I lowered myself over her, worked her with my hand as I sucked on the curve of her throat. Unable to stop myself, I rocked my hips, my clothed cock rubbing against her inner thigh.
Her grip on my arm tightened, and she met my thrusts, crying, moaning, telling me I was getting it right. She didn’t hold back. She let me see her. Feel her.
“Yes, yes,yes.” Her neck arched, insides tightened, and she fell. Fully, completely, lost everything. Her inner walls clamped around my fingers, keeping me deep within her, pleasure flooding her swollen channel.
There was nothing like this. Nothing I had ever seen or known. That Bea was able to be so confident, seeking pleasure, not holding back her reaction, was no surprise, but watching her was unmatched.
She had to have known I was hanging by a thread. As soon as her insides slackened, her eyes opened, and she looked at me. “Tell me what you need.”
There was a long list, but the most pressing throbbed between us. My commitment to take things slow had fallen by the wayside, but I would not take us any further, even if I ached to get inside her.
“Can I come on you?”
“Please.” She released my arm, spreading her hand over her thigh. “Right here, baby. Let me feel it.”
I reached down, pulling my cock out of my underwear. I was so hard, ithurtto touch.
“Yes, Tore,” she whispered.
Cupping her throat with one hand, I balanced on the other, guiding myself into the crease of her thigh where her slickness had spread. I thrust gently, controlled, every stroke a test. She was so slick and hot, I had to bite down on my tongue not to spill the second we made contact.
“Jesus, Bea. Holy hell, what you do to me.”
She curved her arm around me and gripped my ass to pull me closer, urging me to go harder. Her moans vibrated against my chest, like she enjoyed this just as much as when I’d been touching her.
“Give it to me,” she cooed. “I want you all over me. Make me messy.”
Her husky, coaxing voice went straight to my head, and I groaned, wedging myself deeper into the cradle of her thigh. I was so close to sliding into her; if I shifted an inch or two, I’d be there.
Not yet.
Not now.
This sweet torture was all I could bear.
“You can’t hide from me,” I gritted out.
“But it’s so fun when you find me.” Lifting her head, she nipped my chin. “Let go.”
There was no resisting her call.
I kissed her hard, messy, desperate. Sliding my hand up her side, I cupped one lush breast and squeezed gently, thumbing over the nipple through the lace.
She wrecked me.
I jerked once, twice, then spilled against her, hot and helpless, my mouth open on her neck as I lost control.
She held me tight as I shuddered through it, completely undone. I couldn’t remember ever coming this hard, and she hadn’t even touched me.
It was her. Us. A culmination of missteps and longing, mistakes and forgiveness, and unabating desire had brought us here.
She laughed, breathless and mischievous, cradling my head to her chest.
I rubbed my face against her breasts then raised my head to meet her gaze. “Are you okay?”
For most, her grin would have been answer enough, but she gave me the words I needed. “I’m not sure I’ve ever been better.”
It was funny. I didn’t often find my feelings aligning with other people’s, but I completely understood what she meant.
