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Oh, boy.
It was fast, it was hot, and it was just this side of rough. By the time he was through, she was on her back, because how could you hold yourself up? Her knees were still in the air, too, because he was holding them there, and that felt … that felt …
She was still shaking when he was over her again. Nothing one bit fancy about it. He was on his knees between her legs, his hands hauling her hips up, and he was inside her. She felt him there, yeah, but she felt himeverywhere.She felt him in herfeet.How could that be possible? She was gasping, and he wasn’t saying a word. Until he said, “Touch yourself.”
“Wh-what?” The first word she’d managed.
“I’m not going to let go of you,” he said. “So you need to touch yourself.”
Not exactly in her repertoire. Well, itwas,but not in public. She hesitated, and he stopped moving.
Her hips rocked, trying to get him back. He said, “No. Do it.”
What could she say? She did it. She was slick and wet and open, and he was watching her. Her face. Her breasts. And, most of all, he was watching her hand move, and watching himself moving in her, too, all of it under the lights, and all of it dark as sin. Her breath was loud in her ears, but so was his. No noise, but oh, yeah, he was breathing hard. Because he was looking at her body, and at what he was doing to her.
This time, it happened slowly, like the tide coming in, or … She lost the metaphor. Concentric circles of pleasure, starting out where her fingers were, and where he was sliding, slow as you please, until she wanted to beg him to hurry up, todoit, because she needed to get there again. The circles reached to her belly, down her thighs, her calves, all the way to her toes, like tingles. Or sparks. Or …
Those circles got bigger, or stronger, or both, and she was gasping. Frantic for it. She said, “Beckett. Please.”
“Please what?” It was very nearly a growl.
“Please … do it.”
Did he take her perfectly obvious point? He did not. He stopped. “Do what?”
She groaned. “I need it … harder. I need … help.”
“Ah.” She could all but feel the satisfaction in the word. And then he was turning her lengthwise on the bed, sliding into her again, and somehow shifting his body so she … so he …
Oh, my God. Thefriction.
He gave her exactly what she’d asked for, and all she could do was hold on for the ride.
She’d never liked roller coasters. That feeling where your belly dropped all the way to your feet and you were hanging on for dear life. When you were screaming, your hair streaming, your voice lost behind you, carried by the rush of wind. When you had no control at all, your legs lost the power to hold you, and your very breath was gone.
Her hands clutching at his shoulders, then abandoning them and grabbing handfuls of rough canvas, feeling it twist in her frantic grasp. Her legs stiffening. Her thighs clenching. Her feet flexing. Every part of her feeling that ride.
Another hill, the highest one yet, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to hang on anymore.
Down the other side, and she had no stomach left.
Darkness.
And, finally, when it seemed like it would never happen, when she knew she couldn’t stand it another moment …
A blaze of stars.
* * *
Beckett said,when he could talk again, “Does that answer your question?”
“What … was my question?” She couldn’t exactly talk either, it seemed. Also, they were on a canvas dropcloth, on his kid’s bed. Hisfive-year-oldkid.
At least he hadn’t done her on the Spongebob sheets.
“Oh,” he said. “Reckon I need to …” He still wasn’t breathing steadily, because his entire body was wrung out. Hours of physical labor, possibly done on the fast side, because he’d had some aggression to work out, and then this. “To tell you the question as well as the answer,” he managed to say. “Though if I was trying to say that this is a romance, I’m not sure I did it right. Could’ve been worse, though, I guess. I could’ve done it on the floor.” He brushed her hair back and kissed her temple, just because it was about the only place where she was fragile. There, and possibly in her heart. His hand was on her belly, his thumb in the sweet dip that was her navel, and she moved into him a little more and sighed.
“I liked the way you did it,” she said. “Couldn’t you tell?”
