by Amelia Wilde
“You’re not going to back out again, are you?”
“Fuck no.”
He comes in for another kiss, his strength lighting a live wire all along my body, and I spread my legs to let him stand between them, gasping for breath.
We might not make it back to his place. I might not be able to stand the drive. If he hooks his thumbs in my capris and pulls them down right now, I’m just going to—
The loud slam of a car door jolts me back to reality, but Beck is a little slower to surface. He pulls away lazily, both hands going to his hair.
An old man clears his throat from across the little parking area. His wrinkled face is locked in a scowl, and he glares at us while he shuffles toward the back of his SUV, opening the door to let out a Golden Retriever that looks about as old as the man himself.
I give him a little wave over Beck’s shoulder.
“Humph.” That’s the only greeting he gives me.
As soon as the man and his elderly companion have shuffled off down the trail, we both burst out laughing.
“This is some high school shit,” Beck says, a smile on his lips.
“You know what? It really is. I think we should get—”
“Say no more.”
Then Beck is moving quickly around to the other side of the car, pulling open the driver’s side door, hopping in.
But then there’s the matter of my car.
The window slides downward right next to me. “Sam, get in.”
“My car—”
“Will be here when you get back. This is Lockton, not the big city.”
I don’t debate about it for another moment, I just pull open the door and climb in.
Beck backs carefully out of the parking area and takes the dirt road back to the highway at the maximum possible speed given the numerous potholes. I bounce my foot against the floor, nerves still sparking from the kisses, from the running, from the urgent need to be naked with him somewhere, and soon, before he changes his mind.
We’re three minutes down the highway when he admits that he’s wavering. His voice is low and serious when he speaks, and it makes me want to force him to pull over so I can straddle him right now.
“I don’t want this to be—”
“Damn, Beck. What does a girl have to do to get you to take her home?”
He shoots me a look across the space between us. “You’re right.”
“I know.” I reach across the center console and take his hand, threading my fingers tightly through him. “This isn’t a mistake.”
“No.” He squeezes my hand.
“Leaving my car in that parking lot might be.”
“Only one way to find out.”
It’s all I can do to keep things light until we pull into Beck’s driveway ten minutes later.
“This is your driveway?”
“No, it’s just a decoy house that I use when I pick up women.”
“Ha.”
I get out of the car and give it a long look. Small, tan siding, neatly kept. It looks like the kind of place Beck would live. Picturing him mowing the lawn, raking the leaves, puts a funny ache in my chest.
He gets out and moves toward the front walk. “Are you coming?”
“Not yet.”
“Damn.”
I talk a big game, but standing next to Beck, a nervous shiver makes my shoulders shake. This isn’t like when we used to rush home after school to roll around in his bed for an hour before his mom got back from work. This is his home, his life, and I’m about to step into it for the first time in years.
He must feel it, too, because it takes him a little too long to unlock the front door. When the key engages in the lock, he clears his throat, then opens the door, holding out one arm to usher me in.
“Thank you,” I say, inclining my head like some rich woman in the movies. I immediately feel like an idiot, but there’s no time for that now.
The front hallway is narrow, but not uncomfortably so, and standing on the mat by the front door I can see back to the kitchen. A staircase rises to a second floor right by my left hand, and to the right is a living room with a recliner and a sofa, a red blanket tossed over the back. Aside from a TV nestled in an entertainment center, there isn’t much else in the room.
“How’s the decor?”
I laugh as Beck steps in and closes the door behind us, carefully, then turns the lock with a satisfying click. My heart rockets against my rib cage.
“I don’t know, it’s a little—”
Beck’s hands are on my shoulders, turning me with a gentle power, and then his mouth is on mine, his hands sliding down to my wrists. It’s a softer kiss, but the longer it goes on, the hotter it gets. The tension melts out of my lower back, and I feel myself relaxing into him. This might be a different house, a man with more experience, but he’s still Beck.
And I want him.
I pull away a few inches, thrusting my head back above water. “Where’s the bedroom?”
“Why? Are you in a rush?”
“Yes.”
There’s a flash in Beck’s eyes, and then he bends his knees and scoops me into his arms like I weigh precisely nothing.
He never says a word about where the bedroom is. He just takes the stairs two at a time.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Beckett
Sam is breathing hard when we get to the top of the stairs, though I’m not sure she notices. After all the years at the factory, carrying her in my arms to the second floor doesn’t challenge me in the slightest. It’s about the only silver lining, but at least it fucking exists.
I go left. The master bedroom, with an attached bath, takes up one half of the upstairs. There’s a small bathroom separating the master from the guest bedroom, which I use as more of a storage closet. It’s not like I have many people over to stay, and when I do, they’re not there to sleep.
Neither are we.
I put her down on her feet just inside the threshold, but Sam doesn’t take any time checking out the interior decorating. She rises up on tiptoe to press her lips against mine, catch my bottom lip between her teeth, and give it a possessive tug. Her breasts make more contact with my chest with every breath she takes, but I want more. I want much more, and this clothing bullshit is only getting in my way.
I start with her top, running my fingers underneath the hem of her shirt and pulling upward. At the last moment, she releases her grip on my t-shirt and raises her arms over her head. The tank clings to her skin a little bit, putting up a fight, but I’m more than a match for a fucking exercise top. It comes free and I let the pink fabric fall to the floor.
Sam lets her arms linger above her head for a few long moments, her blue eyes locked deeply onto mine, her sports bra covering the heave of her breasts.
“Damn.” It’s a raw whisper, because the skin that’s exposed to me now is fucking exquisite. I raise my own arms, taking her wrists in my hands, holding her arms up in the air.
“Oh—” It’s only a breath, but it tells me I’m not the one who feels the pulsing charge in the air, in the spaces where our skin meets. She tugs her wrists lightly against my grip, testing, and I hold on firmly. Just like she likes.
I’m working on muscle memory, even though it’s been eight years since I’ve touched her like this. Her hair is a little mussed up from the run, from the kissing, and she tilts her head back, exposing the pale expanse of her throat. I hold her arms over her head and lean down to lick the sheen of salt from a line that runs from her jaw to her collarbone. By the time I get to where I’m going, her hips are swaying side to side, and the sounds she’s making have become deeper and lower.
I release her hands, and she lets them fall slowly to her sides while I hook my thumbs in the waistband of her capris, then bring my mouth to hers, flicking my tongue in and out. She tastes so damn sweet.
I use the pants to steer her toward the bed, then press her backward until she’s lying on her back on my comforter. In an unconscious echo of
the hot moment we just shared, she stretches her arms above her head. Or maybe it’s not unconscious. Either way, it’s sexy as hell.
Planting kisses on her navel, I tug at her pants while I work my way down, and her breasts rise and fall faster. I tug them down slowly, taking my time, and when they’re at her knees she lets out a groan of frustration.
“Too slow?”
“No.” The word comes through gritted teeth, and I get it. I fucking get it. It’s torture and it’s heaven at the same time.
I pull her pants down the rest of the way, over her delicate feet, and toss them to the carpet, my attention rising to her panties.
They’re surprisingly fancy for a hike in the woods.
Within thirty seconds, they’ve joined the rest of her clothes on the floor, and I put a hand on each of her slim ankles, then start to slide them up, inch by smooth, delicious inch. Her hips rise into the air, her ass rising off the comforter.
I stop with my hands inches above her knees, her legs already spreading, giving me a glimpse of the pink folds I’ve missed for so long.
Then I rise from my knees and wrap one arm behind her shoulders, lifting her up to a sitting position.
Sam’s cheeks are pink, her pupils huge and dark. “What are you doing to me, Beck?”
“Getting you naked.”
“You’re taking—”
“I’m savoring the moment. Raise your arms.”
She obeys instantly, her wrists neatly crossed above her head, and she bites her lip as I slide my fingers underneath the band of her sports bra. I take care to navigate it carefully upward and over her head, and then she drops her arms, closing her eyes.
I go to my knees in front of her again, because holy fuck, these breasts are not to be missed.
She moans when I cup them in both of my hands, testing the weight. Her nipples stand out hard, and each gets harder when I take them into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the sensitive flesh. Sam’s hands go to my head, her fingers in my hair, and when I’m done working on her nipples, I know just by the sounds she’s making that she’s going to be soaking wet.
I want to spend the rest of my life working on her breasts, but there are other places I want to go. That I need to go. So I stand up and strip off my clothes, my cock springing free from my boxers, hard and insistent.
Sam’s eyes are open, and she looks me up and down, from head to toe, a seductive smile playing across her lips. She reaches for me, and I don’t waste a fucking second.
She falls back onto the bed, and I climb on over her, moving us both toward the pillows with one movement. I slide the palm of my hand down the length of her and she presses back against me, her legs spreading beneath me, welcoming, begging.
But first…
I dip two fingers between her legs.
Soaked.
Two strokes, and she’s moaning, low and soft, opening herself to me even more. I press the two fingers into her opening, no resistance, and instantly her pussy is clenching around them. And if I remember—
I hook my fingers just so, and Sam cries out, a tremble running through all of her, her legs closing involuntarily.
One orgasm down. Who knows how many to go?
Chapter Twenty-Three
Samantha
Beck doesn’t even need to be fucking me to make me come. With a wicked smile that I only see through the slits of my eyelids, he makes a shape with his fingers that sends me right over the edge, hot release cascading through me. He keeps his fingers inside of me until the tremors have subsided, and then withdraws them so slowly that I can’t help making little noises with every single movement.
He leans down over me and I pull him in, covering his mouth with mine, but I am lost in this sensation and I can’t stay in control, I need him to be the one in control. I part my lips in invitation and his tongue is in my mouth, only briefly, before one hand is on my chin. His grip is so gentle, but so strong, and I open my eyes and look into his green, fiery gaze.
“Please never stop.”
“I’ll never stop.”
It’s two whispered sentences in the middle of sex. I don’t expect him to keep the promise. Right now, it’s enough just to hear the words.
“Please?”
I see in his eyes that he knows—he knows I’m not asking the same question a second time. He knows what I’m asking for.
Beck pulls me upright into a sitting position, trailing hot kisses over the line of my shoulder, and then, with a twist of his strong arms, he pulls me over on top of him just as he falls onto his back in the center of the bed. I get lightheaded for a fleeting instant. He’s so strong now—he didn’t used to be this strong. He was on his way, but never so built that he could move me on this. It sends spikes of desire humming along my veins, heat between my breasts, between my legs.
Like I’ve wanted to several times since I arrived back in Lockton, I straddle him, my wetness pressing against the skin right above the curling hair that frames his hard cock.
His hands slide naturally to my waist, and I put my hands on his chest, dragging my fingernails lightly along his skin, pink marks following. He’s got a darker tan than I’d suspect, and I wonder if he walks in the woods shirtless, or goes swimming in the lake whenever he gets the chance. After a day in a place like Cerberus, I’d want to be in the lake, too, the water moving smoothly over every part of me…
I rock against Beck, and now it’s his turn to stifle a low sound behind his teeth. My instinct is to tease him, to play with him like he’s been playing with me, but the urge between my legs is getting more insistent by the second.
I can’t wait any longer.
Rising on my knees, I move backward until my opening is positioned just above his cock, and then, every single muscle alive and on fire, I lower myself down, taking him all in with one steady movement.
“Oh, my God.” The whisper escapes me as I make contact, my pussy planted firmly against his hipbones. He’s filling me so completely that there’s a little bit of a stretch. He’s so hard, and I’m wrapped so tightly around him that I can feel every ridge of his steely length.
I’ve wanted this for so long. Every fantasy I’ve had for eight years stars him, and now that I have him again, I wonder why I ever let him go. Ever, ever, ever.
We can’t stay locked like this forever—I need more—and so I rise up, bringing myself back down in a familiar rhythm. Beck helps, lifting with his hands with every thrust, and soon I’m under again. I’ve let myself go, and my hips have a mind of their own, swirling and rising and falling and fucking him like we haven’t missed a single day.
That’s exactly what it’s like—as if he came running back to me the moment that he left, as if I took him in my arms the very next day, as if we never stopped being together, as if we never stopped knowing each other, and my heart practically explodes with warmth, with light, with pleasure.
My heart pounds in my chest. Beck is leveraging my weight with his arms, but with my legs spread wide to accommodate him, it’s the kind of hard work that I haven’t been used to for a long time.
And his cock is hitting all the right places. All the right places. So frequently that my hips buck against him in a more irregular beat, that sparks are running through me from pussy to toes, that I’m so close to the edge that I—
Beck takes one hand from my waist and trails it around to the front, then presses his thumb against my clit.
Fireworks.
It’s fireworks behind my closed eyes, and I am filled with a pulsing release that arcs through every cell in my body. Beck has to hold me in place on his cock, even though I’m driving myself down into him with every twist, every swirl. Suddenly it seems like I’m balanced on a precipice and his hands are all that are keeping me from the abyss, but it feels so exactly right that I don’t mind, I’m not afraid. For the first time in years, I don’t feel that little seedling of fear in the pit of my gut that I’ll never experience something like this again, because it’s here, it’s happen
ing now, and it’s Beck, it’s my Beck, and it’s not just me, we’re both crashing into each other like tomorrow will never come, like tomorrow will never matter again.
I fall forward, barely bracing myself against his chest, breathing hard, but Beck is still hard inside of me. This isn’t over, and all it takes is one press of his lips against my collarbone for the flame to reignite.
“Yes.” I whisper it into the curve of his neck, and he launches himself up on one elbow, turning us so that he’s on top, still inside of me.
I never want this to end. I never want this to end, unless, of course, it ends in me falling asleep against his firm muscles, with his arms wrapped around me, holding me tight until I wake up in the morning.
But this isn’t the time for sleep. This is the time—
Beck starts to move against me, and my thoughts are completely derailed, consumed by pleasure so complete it crowds out everything else.
Yes. Yes. Yes.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Beckett
I thrust hard into Sam, and hot damn, she wraps her legs around me and draws me in deeper, even though her arms are shaking, even though her body is trembling, even though I’m not sure how many times I can take her over the edge before she’ll just pass out on my pillows, a gorgeous sexed-out angel in my bedroom.
At least once more.
I move in and out of her, fucking treasuring the slide of her wetness against my cock, the softness of her breasts, the somehow-still-clean scent of her skin. With every thrust, she lets out a soft “oh, oh, oh,” and it’s driving me wild, it’s driving me insane, it’s making me teeter toward the edge myself. I’m on the verge of losing control, but I don’t want to. Even in this moment, I want to stay in charge. I can’t let the moment slip away. I can’t let anything happen.
Sam wriggles underneath me, and I don’t have to ask her what she wants.
I pull out and flip her over onto all fours, and she tilts her head back, her ponytail half out of its holder. She spreads her knees apart and that’s all it takes for me to push back inside of her. She holds herself steady with her fists in my pillows, rocking back against me, meeting me with every movement.
