Page 128 of Unexpected Shot
“Of course you do,” she says sarcastically. “Mind out of the gutter, Devereaux.”
“Sorry, Belle. My mind is permanently there. Especially after this weekend…”
She might be holding strong with her eyes, which are currently giving me the “don’t even think about it” look, but the way I feel her body slightly relax…hmmm…maybe…she might not be as opposed to this as she thinks she is.
“I’m just saying…I bet I can take your mind off of everything.”
She shakes her head. “This isn’t golf related.”
“I’d argue that it’s golf adjacent.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do,” I say as I lean in, letting my nose trace up the line of her neck, right to the spot under her ear I’ll be able to find on my deathbed. “I also know you need to relax.”
“You think you can do that?” she challenges in a whisper.
“Oh, Belle. I know I can.”
She shivers as I kiss her pulse point, and I can already tell she’s starting to decompress. As much as I’d love to tease her, nibble at her neck and kiss her until our lips are chapped, I have more important things to do.
Namely, making my wife come with my tongue. And maybe my dick. But I’m not going to press my luck.
I move my lips to her mouth, distracting her with my tongue as my hands head toward the waistband of her skirt.
“You never wear these,” I moan into her ear as I slide the thick fabric down, along with her underwear. “That’s why I kissed you right away this morning. You looked so fucking good, I couldn’t stop myself.”
“It was warm outside,” she says as she lifts her hips whilethrowing her head back, leaving me plenty of space if I so choose to kiss one of my favorite places on Shelby.
“Was it?” I ask, because I don’t remember it being an overly warm March day in Nashville. “Or did you wear it for me?”
She shakes her head, but the words don’t come out as her skirt and panties fall to the floor. “I didn’t.”
“Really, Belle?” I ask, my hand cupping her pussy, but not giving her a sliver of pleasure until she tells me the truth. “Look at me. Say the words. Say you didn’t wear that skirt for me? To tempt me? To drive me fucking crazy?”
She doesn’t answer the question, but instead, starts pressing her core into my hand, begging me silently for a small amount of relief. “Please, Beau.”
“Not yet. Say the words, Shelby. And then I’ll give you whatever you want.”
She tries to resist for another few seconds, her hips doing everything they can to give herself the pleasure she’s clearly craving.
“Come on, Belle. Just say the words. Let go. Let go for me.”
My stubborn girl tries to hold on for another second, but it’s no use. She wants this. She wantsus. And damnit if I’m not going to make her realize it right here, right now.
“Yes,” she breathes out, like the one word has been held hostage in her mind for far too long. “I wore it for you. I wanted you to see me…maybe like you used to.”
I let out a groan as one finger starts toying at her entrance. “You mean those skirts you used to wear when we were teenagers? When I first realized you were a walking temptation I couldn’t have?”
“You could’ve had me,” she admits, a confession that earns her a second finger. “It was always you, Beau. It was always you.”
And there goes the last snap of resolve I’ve ever had when it comes to Shelby LeBlanc.
Two fingers drive into her, and she screams at the top of herlungs as my mouth latches onto hers, swallowing every noise she makes as I give her what she wants.
Because those words are all I’ve ever wanted to hear. Because it’s always been her for me too.
I might not have always known it. I’ve denied it more than probably healthy. But at the end of the day, as I look back at my life, the only thing I’ve ever been fully certain of was how much I wanted Shelby LeBlanc in it.
