25. Daisy #3
With a sigh of almost relief, he drops to the floor with a thud, throws my leg over his shoulder, pushes my panties to the side, and disappears between my thighs.
I arch my back and thread my fingers through his hair, aching and dripping as his tongue laps and twirls around my clit, through my folds, into my center.
His moans reverberate through my body, thrilling me with jolts of pleasure.
Within minutes, I’m writhing and moaning, fingers clutched in the sheets and hips grinding into the best, easiest orgasm I’ve ever had.
He lifts his head and wipes the back of his mouth. “Y’all soft and relaxed now, Darlin’?”
I nod weakly, and he grins.
“Good. Now you won’t mind if I take my time.”
He leaves my dress on, pushing the thin straps from my shoulders before plucking the strings to loosen the fabric and reveal my breasts. He palms one and sucks on the other, laving the nipple until it’s hard and aching.
This could last forever and still not be long enough. His hands never leave my body as he tastes every inch of my skin. I close my eyes and revel in his return, skin pebbling, pulse thrumming, and core aching. Everything right in my world again.
Listlessly, I tug at his shirt, needing to see his magnificent chest, the muscled ridges of his stomach, and the hard lines of his shoulders.
He helps me peel it off, then returns to his rediscovery of my body.
Every sweep of his tongue winds me tighter, and I moan and twist as I fumble at the waist of his jeans.
And then they’re off, and he slides my dress down over my hips, collecting my panties as he does it, stripping me naked.
I reach between us and take him into my palm, rubbing the precum on the tip of his cock and licking it off my thumb. He closes his eyes, breathing heavily, head thrown back, jaw clenched as he gets himself under control.
I stroke him, heart racing as every pull makes him hotter and harder.
His hands grow still as he concentrates less on me and more on not finishing too soon.
I grip him firmly, then softly, then brush featherlight fingers beneath his balls.
I do all the things I know he loves and push all the buttons I know he can’t resist.
Soon, he growls and pushes me into the center of the mattress, nudging my knees open with his hips. “I wanted to do this right,” he says. “Take my time. Show you how much I’ve missed you. But you’re not going to allow that, are you, Darlin’?”
I toss my head. “No. I need you now.”
He pulls a condom from somewhere, tears it open with his teeth, and rolls on the rubber. I squirm and slip a hand between my legs, rubbing my clit for a little release.
Taking my wrist, he pins it to the mattress above my head. His eyes are hot and out of control. “That’s my job.”
The tip of his erection meets my throbbing core, and I close my eyes with a groan that he echoes almost immediately. It’s not just the feel of a man when I haven’t had sex in over a year. It’s the feel of him. Knowing that I’m stretching around him. This is Beau inside me now.
He sinks in deeper, a single inch, and another, and I gasp against the glorious sting. My fingers dig into his shoulders as he pushes a little more, sliding home with a relieved moan.
“Fuuuck,” he groans, throat bobbing and brow furrowed, gazing down at me as he pushes his fingers into my hair, brushes my cheek with his thumb, soaks in the picture of me beneath him. “Fuck, Darlin’. I missed you.”
“I missed you too.” I slip a hand around his neck. “Do I feel the way you remember?”
“Better.”
I moan and pull him in for a kiss.
We rock, slowly at first, savoring the sensation of being together again.
It’s magical, and soon the rhythm of his hips increases, and our bodies grow slick and salty.
Our breaths chase each other, faster and heavier, and the tension tightens to the point of pain.
We push each other to the edge and all the way over, tumbling into our orgasms one after the other.
Kissing and throbbing and pulsing, reliving and reviving a history I thought was lost forever.
Beau softens over me, his weight shifting, pinning me down as he kisses me. The salt on his lips tastes like tears, and I take his head in my hands.
“You’re crying.”
He laughs and shakes his head, then nuzzles into my neck. “I missed you,” he says again. “You have no idea how much.”
He collapses beside me, pressed against my side, face hidden in my hair. I close my eyes and cling to him, catching my breath. I’ve cried so many tears over the last year, but it’s not what I need now. I’m too satiated and too hopeful to feel anything but a soft, languid kind of high.
“How long do we have until Ollie comes back?” I ask.
Beau moans and shifts beside me, inhaling deeply. “Another hour.”
Hooking my leg up over his hip, I press my breasts against his chest, seeking his mouth. He gives it to me willingly.
I pass my hands along lines and muscles I know as well as the rises and valleys of Silver Leaf.
Dips and ridges in his body that make me feel as much at home beside him as I do here on the ranch.
The pulse between my legs grows more insistent, and I roll my pelvis against him.
His breath trembles at my touch, skin rippling and cooling and heating again.
“Good,” I say. “Let’s not waste a minute of it.”