Chapter 47 #2
His attention drifts shamelessly over my body as I stroke him again, the next thrust pressing his cock deeper into my fist. “I’ve spent months thinking about you like this,” he says, voice turning ragged. “Only in every version I imagined, I had more self-control.”
I grin. “How’s that working out?”
“Baby, you’ve got me pinned to my own bed while you jerk me off.” His palm lands on my ass, the sting jolting through me hard enough to make my hand falter. One eyebrow lifts. “You tell me.”
I release his wrist and rise onto my knees, already knowing what I want.
Beckett leaves both hands where I put them as I straddle him, wrap my fingers around his cock and drag the head through my wet pussy.
His mouth parts when I repeat it, coating the condom before gliding him over my clit, and pleasure hits low and sharp enough to pull a curse from both of us.
The fingers resting above his head curl into the sheet, but he stays put.
I do it once more because watching Beckett Vale fight every instinct to move is becoming dangerously addictive.
“Look at you,” he says, voice low. “So fucking wet.”
I rub him over my clit. “Whose fault is that?”
“Mine.” Not even a pause. “And I’m incredibly proud of my work.”
My laugh fades as I guide him to my entrance. Neither of us moves for a second. Beckett stays under me, hard and waiting, his body drawn tight, but he doesn’t pull me down or tell me what comes next. I drag the head of his cock over my entrance and feel every muscle tense. “You want me?”
“Laurel.” My name rides the edge of a laugh. “I’m trying not to come from watching you rub my cock over your pussy. What do you think?”
Much better.
I lower myself onto him, but the first thick stretch stops me halfway, my palm flattening over his chest. “Fuck.”
Beckett remains where I left him, arms still spread against the mattress, restraint visible in every rigid line of his body.
“Easy, baby. Take what you need.” I ease down farther, the first ache melting into deep heat as my body opens around him, and seeing how badly he wants to grab me only makes me wetter.
“God, Laurel.” His voice drops as I take more of him, my thighs beginning to tremble.
“Fuck, you look pretty taking my cock.” I keep sinking until my thighs settle over his and he is buried completely inside me, the fullness wiping every coherent thought from my head.
A broken sound comes from him when my fingers press harder into his chest, and I close my eyes for one second.
“Open them.”
I do, finding him flushed behind the skewed frames, composure barely holding.
“I waited too fucking long for this,” he murmurs. “Keep those pretty eyes on me as you take all of my cock.”
I roll my hips and his eyelids flutter shut despite the order he just gave me.
“Hypocrite.” Another roll, then I lift until he nearly slides free and sink back down with a grind that drags my clit over him.
The sheets bunch under his fingers. “You can touch me.” Both palms settle on my hips immediately, holding without directing as I find the rhythm I want—deep strokes, deliberate pressure at the bottom, every descent pushing him back inside me.
His attention roams over my tits, my stomach, the place our bodies meet.
“Fuck, you look good riding me.” I rise higher and come down harder. “Again.”
I give him another, and his hands travel upward to cup my breasts, thumbs working over my nipples until I lean forward, hook one finger over the bridge of his glasses and knock them crooked for a third time.
“Keep them on.”
A breathless sound shakes through him. “You could break the fucking things and I’d still wear them.”
I hum, and my pussy tightens around him. Beckett jerks underneath me so sharply I pause, fascinated, then clench deliberately.
“Fuck.” His fingers dig into my hips. “Do that again.”
I oblige.
The last scraps of restraint burn away. I ride him harder, feeding off every curse I drag out of him, thighs burning, skin damp, breasts bouncing as the sound of us fills the room.
His palms slide to my ass and spread me wider when I sink down.
“Ride me,” he says as I grind at the bottom.
“Use my cock, baby. Take what you came here for.” The command sends a filthy rush through me, and I chase the pressure with another roll of my hips.
His palm lands on my ass.
The slap snaps through the room, and my pussy clamps around him so hard we both freeze.
A thumb traces the heated skin once. I stare down at him, breathing hard. “More.”
Something raw crosses his face.
I lean closer. “Harder.”
The second slap jerks my hips and squeezes him all over again.
Beckett groans, fingers sinking into my flesh.
“Jesus, you like that.” There’s no teasing in it now, only filthy fascination as his palm smooths over the sting before landing once more.
My nails score down his chest. “Goddamn, baby.” Another involuntary contraction grips him.
His breath turns ragged. “The way you tighten when I do that…”
I fold over him and kiss him, glasses pressing into my cheek as I keep riding. “Keep talking.”
“You want filthy?”
I sink harder, turning the question into a groan.
“Good girl. Fuck, look at you.” His fingers spread over my ass. “My dick buried inside your pussy, wearing me out in my own fucking bed, and you still look pleased with yourself.”
“I am.”
“I know.”
One hand slides between us, thumb finding my clit and circling with exactly the pressure I need. My thighs tense around him, rhythm faltering before I grind into the touch.
“There?”
“Yes.”
He stays right there, keeping the same maddening rhythm until every downward stroke bursts stars behind my eyes. My arms start to shake, but I keep riding him, chasing his hand and the deep drag of his cock inside me.