SMITH (The Beckett Boys, Book One)

by Olivia Chase

  She’s a sweet girl who deserves a hell of a lot better than anything you can give her.

  “You don’t want to leave right now,” I said, finally turning around and watching her.

  She was anxiously biting her thumbnail, which I found insanely cute and sexy.

  “I don’t?” she asked, brushing at a strand of loose hair that fell across her forehead.

  “No, you don’t,” I replied, leaning back against the counter now.

  “How do you know what I want?”

  “You came here with me, that’s how. You could’ve stayed at your apartment but you didn’t want to. You wanted to come with me, Caeli.”

  “I was confused.”

  “You’re still confused,” I replied, moving away from the sink and stepping towards her.

  Her cheeks turned a shade of pink as I approached, and her eyes widened. “I’m not…not anymore. You’re so strange,” she said, “and I don’t know if I can trust you.”

  “You can’t,” I said, and now I was so close I could easily touch her.

  Her back was pressed to the wall, and I could see her nipples through her shirt, could see that beautiful alabaster skin and those pouty lips. I’d tasted her before and I needed to taste her again no matter how wrong it was.

  No matter how much it hurt both of us in the long run.

  “What do you want from me?” she whispered.

  “This,” I said, and leaned in, kissing her plush lips, sucking on her responsive tongue.

  She moaned deep in her throat.

  “Admit that you want it too,” I said, breaking away, just barely. Our lips were almost touching. “Admit that you need it as bad as I do.”

  CAELI

  The taste of him still lingered in my mouth as Zack stared at me, his green eyes so piercing that I felt pinned to the wall by his gaze.

  “I’m not going to admit anything,” I said.

  The truth was, I did need him.

  I was losing control of my life, I was spinning and he was responsible for all of it. But I didn’t seem to be able to stop myself from falling.

  “If you don’t admit the truth, I won’t give you what you want, Caeli.”

  His taunting infuriated me. “Fuck you,” I said, starting to move away.

  “Exactly,” he replied, grabbing my hips so tightly that I couldn’t leave.

  “Let go,” I said, pushing at his muscular chest. I felt my pussy clench and throb as I allowed myself to truly appreciate his closeness.

  “Why should I? You don’t really want me to let go of you,” he grinned.

  “I do, actually,” I lied.

  Immediately his hands released their grip on me, and I was disappointed. I never should have started this game.

  I was going to lose every time.

  “If you really want to leave, then go,” he said. “I’d never try and stop you, Caeli.”

  “And don’t say my name anymore as if you know me,” I replied. I was getting angrier still. Somehow I’d backed myself into a corner, pretending to want to leave when the reality was I wanted to stay and be like we were last night.

  Even though it was wrong, I needed it.

  I needed him to take me all over again, no matter how hurt I’d be when he inevitably went away.

  Men like Zack Wild did not stick around, I knew enough to know that much.

  It was as if my heart was already broken and he hadn’t even rejected me yet—but I knew that he would. And soon. It was written in the deep green of his eyes, the knowledge that he couldn’t be contained, would never stay in one place very long.

  Whatever had happened to him, whatever he’d been through in his life, Zack was going to roam and keep moving, never be tied down to one woman, one job, or one city.

  Why did it hurt so badly? Why did I even care where he went after this?

  Why not just enjoy him for what he was? A hot guy who could make my body feel absolutely incredible.

  “You’re still here,” Zack smiled.

  “No, I’m not,” I told him, and then I began walking towards the door, despite myself.

  I was getting angrier and angrier as I went, wondering just what the point of it all was. He played a game with me, made me feel something and then tormented me for it.

  I reached the door and put my hand on the knob. I turned and looked over my shoulder and he wasn’t even watching me go. He was still in the kitchen.

  “Damn you,” I muttered. Hot rage flashed through me. I stomped back towards the kitchen. “You are a jerk!” I yelled, as I went towards the kitchen. “You treat people like they don’t matter! All you do is fight and fuck. And are they even any different, or are both just sports? Conquests?” I said, as I approached the kitchen.

  And then I stopped and stood there, my mouth open again in shock.

  Zack had taken his shirt off and he was standing there, waiting for me. “I told you,” he said, striding forward. “We both want the same thing,” he said. “Stop pretending we don’t.” And then he was grabbing me, and my hands went to his broad, bare chest, my palms sliding up his skin, feeling his heat, caressing the ink of his tattoos.

  His lips pressed into mine and now my hands slid over his shoulders as his hands grabbed the fabric of my shirt and tore at it, and then he just pulled from the collar, ripping the brand new shirt in half with one motion.

  My breasts were revealed. I hadn’t changed into a bra after my shower.

  And yes, it was intentional.

  All of it.

  Zack had been right and I hadn’t allowed myself to realize that until now, until I groaned, my body bucking into his as his hands grasped my flesh, his fingers closing around my tender nipples, teasing me as I cried out louder still.

  And then his head leaned down and he was sucking on them until I couldn’t take it anymore.

  “I need you,” I called out. “Oh God, I need you so fucking bad.”

  “Then prove it,” he said, pulling up straight and looking intently at me.

  “Prove it?”

  “On your knees. Show me how bad you want it. Show me right now.” He stepped back and waited.

  I got on my knees and stared at his bulging crotch, knowing the enormous monstrous organ that awaited me. But I did want him, and despite the fact that I’d only given oral sex to one young man (who’d had a fairly small member and come almost instantaneously), I knew that I was going to do this.

  Right now, just do it. Don’t overthink it.

  My hands went to his button, unsnapping it, and then the zipper. The sound of it unzipping was final, as if I couldn’t take anything back after this. His boxers shown through the opening of his jeans, and the head of his cock was already poking through, large and forceful.

  Zack waited, legs apart, hands at his sides.

  His eyes watched me carefully, hungrily.

  I reached into his boxers and tugged the monster free, feeling its slick hardness, its smooth strength in my hand, and I stroked it curiously.

  He grunted and I could tell he liked it. So I stroked it again, the root pulsating twice in my palm and then he let out still another grunt.

  “Fuck,” he whispered.

  His excitement gave me confidence, and I leaned forward, my butt resting on my heels, knees digging into the unforgiving floor.

  “I’m going to lick your cock,” I told him, feeling silly for saying it. Announcing it. My cheeks flushed as I leaned forward and stroked my tongue over the top of his prick, tasting saltiness and feeling heat. It was smooth and warm and I liked the way it felt.

  He groaned louder and his legs shuddered.

  I stroked his thickness yet again and again, and now my palm was getting wet, sticky from his excitement. I leaned down, saw glistening saliva and white foam on the head of his dick. I began licking in earnest then, stroking my tongue up and down his shaft, then all around his throbbing, engorged helmet.

  “Oh, Jesus that feels fucking amazing,” he let out.

  I put my m
outh over the head and stroked his balls and shaft as his legs shook more forcefully. I could hardly get my mouth around it, but he seemed to like what I was able to do, despite my inability to really take him in.

  And surprisingly, I found that I enjoyed it quite a bit.

  I liked the power of handling him, tasting him, sensing his pleasure and working him into a frenzy.

  My own secret center was vibrating and humming with pleasure, bursts of moisture dripping down my thighs as I sucked his dick.

  God, he was hot. His legs so powerful and strong.

  His belly tensed as I worked my mouth up and down on his cock, his big dick.

  I watched his belly muscles lock and unlock, and then his hands grasped my hair and his hips thrust into me.

  Now he was fucking my mouth, harder and faster.

  I moaned. I was losing control of his body and he was taking control of mine.

  “Damn, I want to come down your throat, but I can’t. Not yet.” He pulled out and stepped away from me.

  “What—“

  His eyes flashed and then he was on top of me, pressing me to the floor and pulling my capris and panties down, tugging them off as my legs spread willingly to allow his hard body to climb on mine.

  The floor was hard on my back, but I didn’t care.

  He strained over me, pulling his pants down further and then his boxers, and he was clean shaven down there, and his balls slapped against my pussy as the shaft of his cock slid up over my clit and his head pushed up almost to my belly.

  I clawed at his chest, he grabbed my hands and pinned them above my head on the floor.

  “You want that dick inside you?” he groaned, his hot breath on my face as I nodded.

  “I’m so close to coming already,” I said, and it was true. The feel of his shaft pressing against my bare mound, so wet and already turned on.

  I could feel him between my legs, and I was naked and he was naked and his body was so amazing.

  He was controlling me, holding me, and it was wrong and I didn’t care.

  His cock slid into me, fucking my pussy slowly as his strong torso collapsed onto me, and our skin was pressed together like glue.

  He slid deeper, deeper, deeper still, and he fucked me all the way, filled me all the way, and I arched my back and cried out.

  I was climaxing already, my body contracting, my pussy tightening around his cock as he moaned too, and I could tell he was struggling to hold back.

  He swiveled his hips and fucked me slowly as I came, not just once, but again and then another shuddering, mind-blowing climax.

  My eyes fluttered, my lips parted.

  He felt so good.

  “You’re soaking wet,” he told me, and it was true.

  The air smelled of sex.

  His body contorted, all muscle and sinew and sweat, and he controlled me, took me, fucked me until I couldn’t see straight.

  I came again.

  I was nearly sobbing, it felt so good.

  He let go of my hands and I grabbed his back, his ribs, as he expanded his chest and filled me again.

  His hips pumped in time and he buried his head into my shoulder and then he told me. “I’m going to come all over that pussy right now.”

  “Yes, come on it.” I cried out as he withdrew his enormous, stiff dick that was absolutely rigid, a vein pulsing as he spurted a thick rope of cum all over my fleshy, slick mound.

  “Damn,” he shouted. He threw his head back, snarling almost, and then as he shot another hot load of cum, he pushed back into my slit, fucking me as he let out another blast.

  He came inside me and then he pulled out and shot some more, slapping his cock’s head against my cum-spattered pussy mound, as a little final spurt issued forth.

  I was soaked with him and with me.

  I was completely spent and filled with sex.

  ***

  Later, I lay in his arms again, and it was better than it had even been the night before.

  I didn’t know how I got here and I didn’t really care. I just knew that I didn’t want this feeling to ever go away. The feeling of being so safe, so warm and protected and…

  Loved?

  My eyes opened a little wider in the darkness of Zack’s bedroom. We were naked, our bodies as close as two bodies could be without him being inside me. And I wouldn’t have minded if he was inside me again right then, truth be told.

  My body never seemed to be able to get enough of this man. I couldn’t fathom what his hold was over me, the physical attraction so strong that I honestly wondered if he was a hypnotist as well as a fighter.

  Whatever he was I just knew that in this moment, in the darkness, his body behind me, cradling me in his arms—I felt happier and more content than I’d ever felt before.

  Maybe there really is something here.

  Of course, I knew better than to let myself start to hope for something more out of this relationship. You couldn’t even call it a real relationship. I knew next to nothing about who Zack Wild was, where he had been or done, what his values were.

  But I couldn’t deny the intense feelings I was experiencing as he held me close, the very real sense I had that I needed him in my life.

  Oh God, that’s because you’re a woman who just had the first good sex of her life, Caeli. This is nothing but hormones, pheromones, all that stuff that makes a woman loopy and convinced that a bad boy with no hope of ever being tamed could ever settle down for even two seconds.

  Zack is going to hurt you so badly, and you’ll have no one to blame for it but yourself.

  I knew it was all true, but I couldn’t resist him.

  When I thought about what he’d done to me, I instantly got wet again, and my nipples stiffened. Feeling his cock against my butt, I pushed back into him.

  He was sleeping but I was already turned on and filled with thoughts of more bad things to come.

  I smiled, knowing that as much as he might be destined to break my heart, there was every indication that he was as excited by me as I was by him. He was losing control in his own way, and I could see and feel his need for my body, just as I needed his.

  So this wasn’t over, not by a long shot.

  That knowledge calmed my nerves a bit, and I found myself slowly drifting into a peaceful sleep.

  ***

  I awoke to the smell of bacon.

  Sitting up in bed, I saw that the light filtering in through Zack’s bedroom window was light and clear. It wasn’t very early—I’d slept in.

  I could hear the sounds of someone cooking. The sounds of metal on metal, popping and crackling, the smell of eggs and bacon, and perhaps toast?

  I sat up in the bed and yawned, stretching. I looked around at Zack’s incredibly neat room. It was very bare, one might call it sparse. There was a hamper in one corner, a television set on the low bureau across the room, a closet with clothes folded on shelves and hanging, looking evenly spaced as though each piece had been arranged diligently.

  There was an acoustic guitar sitting on a stand, a stack of magazines nearby, once again arranged elegantly, purposefully.

  On the dresser to the left, there were a few bottles of cologne lined up in a row and a change bowl.

  The floor was spotless.

  Whatever else Zack was, he definitely wasn’t a slob.

  Strangely, I didn’t feel weird waking up in his apartment, in his bedroom with the sounds and smells of him cooking emanating from the kitchen. In fact, quite the opposite—I felt as though this was exactly where I was supposed to be.

  This is where I belong. With him.

  Don’t talk crazy, Powers.

  I got out of bed and went to the bathroom adjacent to Zack’s bedroom. I hopped into the shower quickly, literally taking five minutes to clean myself, scrub my body and wash my face.

  Then I got out, changed into one of my new outfits—a skirt, sandals, and a simple blouse. As I was finishing up, there was a quick knock on the bathroom door.

  “
Breakfast’s ready,” Zack said. “You coming out soon?”

  “Yeah, just getting dressed!” I called back.

  “Okay, don’t want it to get cold.”

  “I’ll be right out,” I told him, smiling a little as I considered how normal this all seemed. As if we did this every day, Zack waking up and making breakfast.

  A routine that was stable, comfortable, loving.

  Sex and then holding.

  Spending days together, talking and laughing.

  My smile faded as I remembered the sound of Zack’s fist crunching against the Mohawk man’s jaw yesterday, and the way that same man had crumpled and hit the muddy dirt of that backyard. The young men swilling beer and watching the show, paying Zack for his brutal entertainment.

  Was this really a person that I could ever imagine having a normal life with me?

  I was clearly delusional, pretending he was someone else. Just because he was good in bed and cooked a mean steak didn’t make him marriage material.

  I shook my head, reminded myself that this was all temporary, and then exited the bathroom.

  Zack already had the table set and the food was out and waiting for me.

  Next to my plate of scrambled eggs, bacon and wheat toast, was a glass of orange juice. Beside that, a steaming mug of coffee.

  “Full service dining room here,” he said, pulling the chair back for me.

  I grinned, nodding. “You guessed right on how I like my eggs,” I said.

  “I don’t guess,” he said, walking around to his seat and sitting, picking up a fork and digging into his food with gusto.

  “So you just knew the way I like my eggs prepared?”

  He shrugged. “I can read you like a book, Caeli.”

  “Sure you can,” I said, but something about the way he said it felt true, which made me alternately nervous but also kind of satisfied. I liked that he thought about what I wanted and liked, and that he wanted to please me—seemingly.

  “Wow, the eggs are fantastic,” I said, shocked at how good something so simple could taste. “Maybe you should be a chef instead of knocking people out for a living.”

  Zack chewed and chewed, then took a sip of coffee from his mug. He was clean-shaven and wearing a black t-shirt that showed off his muscular form perfectly.