Page 40 of Promise To Marry You
“I can’t see your face when I make you come, baby. But this ass is irresistible.”Smack. I moan, my eyes fluttering closed.
“Am I grabbing a condom?”
Given the edge to his voice, I’m guessing he’s barely holding back. And the idea of letting Beckett do something no other man has done — go in me bare — has my sex pulsing with desire. Opening my heavy eyes, I lock onto his gaze and shake my head slowly.
He leans down and scatters kisses along my spine. His cock is nestled between my legs, and I want to grab it and line it up with my center. But Beckett must sense that, because he draws his hips back, just enough to be out of reach, making me whine.
“Please, Beck.”
“Do you have any idea what it does to me to hear you beg? Hear you say my name like that, all sexy and needy?” He reaches forward and gathers my hair up into a ponytail with one hand. With his other, he finally takes his cock, rubbing it back and forth between my folds before lining up and sliding in slowly but without stopping.
Both of us groan, and if it weren’t for his hold on my hair, I’m pretty sure I would collapse from ecstasy. I’m so perfectly full. So complete.
Then he starts to move.
“Jesus Cam, you’re perfect. This tight pussy is just as fucking perfect as I imagined it would be.”
The dirty words just about push me over the edge into another orgasm. I had no idea Beckett was capable of this and it makes me wonder what else I’ve missed when it comes to my best friend.
The room is full of the slapping sound of our bodies connecting, the moans and panting breaths that are all I’m capable of right now, and Beck’s ongoing murmurs of filthy praise. I can feel my body tightening. My limbs start to tingle, and then the sensation moves inward, coalescing in an inferno right in my core. But it hovers just out of reach, even as every thrust of his dick hits me inside, lighting me up.
Then his arms are wrapping around me, and Beck is lifting me up, never losing our connection, until my back is pressed against his chest. The new angle has me gasping as he moves even deeper. My arms loop around his neck, pulling his head down.
“Oh God, Beck, yes.” His mouth comes to my shoulder in a kiss that turns into a bite when I tug on his hair. “Touch me,” I whisper-moan, knowing something extraordinary is coming.
He moves one hand down, his thumb expertly finding my clit and pressing on it as his other hand wraps around the base of my neck.
I’m held captive.
Open.
Vulnerable.
But it’s Beckett.
“Let go, Cam. Let go.”
And I do. I come with a scream of his name, my body convulsing so hard, I think I see stars. Beckett’s shout follows almost immediately, and I feel the warmth of his release filling me.
Somehow, he moves us so that we’re lying down, spooning again, much like that first morning I woke up in his bed. Except this time, his dick is inside of me, and we’re sticky with sweat from what I have to admit was the best sex of my life.
After a minute, Beckett slides away from me with one last kiss to my shoulder. “Be right back,” he murmurs. He’s back shortly, and his hand is on my hip. “Roll over,” he says, a tender note to his voice. He uses the cloth to clean up the mess we made, then tosses it aside before lying back down and drawing a blanket up and over us.
He’s back to my Beckett. Sweet and caring.
And as I look at him, Ireallylook at him. He surprised me with his bossy, dirty ways. But I also surprised myself. Because I truly let go and trusted him to take care of me. More than I ever have with any other partner.
Maybe letting go should have made me feel good, and I guess it did, in the moment. But right now, realizing that has my heart racing, and not in a good way.
The reality of what we just did is hitting me. Don’t get me wrong, I was a very willing participant. Hell, I instigated the whole damn thing. But now that it’s over, now that the haze of lust that infused the morning has been satisfied, the panic is setting in.
I know that later, I’ll regret what I’m about to do. Because I know it’s going to hurt Beckett. But my self-preservation instinct has always been strong. Maybe too strong.
Pushing away the blanket, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed. Spying my pajamas conveniently on the floor, I grab them and stand up.
“Where are you going?” he asks, his gravelly voice making my pulse skip a beat.
“Just to shower and get dressed. Lots to do today.” The false cheer in my voice would be evident to anyone listening to me, and I inwardly cringe. Turning to face him, my pajamas clutched in front of me, as if that semblance of modesty would help anything, I say, “Thanks for last night. And this morning. It was…uh, it was really great.”
