Chapter Thirteen #2
“I need you,” he said, right before he dove in.
Her hands grabbed for his hair as he found her clit and began devouring her.
Immediately, she bucked.
“Oh, God!” Claire shouted.
Yet, that wasn’t enough.
He wanted more.
As her body shook, Beckett was urged on, and he was focused on one thing, and one thing only.
Cumming.
What he wanted was for Claire to be wrapped in that delicious sensation as she took a tumble for him.
As she got wetter, it drove him wild. Her response to him always did that.
She loved him, and he’d never forget that his heart was safe in her hands, even if his gift was gone.
“Please,” she begged, as her thighs shook with need, as Beckett toyed with her clit.
He was ravenous, and he had to have her. That was the bottom line.
His dick ached to be in her, and if he didn’t find himself buried in her body, he believed he might just die.
Yeah, there would be no stalling today.
It might kill him.
Changing up the rhythm, Beckett drove her wild, and the whole time, his wickedly wanton wife was begging for more.
Well, then, more she’d have.
With a rough nip, she careened off of the edge, cumming hard. Her whole body shook from that delicious tumble into the spiral of colors.
Oh, but Beckett wasn’t done.
Not.
Even.
Close.
In fact, he craved nothing more than one more explosion for his wife before he buried himself in her body.
He was desperate for it.
As she slowly came up from the pleasure, he was teasing her clit with the tip of his tongue.
“Beck,” she whispered. “More.”
It made him smile.
Yeah, one more.
With nothing less than wicked intent, he forced his wife back up through the pleasure and gave her all he had. He tormented her clit, forcing her back to the edge.
The whole time, she moaned as he continued to feast.
“My love,” she whispered as her body was driven wild, and to the edge again. Claire was fighting to hold on, but someone’s mouth should be illegal.
In all the states.
“I’m close,” she whispered as her hands were clenched in the pillow under her head and she held on for the next tumble.
Beckett was watching her, and when he did something particularly wicked with his tongue, that was all it took.
Claire.
Fell.
As she came again, that’s when he slid up her body, and there was only one thing on his mind.
She’d mentioned wanting more kids, and he was thinking the same thing.
It was time to knock up his wife.
Burying himself in her body, she gasped at the invasion, and he moaned at the sensation.
It.
Was.
Nice.
The wet, warm vise of her body gripped his erection, trying to lure him to the edge.
Oh, and he was here for it.
“Fuck,” he whispered, as there was no better feeling in the whole world, and Beckett knew it.
He was home.
As he focused on her, he wasn’t moving.
No.
Beckett wanted her eyes open, so he could stare into them and enjoy this morning romp. He was thinking about work and how he didn’t have to be there today.
Thank.
Freaking.
God.
Maybe later, he’d take Claire back to bed, and they could enjoy each other’s bodies while Autumn took a nap.
“Come on, Claire. Look at me so I can enjoy that pleasure in your eyes.”
Her lashes fluttered, giving him exactly what he wanted. As her eyes opened, he saw the heat, lust, and need in them.
Yeah, he knew that feeling.
“I need you, my wife,” he said, and then he began moving.
Yeah, Beckett was going to enjoy this.
As he moved, her hands went to his shoulders, and they stayed locked together.
“Beck,” she whispered, as he took them back up that climb, so they could both fall together.
There was no doubt they would.
His breathing was labored, and what he wanted more than anything was to explode in his woman.
“Together,” he said, telling her exactly what he wanted.
It was what he craved.
As she stared up into his eyes, hers stayed locked to his, and Claire refused to look away.
“Yes,” she whispered.
As he began moving, there was an explosion of energy, and the room around them shifted.
The air hummed.
Beckett’s skin rippled, and Claire felt it.
As she opened her mouth, she heard his scream. She heard the scream of pain, but his mouth didn’t move. It was as if she was in his brain, and something was waking up.
They were locked together, as the orgasm tore through them, rocking them both to their cores.
And they heard it.
Laughter.
It rippled across them, and it filled the room, but it wasn’t from either of them.
He was exploding in her body, but he was also in her head.
Claire?
Oh, Jesus.
As he poured into her, they both heard each other in their minds.
Beckett? What’s happening?
Honestly, he wasn’t sure. All around them, visuals flashed, as if they were moving rapidly through time and space.
It was the path he took to work.
Every.
Day.
It was all the familiar sights.
While they were joined together in bed, they were also standing in Littlemoon Investigations when that flurry of images stopped.
With the others.
How are we here?
Beckett blinked, turning around and taking it all in. When Avalon stared over at him, he heard her in his head. Time seemed to stop around her.
No.
Time DID stop.
You’re using the psychic gift of astral projection. Your gift isn’t gone. It’s morphed. He didn’t burn you out, but instead, he changed your gift. You can now move and experience things thinking about them. You were thinking about losing your job and not being here, but now, in the static, you are.
Oh, holy shit.
He didn’t want this, and he certainly didn’t want Claire along for the ride. What did a guy have to do to knock up his wife, and not open some Pandora’s Box of psychic bullshittery?
HOME! HOME! HOME! he shouted, instinctually.
He screamed it into the abyss, and as he did, the sights and sounds flashed again, and he found himself still buried in his wife.
Beck?
When he opened his eyes, the room spun like he had vertigo.
Again, there was laughter.
Oracle’s.
I think we have a problem.
Claire stared up at him.
Oh, they absolutely did.
A huge one.
Her husband’s one gift was gone, and now, he had a whole other one.
Well, shit.