Chapter 30 Rosie
“Hey, man.”
Boone’s rough voice wakes me from my sleep.
Silence.
“Yeah, I’m feeling a little hungover. I think I drank too much last night.”
My bed smells like him. It’s warm and woodsy, and my body is deliciously sore in all the best places. The kind of sore that reminds me of dancing an entire junior Broadway performance in pointe shoes back when I was a ballerina except this soreness lingers between my legs.
My heart races, remembering just how girthy he is. There’s something to be said about a man with some width to him. Every inch of my pussy felt like it was being touched when he pushed his way inside.
And the smile on my face? There’s no getting rid of it. Not after last night.
I roll to my side, tangled in nothing but a thin white sheet, the soft fabric brushes against my skin reminding me I’m still naked. Boone's perched on the edge of the bed, phone pressed to his ear, but it doesn’t look like he’s paying attention to whoever is on the other line.
He’s wearing a grin that’s equal parts smug and boyish and his gaze is locked on mine. He brings his fist to his mouth and bites down on it before mouthing the words, you’re fuckable.
My cheeks flush instantly. His hair’s a mess like he just woke up and when he runs his fingers through it, making it worse, all I want is his body pressed against mine so I can play with it.
“Yeah, okay. Fine. I’ll get over to your place by noon,” he says.
As he pauses to listen, my hand moves under the sheets, drawn to him without control. I inch closer to his back until my fingers slip across his thigh and wrap around his already hard cock.
My eyebrows shoot up as he winks at me, like he’d been waiting for this very moment. His hardness throbs in my palm, thick and velvet-soft, each ridge and vein making my mouth water.
Toys from my New York apartment could never compare to the size of him. To the feel of him. He’s too big, too real, and way too good at knowing exactly what I need from him to come every time.
“Alright, bye, Cain,” he says, his voice dropping a note lower as my grip tightens around him like he'd rather not be talking to my brother while I jerk him off.
I pump him a few times, savoring the way his breath catches and the way the smooth skin bunches as I jerk him downward. My fingers move up to his crown where there’s a drop of precum leaking. I rub it around his tip, lubricating him.
But before I can do it again, he tosses his phone across the room dramatically and pounces on top me, pinning me down. His weight presses me into the mattress, and I can’t help but laugh as his mouth drops to my neck where he sucks.
“What time is it?” I ask between giggles.
He shakes his head, dark hair falling into his eyes. “Not a fucking clue. But your brother didn’t buy my too hungover to work today excuse so I’ve gotta head over to his place by noon.”
I grin, arching my chest up into him. His eyes drop to my breasts where he palms one of my tits and squeezes. “What if it’s already eleven?”
His lips curve into a wicked smirk. “Then we still have time for at least three orgasms.”
“Boone!” I gasp, my laughter turning into a yelp as he hooks an arm around my waist and hauls me out of bed. The sheet falls away, leaving me completely bare as he slings me over his shoulder like a caveman and strides toward the primary bathroom.
The moment we cross the threshold, he sets me down on the cool countertop, his hands firm but reverent as they steady me. He strides to the shower, yanking the plastic curtain open with a scowl as he peers inside.
“This curtain needs thrown out. I’m getting you a glass door.”
I blink at him, heat pooling lower in my belly. “A glass door?”
“Yeah,” he says matter-of-factly before turning the water on. Steam begins to fill the room. “So that I can pin you against it and fuck you properly in the shower.”
A shiver races down my spine. A guy talking about home improvement and sex in the same breath shouldn’t be this hot, but Boone makes it work. Hell, he makes everything work. I imagine him wearing a tool belt on his strong hips, nothing else underneath it, while he takes me from behind.
“Okay,” I murmur, biting my lip to keep from smiling. “I hated that curtain anyway.”
“Good,” he says with a satisfied nod, like the decision has already been made.
He steps back toward me, his brown eyes dark with intent.
His hands find my knees, and he slowly spreads them apart, positioning my heels on the edge of the counter just like I was back at our apartment in New York City a month ago.
My breath hitches as he leans in, his chest brushing against mine.
“I like you like this,” he murmurs, his voice thick with hunger. “You fit me perfectly.”
His fingers skim up my inner thighs, teasing until they reach my pussy. He uses his thumbs to part me before sinking them just past my entrance and rubbing.
“So wet for me,” he murmurs.
He slides his pointer finger inside crooking it just right to rub against that spot I can never reach. His middle finger joins and then his thumb presses against my clit in lazy circles teasing.
“Beautiful.”
His free hand cups my chin tenderly, bringing our faces closer until he kisses me softly again.
If a kiss can be as good as being touched, Boone’s mastered the art. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, mirroring the stroke of his fingers while he holds me still. It’s consuming. Overwhelming. And I want more.
His free hand drops my chin and trails to my hair, tugging just enough to send sparks racing down my spine. For a guy who is on my brother's time, he kisses like he has all the time in the world. Like he doesn’t care if he’s making anyone wait.
Then he scoops me off the counter, my legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. Before I know it, he’s spinning me around to face the mirror.
“I’m fucking you right here,” he growls against my ear, his voice dripping with possession. “I want you to see how goddamn beautiful you look when you come with my cock buried inside of you.”
One of Boone’s arms drapes over my shoulders, his body solid behind me, his cock pressed firm against my ass as he reaches up and wipes the fog from the mirror. Slowly, my reflection comes into focus.
Flushed cheeks. Peaked, aching nipples. A body that looks pliant and open, eager to take him in a way I don’t bother hiding.
Behind me, Boone fills the frame. He looks so big, powerful, every inch of him radiating heat and control. His eyes are heavy-lidded, dark with intent, and they never leave my face in the glass. He’s not looking at my body. He’s looking at me.
Whatever that look is, it settles deep in my chest, a quiet knowing that we’ve crossed something we can’t uncross. That the way he’s looking at me isn’t like anyone else.
His hands slide around to my front, cupping my breasts fully, claiming them. His palms are so big they hide them completely. He squeezes, thumbs circling, teasing until my nipples tighten further beneath his touch. His fingers roll over them slowly, deliberately, drawing it out.
I bite back a breath, my knees softening, and I swear I could come like this. Just from the way he holds me, just from knowing he sees me exactly as I am and likes it.
“Perfect, perky tits,” he murmurs, his voice rough and possessive, making me shiver. His hands trail lower, one dipping between my legs to rub over my clit, his touch firm and claiming. “Sweet clit,” he whispers. “My favorite little sensitive part of you.”
A tremor runs through me, and I lean back into his broad chest, surrendering as one hand cups my pussy. The other slides back, his fingers spreading my ass cheeks apart. I jolt as his thumb presses against the tight pucker of my hole.
“Have you ever let anyone here before?”
I shudder, my voice shaky. “No.”
He hums thoughtfully. “Would you let me?”
“Yes.” I answer without hesitation. I think I’d do anything with Boone if he asked.
“I’d like to play with your ass while I fuck you. Is that okay?”
I nod, biting my lip, and he grins at me in the mirror. “Okay. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
He steps away briefly, the sound of a condom foil tearing breaking through the steam-filled bathroom. My body aches with anticipation as he rolls it on, then returns to me, his fingers finding their place again.
One teases my clit while the other circles my rim, applying gentle, insistent pressure. The sensation is sharper than I expected. After a few seconds of teasing, the tip of his thumb breaches the surface, twisting gently as he enters me.
I draw in a sharp breath.
“Relax,” Boone says, his voice low and coaxing. “I’ll be gentle. Take me.”
I’m too far gone to argue, especially as his other hand moves to grip his cock. He swipes it through my pussy, notching it at my entrance. His hands are everywhere—one steadying my hip, the other playing with my ass—and then he presses inside of me at the same time.
I brace myself on the counter, fingers curling around the edges as he pulls out completely, only to thrust back in, harder this time. The stretch burns just slightly, but it’s intoxicating, the perfect blend of pleasure and pain.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he growls, his grip on my hip tightening. “Let me go deeper.”
I nod again, pushing back into him, my body instinctively meeting his rhythm. His thumb sinks a little further into my ass, his finger pressing to the first knuckle, and the dual sensations overwhelm me in the best way.
Boone’s back presses against mine as he kisses my neck firmly on a groan. “I’ll never get my fill of you. Playing with your body is my addiction. Tell me to stop, Rosie. Tell me if you want me to stop.”
I shake my head, rocking my hips harder against his thumb and cock. “No.”
My moan is all the encouragement he needs to unravel.
“Fuck this I can’t go slow.”
His thumb withdraws, replaced by both hands gripping my hips as he starts to pound into my pussy. His strokes are rough, frantic and uncoordinated. The counter beneath me digs into the front of my thighs, but Boone keeps me steady, his strength anchoring me to him.
I glance up at the mirror, watching as it fogs over again. I'm not sure if it's from the steam coming from the shower or our joined, heavy breathing that’s filling it.
Boone reaches one strong forearm over top my head to wipe it clear while he continues to rock his hips into me roughly.
“Look at us,” he says, his voice gravelly. “See the face you make when you orgasm with your husband inside you.”
My heart stumbles as he bottoms out again.
My husband.
He’s said it before, tossed it out like a casual claim, but this time the word wraps around me, sticking to my skin like the steam. It’s on the tip of my tongue, begging to be returned, but something holds me back.
Boone’s gaze locks on mine in the mirror, his eyes dark with intensity. I can’t look at myself—his gaze is too consuming, his admiration too much. He glances down at where we’re joined, his cock plunging into my full pussy, and the awe on his face sends a fresh wave of heat through me.
“Fuck,” he mutters, voice guttural. “You have no idea how good you look taking me.”
I arch my back, pressing my ass higher, meeting his thrusts as hard as I can. My orgasm builds fast and sharp, my clit throbs with the ache to come.
“Come on my cock, Rosie,” he groans. “Fuck, I wish I was inside of you bare right now.”
I wish that he was too.
My pussy squeezes and spasms around him, the intensity of my orgasm pulling a raw, desperate moan from my throat. My head drops, but Boone’s hand is there, tilting my chin up, forcing me to watch myself in the mirror.
It’s the most vulnerable and erotic thing I’ve ever seen—my reflection, his thick fingers wrapped around my throat like a necklace, my lips parked, gasping for hair, him holding me in place to watch my orgasm play out across my face.
I feel sexy. Powerful. Like I know my own body for the first time, and it’s all because of him.
“Boone,” I cry out, my voice trembling as he fucks me through it. “It’s too much.”
“It’s never too much with us,” he growls, his hips slamming into mine one last time. He buries himself to the root, his body locking as his own orgasm tears through him.
I watch him in the mirror—the veins in his neck bulge, his jaw tight as a feral, unrestrained growl rips from his chest. He looks wild, like a man undone, and I’ve never seen anything sexier in my life.
I'm doing that to him. I’m the one making him feel good.
His right hand shoots out to grab on to something to steady himself, the sink towel holder catches the brunt of it, and he rips the whole thing from the wall, leaving nothing but a mark of dry wall and shattered metal across my countertop.
“Fuck,” he says, the holder in his grip as he looks down at it. “Fuck I just broke your bathroom.”
I laugh, the sound soft and breathy, and the movement makes my pussy tighten around him. His eyes darken instantly. Even though he’s already come, he pushes back into me anyway, like he can’t help himself.
I feel the way he reacts, so I clench again, just to watch his jaw tighten as he loses himself all over again.
“Pussy so good you got me breaking shit in your bathroom,” he teases.
Then he pulls himself out, tosses the condom into the trash and scoops me into his arms.
“I’ll fix that too,” he says casually like he plans to be here for the long haul. Making upgrades to my home.
Then he carries me to the shower, dumping me under the warm spray with a satisfied grin. “But first, we’re showering together again.”