My hands roam his taut back, and muscles reveal themselves beneath the worn cotton of his shirt. He hums and I smile.
“You like that?” I whisper against his ear, and when he nods—making a sound like mmmph—his hair tickles my chin, his stubble rasps my collar bone. The rough maleness of it sends my senses spiraling. I grip the hem of his shirt and the heat of his back is irresistible.
“M-may I?” I plead, letting my pinky skim the exposed skin low on his back.
“Hell, yes,” he chokes out.
And then my hands dive under his shirt. His back is as hot as an iron, and I am as helpless as linen.
I make a sound like a drunk kitten, and when Beck chuckles against my neck, I swear, I nearly come.
“Jesus,” I whimper, shuddering with pleasure. My hips snap.
“Christ, Hattie,” Beck rasps.
And that’s when I feel it. Beck’s glorious erection pressed to my belly.
Before I even think of asking for permission, I lift my right leg and hook it around his ass, pulling him into me. His hard length wedges against my swollen clit.
We both moan. Even beneath two layers of denim, the glory is staggering.
Nothing.
Nothing in my life has felt this good.
Not fingers. Not vibes.
We grind together, and I can feel how slick I am. God, I have never been so turned on.
Even clumsy and clothed, moving with Beck doesn’t just drive me wild. It feels…
More than safe.
More than soothing.
It feels sacred.
Like this is just ours. It could only be ours.
And I want it all. Right the hell now.
I rock my pelvis, rubbing against him, a move so instinctual it’s like I’ve done it a thousand times. This feels so right it would be wrong not to chase it.
“Can we—can we, Beck?” My voice is high, stretched tight with need.
He nods against my shoulder before the clasp of one overall strap releases with a plink. The bib falls open and Beck’s rough hand hikes up my T-shirt. When one full breast spills out, Beck gasps, his eyes blazing.
“Oh, God, Hattie.” He draws back and pushes down the other strap. When Beck bares both breasts, he locks eyes with mine, his own wild and hungry. “You. Are. So. Fucking. Beautiful.”
Then he plants both hands on my ass and up I go. Legs locked around his waist. Tits in his face. The bolt of pleasure is so strong, I smack the back of my head against the wall.
But I don’t even feel it.
Because.
Nothing.
In my life.
