“Touch me.” I need it. Christ, it doesn’t make sense, but I need it—him—like my next breath. “Touch me, please. Beau!”
His hands slide under my top, cupping my breast as he strokes and pinches my aching nipples with his thumb. I cry out, pushing into his hand as every thought in my brain scatters, replaced with a desperate kind of need. Desire unlike anything I’ve felt before.
Here it is, the distraction I’ve been craving. The comfort I’ve been seeking since my best friend went missing, perhaps even longer.
There is guilt that, in a time like this, I would want this with this man, someone I barely know, but I let myself take and be taken. I scale my fingers over his strong muscles as his hand leaves my breast and slides down my stomach, moving lower, popping open the button of my jeans. His eyes meet mine with a question in them as he slides that rough, calloused hand inside my panties and lowers it until he’s touching my core. Fingertips delve into the wet valley of my feminine flesh. I gasp, gripping his shoulders when he strokes my wet folds, jumping when his finger grazes my sensitive clit.
Those dark eyes find mine as he rubs over my opening, sending a fresh wave of need rocking through me. I gasp when he dips his finger into my sex, and my legs instinctively lock around his hand, clenching hard as my body reacts to the intrusion.
For one long second, there’s silence. Long and awkward, but even that does little to ease the need burning inside of me.
“You are a virgin.”
It’s not a question, and I’m not quite sure what answer would be favorable.
“I don’t want to stop,” I say instead. I’m not embarrassed by my virginity. I never gave much thought to sex when all my focus was on building a life better than the one I had growing up. I’m not a hopeless romantic like Kristin and haven’t allowed myself to get close to anyone who might keep me rooted in oneplace. Now I find that I don’t care. Not when life has proven to be this unpredictable.
I just want to feel something—anything other than the piercing helplessness lodged in my chest.
“Rosalie—”
“Please,” I whisper, gripping his hand when he goes to move it. “Please don’t stop. Please…”
“Fuck!” He growls, stroking his thumb over my clit, those eyes locked on mine as he does.
“Oh God,” I cry out, dropping my head to his broad shoulder, my breathing tight and shallow but different somehow than before. This time, I make no effort to steady it. Not even when he yanks my pants and underwear down my thighs and a soft draft blows against my exposed sex.
“Off,” he growls as I step out of my pants seconds before he backs me up against the kitchen counter, and then his mouth is back on mine, kissing me, but his lips are gone before I respond, trailing over the sensitive skin of my neck, licking a path up to my ear and making me shudder when he bites my earlobe. “I’m not drunk,” he rasps into my ear, his breath ragged, sending a shiver through my body. “So tell me, why the fuck can’t I get my bearings?” I gasp when he rocks forward, pressing the ridge on his jeans against my naked sex. “I want to fuck you right where we stand. Bury my cock in your tight little pussy and fuck you so hard the neighbors will hear us.”
“You don’t have neighbors,” I say breathlessly. “Not for miles.”
“Maybe not,” he rasps into my ear, thrusting his hardness against my sex and making me whimper. “But I can still make you scream.”
I gasp when he bends down, grips the back of my knees and lifts me up onto the kitchen counter. My eyes widen in shock when he lifts my feet up onto the counter, then presses my thighsapart. I flush, mortified by the position as he settles down onto a stool, my body tightening with anticipation.
“Don’t,” he says thickly when I start to close my legs. “I want to see you.” I shudder when he turns his head and kisses my inner thigh. “I want to taste you.” My head spins even as my body turns hot and I feel my sex flood with wetness as his hot breath caresses my skin. As his mouth trails higher until I feel his nose brush against my folds. “And I want to hear you scream my name.”
I don’t scream when his tongue sweeps between my folds without warning, but it’s a close call. The world spins for a moment and my vision blurs beneath the flood of sensation racing through my body.
“Beau!” I cry out, falling back against the counter. His mouth is warm against my flesh, his tongue brushing against my clit, teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves until I’m sobbing, overwhelmed.
The word Daddy flashes through my mind, startling me. It fits the way he takes charge, the way he makes me feel safe, cared for. My cheeks heat instantly, and I swallow it down before it can escape.
“Oh God…oh, Beau!” He grips my hips when they begin to shake, sliding that sinful tongue through my intimate core and over my pulsing bud. I sob as he scoops a hand beneath my bottom and pulls me to the edge of the counter and my legs over his shoulders, his hungry mouth driving me to madness, licking through and over my sex, drawing noisily over my clit and sending pleasure through my body.
I thrash on the counter, knocking over the whiskey and the water bottle. The crash is a mere blip in my subconscious. I can hardly think of anything beyond the tongue pressed against me, licking through the wet valley between my thighs.
“Beau!”
I call out his name like a prayer on my lips. I sob, writhing helplessly on the counter as I chase the pleasure he gives me.
“Come for me,” he growls, wrapping his mouth around my clit in hot suction.
This time, I scream. Loud and pitched. The sound bounces off the walls, echoing through the night. The orgasm steals the breath from my lungs, sending my hips thrashing as pleasure shoots through me from head to toe. He doesn’t stop as the climax crashes over me.
I’m panting, trembling like a leaf in winter when he pulls back. My eyes flutter open, and heck, I don’t remember closing them. There is a satisfied look in his eyes when they lock with mine. “You taste so fucking good, little bird,” he says, voice thick and raspy. “I could come just from eating you out and tasting your juices.” He grips my thighs and slides me off the counter and onto his lap, wrapping an arm around my waist when I straddle him. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful.”
“I am?”