28. Shelby #2
I watch as Beau tries—unsuccessfully—to keep the shit-eating grin off his face. “So you’re telling me, that you, Shelby I’ve-Never-Overreacted-a-Day-in-my-Life LeBlanc, stopped listening after she heard what she didn’t want to hear, and then went balls to the wall about it?”
I refuse to make eye contact at this moment, because I know it’s going to make me smile. “Maybe…”
“Shelby…”
I finally look at him. “What? What do you want me to say? Yes. I might’ve heard the worst and then immediately went to the farthest end of the spectrum to fix it. There. Are you happy?”
“Very,” Beau says, his grin now full-on smitten as he falls back into the pillows. “Only better words I could hear are ‘You’re right, Beau’ or ‘Fuck me, Big Boy.’”
“Don’t push it.”
“Never,” he says.
We fall into an easy conversation about our days, what worked and what didn’t.
What felt off. What we know got in our heads and what we need to make sure we block out tomorrow.
I don’t know what I expected from this call with Beau, but I do feel better.
Lighter. Like I’m going to go out on the course tomorrow and not have this huge weight on me.
“Aren’t we a pair,” I joke. “Pretty soon, The Golf Network is going to start comparing and contrasting who had the better weekend, and then realize that we either both play well or both suck.”
“The married couple that golfs together, sucks together. Now that’s a slogan we need to pitch to Ethan.”
I know he meant suck in terms of bad, but because I have the mind of a ten-year-old boy, I think suck and…well…
No…no no no, Shelby. Mind out of the gutter right fucking now.
“Whatcha thinking over there, Belle?”
“Nothing,” I say way too quickly. So quickly that Beau doesn’t buy it for a second.
“False. You didn’t have shit in your eye before, and there’s definitely something now.”
I really do hate him. “Promise. It’s nothing. So what time do you tee off tomorrow?”
“Nope. Not changing the subject.” Beau sits up and slips off his glasses, making it even more devastating when he stares at me through the screen. “Tell me what’s going on in that beautiful brain of yours.”
How dare he say things like that when I’m thinking things I shouldn’t be thinking.
“It’s just…I don’t know why this even came into my head…but…the last time we both stunk at golf on the same day…we….”
“We had sex and then played out of our minds.”
I give him a glare just because I can. “Something like that.”
“Belle…are you implying that we have FaceTime sex?”
“No. Yes? Wait…is that even a thing?”
My confusion seems to leave him genuinely shocked. “Are you telling me you’ve never had sex via a cellular device?”
“No, because sex is sex.”
“Oh, Belle…this is about to become my favorite tournament tradition.”
“No,” I hurry up and say. “This is a one-time thing.”
“Whatever you say.”
“It’s for golf purposes only.”
“Sure it is…”
“Beau, I’m serious.”
I watch as he stands up and slides the gray joggers he’s wearing off his hips. “So am I. Now take that shirt off and let me see my wife’s tits.”
Never, and I mean never, in my life, have I been ordered around in the bedroom. Like most things in my life, I’m in control. On the offensive. Being out of control is— Well, that just won’t do.
So I don’t know what it is about Beau that when he tells me what to do, I want to get down on all fours and crawl to him. It’s like every ounce of feminism leaves my body and I’m sitting here, a thirsty mess, wanting nothing more than to suck his dick.
Fuck, I’m a goner…
I panic for a second, not knowing where to put my phone. I finally set it on the bed, not giving him a very good show as I pull the oversized T-shirt over my head.
When I pick it back up, I almost drop it. Because all I see on the screen in front of me is Beau, phone propped up for the perfect view of him stroking himself.
“I’ve been waiting.”
“Clearly,” I say as I become mesmerized by his motions.
Beau’s cock is…well, big. Because of course it is.
And somehow it looks bigger on my phone screen than it does in person—but it’s the thickness that has me licking my lips.
I’m all for good length, but girth? The way it fills me up like that’s it’s only job?
Now that’s the stuff top-tier orgasms are made of.
“I don’t know where to put my phone.”
“Against the lamp,” he directs. “Then just turn yourself to face me. Because you better believe I want to see that pretty pussy get soaked.”
Yup. Feminism. Fucking peace out.
I do as he says, carefully resting the phone so it’s standing up as tall as possible before I make my way back to the bed. I try to arrange the pillows—do I need them for support?—in what has to be the unsexiest tableau Beau has ever seen.
“You’ve never gotten off over the phone?”
I shake my head as I position myself. “I…we…”
“You’re going to stop it right there,” Beau commands.
“If the next words out of your mouth have anything to do with the asshole you previously dated—who, I’d like to go on record for saying, I didn’t punch this week…
yet—then stop it. Because he has no place between us.
He has no place in your head. Especially when I’m about to make you come like you’ve never come before. ”
Bold words considering what we did in Las Vegas. Yet, I don’t doubt them for a second.
I don’t know if it’s his tone, or the situation, but before I realize what I’m doing, I feel my hand trailing up my stomach, beginning to massage one of my breasts.
“That’s my girl,” he says, his hand still moving in a lazy motion over his cock. “Does it feel good?”
“Yes,” I breathe out. But while it feels good, it’s not nearly enough.
“Pinch your nipple,” he directs. “I loved how your body reacted when I did that.”
I close my eyes, letting myself pretend it’s Beau’s fingers rather than my own as I do as he says. He’s right. My body does react to it. I never realized that before, but the simple motion sends a shot straight to my core, making my hips buck up ever so slightly.