Chapter 10
BECKETT
Lennon is fast asleep downstairs after we all hung out all day, and I’m laying another set of my clothes on Clover’s bed while she showers.
I linger for a bit longer than I should, running my hand along the quilt she loves so much.
I’m glad I still had it. Truth be told, I kept it because of her, the memory of seeing her wrapped up in it so many times, passed out on our couch when I would come downstairs in the mornings when we started secretly seeing each other.
She started making up excuses to not sleep in the room with Brynn anymore, and it became the easy way to sneak to the kitchen together at night.
We never did anything physical; we were always afraid we would get caught, so we just made out a lot. I wonder if she would still smile against my lips after every kiss, or if she stopped doing that at some point. Or if she does that with everyone.
Nope. The thought of her smiling against someone else’s kiss immediately pisses me off.
I shake it out of my head, and lay a nightlight I had scrounged up from the garage on top of my clothes for her.
I still hear the water running, so I take the king-sized sheet I brought up with me, along with a shit ton of thumbtacks, and start pinning it to the wall, covering the window.
Clover looked exhausted this morning. I figured it was from all of the hectic things that have gone down in the past few days, catching up to her, but then it hit me when I was out in the barn, being mad.
She’s always been afraid of the dark, and especially of windows in the dark. She was probably terrified up here last night. I press the last tack into the wall and step back to check that the whole thing is covered.
“Oh, hi,” Clover sputters.
“I didn’t hear you come out. I’m so sorry.
” I falter over my words when I look over at her, standing in the frame of the bathroom door, pulling the towel tighter across her perfect chest. Her skin is flushed, and I’m not sure if it’s from the hot water or the fact I’m pretty much gawking at her, wondering what she looks like under the towel.
Great. I turn my back towards her, adjusting my quickly hardening cock, trying to will it down.
“I uh, did this,” I offer, motioning vaguely to the make-do window covering.
I hear her shuffling around behind me, and I have to avert my eyes again when I notice the light from the bathroom is casting her silhouette on the wall beside me dimly. Before I do, I see her outline stepping into panties, bending over to pull them up, the shadow of her breasts swaying.
“Thank you,” she replies, her voice low. “You remembered.”
I glance at her silhouette again and see her holding up the nightlight. She pulls my tee over her head, again, the shadow of her breasts teasing me. I would give anything to turn around right now and pull that shirt right back off of her, but that’s not something I can do.
I fucked up thirteen years ago. Not fully, because I have Lennon, but it shouldn’t have been with Hannah.
“You can turn back around now,” she tells me, her voice further away now.
When I do, she’s bending over, plugging in the light I brought up.
It barely lights up even the immediate area, but I know it’ll help her.
Unfortunately, the overhead light is still on, and my tee rode up on her.
At the same time, she was bent over, giving me the perfect view of her little pink panties wedging themselves between her lips, showing me the most beautiful cameltoe I’ve ever seen.
Fucking. Hell. I cross the room quickly, moving behind her while she does that, and flip the switch to the big light off. With as dark as it is in here, she can’t see how hard I am, how even though I’ve adjusted myself, my jeans are fighting for their life to keep my dick in check.
“Is, uh,” I cough. “Is this good for you?”
Her pretty, round face is illuminated by the nightlight.
“Yeah, it’s great. Thank you, Beck,” she smiles at me as she sits on the edge of the bed, and it melts me. “You remembered.”
I can’t stop. Before I realize it, I’m moving towards her, invading her personal space, cupping her cheek in my hand.
“Of course I fucking remember,” I groan, moving in to press my lips to her cheek, needing to feel her.
“I remember every fucking thing, Clover Jane,” I growl against her ear before moving my lips down to the column of her neck, biting her gently where her neck meets her jaw.
Just as I knew she would, she sucks in a shaky breath.
There are a few spots I’m certain will make my girl get weak.
That’s just the easiest to access, right now.
“Beck,” she breathes, and my name sounds like a goddamn prayer on her lips.
“I remember how you felt the night you straddled my hips, the night I thought I would finally get to be inside of you, before the neighbor’s fucking back porch light came on,” I continue, my words skating along her neck so gently, causing her skin to erupt into chill bumps.
“How you rocked against me, my needy fucking girl,” I groan against her.
Her legs immediately wrap around mine, moving me closer to her. A little whine escapes her when my lips leave her, only long enough to stand up, pull my shirt over my head, and run my hand along the back of her head, stroking her hair softly.
“Lay back, Clover,” I instruct. Her eyes are glazed over, her lids heavy as she listens to me.
“Good girl,” I tell her, proudly. Her only response is a tiny whimper.
I wonder how much she likes to be praised, how long she will let me tell her what to do before she snaps and takes control, or tells me to fuck off.
I drop to my knees at the side of the bed, parting her thighs slowly with my hands. I love how thick she is, how pliable she feels under my palms. I want to know what every part of her feels like.
“Is this okay, Clover?” I ask quietly when I slide my hands up to her hips, hooking my fingers into the delicate fabric of her panties on either side. She nods, but that’s not enough for me.
“Words, Clover Jane,” I demand. I want to hear her say it.
“Yes, Beckett,” she replies, her voice sounding miles away.
Jesus Christ, I need to hold it together.
I can’t just rip these off and do whatever to her; I want to be gentle.
I want to be slow; I need to savor this.
I start mentally going over my morning routine as I slide the only barrier keeping me away down her milky white thighs.
Anything to keep me from coming right here, right now.
When her panties hit the floor, and I push the hem of her tee up just enough to see the beautiful pink pussy in front of my eyes, my mental routine is gone. Dust.
Her pretty little lips are already glistening with her wetness. I groan and bite my lip, put my left hand on the inside of her thigh to keep it open, and my right hand hovers right above her pussy. I look up at her, and she’s blissed out.
“Listen to me, Clover,” I say with a stern voice. She lifts her head and stares down at me. “If you need me to stop, just say red, okay? If I need to slow down, tell me yellow. If I check in with you and you like what we are doing, you can say green. Got it, Clover girl?”
Her response rips the self-control out of my body.
“Yes, Sir,” she says confidently, wiggling her hips, craving the friction.
I’m not going to keep it from her.
Using my pointer and middle finger, I caress her outer labia and smile when her hand clenches the sheets under her. I slowly spread her open, watching as her arousal pools at her entrance.
I run the pad of my pointer finger up her slit, a shallow dip into her before I bring my finger to my mouth, tasting her. She whines, watching me.
Yeah, I’m done fucking around.
My girl needs to be eaten, and I have quite the appetite.
I lower my mouth to her, dragging the tip of my tongue from her entrance to her clit, flattening my tongue against her. The noise that comes from her is fucking feral.
I grab her thighs and put them over my shoulders so I can get closer to her, spread her pussy lips open, and put my mouth firmly against her, getting suction before I assault her clit with my tongue.
“Fuck, Beckett,” she drags out, lifting her hips to my mouth, grinding against my tongue.
My greedy fucking girl.
I move my hand slightly and push two fingers into her, and her gasps turn into little moans with every thrust of my hand.
Every breath between moans is her broken begging.
Please.
Beckett.
Don’t.
Fucking.
Stop.
I’m going —
I’m going to fucking come, Beckett.
I’m going to come on your tongue, Beckett, don’t stop.
Her thighs are tensing around my head, and I feel her clenching her perfect, drenched pussy around my fingers.
I lift my gaze to watch her, to see her back arch off the bed.
Her legs start to shake, and I hum in encouragement.
There’s no fucking way I’m taking my mouth off of her.
Not until I have the taste of her coming on my tongue permanently etched into every cell of my body.
“Yes—” she starts, and I grin wickedly, waiting for it.
The flash of light that fills the room isn’t from her orgasm, though.
The world stops when the loudest boom I’ve ever heard comes from directly outside the window, the world goes dark, and a blood-curdling scream comes from one floor below.
“Daddy, help!”