.”
“You mean apart from the fact I just told you I loved you and you apparently love me back, apart from the fact we’re alone for the first time in days, and apart from the fact I’ve dreamt about the feel of your skin under my fingertips every night since we left Scotland?”
She grinned in response. This woman’s smile had the power to end me. I felt it deep in my gut—like I needed it to function. I’d never stop yearning for, working for, dreaming of it.
“Apart from all those things,” she said, tipping her head back as I pressed more and more urgent kisses up her throat.
“We have to christen your new office. That way, every meeting, every telephone call, every thought you have in here, will have me as a backdrop.”
I started to unbutton her blouse but she stopped me. “Beck, the whole of London can see us.”
“Not unless they’re standing on the dome of St Paul’s—” She went to interrupt me but my amusement must have shown on my face and she stopped. “Before you say something about people watching from the Golden Gallery or the Stone Gallery—the place is closed.”
I finished unbuttoning her blouse. “And if there was some private function or an interloper, hidden away after closing . . .” I dipped and placed a kiss between her breasts. “Then I think they deserve a show.”
I reached up between her legs, pulled off her knickers, and she gasped as I trailed my fingers across her pussy. “Wow, you’re sensitive.”
“Don’t tease me,” she pleaded. “Not tonight.”
I plunged two fingers deep into her and she groaned. “I promise. There will be no teasing.”
Not teasing exactly. But the things for which you work hardest, taste the sweetest.
I withdrew my hand and straightened out, tasting her as I licked my fingers clean. “Just like honey,” I said.
She sat up, reaching for my belt, and I took a step back, took off my jacket, and hung it on the coat stand behind the door.
“Beck,” she implored.
I took a breath. I didn’t need to rush. We had the rest of our lives to do this—for me to . . .
Make her beg.
Make her come.
Make her happy.
I was going to savor every moment.
Undoing the cufflinks on my shirt, I slid them onto a glass side table and rolled up my sleeves. Stella’s groan suggested to me that, despite her protestations, she liked a little bit of torture.
She was my perfect woman in every way.
“You’re so impatient. What am I going to do with you?” I asked.
“Anything you like,” she replied.
Like I said—my perfect woman.
I didn’t reply and just stood watching her, watching her beautiful bare pussy, ripe and ready for my fingers, lips, and cock. She groaned and reached to touch herself.
In a flash, I had circled her wrist with my fingers. “Not unless you ask me first. That’s mine to play with.”
I took her hand and placed it over my fabric-covered cock. “And this is yours.”
She fumbled to undo my zip and then wrapped her fingers around it.
So fucking eager.
So fucking perfect.
And mine.
I gritted my teeth, but I couldn’t resist and I pushed into her hand. Fuck, even her fingers were better than the best I’d ever had until Stella.
“I don’t think you’d be able to hold back,” she said. “Even if you wanted to.”
“You want to test that theory?” I asked, stepping away from her.
She shook her head, panic slicing across her face.
“Yeah, I didn’t think so.” I pushed her down onto her desk, one side of her lit up by the streetlights, the other shadowed but all beautiful.
I spread her knees apart, bending to inspect her pussy. Talk about beautiful—all curves, contours, and softness but hot and needy at the same time. And it belonged to me now.
She squirmed under my inspection, not out of embarrassment but desire. Fuck, how did I get so lucky? “Please, Beck.”
She was right. I couldn’t hold back—didn’t want to. I pressed the head of my cock at her entrance and tried not to explode at the searing heat of her. Fuck, I’d missed this. Missed us. Missed feeling that I had everything I needed.
It was only when she left that I realized she was so much more than I could ever have imagined.
She was everything.
I took a deep breath and slid into her, watching her as she watched me.
And it was just as I remembered and more.
Being as close to another person as it’s possible to be seemed to take on meaning with Stella, like our union had been foretold a millennium ago by an omniscient god or was written in the stars when the universe exploded into existence.
We were meant to be.
I’d never been surer about anything than I was about her. About us.
“I didn’t know it was possible to feel this way about anyone. It feels like more than love,” she whispered, echoing my thoughts.
I folded my body over hers. “I know.” I began to move in and out, feeling our fate surrounding us, binding us stronger. The push and pull of our bodies sinking me further into our destiny.
She caught my jaw in her hand, her fingers pressing into my stubble, and brought my lips to hers. She plunged her tongue into my mouth, her groans shooting vibrations of pleasure down my spine.
Breaking our kiss, I braced myself, hands flat on the desk either side of her and took a breath. It was too much. This woman was too fucking much for me.
Her hair splayed on the glass desk, the reflection of her body everywhere I looked from the glass windows to the chrome legs of the table, she surrounded me and it was overwhelming and perfect and I wanted it to last forever.
But I needed to fuck her. I needed to come. And when we were done, I needed to do it again and again and again.
A lifetime of this woman wouldn’t ever be enough.
I was two seconds away from giving up, from surrendering to my orgasm, but I wanted her pleasure more than my own, and by some force of will, adrenaline seared through my limbs, giving me the strength to keep going, to keep chasing away the ache in me that she created. For it was only her who held the cure.
“Beck!” she cried out.
The desperation in her eyes told me she couldn’t take anymore, and I understood.
“Come, Stella. Come for me.”
She sighed, thankful and longing, and her body silently erupted beneath me. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen and I was gone. I was lost to her and I pushed in again, gasping at the fierce rumble of my orgasm that gathered into a roar when it reached my chest and exploded.
I wasn’t sure I could withstand the power of my climax, the pleasure I got from being with her.
After a moment of blackness, I opened my eyes to find her gazing up at me. Panting, I lay my head on her chest and tried to find my voice. “Tell me what you want?” I asked, my breath heavy against her skin.
“You,” she whispered. “I want you. I need you. It’s only you. Ever.”
Since I met her, whether I’d known it or not, those were the words I’d been waiting to hear from Stella.
Hearing it calmed me. As if the final piece of the jigsaw had been found.
And I needed nothing but her—not buildings or developments, not acceptance from a section of society that had so resolutely rejected me.
I didn’t need anything but to be with the woman who had changed how I saw myself.
She was the woman who healed my wounds, faded my scars, and showed me my future.