Southern Seducer: A Best Friends to Lovers Romance

by Jessica Peterson

“It’s all right,” I say, honoring my promise to keep talking. “Just different.”

  Beau’s eyes are on my face, watching my every reaction. He swirls his fingertips over my clit, and immediately, I warm to the sensation.

  “That. I like that.”

  My hips are rolling now, seeking more. I tighten the muscles in my back and my legs, hoping it helps.

  But my orgasm still feels too far out of reach. I’m flatlining, like I’m going the wrong way on an escalator. You keep stepping onto the same stair over and over again, never getting anywhere.

  I close my eyes. Think of Beau. Think of porn. Think of his cock in my mouth.

  Reading my thoughts—my body—Beau sucks on my nipple, quick and hard. He says, “Let me return the favor.”

  My eyes fly open. Keeping a hand on my tit, he ducks south, settling his head between my legs.

  He meets my eyes. Smirks, cocky as hell, gaze determined.

  He licks me. Using the flat of his tongue, he laps at my pussy, focusing on my clit, then dips lower. He dips that tongue inside me, making me gasp.

  My hands move to his shoulders. I love the feel of his breadth here. The muscles, the way they work as he eats me out. Thoroughly.

  It’s the most erotic sight ever. But even though my mind is aroused to the point of eruption, my body is having a hard time catching up. It’s the strangest, most frustrating sensation ever.

  He sucks my clit. I tell him I love it. He does it again. And again.

  He kisses me, licks me, teases me. He goes slow with me, moves fast.

  I can feel the minutes ticking by, my arousal morphing to annoyance, then panic, then embarrassment.

  It’s taking too long. I’m trying too hard.

  “Beau, it’s all right,” I say, taking his face in my hand. “I appreciate what you’re doing, but I don’t think I’m gonna get there tonight. I’m sorry.”

  He shakes his head. “Stop worrying about me. Bel, I could go down on you for a week, and it still wouldn’t be enough. Be patient. Be selfish. I promise I don’t mind.”

  Digging that hand into his hair, I fist it and tug. “You sure?”

  In reply, he lifts my leg and tosses it over his shoulder, then he does it with the other. Gliding his hands underneath my ass, he grabs it and yanks me farther down on the bed, tilting my pelvis so it meets perfectly with his mouth.

  It’s hard at first not to worry. But I close my eyes, and I try.

  I focus on the warm, soft feel of his tongue on my slick flesh. I focus on the way my heart is beating, strong and sure, its familiar rhythm a stake in the ground amidst my swirling uncertainty.

  I focus on me. It is selfish, but it’s lovely, and I can’t help but think that this is how men must feel in bed all the time. Entitled to great oral and better orgasms.

  Beau’s hands keep me rooted in the moment. They knead my ass, spreading my cheeks, his thumbs toying with the crease between them.

  More lewdness.

  Even more when he says, voice all rumbly, “You taste fucking fantastic, honey. Prettiest, best-tasting pussy ever.”

  Oh, I like that. And so does my body. It gives me just the confidence I need. The hunger between my legs winds tighter. Finally.

  “Yes,” I cry, straight out of a bad porno. “Yes.”

  I grab my breast and play with my nipple.

  My pussy clamps down on Beau’s tongue, and the release comes with the force of a forty-foot wave. Loud. Catastrophic.

  For once I’m glad Sugarhill “cottage” is as big as it is. Even with her white-noise machine going, Maisie would definitely hear me at our place back in Charlotte.

  I grab onto Beau’s hair, my thighs shaking. The orgasm rips through me, a succession of smaller and smaller waves.

  At that moment, I’m not an exhausted mother. I’m not lost. I’m a body, alive to sensation and pleasure. I belong to myself, and only to myself, and the sense of freedom this gives me is heady in the extreme.

  I had no idea how much I needed this.

  Beau keeps kissing me, tongue on my clit now as I ride out the orgasm.

  When it’s over, I laugh. Relief pools inside my stomach, cool and quiet. My fingers loosen their chokehold on Beau’s hair. I’m surprised I didn’t tear the damn stuff out from the root.

  Beau grins at me from between my legs, wiggling his brow. His face is covered in lube.

  I grab him and pull him up to me, my legs falling from his shoulders, and wipe his cheeks and mouth with my hand. He’s laughing now, too, our lips tangling, knees and teeth knocking. It’s awkward. Delightful. Hilarious.

  Looping my arms around his neck, I pull him in for a hug, licking what’s left of the lube and my arousal off my own lips.

  “That’s…an interesting flavor,” I say.

  “Are you kidding? It’s you. Best fucking thing I’ve put in my mouth in a while. And that’s saying something because I get to eat some of the greatest food on the planet.”

  I roll my eyes. “You’re gross.”

  “You’re delicious.” He bites down, hard, on my bottom lip. “See? Patience pays off.”

  “Who taught you that?”

  He grins, even as the mirth in his eyes fades. “You. By way of gnocchi schlongs.”

  I laugh, the lightness in my center making me feel high.

  Beau’s eyes flick to my dimple. He covers it with his thumb, pressing down and circling.

  “Drives me nuts,” he murmurs. “I want to bite it.”

  “That a good or a bad thing?”

  “Good.” He trails his lips over it, then actually bites it, making me laugh all over again.

  I think, maybe, the joy of motherhood isn’t always about kids. It’s about you. Us. Mothers, finding strength of spirit and of self so we can let go of the women we think we should be, and become the women we truly are.

  I have never felt more trapped than I do as a mom.

  But when I experience freedom, fleeting and seldom though the occasions may be, it’s all the more intense and genuine.

  Joyful.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Beau

  Sex.

  That’s all this is. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.

  I need to keep this, our encounter, there. On the right side of the hookup scale.

  Bel and I have had the conversation on said scale many times.

  There’s fucking, which is purely physical.

  There’s sex, which is physical with just a dash of emotional connection. Enough to make the sex better, but not enough to fall for someone.

  Then there’s making love. It’s sex at its physical and emotional peak, the stars aligning to enhance the experience to an almost divine degree.

  I can tell by the look in Bel’s eyes we are bordering on dangerous territory here.

  She’s sated. Soft.

  When I reach down to play with her pussy, I can still feel the pulse of her muscles. Distant, but there.

  An orgasm like that doesn’t happen from manual stimulation alone. Annabel is feeling aroused and cared for in every part of her being. Physical. Emotional. Spiritual.

  I could fucking die of happiness, knowing I’ve made her feel this way.

  I’m having a really hard time not feeling that way myself.

  I shouldn’t. If anything, I should take things slow.

  But the adoration I have for this girl is spilling over in my chest. It’s difficult to control.

  She’s covering my hand with her own between her legs, guiding my middle finger inside her. She’s hot and tight. I imagine burying myself inside her and how good she’ll feel.

  The head of my dick nudges her belly, seeking release. I’m rock hard and heavy with need. I don’t think I’ve ever been this turned on.

  The bottom knuckle of my thumb grazes her C-section scar, and her hand goes still.

  “Is it sensitive?” I ask.

  She tucks her head into my shoulder. “Not really. It’s actually kinda numb. So weird,
right? I admit I have a hard time looking at it, much less touching it.”

  “Let me know if I bother it at all.”

  Her hair glides against my skin as she shakes her head. “This is gonna sound funny, but your touch…it’s gentle but also firm but careful but also, like, really confident. It makes me feel confident, too.”

  Lord above.

  “Thank you,” I say, my voice gruff.

  She starts to move our hands again.

  “I’m ready,” she breathes, mouth finding mine. “For you.”

  I groan against her lips. She’s trusting me with her first time since Maisie arrived. I can only imagine how scary it must feel, attempting sex after going through what Bel did.

  But she’s being brave, and she’s trying, and kind of like my confidence makes her more confident, her bravery makes me braver.

  Her trust is sacred to me. I can’t let her down.

  So I kiss her hard and good, then I stand up to grab a condom and the lube. I try not to worry too much about how the hell I’m going to leave her when we’re done.

  Later.

  I’ll deal with the fallout later.

  Right now, I’m going to give my girl what she wants.

  “Lie down on the pillows,” I say, pulling down the duvet to make a cozy nest for her. “I think good old missionary will be our best bet?”

  Bel scoots up to the headboard, back against the pillows. “I think you’re right. We can try it and go from there?”

  “Perfect.”

  I look at her as I roll on the condom. She’s naked and not nearly as self-conscious now as she was when I asked her to undress. Her tits are deliciously full, her nipples a dark, dusky pink. Her stomach and hips form a series of curves that make my cock pulse.

  A voraciousness blooms in the pit of my being. I’ve seen Bel in a bikini before, so I knew she had a hot body. But witnessing her like this, strung out on the taste of my dick, confident and coming and craving more, has my heart beating out of my chest.

  Her green eyes rake over me, almost smug in their satisfaction, and I can’t help but feel a surge of arousal at her obvious enjoyment of my body.

  Hey, I work hard. I take pride in my body and the way I look. A voice in the back of my head whispers that this, right here, is a big part of why I keep in shape. I do it for my head. But I also do it for Annabel. I want to look good for her.

  In this, at least, I can be the guy she deserves.

  I pour more lube into my hand. This time she reaches out, palm up, and I squeeze some onto her hand, too.

  My cock throbs as I watch her spread her legs and lube herself up. Her fingers graze her clit, and her eyes lose focus.

  Her pussy is pink, slick, soft, and I give myself a couple of tugs as I coat the condom with lube, impatient to be inside her. I have to go slow with her, I know. But goddamn, it ain’t gonna be easy holding back.

  When I’m well lubricated, I reach down and draw my first two fingers up her slit, deep and quick. She sucks in a breath, and I bite down on my tongue.

  “Yep, you’re ready.”

  “No shit,” she manages.

  I smile. “There’s my girl.”

  I climb on top of her, her hands curling around my sides. She angles her head up, seeking a kiss, and I give it to her, murmuring, “Keep talking to me, honey. Let me know what hurts. What feels good.”

  She nods. I hold up my hips, and she wordlessly wraps her hand around my dick—gah—and guides me to her center.

  “Spread your legs a little more.”

  “Okay.”

  She does as I tell her. Resting my weight on one arm, I use the other to hike her bent knees up to my hips, one at a time, spreading her even wider.

  The skin on her legs is smooth. I run my palm up her shin, stopping to caress the strong muscles in her thighs.

  I squeeze. She sighs.

  Bel wraps her arms around my neck, rests her forehead against mine, and curls her pelvis just enough to welcome the crown of my dick inside her.

  The heat of her—

  The pressure—

  I growl.

  “More,” she says.

  I push a little bit more inside her. The lube helps me go in easily, but she’s tight as fuck. A fact she is very much aware of. She sucks in a breath, and I feel her body tense.

  My heart tenses, too. I open my eyes. Hers are screwed shut.

  “Aw, honey,” I say, immediately pulling back. “You want me to stop?”

  “No!” She grabs my ass and pushes me back inside her. Keeping her eyes closed, she shakes her head, rolling her forehead against mine. “No. Please, Beau. Please keep going.”

  I brush my lips against her cheek and kiss the tip of her nose. Then I push inside her a little more.

  She wraps her arms around my neck again, and this time, she’s shaking.

  Christ, she’s shaking like a leaf.

  “Bel—”

  “No. I’ll tell you to stop if I need you to. But right now, I want you to keep going.”

  I do as she tells me and sink inside her slowly.

  Oh. So. Slowly, clenching my teeth to keep from thrusting all the way in.

  She’s tight to the point that it kinda hurts me. The pressure is sweet but intense.

  “I feel like I’m losing my virginity all over again,” she says.

  “If I’m being honest, this feels new to me, too.”

  “Jeez, we’re really learning a lot of different things together these days, aren’t we?”

  I grin. “Fly-fishing. First post-baby fuck.”

  The word hangs between us. Fuck.

  She’s thinking exactly what I am. That this is so much more than a fuck, and I’m a coward to say it isn’t.

  I kiss her mouth. I’m sorry, I silently tell her.

  I forgive you, she silently replies, kissing me back.

  I go centimeter by agonizing centimeter until I’ve sunk to the hilt. I stay there for several heartbeats, listening to her breathe, sipping kisses from her lips, nipping her neck.

  I love her the only way I know how. I worship her with my body, surrounding her. Holding her.

  I let her know she is not alone in her pain.

  “How does it feel?” I ask.

  “All right.” Her voice is thin. “Hurts, but not as bad now. I’m adjusting. Just—”

  “I’ll stay right here until you tell me to move.”

  “Look at me.”

  I open my eyes, not realizing I’d closed them. The things I’m feeling, the sensation of being inside Annabel—I guess it was all too much to experience with eyes wide open.

  Or maybe I couldn’t face the reality of our situation, and so I shut my eyes, and shut it out.

  I know I’m tumbling down a very slippery slope when I meet Bel’s eyes. She rolls her hips, guiding me out, then back in. A mini-thrust.

  Her brows come together, features tight. But she does it again. And again. Undeterred and unafraid, she keeps her gaze on mine the whole time.

  Her expression gradually melts from discomfort to pleasure. She grabs my ass and urges me to fuck her deeper, faster, as the lube creates a slick sound between us.

  Eventually, we begin to move in tandem. I deepen my strokes and then deepen them again. Her pussy relaxes around me, welcoming me deeper with every thrust. Her tits bounce, and her mouth falls open.

  My balls tighten as sparks erupt in my core. I’m getting close, but if I focus, I can hold off for a little while longer.

  I want to hold off as long as I can. I don’t know if this is our first time, our best time, or our only time.

  All I know is that I want to give it my all.

  I put a hand on the headboard, another on the bed, and I fuck Bel with everything I’ve got. I grind my pelvis into hers, swiveling my hips at the crest of each thrust. Hitting her clit, I kiss her shoulders, watching her shake and plead.

  She meets me stroke for stroke. Moaning. Good, loud moans that mean she’s not embarrassed.


  I fucking love it.

  Somewhere along the way, we’ve started to sweat. The smell of sex fills the room. Lube is everywhere—all over our hands, the sheets, our groins.

  It’s messy. Animal.

  But the way we watch each other, gazes never wavering, it transcends the physical. The connection between our bodies, our eyes, electrifies the air around us. It buzzes with possibility.

  Emotion.

  It scares the shit out of me, but I couldn’t stop if I tried.

  “Honey,” I pant. “I’m gonna come.”

  Her fingertips rake up my sides. She arches up, pressing her tits into my chest, and then kisses me. Wrapping her arms around me, she creates a cocoon of arms and legs.

  Giving me a safe place to shatter.

  My heart erupts at the same time my dick does. The orgasm rises up to meet me, sudden and strong. We collide. It knocks the wind out of me, and I bury a shout in Bel’s neck. She puts a hand on the back of my head, gently stroking my hair while I come undone.

  Trembling in Annabel’s arms, sweaty and spent, I feel more a man than I have in my entire life.

  We stay like that for a while. Bel holding me. Me holding Bel. Her body is warm and soft, mine warm and hard. A perfect fit.

  I keep telling myself I need to get up. Clean us up and get the fuck out of here. The longer I stay, the blurrier the lines become.

  If only the thought of going home to an empty bed didn’t fill me with dread.

  It’s just so warm here. Cozy.

  If leaving is the right thing to do, then why does staying feel so fucking good?

  After a while, when we’re relaxed and sleepy, Annabel murmurs, “Beau?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I don’t mean to ruin the moment, but you’re kind of crushing me.”

  “Oh shit, I’m sorry.” I lift myself onto my forearms. “I, uh—you make it real easy to forget myself, honey. Here, I’m gonna pull out.”

  She winces as I ease out of her. I head to the bathroom and come back with a warm washcloth, holding it against her.

  “Sore?”

  “I’m gonna be, yeah.”

  My stomach dips. “I’m sorry. I tried to go slow, but—”

  “But I made you forget yourself.” She smiles, and I struggle to breathe when it touches her eyes. “I already told you, I like it when you lose your shit.”