Chapter 5
Chapter Five
CLARA
The fire crackles, casting dancing shadows across Beau's huge Christmas tree in the corner. It's decorated with hand-carved ornaments; tiny wooden reindeer, bears, stars. Each one is intricate and perfect.
He comes inside, taking off his coat. “All done. It should be fine overnight. Snow’s easing up, anyway.”
“You made all of these?” I trace a finger along a delicate snowflake ornament, trying to calm my still-thrumming body. He walks over to me, gathering me into his big arms.
“Long winter nights,” he says against my hair, his voice rough. “Not much else to do up here.”
"They're beautiful." I shift to look up at him, and the raw hunger in his eyes makes my core clench.
“Fuck, Clara.” His hand tightens on my waist, fingers splaying possessively as he sits on the couch, taking me with him to sit on his lap. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
“Show me.”
His pupils are blown dark as his chest rises and falls, and there’s an obvious bulge in his jeans that I'm trying not to stare at.
“I guess I should tell you I've never felt like this before,” I admit. “Like I'll die if you don't touch me.”
His hands slide to my hips, gripping tight. “You can't say things like that.”
“Why not?” I rock against him deliberately, feeling him thick and hard beneath me. “It's true. I've been wet since you carried me to your truck.”
He groans, his control snapping. In one fluid movement, he flips us so I'm beneath him on the couch, his weight pressing me into the cushions.
“You want to know what you do to me?” His voice is rough, dangerous. “I've been hard for days. Every time you bite that lip. Every morning when you press against me in your sleep, making those little sounds…”
“What sounds?” I breathe, arching up against him.
“You know what sounds.” He rocks his hips against mine, and I moan, proving his point. “Fuck, just like that.”
His mouth crashes down on mine, and this kiss is nothing like before. It's consuming, desperate. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, and we're grinding against each other like teenagers, too desperate to even get undressed.
I gasp when he moves to my neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks. “Bedroom. Now.”
Beau stands, pulling me up with him, then carrying me into the bedroom. He presses me against the wall beside the bed. “Need a minute,” he growls against my throat. “If I take you to bed right now, I won't be gentle.”
“I don't want gentle.”
He pins my wrists above my head with one hand, the other sliding under my shirt to cup my breast. “You sure you can handle that?”
“Try me.”
He thumbs my nipple through my bra, making me arch and whimper. “Been thinking about this… how you'd feel. How wet you'd be.”
“Find out,” I challenge, and he releases my wrists to pull my shirt over my head.
“Fuck,” he breathes, staring. The bra is nothing special, but the way he's looking at me makes me feel like a goddess. “You're so fucking perfect.”
He unhooks the bra with surprising dexterity, and then his mouth is on me, hot and demanding. I cry out, hands tangling in his hair, holding him against me as he sucks my breasts, alternating between gentle and rough until I'm shaking.
“Beau, please…”
“Tell me what you want.” He drops to his knees, looking up at me. “I need to hear you say it.”
“I want your mouth on me.” My face burns, but I'm beyond caring. “I want you to make me come.”
“Good girl,” he growls, and pulls my pants and underwear down in one motion.
The first touch of his tongue makes me cry out.
Beau chuckles against me, the vibration making me gasp, then gets serious about his task.
He eats me like a man starved, like he's been thinking about this for days, and when he slides two thick fingers inside me while sucking on my clit, I come within minutes, legs shaking, only his arm around my waist keeping me upright.
He stands, backing me onto the bed, kissing me deep so I can taste myself on his tongue, then strips off his clothes.
“Holy shit,” I breathe. He’s huge everywhere, thick and hard and already leaking for me. “You’re going to wreck me.”
“Only in the best way,” he promises, covering my body with his. “I’ll take care of you, I promise.”
He kisses me again, slow and filthy, hands roaming until I’m trembling beneath him. When he settles between my thighs and lines himself up, the blunt head of him nudging my entrance, I can’t hold the words back anymore.
“I want you to be my first,” I whisper against his mouth.
Beau freezes. Every muscle in his big body locks solid above me. His eyes snap open, wide and stunned, searching my face like he’s waiting for the punchline.
“Your… first?” he repeats, hoarse. He starts to pull back, hands already shifting to my hips like he’s about to lift off me completely. “Jesus, Clara…stop. Right now.”
“No,” I gasp, locking my ankles behind his back before he can retreat. “I don’t want to stop. I want this. I want you.”
He drops his forehead to mine, breathing hard, a tremor running through him. “You’re a virgin and you didn’t tell me?” His voice cracks with something between awe and panic.
He swallows roughly. “We need to slow down. Like, all the way down. I could hurt you.”
“You won’t,” I say, cupping his face, forcing him to meet my eyes. “I trust you. I’ve waited all this time for the right person, and it’s you. Please don’t make me wait any longer.”
His eyes flutter shut like I just struck him. “Fuck,” he breathes. “You’re killing me.”
Beau stays perfectly still for a long moment, jaw clenched so tight I can see the muscle jumping. Then he opens his eyes.
“Okay,” he says at last, voice ragged. “But we do this my way. Slow. You tell me the second anything hurts, understand? Promise me.”
“I promise,” I whisper, brushing my thumb over his bottom lip.
He nods, pressing a soft kiss to my mouth before pulling back just enough to watch my face. One of his hands slides down to grip my thigh, opening me wider, while the other braces beside my head.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs. “Breathe for me, baby.”
He starts to push in, agonizingly slow, barely moving, giving me time to feel every thick inch. The stretch is immediate, intense, a sharp sting that makes me suck in a breath.
He stops. “Too much?”
I shake my head, nails digging into his shoulders. “Keep going. Please.”
Another shudder rolls through him. He eases forward again, rocking gently, letting me adjust. The burn is overwhelming, but beneath it is something deeper and sweeter. When he’s only halfway in, he pauses again, sweat beading on his temple.
“Talk to me,” he demands, voice strained. “Scale of one to ten, how bad?”
“Four,” I manage. “But it’s good too. Don’t stop.”
He groans like I just tortured him, then leans down to kiss me slow and deep while he works the rest of the way in, careful thrusts until he’s seated fully inside me and we’re both shaking.
“You’re so tight I can barely… you feel perfect. Tell me you’re okay.”
I nod frantically, tears pricking my eyes from the overwhelming fullness. “I’m okay. I’m so full of you. Move, please move.”
“Not yet,” he rasps. “Gonna stay right here until you relax around me. Just breathe, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”
His thumb finds my clit again, circling gently, patiently, until the sting starts to melt into a deep, pulsing ache for more. Only when I’m rocking up against him, begging in broken little whimpers, does he finally start to move in careful strokes that make my vision blur.
“That’s it,” he praises, voice wrecked. “Taking me so beautifully. My perfect girl. Never letting you go.”
His thumb strokes my clit faster as another orgasm builds. “I can't—”
“You can. Come for me… let me feel you.”
His voice, rough and commanding, pushes me over the edge. I come so hard I see stars, and he follows immediately, groaning my name as he fills me.
We collapse together, sweaty and satisfied, hearts racing. Comet scratches at the door, whining.
“Worst wingman ever,” Beau mutters, making me laugh.
“He waited until we were done. That's pretty considerate.”
“Should I let him in?”
“In a minute.” I trace patterns on his chest, feeling him still semi-hard inside me. “Again?”
“Already?” He looks down at me, amazed. “Greedy little thing.”
“Only for you,” I say, and feel him twitch inside me, already hardening again.
“You're going to be the death of me,” he groans, but he's already rolling his hips, starting a slow, devastating rhythm.
This time is different, more tender and intense. We stare into each other's eyes as we move together, and when we come, it's together, gasping into each other's mouths.
Later, after we've let Comet in and he's settled at our feet, I lie in Beau’s arms. The snow has finally stopped.