Page 27

Instead, I dig a fortune cookie in the bottom of the take-out bag. I fish it out, crack it, pull the slip free, and read it out loud in my most serious voice. “An evening of delights awaits the patient soul.”

I set the fortune on the counter and keep my gaze fixed on his as my palm travels down my stomach. Lower. The first circle over my clit changes his breathing. By the second, his cock is thickening against his belly, rising in slow increments until it stands rigid and heavy between us.

I did that. One stupid slip of paper and the touch of my own fingertip brought Beau Bixby to full attention.

The power rushes straight to my head.

He catches my wrist and draws it away from my body. My skin glistens with arousal. Beau brings the evidence to his mouth, slides his tongue between my fingers, and sucks each one clean without blinking.

Beau’s grip shifts to my hips and he turns me toward the closet. Crowds in close enough for his erection to press along the cleft of my ass. Nudges me forward. When we reach the full-length glass, his arms hook beneath my legs and the floor disappears.

My hands clamp around his forearms as he lifts me, back against his chest, and spreads me wide. His breath brushes my ear.

“Look.” Beau holds me as if I weigh nothing.

The reflection leaves nothing private. My knees fall apart, framing the soft curve of my belly and everything below it. Full outer lips drawn back. Inner folds flushed dark pink, swollen and gleaming. My entrance wet and slightly open beneath them. At the top, my clit peeks from its hood, engorged and shining.

Seeing myself this way should be the most shocking part.

Then, Beau whispers, “Look at your puffy pink cunt. It’s mine.”

I can’t stop staring at a part of myself I couldn’t have drawn from memory five minutes ago. He cants his hips and his cock rides the length of me from behind, the fat head of him resting against my slit, pressing from my ass all the way up to my clit. I understand, in one dizzy rush, what is about to happen.

It’s like a dream come true.

Beau shifts behind me until the broad head of his cock presses against my entrance. One controlled push breaches me. In the reflection, his blue eyes meet mine as my pussy stretches around him, pink folds clinging to every inch he feeds inside. He lowers me with brutal patience, letting gravity draw him deeper until my ass settles against his hips and his entire length disappears.

The fullness borders on pain. The view is pure filth. My body held open in his arms, his cock buried inside me, his face above my shoulder watching the same impossible sight.

Then he lifts me.

His shaft slides almost free before he pulls me down again. Each descent drives him to the root. His forearms flex beneath my thighs as he moves me faster, carrying me through every stroke while I watch my greedy pussy swallow him, release him, then take him back.

The image breaks something loose.

My orgasm hits without warning. I see it seize me in the glass, my mouth falling open and every muscle drawing tight before sensation tears through my body.

My cries fill the apartment. I shake in Beau’s arms, staring at my own stunned face while my pussy pulses around him.

He mouths at my neck while the aftershocks roll through me. “Look at you.” He lifts me off and sets me down onto my own shaking legs. Turns me to face him and takes my jaw in one big hand. “Elodie, I’m going to make you come so many times tonight you’ll forget your own name.”

He keeps his word.

He fucks me against the mirror, folds me over the futon, then puts me on my back with my knees beside my ears. His mouth brings me to tears. His hands keep pulling me toward another edge until pleasure loses its beginning and end. Sometime around three in the morning, Beau holds my gaze with his cock buried to the root, and for several empty seconds, I forget everything except the man inside me.

By the time we stop, my body is limp, tender, and used in ways I’ll feel for days. I curl around him beneath the sheets, happier than I know what to do with, and fall asleep against the chest of the man who spent all night learning every inch of me.

Pale light slips through my one sad window when I wake. I’m sore enough to smile before my eyes even open. I reach across the mattress, already imagining his morning erection beneath my hand.

Cold sheets.

Beau is across the room, dressed. Almost. His shirt is inside out, and he’s perched on my only chair with his back half-turned, pulling on his boots. “Hey.” My voice is hoarse. “Come back to bed.”

Beau goes still. Doesn’t turn right away. When he does, his face is shuttered. A long way from the man who held me open to a mirror six hours ago.

“I have to go.”

The entire night tilts under me. “Beau.”