by Carly Bloom
“Which is where, Miss Martin?”
“You know where the labia are, Beau. Surely,” Alice said.
The blush on her cheeks had spread to her chest. And Beau absolutely knew, but he wanted Alice to show him. He wanted to see her pretty fingers on her pretty pink pus—
Vulva.
“I’m afraid you need to show me.”
Alice bit her lip and slowly ran a hand down between her legs to touch her labia. And it was such a fucking rush. It made Beau so hard he thought he might break his damn zipper.
“Oh, I see,” he said, swallowing as Alice’s fingers spread her labia apart.
“And here’s the vaginal opening,” she said, running a finger between her labia to the opening below.
Would she actually dip a finger in? Because he was going to lose it if she did.
“And even though you’ve already stated that you know where it is,” Alice said, running her finger back up. “This is the clitoris.”
Alice rubbed her finger in small circles right next to the little bull’s-eye. Holy shit. This was probably the hottest thing he’d ever seen. And he’d seen some things.
“I usually need a vibrator to climax,” Alice said softly. “Do you want me to get one?”
That was definitely going on his bucket list. But not tonight. He was going to show her that a vibrator wasn’t necessary when he was around. “No, darlin’. I’m going to take care of you.”
He didn’t know how much longer he was going to be able to hold himself back. He needed to taste this woman. And he needed to do it now.
Alice moved her finger, spread her legs wider, and clasped the back of Beau’s neck as he lowered his head. He kissed the inside of her thigh. And even though he was anxious to get to the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, he took his time, enjoying the sensation of Alice’s smooth skin on his lips and tongue.
Her breaths came quickly, like a panting puppy’s, as he kissed his way up to the opening in the crotchless panties. He opened his eyes and saw that she was looking at him. No. Actually, she wasn’t just looking. She was watching.
There was a difference.
He held her gaze as he dragged his tongue up her leg. When he got to the little slit in her panties—which was wide open—he heard her breath hitch. Her eyes widened, and her lips parted in anticipation.
He blew lightly on her skin, making her tremble. Good Lord, she was so responsive. So fucking sensitive. He wanted to strum her like a guitar.
Actually, he wasn’t all that good on a guitar. He was way better at this.
He slowly extended his tongue and gave her clit the lightest, feathery lick.
Alice gasped when she finally felt Beau’s tongue. And even though she wanted to keep watching, because wow, what a freaking turn-on it was to watch Beau, she couldn’t keep her eyes open.
They were closing of their own free will, and her legs were spreading wider, and her back was arching, and her skin was tingly. In other words, she had literally zero self-control.
Beau was in control. And it was exhilarating. She hadn’t realized how heavy self-restraint was. With it gone, she was lighter than air. Losing control was freeing, and she couldn’t imagine feeling this way with anyone other than Beau. She trusted him.
His big, warm hands pressed against her inner thighs, opening her wider and getting her in the position that he wanted her in. And it was totally hot. She was at his mercy. This was very different than masturbating with a vibrator.
Alice could usually achieve orgasm with a vibrator within a matter of a few minutes, but Beau was going to get her there even quicker. She was already tingling and buzzing, and if he didn’t alter what he was doing in some fashion . . .
She didn’t care. This man could do whatever the heck he wanted to her. She was just going to lean back and enjoy the ride, which was a very un-Alice-like thing to do.
The tingling intensified. If the next touch of his tongue produced even a hint of a vaginal contraction, it was all over. She was going to explode.
She was gasping for breath, clawing at the cushions, and curling her toes. In other words, all of the stereotypical orgasm posturing was going on and then . . .
Beau stopped performing the soft fluttery licks.
Was he stopping? What was happening?
She grabbed him by the hair, slightly embarrassed by her desperation, but he was like a boulder. Immovable. He responded by calmly removing her fist from his hair and then effortlessly holding both of her wrists in his big hand.
“I’m in charge. And you’re going to come when I decide it’s time for you to come. Not a second sooner.”
That was a line from the book! And it was a line that had irritated the hell out of Alice’s feminist sensibilities. She’d found it to be completely ridiculous and annoying and downright offensive. Women were in charge of their own orgasms. She’d highlighted it so she could rant about it at book club.
Beau must have read it, because he winked at her. And it turned her into a mass of spineless, thoughtless, and inhibition-less jelly.
Beau delivered two soft licks, a kiss, and a short suckle before dragging his tongue lower. Alice tilted her pelvis to give him better access to . . . She didn’t even know to what. But her body knew. It absolutely knew what it wanted.
And so did Beau. He entered her with his tongue. Repeatedly.
He was literally—she searched for words and the only one she came up with was one she never used—fucking her with his tongue. And he was moaning while doing it, as if he were enjoying it as much as she was.
She wanted to grab his head. To pull him even closer. Or maybe it was to push him away. She didn’t really know. She just wanted to grab him. But she couldn’t because he still held her wrists in his hand and holy guacamole, that was hot. She gave a little yank, just to see if he’d yield.
He squeezed tighter.
Something built deep inside. It swelled and vibrated and Alice had no idea where it was going to go. She literally wanted to explode. “Oh, Beau. I think I’m going to—”
He stopped thrusting and gave one final lick to her clit.
That did it. Her eyes literally rolled back in her head as she climbed higher and higher, reaching for an unattainable crest, before boom! She exploded in wave after wave of pure pleasure. Her vagina clenched and contracted over and over, more intensely than she’d ever imagined it could, until she had the overwhelming sensation that she needed to sob, or possibly belly-laugh, which was something she never did. Beau gently bit the inside of her thigh, and she opened her eyes to see him grinning and looking exceptionally proud of himself.
That was fine. He’d earned it.
She lazily floated down the crest, noticing that sounds and sensations seemed far away, as if after all that stimulation, her body had decided to go numb. And she didn’t mind at all . . .
Beau abruptly lifted his head. “Did you hear that? It sounded like a car door.”
No, she hadn’t heard it. “Maybe it’s Dolly going somewhere.”
“It’s eleven o’clock at night.”
Woof! Gaston started going crazy in the guest room. His collar jingled and then he started to howl, something he only did around her mom, who encouraged it, calling it “singing.”
Oh, no! She slammed her knees shut, smacking Beau’s face in the process. “I think that might be my mom. She’s not supposed to pick up Gaston until tomorrow.”
There was a knock at the door, and since her mom tended to do the knock-and-enter, Alice hopped off the couch and grabbed Beau’s hand. “Come on!” she said, rushing him into her bedroom and closing the door.
“Anybody home?” her mom called out. “We saw your lights on and thought we’d pick up Gaston.”
We? It was both of them? “Hold on,” Alice called, grabbing her jeans off the bed.
Gaston howled from the guest room. “Oh, poor boy!” her mom said. “Why did your sister lock you in the guest room?”
Beau raised an eyebrow at Alice
. “Sister?”
Alice rolled her eyes and slipped a T-shirt over her head. What was Beau thinking? His eyes were twinkling, so something about the situation was clearly amusing to him. But his brow was also creased with concern. “You know, Allie. For a minute there, earlier, I thought you were going to tell me you were a virgin.”
He had to bring this complicated subject up now? While her parents were standing in the living room? She wasn’t opposed to telling Beau about her lack of sexual experience, but now wasn’t the time.
“Are you? A virgin?”
She couldn’t say yes. “No, virginity is a social construct—”
Someone tapped on the bedroom door. “Alice, whose truck is that out front? And whose boots are these?”
Alice put her hand on the doorknob. “Put your shirt on.”
He shrugged with a grin. “I can’t. It’s in the living room, along with my boots and the sheer lacy thing you were wearing.”
Oh God. She looked at the window.
“I’m a twenty-eight-year-old man, Allie. I am not climbing out your window.” Beau stood behind her and gently squeezed her arm. “It’s no big deal, darlin’,” he said softly. “We’re all adults.”
He was absolutely correct, although she didn’t feel very adult at the moment. She grabbed his hand, and with a deep breath, she opened the door. “Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad.”
Her mom’s mouth formed a perfect o and her cheeks turned pink as Beau leaned against the doorframe. “Howdy, folks. How was your trip?”
The reaction her mom was having to seeing Beau Montgomery, shirtless and taking up every inch of the doorway, was apparently hereditary. Because Alice knew just how she felt.
Chapter
Twenty-Five
Alice opened her eyes. And then she shut them, because it was super bright.
Why? Why was it so bright? She opened her eyes again and grabbed her phone off the nightstand. Ugh. It was nearly nine thirty! She must have forgotten to set an alarm.
Don’t freak out—it’s not your Saturday to work.
Sultana was curled up next to her, completely unconcerned.
Alice worked every other Saturday at the library. And today wasn’t her day. Still, she never slept in. On her mornings off, she liked to do chores and laundry and shopping lists and journaling. And yoga and meditation and reading. Anything but sitting around listless.
She got out of bed, stretched, and wondered what Beau was doing. She smiled. After her parents had so rudely barged in on them, Beau had (finally!) put on a shirt, and then they’d all set about the ritual of awkward chitchat.
Goodness, Beau. You’ve grown up.
Alice, do you still meet with those women in Austin? The ones who hate men?
She actually giggled out loud sitting in her bed. Yes, Beau had grown up. And no, actually, she hadn’t met with her group in a while. She’d been busy tutoring and all of the delightful things that apparently went with it.
At some point, the awkwardness had morphed into comfortable, casual conversation. They’d looked at her parents’ photographs of Costa Rica and heard all about their many adventures. It had been . . . easy. Relaxing. Fun.
The yoga mat was rolled up neatly in the corner of the room. Alice eyed it, looked at Sultana, who was snoring softly, and decided yoga could wait. In fact, everything could freaking wait. The world wouldn’t grind to a halt if she stayed in bed for a while, so she leaned back and lazily watched the pretty patterns the sun made as it shone through the lace curtains.
She heard a car pull up. It was probably Dolly. Or maybe it was Mr. Dean, the letter carrier. The rest of the world was busy as usual, but Alice felt as if her little corner had slowed down. And it was nice.
There was a knock on the door. Who the heck could that be? It figured that the one day she decided to sleep in was also the day someone stopped by unexpectedly to catch her at it. Whoever it was, they went from knocking to pressing the doorbell.
Holy guacamole. What was the emergency?
Alice scurried to the living room in her pajamas. She parted the curtains to see Claire standing on her front porch, baby Rosa on her hip. And behind her, a red Porsche pulled up. Carmen was here, too?
Alice opened the door and Claire rushed in. “Wait for me,” Carmen shouted, slamming her car door and jogging up the walk.
“I don’t have much time,” Claire said. “Rosa and I are on our way to open the store.”
“I’m actually not in a hurry,” Carmen said. “Jessica is home from her honeymoon and back at work, so I’m not even going into Chateau Bleu today. That means you don’t have to leave out any juicy details.”
“Details?”
“Oh, please,” Carmen said, heading into Alice’s kitchen. “Beau took you home last night. Also, why don’t I smell coffee?”
“I just woke up,” Alice said, following her friends into the kitchen.
Claire started opening the cabinet doors.
“The coffee is next to the fridge,” Alice said, watching Carmen grab the carafe and fill it with water. “I’m going to go, you know, brush my teeth and use the restroom.”
“Be quick about it,” Claire said. “Chop, chop!”
By the time Alice came back in the room, Carmen was pouring coffee and Claire was scrounging around for spoons. “They’re—”
“Found them!” Claire said, holding up a spoon.
Alice nearly tripped over the baby, who was sitting on the floor having a staring contest with Sultana.
Alice wasn’t used to having people show up unexpectedly. And she definitely wasn’t used to them opening drawers and cabinets and putting their babies on the floor like they owned the place. She sat down at the kitchen table as Carmen poured the coffee.
A huge smile took over her face. These two felt at home in her kitchen. And she loved it.
“First of all,” Claire said, sitting next to Alice. “You don’t have to tell us anything.”
“I didn’t agree to that rule,” Carmen said, taking a seat. “I want to hear every little detail.”
“Well, I don’t think I’m going to give every little detail. It’s personal, you know. Just between me and Beau.”
“Oh my God,” Claire said. “Look at that smile.”
“That is not a virginal smile,” Carmen said. “That is the smile of carnal knowledge.”
Alice laughed. She wasn’t even going to get into the virgin thing with them. There was no point, and besides, it absolutely didn’t matter. “We did not have sexual intercourse.”
The disappointment on the women’s faces was enough to make her start laughing again.
“He did give me a spectacular orgasm though, which was something I didn’t think could happen, because generally speaking, women are in charge of their own—”
“Was it oral?” Carmen asked.
Alice nodded her head shyly.
“You should definitely keep that cowboy,” Claire said.
Alice sighed. “I’m not sure that keeping the cowboy is an option. Our contract expires after the wedding—”
“Wait. There’s an actual contract?” Claire asked.
Carmen and Claire shook their heads as if trying to wrap their minds around it, and Alice had to admit that it sounded kind of silly.
“Listen,” Claire said, reaching out and touching Alice’s hand. “I know you can’t tell us what your agreement with Beau is actually about.”
“And we wouldn’t want you to,” Carmen assured her.
“But, honey,” Claire said. “From where we’re sitting, it doesn’t look like Beau is your fake boyfriend.”
Alice bit her lip. “What does it look like?”
“Like he’s your real one,” Carmen said.
“You don’t dance the way y’all danced because of a contract,” Claire said.
Carmen nodded in agreement. “And you don’t look at someone the way you look at Beau—”
“Or the way he looks at you—” Claire said.
“Because of a
contract,” they said together.
Alice had only had one sip of coffee, but her pulse was racing. Her relationship with Beau certainly didn’t feel fake. And neither did the friendship she had with these women. In fact, her life and relationships had never felt so real.
Rosa crawled over to Claire and started slobbering all over her slacks. Claire picked her up and wiped the drool and cracker crumbs off her chin. “I’ve got to run. We’re late opening up the store. But Alice, I’ve known Beau my whole life. He and Bryce are the closest things I’ve ever had to brothers. If I were you, I’d rip that contract up. You will not find a kinder or sweeter man. Playboy antics aside—and at least some of that is overblown, by the way—Beau is what my mama would call a keeper.”
“But he said he’s not looking for a relationship—”
“And you’ve said the same thing ever since I’ve known you. But what do you want now?”
Beau. She wanted Beau.
Someone else knocked on the door. “Holy guacamole, it’s like Grand Central Station this morning.”
She answered the door and found Brittany, red-eyed and puffy-faced, sniffing on her doorstep.
“Oh no!” Alice said. “What’s wrong?” She was proud of herself for not adding the word now.
“It would take less time to tell you what isn’t wrong,” Brittany said, limping her way into Alice’s living room. “My cousin Margo has appendicitis.”
“Oh dear,” Alice said. “I’m sure she’ll be fine. The mortality rate for appendicitis is extremely low.”
Brittany looked at Alice like she was nuts. “My aunt says she can’t be in the wedding now,” she wailed.
“Oh.”
Brittany threw her hands up. “So, I have an extra groomsman.”
“How . . . tragic?” Claire said.
Brittany became very still, eyeing Alice carefully. “Aren’t you about a size six?”
Dang it. She was a perfect size six.
Beau turned off the coffeepot and washed the plates in the sink. It was ten o’clock, and this morning he’d be following Bryce up to the Rockin’ H to help him settle in. Then he’d be coming back here, to Rancho Cañada Verde, until Wednesday, when he’d head back to help Bryce get the place ready for Brittany’s wedding.
