Page 26
“Okay?” The word scrapes out of me.
“More than okay.” She flexes her cunt muscles around me and we both groan. “Show me.”
I keep my thumb pressed to Elodie’s clit and my other hand locked around her hip, guiding her through slow, rolling strokes until her body finds what it needs. Then she takes over. Her palms brace against my chest as she rides me, soft tits bouncing, stomach flexing, and swollen pussy gripping every inch of my cock before swallowing it again.
Her rhythm falters. She tightens around me in quick, fluttering pulses, close enough for me to feel the orgasm gathering before she does. I rub her clit harder and drive up into her with short, deep thrusts. Her mouth falls open. Her head tries to drop, but she keeps her eyes on mine as her whole body locks.
Then she breaks.
Her pussy clamps down hard enough to drag a curse out of me. She comes around my cock in hot, rhythmic contractions, staring at me with wide, stunned eyes while I fuck her through every one.
In all my years, I’ve never seen anything like it.
Deep in my soul, I know.
This is not our last time together.
Not even close.
eleven
Moments Later
I come apart on top of him with Beau’s eyes locked on mine.
No fantasy could hold a candle to the real thing.
In the half second before my brain whites out, I hear his voice from a couple hours ago.
When he stood up in front of the class and read the biography he wrote about me.
“People mistake Elodie’s faith in them for innocence. It isn’t. She knows exactly how people fail each other. She believes in them with her eyes open, and once she finds something worth loving, she refuses to let a person’s worst moment erase everything else they are.”
I come with his words still in my soul and his cock buried in my pussy to the root.
He follows me over a breath later, a roar torn out of him, hips driving up, hands gripping me hard enough to bruise. His cock jerks inside me, each hot pulse filling the deepest part of me until his come slips around him and runs warm between us. Warm and filthy and ours.
I’ve never felt more like a grown woman in my life.
Beau is tender in a way I don’t expect but probably should have. He helps me climb off, careful, holding my weight like I might break. Pads to my tiny bathroom, returning with a warm washcloth and wipes between my legs, gentle and unhurried. Kisses my temple and checks in with me the whole time like my after-care is as much for him as for me.
Nobody has ever done this for me. Owen didn’t even hand me a tissue.
When he’s done, I take the cloth from his hand, drop it and pull him back down with me. We start kissing again, languid, then not. My body is already waking up because I’m not even close to being done. Neither is he. His hand is between my legs when he pulls back and laughs, low and rough.
“Let’s eat first. You’re going to need your strength.” He bites my jaw. “Up.”
We eat cold teriyaki standing at my kitchenette counter, both of us naked, passing it back and forth. I can’t make myself care about the food when Beau Bixby, in all his glory, has just fucked me to life.
Raking my eyes up the whole length of him, slow and greedy, I take inventory. Broad, chiseled chest gone gray down the middle. Gorgeous tattoos over his jacked biceps and shoulders, softened by time. A small silver ring through one nipple. Muscled thighs. His famous cock is half-mast.
Fan forums don’t do it justice.
Beau catches me looking. Drags his own eyes up and down my body the same way.
However many times I have him, it won’t be enough. I could fuck him ten times every night from now until I die and it wouldn’t be enough. He’s going to be the great hunger of my life.
I can’t tell him this of course. It’ll only scare him off.
