by Scott, Kylie
I delicately wipe my mouth with a linen napkin, trying not to mess up my lipstick any worse than it already is. “I still can’t believe she pulled this together in one day.”
“The combined might of Emma’s and Rachel’s staffs could probably achieve just about anything,” says Penny.
“But could they build Rome?” asks Aaron.
Penny laughs. “Nothing would surprise me. Nothing.”
River gives me a serene smile. “Alice, don’t turn around, but Catherine is sitting at the head table and has you in her sights.”
“Fuck’s sake,” mutters Ethan. He glances over his shoulder and nods at someone before turning back to me with a grim expression. “Might be best to avoid her.”
I nod. Nothing I hadn’t already planned on doing already.
“Emma publicly coming out on your side and choosing you to be bridesmaid is only going to have pissed her off even more,” says Penny.
“She needs to get a hobby.” I want the peanut butter and jelly gourmet donut, but my belly is full. This is a problem. Would it be wrong to wrap it up in a linen napkin and take it home?
“Playing the evil dowager queen and interfering in all of our lives is her hobby,” says Henry, appearing out of nowhere with a grilled cheese in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other. “Welcome to the family.”
I frown. “Thanks, I think.”
“That’s your last drink, Henry.” Ethan tips his chin at the beer. “Understood?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Grandma probably also thinks this celebration is happening too soon after Dad died,” says Ethan with a shrug. “I sympathize a bit there. But life goes on and Emma’s always been prone to spontaneity.”
“How’s school?” I ask Henry.
“It’s still there.”
“Nice to know you haven’t burnt it down yet.”
Beck sets a cocktail in front of me. “Your gimlet made with Downtown Gin, dearest. And please don’t give my younger brother any ideas.”
With a mouth full of food, Henry laughs. Gross. Not something I needed to see.
“Why thank you, kind sir.” I smile at Beck, taking a sip of the drink. Yummy.
“And I only had to fight off two mothers and one father with daughters of marriageable age to return to you hearty and whole.”
“Bravely done.”
“Speaking of supposed maternal figures, Mom rang yesterday,” says Henry, settling into a spare seat. “Wanted to tell me about the old bastard she’s doing and how much money he has and the castle she’s living in. Fuckin’ pathetic.”
Beck frowns. “Language. And don’t talk about your mother like that.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Let’s play nice just the same, okay?”
“People grieve in different ways and not everyone is capable of being alone,” says River wisely.
Henry just shakes his head. “So what room can I have at your place?”
“I think there’s a cupboard in the basement that’s available,” answers Beck.
I grin. “I was thinking he could have that space under the stairs.”
Henry rolls his eyes. “Ha-ha.”
“Any bedroom apart from the master is fine,” says Beck.
“Cool.” Henry bobs his head. “Did you really bring a feral cat home?”
“Princess isn’t feral.” With a hand to his chest, Beck actually appears affronted at the thought. “She’s just temperamental. You have to understand, she’s lived a difficult and tumultuous life. What she needs now is our love, support, and understanding.”
“Along with a rabies shot from what I’ve heard.”
“Henry,” I say warningly. “Be nice about the floof baby.”
Henry snorts.
A throat clears behind me and a familiar voice says, “Ethan, Beck, Henry, your grandmother would like a word with you all.”
Winston. Ugh. He’s as uptight and unhappy as usual in a somber gray suit.
“I’m currently occupied.” Beck meshes his fingers with mine. “But thank Grandma for the invitation.”
Ethan sighs. “C’mon, Henry. Let’s go and say hello. Leave the beer here.”
Henry grumbles, but goes.
“Wonder what that’s about,” says Aaron, relaxing back in his seat with an Old Fashioned. “Actually, nix that, I don’t want to know. Your family drama wears me out. In other news, I talked to that friend who might be a good match for the managerial position in Boulder.”
“Excellent.” Beck perks up. “Tell her to send her résumé over and I’ll give her a call.”
“Will do.”
Selah is here, but keeping her distance. Hooray for small mercies. However, I can’t help noticing the longing looks she’s still casting Beck’s way. Though I note there’s also more than a touch of anger in those glances these days. The girl needs to move on with her life. Whether she’s after closure or continuance, I doubt she’s going to get either from my boyfriend any time soon.
As for Catherine, it doesn’t feel good being at the center of all this drama. The cause of it even. But then it’s not as if I started things. If Beck doesn’t wish to talk to her, then that’s his choice. And I can’t really blame him. In days of yore, our elders were revered for their wisdom. Though when the elder in question is a real piece of work, it’s hard to summon up the necessary respect. Still, I don’t like him being on the outs with her. And for me being at least partly responsible for the situation.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go say hello to Catherine?” I ask him quietly.
“Granny owes you an apology before that’s going to happen.”
As if. “She’s already taken hits to her pride and her bank balance. I think that’ll do.”
He sips his whiskey, watching me over the rim of his glass. “While I realize an admission of guilt is unlikely, you need to understand that Grandma only really respects strength. If I roll over too soon, she’ll see it as a sign that she can keep messing with you. I’m not about to allow that to happen.”
“I’m a big girl, Beck. I can stand up for myself. And she is your family. She’s also old.”
“Old enough to know better.” He lifts my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles. “You’re tenderhearted, brave, and ridiculously sexy, beloved. But even family need to respect boundaries. Let’s talk about something else.”
“Okay.” At least I tried. I’m not going to let her ruin our night. And what a night it turns out to be.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“How drunk are you?”
Back at home in our bedroom after midnight, Beck dips me. We’re slow dancing to Lana del Rey and there are so few perfect moments in life. But this is one of them. We managed not to make out in the back of the Bentley all the way home. Got to say, having Smith to drive us sure came in handy tonight. No one had to count their drinks or abstain altogether. However, convincing Beck to keep his hands out from under the long skirt of my dress on the drive back was an enjoyable effort. His sly smile and dark gaze affect my head and my hormones both.
“Just buzzed,” I say. “How about you?”
“High on life and you.”
I smile. “You say the sweetest things.”
“And they’re all true.”
With the Louboutin ankle strap leather high-heel sandals gone due to my sore feet, I need to reach up on tippy toes to kiss him. Not a chore given the reward. His mouth is warm and welcoming. His lips opening over mine and tongue taking possession. And I give, because giving to him is sublime. With my arms wrapped around his neck and him holding me to him I never want it to end. I could happily kiss him forever. It’s hot and delicious. My head is giddy and my heart long since lost.
His mouth moves over my jawline, down to my neck, teeth biting just so. And he’s hard against the soft of my belly making it all the more exciting. Sometimes romance just does include a hard-on digging into you and this is one of those occasions. The state of my panties is a given. My pussy’s wet
and wanting, more than ready for this to be done.
And the zip in the side of my dress goes down, the material easing around my breasts and middle, down to near my hips.
“Beck?”
“Do you want to?” he asks in a low voice.
“Yes.” The man has no damn idea how much. Or maybe he does. We’ve both been waiting for just this moment for a while now. I pull back, breathing harder. “Let me just…I need a minute in the bathroom to get out of this.”
“Can I help?”
How to explain the strictures of structural underwear and how truly un-erotic it is to this man. If I even attempted it, we could be here all night. I hold up a hand. “Just give me a minute.”
“Okay.”
In the bathroom mirror, my face is flushed, my lipstick worn away. Hair wild from his hands and nipples standing to attention. Holy shit. We’re really doing this. We’re actually finally having sex. Thank fuck. Seriously.
Without the seamstress and Selah, it’s a bit of a job to wriggle out of the dress. To wrestle with the Spanx. However, Rachel and Emma didn’t stint on the nice stuff. My panties are Fleur du Mal black lace with a matching demi-bra. Quick check: My breath seems okay and my pits don’t smell. But a spritz of perfume after a long day never hurt anybody who didn’t have allergies.
And I’m revealed, all of my lumps and bumps. It’s fine. So maybe I pause for a moment, but fuck it.
Beck sits on the end of the bed, jacket and bowtie gone along with his shoes and socks. He looks good disheveled, undoing the cuffs at his wrists. When he sees me his gaze gets stuck, his jaw goes rigid. It’s like he’s keeping a tight rein on himself. “Beloved.”
“Hi.”
The cufflinks spill onto the floor as he holds out a hand. “Come here.”
No idea what he intends, but I know what I want. I straddle him, breasts brushing against the fabric of his shirt, hands sitting on his shoulders. His grip on my hips is firm, the expression in his eyes full of lust and adoration. It’s a good feeling, to be safe and wanted this way. I don’t think I’ve ever had it quite like this before.
He gives to me too. That’s what makes this work.
I’m shaking for some reason. I don’t know why. My fingers slip over the buttons on his shirt, taking longer to get them undone. Mostly patient, he waits.
“Are you sure about this?” I ask.
“Yes.” At long last, I push the shirt off his broad shoulders, revealing the smooth skin beneath. “Are you, Alice?”
I nod.
Unlike me, he doesn’t fumble. The clasp on my bra is undone in a moment. The man has skills. “Mouth.”
I do as told, kissing him hard, my hands cradling his face. His firm lips move beneath mine, his teeth nipping my bottom lip. Like a tease, the straps of my bra are slowly drawn down my arms. I have to let him go to get fully rid of the thing. Now we’re both bare from the waist up and it feels so good. Skin to skin is amazing. He takes my breasts in his hands, fingers kneading my flesh and taking their weight. All the while, his hard cock is right damn there. To ask me to sit still would be impossible. Not when I could be writhing and rubbing myself against him, turning us both on.
My whole body is restless with wanting, primed from needing. And Beck’s heart beats so damn hard against the palm of my hand. I’m definitely not alone in this.
“More,” he says.
Our kisses get longer and wetter, our mouths battling it out. Only we’re both winning. I pull on his hair and he growls. The man actually fucking growls. Hotter than hell. Then he grabs me by the waist and rises, turning and tossing me onto the mattress.
“Up,” he orders with a jut of his chin.
I hustle my ass up the mattress until I can rest my head on a pillow. And the show he’s putting on meanwhile. I don’t even blink. Gaze on me, he undoes the buckle of his belt, the button and zip on his trousers. Down they go, to rest on the floor. Next his thumbs dig into the waistband of his black boxer briefs, tugging them down.
I would pause here to write odes to the magnificence of his dick, but there’s no time for that. Or words, apparently. My head is sex scrambled. Pheromones have me undone. Large, yeah, and wow are about the best I’ve got. Along with gimme, of course.
Like some big animal he climbs on after me. My new expensive lingerie is dragged down my legs and sent sailing to join the other accumulated detritus on the floor. Mrs. Francis would be appalled.
Heated gaze on my face, he grips my calves and spreads my legs wide, making room for himself. Then he’s there. He’s right fucking there, cock lying against my wet cunt. His hips pin mine against the mattress. But the rest of his body hovers above me as he takes his weight on one elbow.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he says.
“Yes.”
His pelvis shifts back and forth just a little, sliding his length against the lips of my sex. I swear my eyes roll back in my head from the sensation. Not saying I could come from it alone. But it’s a hell of a promising start.
“Condom,” he says. “Yes or no?”
I frown in confusion. “Condom?”
“It’s your choice.”
“Ah, well, we’re both safe and have done all the tests and everything.”
“So that’s a definite no?” he asks, clarifying.
“Yes. No.” I blink. “Um. What I mean is, that’s a no to the condom question. Not that I—”
With nil preamble (apart from everything we’ve done since we met), he reaches down, grabs his dick, lines it up with my sex, and rams the fucking thing into me. Just shoves it in. No finesse at all. The air is pushed from my lungs, my body suddenly full to bursting. All I can do is grab his shoulders and hang on. And it’s so good, having all that heat and hardness inside of me, stretching me just so. To finally be one with him. But still…
“Jesus, Beck.”
“I may be a little overexcited.” He rests his forehead against mine, face tortured. “Just give me a minute. I swear I know how to do this.”
I’d laugh, but there’s no air. He’s so raw and exposed right now. We both are. I raise my chin, press my lips to his. I also wrap my legs around the man on the off chance he tries to get away. Then I kiss him some more, sweet and soft. “Take all the time you need.”
We’re both already panting and sweating. He takes the kiss deeper, angling his head, rubbing his tongue against mine. And I like that. While he holds his weight on one arm, the other hand slides down my body, fingers just trailing over my skin. Right up until he grabs my thigh and stirs that big cock inside of me. Holy fucking shit.
He groans. “You feel so damn good.”
“So do you.”
Then he really starts to move, working himself in and out of me. Pulling that thick length way back until the head of his cock teases the sensitive tissue near my entrance, before gliding back in. He’s right, I’m ridiculously wet. And getting wetter all the time. It’s the feel of him, the scent of him, and the sound of him whispering dirty things in my ear. Like how he’s been needing to fuck me since the first time he saw me. Like how I’m going to be on my back in his bed every day from now on. I heartily approve of both of these things.
With every motion, his chest brushes against my breasts, making my nipples ache. He grinds the base of his cock against my clit and I gasp. No doubt, he knows how to do this. Not that I ever really doubted. He goes harder and faster and everything just gets better. Especially when he reaches down between us, rubbing all around my swollen clit. My fingernails dig into his back. I just need something to hold on to, something to keep me grounded. Because my blood is running hot, everything low in my body tense and tight. I’m right on the edge.
“Fuck. Beck.”
“C’mon,” he coaxes.
It’s like lightning, the sensation he sends crashing through me. Electric and blinding, shocking and real. You could even say it was heaven sent, delivered via Beck. It just feels that good. My mind is blown, my body shaking. He labors on top of me, slamm
ing his cock in once, twice more before coming hard. Then we’re two sweaty skins plastered together thanks to body fluids. The weight of him heavy and wanted.
I wrap my arms around him since no other limbs are currently working. Just lie there and wait for my pussy to stop quaking. For some kind of cognizant thought process to kick in. Anytime now. No rush.
Which is when Beck draws his still semi-hard cock out of me and collapses at my side. It’s quite dramatic. Nice to know I’m not the only one affected.
“Are you still alive?” I ask.
“No.”
“That’s sad.”
“You killed me.”
I roll onto my side and rise up on one elbow. “Oh. Sorry.”
His glistening cock lies against his hip. It’s quite the impressive appendage. “Stop staring at my dick, you siren. It’s needs a minute, then we’ll go again.”
“Okay.”
He winces, lifting one shoulder. “I think you Wolverine’d my back.”
“A couple of scratches won’t kill you. Stop being such a baby.”
“Come here,” he says somewhat grumpily. “I want to cuddle.”
“All right.” I smile, fitting myself against him, laying my head on his chest. His arm comes around me and everything is perfect. It’s considered the height of romance and best etiquette to yawn so hard your jaw cracks after great sex. Just ask me. “Sorry. It was a big day.”
“Close your eyes, beloved. You’ll need your stamina for later.”
He’s a smart man. So I do what the smart sexy man says. And my sleep is both deep and peaceful.
I wake up aching. Skilled fingers pinching my nipples, teeth embedded in my shoulder. The boy is an animal in bed. He draws an invisible line down my body, from my breasts to my pussy. Teasing and thrilling me along the way. My skin is all goose pimples. The heat of his hard body at my back is such a turn-on. No doubt about it, we should spend as much time skin to skin as possible. It’s going to take a while for me to get my fix.
“Beck.”
“Hmm?”
“What are you up to?”
