Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Clara
Wanting to kiss Beckett and the experience of kissing Beckett were two different things. Wanting was desire, longing, a type of suffering.
Kissing him, though. Kissing him and being kissed by Beckett Ashland was the kind of divine torment I wanted more of.
One moment, I’d been looking up at his green eyes, asking if he’d meant that quip when Thatcher had teased about us getting together, and the next …
Beckett’s soft lips were on mine, his arms around my waist and tugging me against him. I wrapped my arms around his neck and leaned into it.
I moaned. I couldn’t help it.
Beckett growled.
My body had been on fire since the moment he’d found me, even though I’d frozen in place. Now, I burned with a fierce need.
Beckett bent and gripped the back of my thighs and lifted. My dress hitched up as I wrapped my legs around his waist. His mouth was on my neck, and I could barely think past the feel of his lips against my skin. Everything felt so right.
“Clara,” he breathed. “Fuck, I need you.”
I didn’t know where any of this came from, but I wasn’t sure I cared.
“I need you, too.” I nibbled on the edge of his ear and tangled my fingers in his hair.
I rocked my hips against him, searching for friction, for more.
I needed more. There were too many layers between us, and we were in too public of a place for what I wanted to happen next. What my body needed to happen next.
“Beckett.” His name came out in a moan as he found the sensitive spot between my neck and collarbone.
“Mmpf,” was his only response.
“We could be seen.”
He froze beneath me for half a second before he moved – carried me somewhere else. “Tack room. The door locks.”
“Perfect.” I kissed along his jaw and down his neck and rocked my hips against him.
Beckett maneuvered us through the open door and kicked it shut behind him. With me still in his arms, he strode across the room and lowered me onto the worktable.
Beckett cupped my face, his thumbs stroking my cheeks as he kissed me. His lips and tongue were so thorough in their exploration that I nearly fell off the table when he pulled away.
“Do not move an inch.” The command in his voice was clear, and the rough edge to it made me sit up straighter.
I could only reply with a breathless, “Okay.”
Beckett went back to the door, opened it and looked out into the barn before he closed and locked the handle and deadbolt. He pulled out his phone, typed something, and left it on the small table near the door.
I melted at the near-feral gleam in his eyes as he strode back to me. “I don’t want us to be interrupted.”
“Me, neither,” I admitted, reaching for him as he neared. I wanted him against me, his mouth on mine, his arms around me again. The sheer size of him, which used to just mean safety and familiarity, suddenly meant something different – more. It was heady, overwhelming, and fucking sexy as hell.
I grabbed the open lapel of his shirt and pulled him closer. “Kiss me, Beckett.”
He groaned and obliged. Beckett cupped the back of my head with one hand buried in my hair and wrapped the other around my waist.
I slid close to the edge of the table, until I could wrap my legs around his. I needed more – more of Beckett, more of his touch, his mouth, everything.
He kissed me with a passion I’d never felt from anyone else, and need and pleasure built and burned through every nerve, until I was near wild with it.
Beckett kissed and nipped down my neck. He pulled one strap of my sundress aside. He placed soft, tender kisses to my shoulder, along my arm. “Clara,” he whispered, my name more a prayer than anything.
“Mm,” was the only sound I could make. The entire world was fuzzy along the edges.
“You’re so beautiful, my little wren.”
I nearly preened under the nickname he’d given me when we were teens.
He’d started calling me that not long after I’d saved Noah from Tate Starski, a bully who had a special dislike of the youngest Ashland.
I’d basically tackled the kid off Noah. We’d rolled in the dirt a few feet and he’d tried to hit me, but Thatcher or Beckett had hauled him off of me.
Beckett had said I reminded him of a bird defending their nest, like a wren.
It had stuck, but he was the only one allowed to call me that.
His rule, not mine, though I secretly enjoyed it.
He kissed up the side of my neck, my jaw. “Hell, Clara, I need you.” The last line was said between quick kisses against my lips.
“I know the feeling.” I reached for the top of his jeans, but he caught my hand, his grip gentle but firm.
He tsked. “Me, first.”
There was a gleam in his green eyes as he deliberately released my hand – the command clear. He wanted to play and explore, and I would have my chance later.
Works for me. I answered the only way I could. I opened my legs to him, the fabric of my dress gathering in the open space. My entire body hummed with want and anticipation.
“Oh, Clara.” Beckett leaned his forehead against mine and trailed one hand along the exposed skin on my leg. “Look at how beautiful you are, opening yourself for me. I never thought I’d be so fucking lucky.”
Who knew this man could say such delicious things to me, praise and desire mingled in one.
“Please, Beckett.” I couldn’t stop my body from trembling as he slid his hand under my dress and up the inside of my thigh.
He leaned in, brushed his nose along my ear as he whispered, “Please, what, Clara? Use your words.”
“Please …” I could barely think beyond the feeling of his rough, calloused hand on my skin, so very close to where I wanted him. I rolled my hips, and he chuckled, the breath falling against my ear.
“Someone’s eager.”
“Beckett,” I moaned, throwing my head back in frustration. He took advantage of the moment and kissed and licked my neck as he slid his hand up, up, up until he reached the very thin, very wet scrap of fabric that covered me.
“Fuck,” he groaned. “You’re soaked for me, beautiful.”
I made an impatient sound that might have also been a curse.
He chuckled. “I bet you’ll come undone the moment I stroke your clit, won’t you? Are you that ready and needy for me?”
Hell, if I knew. All I could focus on was the teasing touch of his fingers as he stroked me through my panties – never quite reaching that perfect spot. Teasing me and building pleasure. My entire body trembled, and I arched my back – another silent plea for Beckett to have mercy on me.
“Clara, you have no idea how much I want to bury my cock in you right here, right now. I want you under me, your back arched and my name on your lips when you come. I want you on top of me, bouncing on my cock until I can’t see straight.”
Yes. Yes, to all of it. Please, yes.
“But.” He pulled away. He kept his fingers right where they were, stroking me.
Beckett released his grip on my hair only to palm one of my breasts through the dress.
“We don’t have time for the way I want to take you, and our first time sure as hell isn’t going to be on a damn worktable in the tack room.
No matter how tempting it is right now.”
I whimpered. Actually whimpered.
He pulled my dress and bra out of the way and cupped my breast, his rough skin sliding against my peaked nipple.
“But I can’t send you out into the world with your pussy this wet and swollen and ready for me, either, can I?” He pinched my nipple. A jolt of pleasure raced straight to my core. He bent down to soothe the ache with his tongue.
“Beckett, I –” I lost words as he pulled my nipple between his teeth.
Breathless, mindless, I begged, “Please.”
He growled again, and whatever control he’d been holding on to snapped. “I need to taste you, Clara. Be extra good and keep quiet while I lick your pussy.”
I barely had time to process his words as he grabbed my hips, lifted the dress, and slid the pathetic scrap of fabric formerly known as my panties down my legs.
Beckett kissed and licked his way up my legs with a reverence I’d never expected, as if it were something he never thought he’d get to do. I hissed as he licked the ticklish spot next to my knee and moaned as he moved higher.
I was already so close. So, so close to that elusive peak. I’d be over it the second his mouth was where I ached.
Beckett licked the inside of one of my thighs, and then the other, before he settled himself right in the middle. “Lie back, little wren.”
I obeyed, the cold of the work table jarring compared to the heat of my skin.
He slid a finger up and down my entrance. I writhed at his touch.
“Hmm,” the sound he made was nearly a growl. “You’d better keep still or I’ll have to pin you down, princess.”
The thought of him making good on that threat made me squirm even more. Beckett chuckled, almost to himself, and braced his free arm across my hips, successfully pinning me in place.
“Now I wonder …”
I covered my mouth to try and hide my moan when Beckett slid one, then two fingers inside of me. It was hard not to ride his fingers, even with his arm keeping me still.
“Fuck, Clara. You’re already fluttering for me.”
I keened.
Beckett removed both fingers and placed a kiss on my belly. I dragged my gaze to his and found such a feral desire in his green eyes that my body trembled with anticipation.
“Not long now, princess, I promise.”
Another kiss on my belly, then lower, lower, until he reached my clit.
Beckett slid two fingers inside as he blew a soft breath across the swollen bud. He made a beckoning gesture with his fingers, one at a time as he settled in a quick but steady rhythm.
It was all I could do not to buck my hips as pleasure coiled tighter, and tighter, and tighter.
I was going to die. Death by delayed orgasm. Not the worst way to spend my last moments, underneath Beckett’s fingers and mouth.
“Your pussy is beautiful, little wren.”
“Beckett,” I pleaded, impatience slipping into my voice.
He blew another breath across my clit in response.
“Please. I’m so … so … close.” I could hardly get the words out as I chased what he offered and yet denied.
“I know, princess. You’re doing so well, fluttering around my fingers, your body blushing with pleasure.”
I preened under his words of praise. I smirked at him as I said, “I was unaware of this sadistic side of you, Beckett.”
“Mmm, and how do you like it?” He flicked my clit once, twice, and the other two fingers kept up their pace inside of me.
I lost all sense of words. Beckett’s grin was wicked as he leaned over to capture my mouth and whispered against my lips, “Okay, princess. Remember to keep the noise down. Screaming my name will have to wait until later.”
He knelt in front of me again, and his mouth was on me. He licked and sucked my clit, his tongue stroking in slow circles, and resumed his ministrations with his fingers. My hips bucked off the worktable – or they would have if not for his other arm once again holding me in place.
Heat spread throughout my body, and seconds later my orgasm crashed through me. My head fell back and tears rolled down my cheeks as the exquisite pleasure spiraled across every inch of me.
“That’s it, princess. You’re so fucking beautiful as you come undone for me.” Beckett never stopped his fingers as the pleasure rolled over me again and again, expertly working my body through the orgasm. Then another.
The second one hit without warning, and I bowed off the worktable. “Oh, god, yes, Beckett.” How I managed a whisper, I had no idea.
“That’s it. I knew you could give me two, beautiful.” He waited until my body stopped shuddering before he slid his fingers from me and sucked on them. The look of desire and pride on his face made me blush – as if the man hadn’t just skillfully extracted two orgasms from me.
Beckett leaned down and kissed me soundly, thoroughly, as though he was afraid he wouldn’t get the chance to do it again. If I had anything to say about it, he would kiss me all day every day for the rest of our lives.
“Do you think you can stand? Walk?”
“Not yet,” I admitted, my breathing still quick and my heart still pounding. I knew my legs wouldn’t be able to hold me up.
A cheeky grin crossed his face. “Okay, don’t move.” Beckett disappeared from view. I didn’t bother looking to find where he went, my gaze still on the ceiling. It was an enclosed room, he couldn’t have gone far.
Not even thirty seconds later, after what sounded like things being moved and shifted, Beckett was back at our worktable.
“Here, sit up. There you go.” He helped me into a sitting position.
I grinned at him, still in disbelief that this was happening. “Hi.”
“Hi,” he smiled back at me, green eyes aglow. Beckett tucked some hair behind my ear. “How are you?”
I giggled. Giggled. “Really great.”
“Good.” He kissed my forehead. “I brought you water, and a snack.” He held up a water bottle and a protein bar.
“Thanks. You have a secret stash in here?” I asked, reaching for both offerings.
Beckett shrugged. “A mini fridge made sense. Though I’ll need to refill Thatcher’s snacks.”
I laughed. “I’ll be sure to tell him thanks.”
Beckett shot me a look that dared me to do exactly what I said.
“You still … okay?” His voice was gentler this time, and he tucked the same stubborn strand of hair behind my ear.
I nodded, a mouthful of pastry hindering my ability to speak. I wasn’t just okay, or even great. It felt like something had clicked into place the second Beckett had kissed me. It felt right, natural, even, to be intimate with Beckett. Like we should have been doing it for years.
But that didn’t really explain what we were supposed to do now.