Chapter Three #3
“Off,” he growls as I step out of my pants seconds before he backs me up against the kitchen counter, and then his mouth is back on mine, kissing me, but his lips are gone before I respond, trailing over the sensitive skin of my neck, licking a path up to my ear and making me shudder when he bites my earlobe.
“I’m not drunk,” he rasps into my ear, his breath ragged, sending a shiver through my body.
“So tell me, why the fuck can’t I get my bearings?
” I gasp when he rocks forward, pressing the ridge on his jeans against my naked sex.
“I want to fuck you right where we stand. Bury my cock in your tight little pussy and fuck you so hard the neighbors will hear us.”
“You don’t have neighbors,” I say breathlessly. “Not for miles.”
“Maybe not,” he rasps into my ear, thrusting his hardness against my sex and making me whimper. “But I can still make you scream.”
I gasp when he bends down, grips the back of my knees and lifts me up onto the kitchen counter. My eyes widen in shock when he lifts my feet up onto the counter, then presses my thighs apart. I flush, mortified by the position as he settles down onto a stool, my body tightening with anticipation.
“Don’t,” he says thickly when I start to close my legs.
“I want to see you.” I shudder when he turns his head and kisses my inner thigh.
“I want to taste you.” My head spins even as my body turns hot and I feel my sex flood with wetness as his hot breath caresses my skin.
As his mouth trails higher until I feel his nose brush against my folds.
“And I want to hear you scream my name.”
I don’t scream when his tongue sweeps between my folds without warning, but it’s a close call. The world spins for a moment and my vision blurs beneath the flood of sensation racing through my body.
“Beau!” I cry out, falling back against the counter. His mouth is warm against my flesh, his tongue brushing against my clit, teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves until I’m sobbing, overwhelmed.
The word Daddy flashes through my mind, startling me. It fits the way he takes charge, the way he makes me feel safe, cared for. My cheeks heat instantly, and I swallow it down before it can escape.
“Oh God…oh, Beau!” He grips my hips when they begin to shake, sliding that sinful tongue through my intimate core and over my pulsing bud.
I sob as he scoops a hand beneath my bottom and pulls me to the edge of the counter and my legs over his shoulders, his hungry mouth driving me to madness, licking through and over my sex, drawing noisily over my clit and sending pleasure through my body.
I thrash on the counter, knocking over the whiskey and the water bottle. The crash is a mere blip in my subconscious. I can hardly think of anything beyond the tongue pressed against me, licking through the wet valley between my thighs.
“Beau!”
I call out his name like a prayer on my lips. I sob, writhing helplessly on the counter as I chase the pleasure he gives me.
“Come for me,” he growls, wrapping his mouth around my clit in hot suction.
This time, I scream. Loud and pitched. The sound bounces off the walls, echoing through the night. The orgasm steals the breath from my lungs, sending my hips thrashing as pleasure shoots through me from head to toe. He doesn’t stop as the climax crashes over me.
I’m panting, trembling like a leaf in winter when he pulls back.
My eyes flutter open, and heck, I don’t remember closing them.
There is a satisfied look in his eyes when they lock with mine.
“You taste so fucking good, little bird,” he says, voice thick and raspy.
“I could come just from eating you out and tasting your juices.” He grips my thighs and slides me off the counter and onto his lap, wrapping an arm around my waist when I straddle him. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful.”
“I am?”
“So fucking beautiful,” he says, stroking a hand over my cheek before pushing my hair to the side. His mouth moves to my neck, brushing over my sensitive skin and igniting fresh heat under my skin. “Take me out.”
It takes me a moment to make sense of what he’s asking me and when I do, I flush fiercely. My hands tremble as I reach between us and unfasten his jeans. I tug down a zipper and after a quick mental pep talk, slide my hand into his pants.
He’s warm and hard. And massive.
I gasp when his shaft jumps in my hands as his breathing grows fevered against my skin. “Stroke me, little bird,” he pants into my ear, his hand tightening around my waist. “I’m so close, baby.”
“Okay,” I say shyly, wrapping my hand around him. He jerks against my palm, and I use the slickness gathered at his tip to stroke him.
“Fuck!” he grunts, thrusting up into my hand, his breathing fevered against my skin.
His need feeds mine. It’s hot and intimate.
More intimate than I ever imagined myself being with someone, but I like it—I like the feel of a strong man trembling in my arms, and when I squeeze his shaft experimentally, he roars into my neck as his release spills over my hand.
He grips me hard, thrusting into my palm as he kisses me, biting and licking at my sensitive skin through his shudders.
It’s beautiful.
For several moments, I forget the demons haunting me.
Even long after the tremors have faded and my head is lying on his shoulder, I stay in the beauty of the moment.
Soaking up the feeling of those muscles holding me tight and protectively close.
The scent of our lovemaking clouds the air between us and my mind so that when I close my eyes, it’s still the rough, the dangerous man who saved me I see.
It’s him that’s on my mind when I fall asleep.