Page 14

He chuckles, the sound hot and wicked. “Bossy. I like it.”

I fumble for the hem of his shirt, dragging it up, desperate for more skin. He helps, muscles flexing in his arms as he yanks it over his head and tosses it somewhere behind him. For a split second, I just stare.

Holy mother of God. This man is a walking orgasm.

His chest is broad, covered in a light dusting of dark hair, with a tattoo sprawled across his bicep and part of his chest. Holy hell, I want to lick it. My mouth actually waters. Beckett is the hottest man I’ve ever seen in my entire life, and he’s here, in my bedroom, looking at me like I’m his last meal.

“Your turn.” He grins, all wolfish and wild.

I don’t even pretend to hesitate. My sweatshirt is gone in half a second, hair flying everywhere, and I nearly get stuck in the sleeve, but it’s worth it for the way his eyes go molten. He stares at my boobs like he’s been starving for years and just discovered there’s an all-you-can-eat buffet.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he rasps, voice so guttural it barely sounds human.

I can’t stop my own hands from shaking as I peel off my leggings, leaving me in plain black panties and a sports bra that suddenly feels like a medieval torture device. I want him naked. I want his mouth on my skin and his hands everywhere, and holy hell, I want him inside me so bad I’m actually shaking.

Beckett’s gaze is pure hunger, so intense my knees threaten to buckle. “You want my hands on you, sweetheart?”

“God, yes.” I barely recognize my own voice. “Please.”

He stalks closer, those big hands landing on my hips, and in one smooth motion, he peels my sports bra up and over my head. The elastic snaps free, launching my boobs right into his palms, and he groans.

“Fuck. I need you.” He palms me, rough and greedy, rubbing his thumbs over my aching nipples until I’m moaning and arching into his touch. I swear, I’ve never felt so completely out of my mind with need.

His mouth crashes down on the swell of my breast, sucking hard enough to make my eyes roll back in my head. Holy hell, I’m seeing stars.

Beckett is relentless, licking and biting and sucking my nipples until I’m a boneless heap pinned to the wall, moaning like I’ve never even heard of dignity. My hands fist in his hair, and I drag him in closer, needing more, needing everything right now.

He groans my name, voice so filthy my knees practically give out. “God, you taste good. So soft, so fucking perfect. I could spend the rest of my life right here.”

Okay, ovaries, calm down. But seriously, if he keeps touching me like this, I’m going to combust. I arch harder, shoving my tits into his face because, apparently, I have zero shame left. He laughs, low and wicked, then flicks his tongue over my nipple and bites down just enough to make me tremble.

I whimper, so needy it’s embarrassing. “Please, don’t stop, Beckett.” His mouth covers my nipple, and he sucks hard, and holy freaking hell, I almost come on the spot. The pleasure is sharp and bright. My back bows off the wall, and my legs actually shake as he lavishes my breasts with his mouth and hands, not stopping, not even slowing down.

He backs me into the bed, one hand finding the curve of my ass, squeezing hard enough to bruise.

“Tell me you want this,” he growls, voice nothing but gravel and need.

I don’t even hesitate. “I want you. All of you. Right now.”

He lays me back on the covers, coming down over me, caging me in with his size and strength. I drag him closer, lips meeting his. The roughness of his stubble scrapes a line down my neck as he devours the column of my throat, then dips lower, hands already mapping out every inch of me like he’s memorizing the route.

I should be mortified. Completely naked, curves and all, sprawled out like a centerfold while he’s still partially dressed.

The thought barely finishes before Beckett leans down and drags his mouth up the side of my thigh, catching my hip in his big hands and squeezing. “You’re perfect, Elsie. Every fucking inch.”

My heart does Olympic-level gymnastics. I swear, I might cry—but then his mouth finds my breast again and I forget my own damn name.

I need him so much. “Your turn,” I gasp, reaching for the waistband of his jeans. He helps me, shoving them off, along with his boxers, in one practiced move. For a second, I just stare. Holy hell, he’s freaking huge.

I wrap my fist around his cock and stroke, loving the way he shudders above me. Holy hell. He’s so hard and hot in my hand, thick and heavy and ready to wreck me. Beckett’s biceps flex as he braces his arms on either side of me, head dropping between his shoulders, a guttural growl vibrating through his chest.

“Shit, Elsie, that’s it. Fuck, your hand feels so good.”

I pump him slowly, savoring the way the veins bulge in his forearms as he tries to hold himself up over me. His cock kicks against my palm, leaking, desperate. I drag my thumb around the tip, spreading the moisture, and he bites off a curse that’s pure filth.

“You keep that up, and I’ll come before I even get inside you.” His jaw’s clenched so hard I think it might crack.

“Maybe I want you to lose control,” I gasp, arching up so my tits press against his chest. I’m strung so tight I think I might combust. I’m so wound up I might actually vibrate right off the bed and launch myself into orbit. The heat between us is insane, and every time Beckett moves, his cock twitches against my palm, and my inner muscles clench in anticipation.