Page 20 of Backed By You (Montgomery Brothers of Montana #3)

Callie

Hulk’s head trails me as I pace the short span of my living room, biting my nails and fighting back tears. Beau and Rhett are arguing outside, but I can’t make out what they’re saying.

God, I handled that so badly. Ambushing him like that, in front of his brother, with my desperate plea and my stupid joke about orgasms. I cringe at the memory as I pace, wearing a path in the hardwood floor.

The voices outside grow louder for a moment, then suddenly cut off. A truck door slams, followed by an engine starting. I freeze mid-step, straining to listen as the vehicle pulls away. I wait for something to tell me what just happened, but there’s only silence.

Did Beau leave, too? Or is he going back to work, writing me off as the desperate, broken tenant who can’t handle her own life?

I sink onto the couch and angrily tear off my useless walking boot that’s pinching my calf yet again.

It hits the ground with a thud, and I bury my face in my hands.

Hulk whines softly and limps over, resting his massive head on my knee.

“I really screwed this up, didn’t I, buddy?

” I whisper, scratching behind his ears.

The front door crashes open without warning.

Hulk barks, and I jump, my heart in my throat. My head whips to face the door where Beau’s broad stance fills the entryway. His bare chest rises and falls rapidly. There’s something wild in his dark eyes—raw and determined. A man possessed.

I stand as he steps inside, shutting the door behind him. His gaze never leaves mine as he says roughly, “Yes.”

I blink. “What?”

He walks closer, each step deliberate. “I’ll go with you. To California. All of it.”

Relief hits me so hard my knees nearly buckle. “Beau—”

“But we’re done pretending there isn’t something here between us.” He stops just inches away, close enough that I can see the need in his eyes. The way his arms flex to reach for me.

I nod vigorously. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Not because of your father.” He cups my face and his thumb brushes away a stray tear slipping down my cheek. “Because for a split second, I thought I was going to lose you before I ever truly had you.”

His mouth crashes against mine. The kiss is greedy, hungry, full of all the attraction we’ve been dancing around for weeks. I melt into him. I grasp his shoulders, his skin hot to the touch as he backs me against the wall beside the bedroom door.

“I fucking want you, baby,” he breathes against my lips. “More than anything. I want to be with you in every fucking way, and it’s tearing me up inside how bad I need you .”

My body ignites at his words, his rough tone, and the way he presses his hips into mine. “Yes,” I whisper between kisses.

His hands slide down to grip my thighs, and suddenly I’m airborne. My legs wrap around his waist instinctively as he carries me through the bedroom doorway, his mouth never leaving mine. The kiss is desperate, consuming, like he’s trying to pour everything he couldn’t say into this moment.

He tosses me onto the bed with a primal growl that sends heat pooling between my thighs. I bounce once on the mattress, breathless and wanting, as he stands at the foot of the bed, his eyes devouring me.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he mutters, his fingers finding the hem of my shirt.

I lift my arms, helping him strip it off. The cool air kisses my skin, but I’m burning everywhere his molten gaze touches. His eyes darken at the sight of my lace bra, and I watch his throat work as he swallows when I remove it. My nipples harden under his stare.

His touch is surprisingly gentle as he slides up my sides, a stark contrast to the intensity in his expression. He unbuttons my jean shorts with deliberate slowness, dragging the zipper down tooth by tooth until I’m squirming beneath him. “Please,” I pant.

“Patience,” he murmurs, a smirk playing on his lips.

He peels my shorts down my legs, leaving me in just my underwear. I expect him to rush, to tear the remaining fabric from my body, but instead, he kneels at the edge of the bed and presses a kiss to my ankle, then another to my calf, moving upward with agonizing slowness.

“I’ve craved your taste all damn day, sweetheart,” he confesses against my inner thigh, his breath hot against my skin.

I fist the duvet when his lips travel higher. The bristle along his jaw adds to the raw need building inside of me. His strong hands push my thighs apart and the look he gives me makes me feel worshipped rather than exposed.

“Beau,” I whisper, a plea.

“I’ve got you,” he promises. “Always.”

He hooks one finger into the side of my panties, and his mouth is on me.

I cry out at the first touch of his tongue, my back arching off the bed.

He holds my hips firmly, keeping me in place as he devours me.

Each stroke of his tongue sends electricity coursing through my veins.

I’m trembling beneath his mouth. His touch.

When he slides a finger inside me, I nearly come off the bed.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he groans against me, the vibration of his words intensifying the sensation pulsing through my clit.

He tries to add a second finger, but I tense from the pinch of it.

“And fucking tight,” he grunts.

He drops the second finger and curls the single digit inside me, rubbing. I see stars. The dual sensation of the pressure inside and his tongue flicking against my most sensitive spot is overwhelming.

My thighs begin to shake as tension coils tighter and tighter in my core.

“Mhmm,” he encourages, his voice rough with desire as he sucks my clit.

I tip over the edge. Shatter with his name on my lips. My body convulses in waves of uncontrollable pleasure. And he doesn’t stop—his fingers continue their relentless rhythm, his tongue circling and flicking until I’m climbing again, faster this time.

I gasp, overwhelmed by the sopping wet sound echoing between us.

“One more,” he insists, looking at me with dark, determined eyes. “Give me one more and I’ll let you wrap this perfect pussy around my cock, baby.”

The second orgasm hits me even harder than the first, stealing my breath. I’m vaguely aware of crying out, of my body arching impossibly high off the bed, of my fingers gripping his hair. Beau…

As I float back to earth, trembling and gasping, he crawls up my body, pressing kisses to my stomach, between my breasts, along my collarbone. He’s still clothed, the rough fabric of his jeans creating a delicious friction against my over-sensitized skin.

“I didn’t know you had such a dirty mouth,” I pant, tugging at his shirt.

“A lot you don’t know about me,” he says in a way that tears at my heart. His gaze locks with mine, and for a moment, I see that vulnerability again—that fear of letting someone in completely. He tries to mask it, but he can’t. Not with me.

I pull him down and press my lips to his. “Let me see all of you, Beau.”

When we part, he stares down at me. “No one’s ever seen me,” he admits roughly. “Not like you do.”

I smile, bringing my hands up to slide around his neck. The corner of his mouth lifts and he kisses me. A slow, heartfelt promise made between us without a single word spoken.

He breaks the kiss and I drink in the sight of him—broad shoulders, muscled chest dusted with dark hair, and the tapestry of scars that tell the story of his life. I reach out to trace one that runs along his ribs, and he catches my hand, pressing it flat against his thundering heart.

He unbuckles his belt and pushes his jeans low on his thighs.

His thick, vein-wrapped cock stands at attention.

The head is smeared with glossy precum that pools at the tip as I gaze in appreciation.

He’s magnificent. All hard, bulky planes and strength, yet the way he watches me—unsure, hesitant—makes my heart twist.

“How long has it been?” I whisper, reaching for him.

He grunts as I wrap my hand around his length. He’s hot and impossibly hard. “Four years,” he hisses as I stroke him from base to tip.

I smile faintly, meeting his gaze. “Me, too.”

He covers my body with his a second later.

His weight presses me into the mattress in the most delicious way.

He braces himself on his forearms, his face hovering above mine as he reaches down to toy with the damp seam of my pussy.

I suck in a breath. “I don’t have any protection,” he growls, pushing my soaked panties to the side so he can circle my clit.

I arch into him with a moan. “I have the implant.”

He grunts, “Good girl.”

The head of his cock presses at my entrance, and I melt—at the endearment or the feel of his swollen head sliding through my folds, it’s anyone’s guess.

Both, definitely both . His hips flex forward, testing.

I wrap my legs around his waist in response, bringing him closer and forcing his cock to push inside me.

We moan together at the feeling of finally being joined.

Me, at being filled and stretched.

Him, doing the filling and stretching.

Without warning, my walls tighten around him and he curses under his breath. I cling to him as he sinks deeper and deeper. “Beau, oh —” I moan, gasping for air as his cock drags against my walls and the part of me only he can find.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he growls, jerking his hips and earning a squeak from me.

“You’re gonna come already, aren’t you?” He picks up a slow, grinding rhythm and my legs fall farther open.

The room fills with our shared sounds—his low groans mixing with my desperate moans.

His eyes never leave mine, each thrust impossibly deep.

“Yes,” I gasp, my fingernails digging into his shoulders as he picks up the pace. “Yes, yes, yes—”

His expression is intense as he watches me come undone beneath him. “That’s it,” he coaxes, his voice strained. “Come on my fuckin’ cock.”

The dirty demand from his usually guarded mouth sends electricity down my spine. I’m already so sensitive from his earlier attention that it takes embarrassingly little time before I’m teetering on the edge a third time.

“I can’t—it’s too much—” My words dissolve into incoherent sounds as another orgasm crashes through me. My inner walls clench around him in rhythmic pulses.

“Look at me,” he commands, and I force myself to meet his gaze.

The intimacy of his request—more than the physical sensation—is what undoes me.

My fourth orgasm hits without warning, more powerful than any before.

I cry out his name, my vision blurring at the edges as wave after wave of ecstasy washes over me.

“Fuck,” he hisses, his pace faltering momentarily as my body grips him. “You’re perfect. So fucking perfect.” He buries his face in my neck, his breathing ragged against my skin, his restraint slipping—the carefully controlled man giving way to something more primal.

I want that. I want him to lose himself completely. For me.

“More,” I demand, raking my nails down his back. “Harder.”

With a growl that vibrates through my chest, he hooks one of my legs over his shoulder, changing the angle and driving deeper. Words fail me as he fucks me with an intensity I can’t describe. I cling to him as he pounds into me. The headboard slams against the wall with each thrust.

He drives into me one final time. He groans my name against my lips, his entire body tensing as he finds his release and empties inside me. Heat floods my core.

Careful not to crush me with his weight, he slips an arm beneath me and collapses beside me on the bed, bringing me with him. His cock still buried inside me.

I giggle and he grins.

We lie there panting, our skin slick with sweat, neither of us capable of speaking.

My leg is thrown over his hip and his arm is draped heavily across my waist, his firm hand at the top of my ass.

Minutes pass in comfortable silence. He traces gentle patterns on my lower back.

The kind of tenderness I had no idea he had in him.

I love it .

“This isn’t just sex for me,” he says finally, his voice quiet but certain. “I need you to know that.”

My heart swells at his honesty. “I know,” I whisper. “It isn’t for me, either.”

He kisses me softly. “I’m still figuring out how to do this whole…relationship shit,” he admits, then tenses. “That is, if that’s what this is… Is it?”

I smile at him and have to laugh at the uncertainty in his eyes. “I sure hope so,” I say, then ask, “How long has it been since you’ve been in a relationship?”

He huffs and shifts his gaze away from mine as he confesses, “High school.”

“Ouch,” I tease, then snuggle into him. “I’ll give you a grace period. How’s that sound?”

He presses a kiss to my forehead. “I’d appreciate that.”

As we lie there, tangled in each other, I realize that whatever walls Beau had built around himself have not just cracked—they’ve come crashing down.

And in their place is something new and entirely mine .