I do as he says, our eyes locking immediately.
His thumb brushes over my bottom lip. “God, your lips are perfect, and this pink gloss you have on them—I can’t peel my eyes away.”
“Do you like it?”
“Like it, Calla? I love it. Hell, my mind is racing with all the things I want those lips to do to me. With all the parts of my body I want to see them touch.”
I swallow, taking a breath at his words. I want that too.
I relax in his lap and move my hips, a soft grind that does just enough to make both of us moan.
“I take that as a sign you want those lips to touch me, too?”
“Shut up, Beck,” I say, finally finding my words. “Do you want to torture me by telling me more about the things you want to do to me, or do you want to actually do them?”
The small twitch of his lips tells me he wants to smile, but his expression quickly turns heated. His hands grab my hips, and he jerks me forward and back.
“Oh god,” I breathe out. I can feel how hard he is beneath me. If you had asked me two months ago if I thought I’d be here, in Beck Robertson’s kitchen, grinding on him at the table, I would have laughed in your face. Yet here I am, and I honestly don’t want to be anywhere else.
Our situation is already complicated, and this, whatever is happening, will only make it worse.
I stall my hips to bring this to his attention, but he kisses me before I can say a single word. It’s gentle at first, but once his tongue slips through my lips and I feel his groan vibrate against me—well, we earned a little fun, didn’t we?
I kiss him back, my fingers weaving through his thick dark hair, holding on as every action between us becomes rushed. In a swift motion, Beck is standing and setting me on the table. His lips never leave mine as he leans me back. Once my head is on the table, his lips move from mine to my neck. He yanks my shirt until my white lace bra is visible, and then he kisses lower—and lower.
Oh, this is happening. It feels so good.
Once he reaches my breast, he pulls my bra back, sucking on my nipple like his life depends on it.
“Sit up,” he says. I quickly do as he says because I’ll do whatever he wants if it means I can keep feeling the way I am right now. Reckless and sedated and at peace all at the same time. It sounds crazy. But that’s how it is with Beck. I can feel out of control every moment of every day, and yet I’m right where I need to be.
He lifts my shirt over my head, doing the same to himself before he unclasps my bra, dropping it to the floor.
“If I’d have known that being shirtless would gain me that smile, I would have started doing it a lot more.”
“Stop.” I roll my eyes, but yeah, I like looking at his chest.
“Stop what?” he asks, yanking me to the edge of the table and tugging my panties off. “Undressing you?” Then he takes my breast in his mouth again, and my head drops back. “Sucking on you?” I hear his belt buckle, followed by the shuffle of clothes hitting the floor. “Or devouring you?”
I don’t get a chance to interpret that last one before he drops to his knees and puts his mouth on me. I buckle over him, all while trying not to cry out like some untouched beginner.
His tongue begins to flick faster, and that sensation of my soon-to-be-released orgasm zings through me.
“Beck.” His name is a whisper off my lips, and the mere sound of my voice causes him to increase his pace. Oh god. I never… I never…
An explosion rips through me, and I cry out. Beck stands quickly, two fingers replacing his lips.
“Fuck!” My scream is silenced by his mouth. I grip his shoulders to hold on as he curls his fingers inside me, prolonging my orgasm and causing my entire body to shake.
Hell. I’ve never come so hard in my entire life.
Everything begins to slow down, and as soon as I’ve caught my breath a little, I reach for him.
He grunts as soon as my hand covers his hard length.
“Calla, you don’t have to do that, or anything. I just—”
“I want you, Beck. I want this. Do you?”
