Chapter 47 #2
My heart does Olympic-level gymnastics. I swear, I might cry—but then his mouth finds my breast again and I forget my own damn name.
I need him so much. “Your turn,” I gasp, reaching for the waistband of his jeans. He helps me, shoving them off, along with his boxers, in one practiced move. For a second, I just stare. Holy hell, he’s freaking huge.
I wrap my fist around his cock and stroke, loving the way he shudders above me.
Holy hell. He’s so hard and hot in my hand, thick and heavy and ready to wreck me.
Beckett’s biceps flex as he braces his arms on either side of me, head dropping between his shoulders, a guttural growl vibrating through his chest.
“Shit, Elsie, that’s it. Fuck, your hand feels so good.”
I pump him slowly, savoring the way the veins bulge in his forearms as he tries to hold himself up over me. His cock kicks against my palm, leaking, desperate. I drag my thumb around the tip, spreading the moisture, and he bites off a curse that’s pure filth.
“You keep that up, and I’ll come before I even get inside you.” His jaw’s clenched so hard I think it might crack.
“Maybe I want you to lose control,” I gasp, arching up so my tits press against his chest. I’m strung so tight I think I might combust. I’m so wound up I might actually vibrate right off the bed and launch myself into orbit.
The heat between us is insane, and every time Beckett moves, his cock twitches against my palm, and my inner muscles clench in anticipation.
He slides his hand up my thigh, strong and steady, making my breath catch. “Tell me what you want,” he rasps, voice pure sex and gravel.
“I want it all.” He doesn’t waste a second.
Oh God. My legs tremble as Beckett drops to his knees at the foot of the bed.
He drags me to the edge, and his big hands pin my thighs wide open so there’s nowhere to hide.
I’m so wet I can feel my slick all over my skin, and he freaking groans at the sight, like I’m the best meal he’s ever seen.
“Jesus, sweetheart,” he growls, voice pure filth. “You’re dripping for me.”
Before I can whimper another plea, his tongue drags up the center of my pussy, slow and deliberate, and I nearly levitate off the bed.
I clutch the sheets, gasping, as he buries his face between my legs and devours me.
His tongue flicks over my clit, and holy cow, I almost come right out of my skin.
He licks me again, slowly and deeply, dragging the flat of his tongue through my folds before sucking my clit into his mouth.
My hips buck off the bed, legs shaking so hard I nearly knee him in the face, but Beckett just growls and pins me down tighter, spreading my thighs wide so I can’t go anywhere.
“You’re not going anywhere until I’ve had my fill of you.”
He fucks me with his mouth until I’m clutching the covers and chanting his name like a prayer.
Beckett slides his big hands under my ass, lifting me straight into his face like he’s starving and I’m his last meal on earth.
I swear, I almost scream from how desperately I want him.
The things Beckett does with his tongue should be illegal.
My legs shake so hard I think I might snap the bed frame, but he just growls into my pussy and digs his strong hands deeper into my ass, holding me right where he wants me.
“Oh God, Beckett, don’t stop…” I clutch the sheets and dig my heels into his shoulders. There’s not a single cell in my body that remembers how to function except for the part of me that wants him. My brain is fried. I’m babbling his name like a lunatic, but I don’t even care.
I shatter, screaming his name, thighs clamping around his head as the orgasm rips through me like a live wire. My pussy clenches and pulses, dripping all over his tongue, but Beckett just groans and fucks me harder with his mouth. I can’t think or breathe.
I’m still trembling when Beckett drags his mouth up my thigh, biting and licking a filthy trail up my body. Hot, greedy hands catch my hips, squeeze my waist, and haul me higher as he kisses up my stomach. I moan, still buzzing from the aftershocks, and grip his hair, begging him not to stop.
He doesn’t. I don’t even notice when he lines his cock up with my wet opening. He pushes in, slowly at first, giving me time to adjust, and the stretch is incredible, just enough to make my toes curl. Beckett is watching my face the whole time like he’s memorizing every second.
He buries himself deep, hips flush to mine, then holds perfectly still.
I dig my nails into his shoulders, needing something to hold on to. “Move, Beckett, or I swear to God—”
He doesn’t need telling twice. He slams his hips forward and sinks all the way inside me in one thick, perfect thrust.
Holy. Freaking. Cow.
I arch off the bed, a scream ripping out of me before I can even think about being embarrassed. Beckett’s cock stretches me wide, the perfect kind of burn, and for a split second, my brain completely short-circuits.
“Fuck, you feel good,” he growls, pinning my wrists above my head and holding me open while he pulls back and thrusts forward again. There’s nothing gentle about the way he’s fucking me. He’s a man on a mission, and the mission is to absolutely own me.
He sets a relentless rhythm, thrusts deep and measured, making every inch count. The headboard rattles behind me as the bedsprings squeak. I wrap my legs around his waist and meet him thrust for thrust, getting absolutely wrecked in the best possible way.