A laugh trips out of Beckham’s mouth. He tips his head to the side, studying me. “You sure liked it last week.”
I blink rapidly as I take a few steadying breaths. My eyes narrow. I know exactly what he’s thinking:He can’t fucking deny it. I had his dick in my ass.
But it’s bothering me. I finally let him go so I can grip the back of my neck with both hands. It’d hit me while I was talking to Echo. I don’twanttojustbe his drunken hookup. I glance at him again, shaking my head.
Before I can formulate words to express what I’m feeling, he steps right into my space because he knows it irritates the fuck out of me when he forces me to acknowledge him. “What’s got you twisted up about it all of a sudden?”
I heave out one breath, then another, before jabbing a finger into his chest. Maybe I’m not fucking ready to discuss it, because I can’t help but lash out. “Don’t try to psychoanalyze me. I’m not your test subject. Lay the fuck off.” He drops his gaze to the finger I’ve still got jammed against him, then ever so slowly, he shifts so his eerily bright-blue eyes are probing mine. Never looking away, he covers my hand, purposefully wrapping his fingers around my fist so the pointer finger I’ve been poking him with remains free. And then? He lifts it to his mouth and slides it deep into the warm wetness. His tongue swirls around, teasing me, and I can’t help myself. My lips part as a lusty bolt of lightning strikes. He sucks and licks, treating my finger as if it were my cock. A reminder, maybe, of other misadventures.Fuuuck.
“You like it when I’m in your head. I know you,” he rasps. “And I know what you want.” Before I can guess what else he’s planning, his free hand shoots downward to palm my growing erection.
My breath gusts out as he firmly strokes me through my jeans. This is the way it always is with him. He touches me, and I don’t know where my fucking head goes. He makes me lose my goddamn mind.
He moans around my finger before letting it go with a sinful, wet pop. “What were you saying?” One brow arches, and his eyes blaze as he grips my dick, squeezing me lightly before going back to the languid, fucking sexy up-and-down movements of his hand.
My lips press together into a tight line. I want to stop him, stop the way this always comes about, but fuck. I also really don’t want to because he makes me feel so fucking good. His lips curve into a smile, and he nips at my chin. Liquid heat shoots through my veins. I groan. Fuck.Yes.I blow out a hard breath as his hands go for the waistband of my jeans, and he makes quick work of the buckle.
I don’t know if he sees the split-second shift in me before I grip him by the neck and my mouth crashes down on his. My tongue doesn’t seek entrance. It demands it, delving inside, hot and devious, stroke after stroke after stroke. Wicked. Sensual. Fiery.
Because this is what he fucking does to me. He whips me up into an unthinking frenzy until I can’t fucking stop myself. Not for any goddamn thing.
“That’s it, Wild. Take everything out on me.” He grasps my hips, rubbing his cock against mine. It sets me off and makes me want to explore all kinds of dirty fucking things with him. It swirls and swirls around in my head until I feel like I’m going to detonate.
Yes.With my heart mercilessly pounding a crazy rhythm in my chest, I clutch him to me and run my hands up and down his broad back, then down to his ass. Holding him to me, I grind against the thick cock that’s hiding behind his pants. The symphony of grunts and moans flying from our lips makes me so goddamn hard. Fuck, it’s good. So. Fucking. Good.
Grasping the back of my neck with both hands, Beckham tips my head so he can get better access as our bodies bump together, every demanding movement eliciting a flow of uncontrolled heat through my body, the kind that could flashover into full-fledged angry flames at any second.
I pull back long enough to gasp out, “You finished my fucking bourbon, you dick.”
“Then drink it from me,” he groans. “Plunder my fucking mouth for it. Steal it back.” Panting, he bites my lower lip, then sucks it into his mouth. That vicious pull, the suction, all of it has me growling in response, and my eyes flash open, finding his. Desire pours through me, and I grip his hips as we writhe together. And I do exactly what he told me to do—I plunder, wanting to taste every bit of him.
I yank him forcefully to me, and he sucks in air, his chest jerking. Staring at him for a second, a growl rips from my throat, and I connect our mouths again, punishing him for making me feel everything I do. My hands slide down his chest, gripping the material of the button-down he’d worn to the fight, and wrench the two halves apart, popping every fucking button in the process. They go flying, the noise of them hitting the hardwood floor like a pepper of gunshots going off.
I’m either all in or all the way out. He knows this. I groan, breathing hard. “Fuck, Beck.” My hands go for my shirt, pull it free, and toss it from us. I’m fuckingin.I want his hot skin on mine.
And Beckham, though definitely drunk, is desperate for more of me, too. He grasps the sides of my bare torso, kissing his way down my chest and tasting every dip and groove of my body. “Fuck. You are chiseled perfection. And these tattoos are such a fucking turn on.” His tongue snakes out to lick over some ink on my lower abdomen. Fuck, yes. One excited breath after another heaves from me as he unfastens the button on my jeans. He trails his tongue along the muscle of V that leads into my pants and rips the zipper down. Hooking my fingers in the waistband, I shove my jeans over my ass and let them drop.
Commando. I seldom wear underwear, and he seems to appreciate this. My erection springs free, and I groan as he grips it and gives me a slow stroke from the base to the head, where I have a frenum piercing. He looks up at me from under hooded eyes. “Your cock is perfect. I’ve been dying to slide my tongue all over it again.”
“Then lose the clothes, Beck, and get the fuck on the bed.” My voice is gruff, deep, and full of the command I know he gets off on.
He moves quickly, shrugging out of the shirt I destroyed and divesting himself of his pants in no time flat. There’s a lustful glint to his gaze as he backs up, crooking his finger at me. The smirk on his face has everything to do with the liquor he drank earlier. I want to think it has to do with wantingme,too, but that remains to be seen.
I stalk forward, and when my hands meet his shoulders, I shove him backward onto the bed. It doesn’t faze him. He beckons to me again. “Get over here, you sexy beast.”
There’s something about the way he talks to me that makes my cock jump every fucking time. But his request doesn’t make me hurry. Not one fucking bit. I take my time, knowing part of what he likes is the tease of this. The lead up. This intense foreplay seems to be our thing. If we have a thing, anyway.
I crawl over him, aligning our dicks as I straddle his hips, and rest my chest on his, bracing my arms on the bed just under his shoulders so I can hold him where I want him. He immediately grasps my head and drags my mouth to his for a hot, wet kiss. I thrust against him, and the feel of his dick—the soft skin, not to mention the pure hardness—rubbing against mine is everything. It does crazy things to my head, the idea of it—Beckham’s most intimate parts touching mine.
I grind down on him as our lips collide over and over, and our tongues slide and explore, wanton and devilish. When we’re together, it feels so right. So fucking good. But I wish I knew—
I must have been distracted by my thoughts because I’m interrupted by Beckham flipping me over without any difficulty. Highly unusual. I’m almost always the aggressor once we get going. The one in control. And he agrees to it. But this time, I note his wicked, still-drunk smile, and it’d seem like he has different plans tonight. So, I’ll let him lead. For a while.
Beckham shifts to my side, scooting down until he’s face-to-dick with me, and he brings one hand up, letting his sinful fingers trail over my flesh, touching me everywhere—my balls, my shaft, and lightly around the other piercings that grace the head of my cock. A magic cross. He grips my balls in his hand, gently squeezing, then tugging. The idea of his hands on me elicits a carnal moan the likes of which I’m not sure I’ve ever heard come out of me. I throw my head back as he takes me in hand and strokes me so good my eyes roll back. I can’t help it, I let out a strangled grunt of pleasure. “Fuuuck.” Threading my fingers through the hair at the crown of his head, I roughly push him back where I want him. “Take my cock. Swallow it.”
The wet warmth of his mouth. The way he flicks his motherfucking tongue at the same time he takes me deep. The suction. Oh, fuck. I might die right here in his bed. His tongue makes a circuit of my piercings, licking around them, toying with them, and my eyes slam shut to the sudden white heat roaring through my body.
“Look at me when my mouth is on you, Wilder.” My eyes pop open at the demand in his tone, but he goes right back to it, using both hand and mouth to drive me right out of my fucking mind. I can hardly control the way my hips buck, driving my cock into the depths, hitting the back of his throat. He doesn’t even have a damn gag reflex. He just takes it.
