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Draping her legs over my shoulders, she tightens when my mouth closes around her clit, sucking. I run my hands over her thighs, kneading the skin, and I relish the way she trembles beneath me, her hand threading through my hair and tugging me closer until the only thing I can breathe in is her. Her taste, her scent, her juices as they flow into my mouth. She’s so wet and warm, and I would die a happy man with my face buried between her legs.
“Mav . . .” She moans, her breaths coming in pants as I alternate between licking and sucking, applying more and more pressure as I draw her closer to the edge. Her legs tighten, her body coiling tight, but before she can come, I pull back, pressing a finger to her entrance. “Please.”
How could I even say no to such a beautiful plea?
I slide my finger inside her, and fuck, I can’t stop the groan that slips out of me, my lips vibrating over her when I close them around her clit once more.
Her hips thrust, forcing my finger in deeper, and when I flick my gaze up, my eyes finding her face as I pump inside her, my hips undulate, desperately seeking friction.
Her eyes are closed, her hands fisted into the white sheets of her bed as her legs tighten around me. Never in my life have I seen a more beautiful sight. Adding another finger, I move slowly at first, letting her get used to the feel.
“More, please,” she breathes, her chest heaving. Moving my fingers faster, I match my tongue to the pace, pumping and licking until she coils tighter, her mouth dropping open on a silent scream as she falls apart around my tongue, my fingers growing slicker as her heat pulses around me, pulling me even deeper as she rides the wave of her orgasm.
Without giving her a moment’s reprieve, I stand up, taking her legs with me until they’re plastered to my chest and my hardness is pressed to her entrance.
“Last chance, Bumblebee,” I tell her, and her eyes flash to mine. There’s no hesitation in the green depths, no uncertainty, just heat as she nods, undulating her hips and drawing my tip inside. “Fuck. You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
And with those words, I thrust, burying myself inside her, and never in my life has something felt more like coming home . . .
Chapter Nineteen
Beatrice
Themomenthe’sinsideme, my whole world tilts. I’m not a virgin, far from it, having lost my virginity at fourteen, but never has something felt so right. So perfect. I pulse around him, urging him with my hips to give me more. To give me everything.
Maverick’s eyes are locked on mine, the gray depths swirling with untold emotions I daren’t try to read. This moment is enough. It’s everything. My eyes flutter closed as he pulls out, inch by inch, almost leaving me completely before he drives back inside.
His movements are lazy, teasing, as he fucks me. He groans when I tremble, his arm banding around my legs as I try to pull them down. He lifts me, my hips rising off the bed, and fuck if this new angle doesn’t force him deeper.
“You’re so fucking tight,” he hisses, his free hand finding my clit as he presses his thumb against me, rubbing frantic circles as he speeds up, his strokes purposeful as he slides in and out.
He finds my G-spot, slamming against it over and over until I’m a whimpering mess. My hands curl around the bed sheet, my mouth falling open on a gasp as he impales me, his thumb moving against my clit.
Pressure coils inside me, and for the second time, my climax builds as he continues to work me.
“Shit, Bea.” My eyes snap open, finding his in an instant, and I’m gone, my pussy pulsing around him as my body convulses. “Fucking knew you’d feel this good. So fucking good. Never felt like this ever.”
His words make little sense, but he pushes more, his pelvis slapping against me as he continues to fuck me, and I don’t care what he’s saying. All I can feel is him. He surrounds me, his scent, his image. Everything about this moment is perfect, and as he groans, his dick pulsing inside me with his climax, I know there’s no coming back from this.
I asked him for one night, just one night to know what we could have been, and my heart cracks with the realization that one night with him will never be enough. Maverick Brady is the guy you spend a lifetime with. But he’ll never be mine.
The second my phone rings, pulling me from a deep slumber, I know he’s gone.
My sheets are cold, the only warmth in the room is from the half-closed blinds as sunlight beats against the window. Peeling my eyes open, disappointment hits me like a tidal wave. My comforter has been pulled over my body, the t-shirt he ripped off himself to place on me last night remains, but it feels like a dead weight on my body now.
I drag it over my head, crumpling it into a ball before tossing it across the room. I told myself it would be okay, that he could hate me again this morning and things could start going back to normal. That was a lie.
I don’t regret what we did, I couldn’t even if I tried, knowing that the memory of last night is more than anything I could have asked for. He gave me an experience worth remembering, something to cherish in the dark days when other memories try to come to the surface.
It had to be him.
But still, it doesn’t make it any easier.
Forcing myself from the bed, I grab my phone, typing a quick text to my dad that I’ll call him back later before taking a pair of leggings and a sweater from my drawers and tossing them onto my bed.
I move into the bathroom, flicking the shower on. It comes to life in an instant, steam coating the room and hiding my rumpled reflection as it fogs over the mirror. Good. I don’t want to see the girl who thought it was a good idea to indulge last night.
My hair is a tangled mess as I pull a brush through it, and I can feel the heaviness of the makeup on my face staining my skin.
