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“Oh yeah.”
“Beau?”
“Yes, you can.” Of course he knows what I was going to ask. “But only for a little bit, because you’re coming first.” He tilts his hips toward me, eyes hazy again. “Open your mouth.”
My pussy throbs. I do as he tells me, curling my hands around his hips so my fingertips dig into his ass cheeks. They’re ridiculously firm. Strong.
He guides his dick into my mouth, his nostrils flaring. As he sinks inside, bit by bit, I keep my eyes on his, watching as his brows curve upward. He tastes salty and clean. He’s big, and I have to work to keep my lips curled over my teeth so I don’t scrape him. It makes my jaw ache, but I don’t care. I run my tongue over his head, lapping at him.
“Aw, honey,” he says, drawing back, then pushing back in. His hips cant ever so slightly as I press my tongue into his slit and swallow. His hand finds the back of my head, and he guides himself deeper, hitting the back of my throat. “Bel—fuck.”
I moan.
He growls.
I gag. He goes still, cursing, pulling back, but I grab him and keep him inside my mouth, eyes watering as they plead with his to keep going.
He goes deeper, hips pumping a little faster. He’s losing himself in me as his fingers tighten in my hair.
I have the power to make this man lose it.
I swallow again, and he jerks. “I’m sorry. I can’t. I’ll come. I don’t want to be, like, this fuckwad who ejaculates five minutes into this thing.”
“Okay.” I draw my thumb over the corner of my mouth. His taste lingers on my tongue. The sense of power, the satisfaction of making him feel good—that lingers, too. I’ve felt the opposite of capable over the past few months, and I’ve fallen on my face more times than I can count.
But here, now, I feel powerful.
It’s a breakdown.
It’s a blessing.
It’s terrifying when he reaches for my underwear. For the level of arousal I feel, I can tell I’m not very wet.
“Please don’t be offended,” I say, watching him pull my underwear past my knees. “Breastfeeding apparently dries you out.”
Beau just grins and shakes his head, waving his hand. “Relax. We have all night. And about five gallons of lube. I think we’ll be all right.”
I want so badly for us to be all right. Together. For real.
I swat away the thought. I knew what I was getting into when we started this. I accepted what Beau could give me and what he couldn’t.
But oh, how I wish things were different.
“Gremlin’s looking good,” Beau says, pressing the pad of his thumb to my stupid tattoo.
I laugh. “No, it’s not. But thank you for the vote of confidence.”
I plant my feet flat on the bed, knees bent. I’ve brought my legs closer together so that the insides of my knees are locked against Beau’s hips. When he leans down and kisses my mouth, the tips of my breasts brush against his chest. Gently, he nudges one of my knees to the side, spreading me wider.
He reaches between us and cups my pussy, pressing the heel of his hand to my clit. My heart is hammering.
I run my hands over his chest, curling my fingertips into the hair there.
His tongue licks into my mouth at the same moment he parts me with his middle finger. I’m not slick, but I’m not totally dry either, which is both a relief and an annoyance. Yet another thing I’d hoped would magically bounce back to its former self: my vagina.
Patience is clearly not a virtue of mine, especially when it comes to being patient with myself.
But Beau?
Beau is nothing but patient. Stroking me slowly, he dips his fingertip inside me to gather moisture and spread it along my length, front to back.
It feels so good. Not only to be aroused, but to be cared for this way.
The man I once gave my forever to never looked after me like this.
He draws his thumb down on my clit, circling it, drawing my body up into his electric touch. Despite that, however, I still feel too dry for comfort.
“Let’s try the lube,” I say. “I think it might help me feel a little more…myself.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Beau rolls over and grabs the nearest lube. He literally tears the box apart and cracks open the cap.
“I have no idea how much to use.” He squirts a nickel-sized dollop onto his fingers, then holds them up for me to see. “That look good to you? The internet told me to use a lot.”
I shrug. “If the internet says it, then it must be true.”
He rubs his fingers together.
“It’s cold,” he explains. “I’ll try to warm it up a little.”
I watch him. My best friend, naked as the day he was born, warming up lube for my first postpartum sex session.
