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“Beckett,” I plead.
Eyes narrowed, he pushes two fingers inside me.Stretchingme.
“Ow.” My smile is lopsided, but Beckett pauses, two thick fingers wedged in me past the second knuckle. My channel twitches around the intrusion, muscles straining to adjust, but the sting is already fading. My hips roll up, impatient. “Hey, come on. Keep going.”
“Keep…Resa. That hurt you. Is this—are you—?”
The writer stares down at me, muffled panic flickering behind his eyes. When he reads the answer splashed all overmy face, Beckett’s eyes slam shut, and his pained groan echoes around the room. His fingers curl reflexively, stroking my inner walls, and it’s so tickly and good.
“Hey,” I say. “Stop grumping.” There’s a freckle right on his collarbone, and when I thump him on the shoulder, my pathetic hit makes a dull sound. “Just because it’s my first time doesn’t mean I’ll be terrible at it.”
Beckett levels me a glare. “That is clearlynotwhat I’m worried about. Give me some credit, please.”
“No.” I shake my head, heart hammering. “I won’t if you won’t. You’re acting like I’m not able to make my own decisions. Like you’re taking advantage of me.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Iamtaking advantage—”
“No, you’re not, you giant jerk! I’m a grown woman, and I know what I want, and I wantyou, Liam Beckett. Deal with it.” My speech would sound better if my voice didn’t crack, but that’s life. Besides, it’s been a long, weird day, and I’m still thirsty inallthe ways, and even as we talk about this, my hips roll, trying to ride his hand. “Would you rather I go back to my normal life tomorrow and find another man to pop my cherry? Would that make you happier?”
I already know it wouldn’t—and the furious clench of Beckett’s jaw says I’m right. Well, if he doesn’t want anybody else to have me, then he can’t freak out about being my first. It’s basic logic.
So nyerr.
“I’m older than you,” Beckett points out, but his fingers are moving again, pumping slowly in and out of my body. They’re slick and sheened in the lamplight, and I’m getting wetter by the minute, my nerve endings crackling under his touch. The waistband of my panties digs into his wrist. “By at least a decade. And I’m jaded and tired and my bones creak in the mornings.”
“Sounds like you deserve a treat.”
Beckett puffs out a pained laugh and crooks his fingers again, stroking the spot inside me which makes my bandaged toes curl. “That’s not how the world works, Angel.”
“Well, it could be. For us.”
I could be the sunshine behind his clouds; the warm hug after a long day. The slick, needy girl in his bed, begging for satisfaction. Would that be so wrong?
“I don’t like Soul Obsession,” he warns, like this might be the final straw. “I mean—I don’t dislike them. But they’re not my favorite. Boy bands aren’t my thing.”
I cup his cheek. “We’ll work through this. Together.”
And we’re teasing each other now, dragging out the conversation, because our bodies have already decided. He’s thrusting into me with two fingers, steady and sure, and my hips are rolling, riding his touch. We’re both breathing hard, both flushed, both staring like the other is the center of our world.
Want more. Want his cock splitting me open, reaching parts of me that have never been reached—and I tell him so, whining as Beckett sucks on my throat, so restless and eager I can barely breathe.
“Soon. You’ll come for me first—come on my hand. Soak my fingers. Show me, Angel.” Beckett’s teeth scrape my neck, and the cramped room spins.
Eight
Beckett
Resa Castillo brought to an orgasm by my hand is a sight to behold. It’s the eighth wonder of the world—a modern day miracle. A gift that no mortal man could deserve. And I’ve barely recovered from the sight, barely ripped off those panties and shoved down my own boxers, before I’m pushing inside her fully and losing my goddamn mind all over again.
Can’t think.
Can’t speak.
Can’t go as gently as I should.
Because pure unadulteratedneedcrackles down my spine, my nerve endings throwing off sparks like a struck flint. Can’t do anything except thrust deep, rocking inside her, groaning at the hot, wet squeeze of her body around mine.
“Resa.” My voice is thick; my tongue is clumsy. I pet her short hair, the roots damp with sweat. “Angel. Fuck. You okay? Does this hurt?”
