Page 16 of Make it a Double

Shit, shit, shit. I didn’t know how to do this. How was I supposed to know what he wanted to hear? What if I tried to say something sexy, but it sounded stupid? “I⁠—”

Beckett’s fingers brushed my pussy, touching me with teasing strokes. I tried to move my hips to position him where I wanted, but he pressed down on my stomach with his forearm, trapping me. “Be a good girl and use your words.”

“You’re not being fair,” I huffed.

“If you want to come, I need you to tell me what feels good. Do you like it when I do this?” He bent forward and ran his tongue along my center. “Or this?” The tip of his finger brushed my entrance and slowly slipped inside. My hips jerked as he began pumping it in and out in a steady rhythm.

“Both, oh my god,” I cried. My hand reached out, grabbing at the warm sheets for purchase. If he kept doing what he was doing with his stupidly skilled fingers, it wouldn’t take long for me to come. I held my orgasm at bay the best I could, not wanting this to be over yet, but it was getting harder and harder to ignore. My entire body vibrated with pleasure.

“That’s it. That’s my girl,” he said, almost in awe. It wasn’t lost on me that it wasn’t his first time calling me that tonight, but the thought slipped away as he brushed his thumb over my clit. “You’re strangling my goddamn finger. Look at you, doing such a good job.”

Under different circumstances, his praise would have sent me running for the hills, but I liked this. There was something so hot knowing he prioritized my needs before ever chasing his own. He was literally praising me for how well my body responded to his touch.

Pressure built low in my stomach, and my legs tried to close on instinct. Beckett refused to budge an inch. His shoulders were wedged between my thighs, forcing them to remain open as he fucked me with his fingers. I didn’t say anything—couldn’t, really. It all felt too good, but he read my body better than he had any right to.

“That’s right, Sawyer. Come for me.”

My back bowed off the bed as the orgasm tore through my body, leaving me no choice but to ride each wave as it crested. Moisture surged between my legs, seeping through the fabric beneath me. If Beckett cared, he didn’t let it show. He didn’t even miss a fucking beat.

Before I could recover, he moved up my body and kissed me. There was no hesitation. No question about what was going to happen next. I didn’t even have a chance to apologize for soaking his sheets.

“Scoot up,” he urged, tapping the back of my thigh twice. I did as he asked in a daze, taking in my surroundings as he carefully padded over to his suitcase and pulled out a small packet. I could make out his muscles in the moonlight. The light seemed to cascade across his form, highlighting the bulge beneath his briefs.

In one smooth move, he pulled them down and stepped out of them, keeping his eyes trained on me as he ripped open the foiling of a small gold packet and made his way to the bed.

I swallowed thickly as I watched him roll the condom onto his thick length. It looked slightly bigger than the trusty pink friend in my nightstand, but that reassurance only went so far.

This was happening. This was real. I’m going to have sex.

It was a surreal thought. One I probably should’ve been more freaked out by, but I wasn’t in the slightest. So far, Beckett had been the perfect partner. He took care of my needs before his own, and made sure I felt comfortable every step of the way.

Had I done the same for him? Made him feel as wanted as he made me? I doubted he even cared about things like that, especially right now, but that didn’t stop me from reaching out and pulling him in for a languid kiss.

My legs parted on instinct as he crawled onto the bed and settled between my thighs. His hard cock jutted out between us, the thick crown gently rocking against my pussy as we moved. Each time he grazed my clit, accidentally or not, sent a small tremor through me.

“I need you,” he said through gritted teeth. His forehead came to rest against mine for only a moment before I nodded and leaned back on my elbows.

Beckett gripped my thigh with one hand and the base of his cock with the other. He circled my clit once, twice more before dragging it through my wetness. He paused, taking one last look at my face before slowly pushing in.

I stopped breathing, unable to stop watching where he disappeared inside of me. The pressure was familiar, yet entirely new. It hurt but in a good way. In a way that made me crave more. He must’ve seen something in my face, because he stopped and stared down at me. “Are you okay? Am I—Fuck, how do I say this without sounding like an asshole?” He blew out a breath. “I’m not hurting you am I? Do I need to go slower?”

“No,” I shook my head frantically. I didn’t want him to stop. I wanted him to keep going, to chase the high from earlier once again.

“Are you sure, Sawyer?”

“Positive,” I whispered. “Thank you for checking on me, though.” There was no way for him to know my secret. Hell, maybe I should’ve told him. It was the perfect opportunity, but selfishly… I didn’t want him to stop. This moment was too perfect.

He stared at me for only a moment longer before sliding in again. He definitely went slower this time, which I ended up being grateful for. “Goddammit,” Beckett groaned. His grip tightened around my thigh, muscles along the column of his neck straining as he seemed to hold himself back. “You’re so fucking tight. My perfect girl.”

I couldn’t do anything other than moan as he bottomed out. And when the pad of his thumb brushed my clit, I felt drunk on pleasure. Nothing had ever felt this good before. Every move Beckett made seemed intentional. He knew how to play my body better than I’d ever been able to. His fingers dug into my thighs with each thrust, no doubt leaving marks in their wake. Our sweat-slicked bodies writhed against one another with abandon. His muscles flexed beneath my grip.

Beckett captured my mouth in a searing kiss, movements growing choppier with each powerful shift of his hips. We were both barely hanging on, stuck somewhere between determination to chase the release and the desperation in never wanting this to end. He didn’t need to say it. I felt it with each pulse of his fingertips or brush of his lips.

Or maybe I was romanticizing the whole encounter in my head, and this was nothing more than a means to an end for him.

To me, it was damn near everything.

It wasn’t just the fact I was having sex with someone, but rather, the way Beckett made me feel while it happened. I hadn’t expected this kind of tenderness from a man I was never going to see again. The fact he knew what I needed without me having to vocalize it made it hard for me to come to terms with the fact he’d be gone by morning.