Page 22 of Secret Heart
“I don’t know what I want,” I admit.
Not entirely, at least.
“That’s all right.” He edges my shirt up and hooks a finger into the waistband of my sweatpants. “Now let me turn that brain of yours off so we can both sleep.”
Vanilla wraps around us, free of any fear or despair for the first time in hours. Instead, it’s heavy with my own desire. Heat pulses low in my belly, and I arch into him in acceptance. He wastes no time stripping me out of the pants. He leaves my panties dangling around one ankle as he guides me to straddlehis hips. The night is just cold enough that goosebumps cover my skin, and I shiver. Then I scrabble at Beau’s belt, trying to get it undone, need rising like an unending tide. I want his skin against mine, to touch and taste and mark him. The need cuts through me, stronger than it has in months. He shakes his head and forces my hands to his neck.
“I need to mark you,” I admit. My hands curl, my nails cutting into his skin. He sucks in a breath as I draw blood on accident. It satisfies that primal part of me left raw from seeing Triston.
“I know.” He kisses me, long and slow, until I’m rocking my hips into his and my entire body aches with need. He’s breathless and flushed when he pulls away. “I’ll let you mark me in a bit.”
He grunts as he wedges his arms under my legs, forcing them wide as he pulls me off the swing and sets my knees on his shoulders.
“Right now, you’re up here,” Beau says.
I gasp as he licks me from my clit to my ass, one solid line that has me trembling.
“You always taste like a damn dream,” he mutters.
He does it a second time, and I whine. I bury my hands in his hair, trying to stay balanced. He looks up at me as he pulls my clit between his teeth.
“Fuck,” I moan. “That’s not fair.”
He chuckles and does it again, and I swear the entire world shakes as pleasure flashes through me. His hands are warm where they cup my ass, keeping me pressed against him. My knees shake, and one falls over the back of the swing, pitching my weight forward. I suck in a breath and twist my hands deeper into his hair. He groans, the sound nearly mournful.
“Shit, sorry,” he says.
He kisses my thigh as he pulls me back from the edge both physically and metaphorically and rearranges us until he’s laid out on the porch swing and I’m kneeling above him. He grips my hips, his thumb tracing a few of the stretch marks there now. My heartbeat pulses in my clit, my entire body buzzing with electricity.
“Sit on my face, firecracker.”
I don’t argue, letting my weight fall on his shoulders. Every single time, it’s like I’ve never had his tongue licking me, tasting me, exploring me. I rock against him, letting myself fall into the pleasure, letting all the thoughts and fears slowly turn off. Tension falls away from me even as my toes curl. I shudder in a gasp as the ball of pleasure coils tighter, small bolts of sensation shooting down my legs as I hang just over the precipice.
Beau pulls me up just enough to keep me from falling over. Again. I can’t help but whine. I grab his hand, digging my nails deep enough to cut.
“My tongue or my dick tonight?”
“Your dick,” I gasp.
And then I’m crawling down his body and pulling at his belt. There’s no grace, no lithe movements. I don’t even bother to get any of the rest of our clothes off. There’s just raw need and an intimacy I’ve craved for years and was terrified I’d never manage to have.
When I finally have my hands around his dick, he grunts and pushes into me. I tighten my hold, and he smirks. His words are breathless, though.
“If you want my dick, firecracker, you can’t play with me tonight.”
Without a word, I rise above him and then take him in one hard, fast slide. He groans, grabbing my hips hard enough I’ll have bruises in the morning. I rock my hips against his, relishing the feel of him so deep inside me. Without lifting my shirt, heslowly traces the stretch marks across my belly, his callouses catching on the soft skin. He doesn’t miss a single one, each of them memorized by him over the last year. I swallow the tenderness and safety the touch stirs before they can manifest as tears and let my head fall back. The swing slowly moves as I pick up my pace, the sounds of our bodies meeting drowning out the crickets.
Beau’s hand slowly rises under my shirt, his fingers feathering up my sternum and then wrapping around the base of my throat. He pulls me down into him while shoving up into me. Hard. I moan into his mouth as he bites my lip, taking over the pace and depth of our love making. The orgasm rushes over me, surprising us both. Raw sensation rips through me, obliterating all the mixed-up, messy emotions of the day. I cry out, not bothering to try and be quiet. His lips graze my ear and then my jaw.
“Mark me,” he whispers. “Let that need out.”
I pant, an aftershock pulsing through my limbs as he continues his hard, deep pace. “How much?”
“As much as you need.”
I clench around his dick again, and he grunts. I bite into his collarbone, breaking the skin, and he curses. He pulls my hips down, and then he freezes, his entire body taut as a bowstring underneath me. I pull away from the bite and kiss up his neck, using just enough force to leave bruises in my wake.
“Fuck, firecracker,” Beau gasps. “You’re so fucking amazing.”
