Page 123 of Unexpected Shot
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 thatwhen 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?”
