Page 7

FOUR

Jolie

“ W hat”—I gasped so hard that my chest felt like it was about to cave in as I glanced down, between my legs, where Beck’s face was resting—“are you doing to me?”

It wasn’t a real question.

It was a reaction.

Along with a shocking realization of what was actually happening from a night I never could have predicted. But I was here, lost in his movements, overwhelmed by how he was making me feel.

And how amazing he was at everything.

Beck had his arms stretched across the front of the dresser, his face holding my legs apart, his mouth buried in me. His tongue was giving my clit fast, hard sweeps. Each time it landed or massaged that spot, some kind of noise came out of me.

Like now. A mix of breathing and moaning and crying, “Oh! Yes!”

I couldn’t stay still.

My hips were rocking forward, my legs shaking. I was gripping the edge of the dresser, and when that didn’t feel like enough, I stretched up my arms and pushed them against the wall behind me. And when that didn’t feel like enough either, I grabbed Beck’s hair.

Beck.

A name I couldn’t believe I was repeating in my head.

Or saying out loud.

Because no matter what was happening—like every time I looked down and saw the top of his head or his eyes met mine—I had the hardest time comprehending that he was here. That I was with him. That his mouth was on me.

This time, with our stares completely glued on one another, his tongue moving faster than it had, his finger now deep inside me, I begged, “Don’t stop.”

There was absolutely no way he could halt, he could slow, he could do anything but what he was doing.

Not when I was this close.

And that was something else I couldn’t believe—that Beck had the ability to actually get me here without knowing my body.

My last boyfriend had done this—not nearly as talented as Beck, but he’d done the act—and although it was all right, I never got off.

But aside from the location of where they put their mouths, there was nothing similar between what the two men had done to me.

Not the speed.

Not the way they moved their tongues.

Not even in the way they touched me.

Beck’s finger expertly arched up, hitting a place that was new to me. Undiscovered. One that was so extremely sensitive. And he kept it lodged inside, turning just the tip of it in a circle.

I found myself panting.

Arching.

Shouting, “ Ahhh ,” as my body began to work its way toward the most paralyzing, mind-boggling peak. I tightened—my fingers in his hair, my muscles as the tingles spread, my body—and everything started to happen at once. “Beck! Holy! Fuck!”

Two things stood out the most.

The first were my sounds. Noises I was positive I’d never made before.

The second was this feeling. It was more than pleasure. It was a total takeover, owning my insides, causing my outside to shudder.

“Gah!” I screeched.

Earlier in the night, I’d described to Beck the real moments of vulnerability, but this was on an entirely different level. Because Beck was bringing me here. He was keeping me here. And he was watching me come down from here.

My eyes closed as the initial shock began to vibrate through me, my head pushing against the wall, my body experiencing every quake of energy.

The blackness behind my eyelids prevented me from being in the heat of his stare—something I could still feel even though I was no longer looking at him.

But I knew he was watching me, catching my breathlessness, seeing the movement come over me, hearing the way my sounds were filling the silence.

“Yes!” I drew in a giant gulp of air, things still swirling and bursting, building in momentum. “ Yesss !”

Just the way he knew when my orgasm was building, he also seemed to know when it was on its way down. He slowed his speed, sensing exactly when I needed total stillness.

My eyes flicked open, my teeth gnawing my bottom lip as his finger gently slid out, his tongue lifting from me, sinking back between his lips.

But his mouth stayed, kissing what he’d just finished licking.

“I could spend the whole night right here, licking this perfect fucking spot, eating your pussy nonstop. That’s how good you taste.” He held my thighs as he stood straight, the wetness on his lips showing under the bedroom light. “You’ve got one hell of a cunt.”

What? Is he saying?

To me?

All I knew was that I was dying—over and over and over again.

“I honestly don’t know what you just did to me … but I still can’t breathe.”

He moaned as his gaze dipped down my body and rose to my face. “I gave you my tongue. That’s all it was.” His stare grew, like he was attempting to see through me. “You’ve had a man do this before, yes?”

“Yes—I mean, sorta. It wasn’t like that , and nothing like that has ever happened.”

He cocked his head. “You’re telling me another dude’s mouth was on your pussy and he didn’t get you off?”

I nodded. “Yep. That’s what I’m telling you.”

He wrapped his arms around my waist, his face even closer to mine. “Now that’s a real fucking shame. Because a pussy like yours should be worshipped. Do me a favor—don’t ever be with an amateur again. Only be with men who will treat your clit the way it deserves to be licked.”

I smiled, and when that felt too simple, I laughed. “Says the guy who just set the highest bar ever and who has a tongue that could probably win awards.”

He showed it to me by dragging it across his bottom lip. “You’ll find someone who will savor you the way I just did.” He took the condom off the dresser and pulled it out of the foil.

I touched his arm. “You don’t have to put that on yet.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m saying, I think I owe you for what you just did to me.”

He ignored me, rolling the condom over his shaft.

Since we’d met, Beck had called me perfect more than once, but that title really applied to him. In fact, I didn’t think he could be more perfect—a theory that was confirmed as I took in his beautifully thick, powerfully long dick, his mushroom head bubbling with pre-cum.

“You can suck my dick later. Right now, all I can think about is putting it inside you.”

He gave his cock several pumps and tugged me toward the very end of the dresser, tucking my legs around him and putting me in a position that aligned him with my entrance.

“Kiss me,” he demanded.

My wetness was even on the strands of his mustache.

“But I’m all over you.”

“And?”

He punched forward a little, giving me a sample of his size. It was just a hint, a tease of his crown, nothing more.

“I can’t even imagine what it would be like to taste myself.”

“I want you to find out.” His lips hovered above mine, but they didn’t touch me.

“But—”

“Tonight is going to be all about things you’ve never had or tried.” He brushed his thumb over my clit. “Like what I just did to your pussy—that was one. Kissing me while your cum is all over me—that’s two.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck, and as I locked him in my grip and attempted to reply, “I—” he drove all the way into me, his lips slamming against mine at the same time, stopping me from responding.

But what he couldn’t prevent was my moan.

The loudness of it. The way it vibrated against his mouth. The way it slashed through my chest and cut through the air.

Oh God, he felt incredible.

Especially when he twisted his hips, rotating within me, hitting walls that didn’t know they needed friction, but they did.

He stayed just like that, giving me small pulses while he ravished my lips, keeping me from voicing words so all I could do was make sounds.

And I let out plenty.

Because the more he kissed me, the more I tasted the flavor of Beck Weston, the less I cared about what was on his beard or where his mouth had been, and I could only focus on him.

The pure pleasure he was giving me.

That only continued to get better.

He leaned back just enough to hiss, “Fuck yes,” and he held on to the base of my neck, his fingers tightening as he thrust in and out of me. “You’re so fucking tight, Jolie.”

“And wet.” I couldn’t believe I’d spoken those words, but I also couldn’t believe how wet I was. How wet he’d made me. How wet he was still making me.

“Damn, this feels good.” His strokes turned harder.

His forehead pressed to mine, his breaths hitting my face, the smell of him as good as his taste.

My arms unraveled from around him and went to his pecs, cherishing each muscle and the outline of his abs, the grooves between each one swallowing my finger. “Beck!”

“Do you want me to slow down?”

“No. I want you to go faster.”

“Yes … that’s my fucking girl.”

After a few more plunges, his hand dropped from my neck and moved around my waist, and he lifted me into the air, carrying me off the dresser to the lounge chair by the window on the far side of the bedroom.

But where I expected him to place me on the cushion and kneel in front of me, he was the one who sat and straddled me over him.

I assumed he wanted me to ride him, and that was why he put me in this position, so with my feet on the ground, his hands wandering my body, I lifted to his tip and slowly lowered.

“Hell yeah,” he moaned. “Do that one more time.” I did, and then he said, “Now I want you to turn around.”

I took in his hazel eyes. “Turn around?”

“Put your back to me and face the opposite direction.”

Reverse cowgirl.

Something else I hadn’t done before.

“You must somehow know I’ve never tried that?”

He chuckled as he pinched one of my nipples. “It was an easy guess.” He slapped my ass. “Come on. Turn around.”

I carefully drew him out of me and got off the lounge chair, facing away from his eyes, only to straddle him again. It didn’t matter what angle of me he was looking at—they all made me nervous—but this one felt even more personal than the last.

With him seated and upright, as I sat, he wrapped his arm around my breasts and pulled my back against his front. Once our bodies were pressed together, he guided me toward his tip.