by Shey Stahl
No, wait for him to do it.
Dropping to his knees before me, Beau leaned in, his hands on either side of my head holding himself up.
Our eyes caught, locked, waiting, and then he gave me his weight.
When he pressed into my ribs, I let out the breath I’d been holding, my hands shaking as they wrapped around his neck, wanting to hold him so close to me he’d never be able to part.
Coasting his nose along my throat, his skin felt hot, burning mine with each pass, our heartbeats dancing. My head fell back onto the sleeping bag underneath me, my spine curving, and skin burning for his touch.
Each drop of water that slipped over my cheeks, slowly falling from his wet face, washed away my fears. Our stares locked together, blurring the torrent of emotions inside of me. His eyes were like a fantasy, every moment I’d ever dreamed about colliding inside of me, like a stolen wish granted.
“Hey, pretty girl,” he drew out slowly, much like the song he’d been singing. His breath brushed against my skin, burning with his every touch as his fingers trickled down my ribs over my tank top, soft and gentle, teasing. I squirmed, trying to find his eyes in the low-lit tent, my hands shaking as I held onto his back, his breathing just as ragged as my own. I couldn’t believe he was on top of me, in a tent, alone.
“Hey,”
I let myself get lost in him. His scent, the way his concrete arms felt around me, and the way my heart sounded with his chest pressed to mine.
With a low laugh and flushed cheeks, he slowly continued kissing me. I wasn’t sure if I should move or just lay there, but at some point my body relaxed.
Closing my eyes, the night soared, too much to drink, too much to feel. The aching in my stomach was almost too much. It was a needful, distinct fire spreading throughout me, burning, prickling under the surface of my skin.
I wanted him so badly it was hard to remain calm.
Is this really happening?
Beau moved, his erection, still concealed in his jeans, hitting my center. My legs spread automatically, wanting, no, needing to feel the friction.
I looked at him then, eyes hooded and breathing shallow.
“How far are you gonna let me take this?” he whispered in my ear when I frantically began kissing him and trying to get my shirt off at the same time.
Would I let him?
Did he want to?
Oh yeah, he wanted to, but the question remained, would I let him. We talked about it all day, but never actually said we were going to do it.
Jesus, Bentley, you don’t schedule this shit. It just happens.
He bent his head down to kiss my exposed skin. His shoulders squeezed together; taut, tan muscles begged to have my hands running over them.
He was whispering and gentle with me as I panted and pleaded for more, wanting and begging for him to just do it. His hands began to work my shirt up, higher, taking my heart with it.
I wanted him to move his hand, stick it inside of my shorts. Anything to make this connection stronger.
I brought my hands up, running them over his back, feeling the contours of his muscles as I finally answered his question. “As far as you want.”
Dragging his parted lips over my neck, he moved the fabric of my tank top, working his hands over my hips and around my back. The motion, the feeling of his hands on my bare skin was almost too much to take.
Beau groaned, rocking his hips into mine, and I wished like hell our jeans weren’t there so I could have felt him completely.
Damn it, get these clothes off!
Opening my eyes, I focused on his face, watching me. Reaching up, I stroked his cheek. We stared at each other, letting the connection between us soar. I’d never felt as alive as I did right then, the excitement and the fear.
It had been a while, and for that, I was ready and willing to let him do whatever he wanted. That and after his kisses today, I wanted more of him.
“You done this before?”
My stomach flipped and flopped at his words, rising up in my throat. “Yes.”
I wasn’t sure if he believed me, but he went back to kissing me.
It was no wonder Payton was with him all through high school, off and on. I was sure of that when we kissed. His mysterious allure was amplified by his ability to kiss.
Wanting his lips again, I turned my head, the humidity and the dampness inside the tent making my cheek stick to his.
He was kissing my neck, his spiky jaw scratching tender, sunburned skin.
His lips traced my collarbone, a slow deliberate path to my lips, which seemed to take forever.
He was moving, his knees sliding along the ground, creating a zipping sound from denim meeting canvas,
When I finally had his lips back, they were warm and wet, sending a heady sensation straight to the pit of my stomach.
With our mouths never parting, he rose up on his knees, and I heard the clanking of his buckle and his zipper being lowered. Then his hands were on my shorts, unzipping them.
Gasping, he shifted his position, our mouths disconnecting. In only a few movements, my shorts were gone, bringing me back to what this was as he pulled his jeans and boxers down before returning to press his warm, naked body against mine.
The whole situation was overwhelming. Every second his lips were against my skin helped my nerves, but it also made my temperature rise and my passion for him peak even more.
Just when I thought he was going to move forward, he slid down my body again, this time his head between my legs.
Oh shit, really?
And then I thought, what the fuck do I do with my hands? Do I cross them on my chest like this?
No that’s awkward.
Maybe behind my head?
No, umm…shit.
Down by my sides?
That’s not it. Still weird, like I’m a mummy or something.
In his hair?
Yeah. That seems normal.
Shit, he’s looking at me.
“Are you okay?” he asked, smirking, more than likely knowing what was happening inside my head—a whole bunch of nonsense.
“I’m fine…” My voice was shaking, leaving me unsure as to if he even heard me.
Pressing a kiss to the inside of my thigh, he winked. “Don’t be nervous. It’s just me.”
You and “just” don’t belong in the same sentence. Ever.
I had no idea what to expect, because the one experience I had of someone down there was with my gynecologist. Surely this would be different. Running his tongue over my most sensitive nerves, it felt like he was kissing me.
Before long, he was pushing a couple fingers inside me and licking me with just the right motions and the right pressure.
In a very graphic description, I could tell you all kinds of things that might be gross to some and turn others on. Like the fact that I could literally feel myself dripping wetness all the way to my ass. Or that I wondered if I should have shaved a little better. Were my pubic hairs tickling his nose?
You had to admit, it was a justifiable question.
But there was the fact he was doing something very intimate to me. No one else had done this to me but him. There was just something about letting a man downstairs, trusting them in the most intimate position. Strangely enough, I trusted Beau.
With his left arm laid across my stomach, he held me in place, screaming possessiveness that rolled from him, captivating me.
It didn’t take long, and my orgasm, my much needed, months-delayed orgasm, rocked me to the point where I was sure everyone on the lake knew I had just had the best experience of my life.
When I glanced up at him, he crawled up my body, his hand moved from my hair to my cheek, running his fingers down it. “That was sexy.”
I had no actual words.
“You liked that?” Most of his weight shifted to rest against his arm, which was bent near my hip, supporting him.
“Yes.”
He still kissed my body desperately as his impat
ient hands grabbed my hips a little rougher than I expected.
There was no, “Do you want to?” or “Do you have a condom?”, which Beau, thankfully, had. It was just doing and heavy breathing and me freaking out internally. I wondered what he thought of me, wide-eyed and watching his every movement with rapt attention.
There was the briefest of moments, when he had his weight leaned to one side while putting on the condom, I really comprehended what it was we were doing. I wanted to look, check him out, but knew I’d be too obvious, so I stared up at the ceiling.
I just officially met him last night, and now we were having sex. This wasn’t real. I was definitely back to the coma theory because no way. No fucking way could this be happening between me and Beau Ryland.
“Hi,” he said when he returned his weight to me, humor laced in his words, but there was tension rolling from him. As if maybe he was asking himself the same question, were we making some kind of mistake?
I chuckled, my cheeks blazing like the fiery sun. “Hi.”
I could feel him there, at my entrance, pausing like he wasn’t sure. A flash of something crossed his features, and then was gone before I could decipher it. He looked…lost almost.
Dipping his head forward, his mouth nipped at my tender flesh, so unbelievably soothing, yet scary. His body was heavy, but I was in no position to complain. I wanted this too badly.
By the way he shook slightly, I wondered how long it’d been for him. The air seemed light as my shallow breaths against his skin.
When our bodies joined, I gasped as he entered me without warning. There was a moment, right then, where I forgot to breathe, like he was taking my breath from me. It’d been so long, the feeling of him filling me was painful at first, and then immediately replaced with what could only be described as tingles.
Drawing back, he grinned, a gentle grunt falling from his lips, baby blues shining in the night so bright my heart hurt with his beauty.
Beau moved slowly at first, his movements shaky and undecided, neither of us saying anything. I was thankful I had no words.
His smile was so tender; I’d remember it for the rest of my life. “You’re…so pretty, honey.” His hands were in my hair as his lips kissed raindrops from my rosy cheeks. “Relax. It’s just me.” He said again, sensing my nerves with each movement, by the way my body was shaking.
The problem was, he didn’t see the significance behind those simple words.
“I’ve wanted you for so long.” My voice sounded like the wind, ragged “I can’t believe this is happening.”
Stop talking.
I wondered briefly if he understood what I meant. Did he realize he was my first crush, my only crush, and now this? My eyes searched his face but never met his eyes.
He stopped mid-thrust and looked down at me, giving me a glimpse into the vulnerability he had; it was there if I cared to look. He wasn’t some dream guy, he was a real person, with real problems and fears just like everyone else. “What?”
“I want you to fuck me. Like, really fuck me.” My voice went lower, as if what I was saying was something so naughty it couldn’t be said at a normal volume. “If we only have tonight, I don’t want to be able to move tomorrow.”
With a growl, one that surfaced from deep within, shaking me to my core, he asked, “Jesus, are you trying to kill me, Bentley? We have more than tonight.”
Moving in and out as if he knew exactly what I wanted and needed, his heavy kisses gave me everything I was looking for, and then some, as he whispered my name across my neck.
His hands curled around my shoulders and pulled me into his thrusts, which seemed harder each time, my breath expelling on contact.
My mind was lost, which was a good thing. All I had now were sensations that left me weak. Curving into his body, I gripped him as tightly as I could.
Until I had a leg cramp from motherfucking hell. It hurt so badly.
“Ow,” was the only word I managed to get out.
“Shit. Am I hurting you?” He slowed his motions, unsure why I was in pain.
“Fuck.” This isn’t happening. What a fucking loser I am. “No, but I am getting a cramp in my thigh and hip. Shit. Ow. Get off!”
He laughed, shaking his head while moving back a few inches off me. “Well, that’s what I’m trying to do for both of us.”
Great, he’s going to stop all together and realize anything with me is entirely too much work, conversation and sex.
I arched an eyebrow at him touching my bare thigh, his eyes on my legs and not me. “Can you help me out here?” His ever-talented hands roamed my thighs and hips, intent on relaxing me. “Put pressure there and mas—Oh shit.” He had talented hands for sure. “Yeah, that’s good. Right there.”
“You’re wounding me here. You’re supposed to say that while I’m between your thighs, not rubbing out a cramp in your hip.”
“Okay, wise guy,” I waved him forward, “now that you have proven yourself to be an excellent masseuse, get back between my legs.”
“Jeez, you’re bossy when you’re horny.” He reached down, checking the condom.
I could sense that my leg cramp may have put a damper in the romance. He wouldn’t admit to it, but I felt the need to change it up a bit.
I reached up, placing my hand on his chest. “Let me repay for helping me out with my leg cramp.”
Beau didn’t quite understand the meaning behind my words until I moved from in front of him to on my knees. My hands ran up his thighs as I reached for the condom. “Do you have another one of these?”
“Yeah, why?”
I removed it and tossed it aside. “Because I have a favor to repay.”
His eyes lit up. “Fuck yeah.”
If there was any way to excite Beau, it would be seeing my mouth wrapped around him. His eyes dropped to my hands as they glided over him and then on my mouth replacing them.
He was all heavy breaths, dirty whispering, and soft grunts as his hips met the movements of my mouth.
I hadn’t given out many blow jobs before. In fact, I’d only done this one other time, but YouTube was, again, a very informational website.
“Jesus,” he moaned, moving my hair to the side to watch. He used the hand in my hair to guide me, while the other rested on mine on his bare thigh.
“Fuck, you do that so good…just like that, baby…” he moaned and then dropped his head back against the ground and closed his eyes. I learned quickly the more I swirled my tongue and brought him deeper in my mouth, like I was gagging on him and the more I reacted and the more noises he made.
Okay, so gagging myself turns him on. Awesome.
The thought that I was giving Beau Ryland a blow job was electrifying and completely unbelievable. I was pleasuring him in the most intimate way, attached to him in ways I’d never been with anyone else.
Being on my knees provided me the ability to see his face this time, his beautiful contoured face that was on the edge, moments away from pleasurable numbness.
He looked down and his hand gently touched my cheek, curling around the back of my neck. “So fucking pretty.” Hooded eyes focused on me. Thick lashes blinked slowly. “Watching your mouth on me is…” I took him deeper and his voice caught. “My God…” He pulled me away. “You gotta stop or I’m gonna come.”
Placing his hand on my chest, he pushed me back so I was laying down again, before putting on a new condom. If I could have stared at him forever, I would have as I watched him roll on the condom. He made something so simple look insanely hot.
Damn. Just damn.
“Now, where were we?” He smirked, like he was holding a secret all to himself.
I chuckled at his question. “I think it was something like this,” I let my words fall short, as I reached between us and stroked him once.
“Oh, God, you feel so damn good,” Beau mumbled as he slid in, his head falling forward in the process to rest against my shoulder.
Within seconds, I felt him get right back to
that blissful, heart-pounding rhythm before that nice charley horse decided to show itself.
How embarrassing.
“More. I need more,” I demanded, digging my fingers into his shoulder and tilting my head back to give him access to the sweet spot.
“That’s it,” he growled into my neck. “You like to be fucked, don’t you?”
“Yes.” I nodded against his shoulder, biting down as the pleasure already started to peak. “God, yes, Beau!”
“Say it again.”
“What?” I laughed, wrapping my legs around him.
“My name. Scream it for me.” He pulled back, his lips finding mine as he drew me in for a passionate kiss. His tongue lapped, swirling and curling with mine. His kisses, oh, God, his kisses. They could make you come before the sex even started. “Come on.” He thrust into me harder, and then again, slamming me into his movements. “Say it.”
“Conceited much?”
“Don’t make me beg, pretty girl.”
Beg a little.
“Oh, God…Beau!”
“That’s not loud enough,” he hissed, demanding more, slamming into me.
I turned my head, my breath expelling with each movement, screaming in his ear. “BEAU!”
He groaned again, and then laughed, the sound pushing me further over the edge as his mouth moved over my jaw and to my neck.
Why was his laugh such a turn-on?
One hand stayed curled around my shoulders, but his right hand moved and angled my hips as he drove into me, harder this time.
“The moment I saw your long legs, I knew you’d be screaming my name.”
“Why’s that?” My lips were at his ear, kissing along his neck, arching my body into his.
“Because I wanted you to be,” he said, pulling back. Beau looked down at me, his face flushed and determined, and then repeated, “I wanted you to be.”
Everything about it was unbelievable, in the sense it was so much more than I could have imagined.
He smiled, winking down at me. “I’d ask if you could put your leg on my shoulder, but you’d probably kick me in the face.”
I smiled, wanting to punch him before bringing his mouth to mine again.
Savoring the warm sensation of his body moving with mine, the heat between us was creating a sheen of sweat as we slid against one another.
