Beautiful Bastard (Beautiful Bastard, #1)(31)

“Tell me what you want,” I whispered against her shoulder.

“I—I don’t know.”

“Look at him,” I said, my fingers moving in and out of her. “You know what you want.”

“I want to feel you inside me.” She didn’t need to ask me twice. I quickly undid my pants and pushed them down my hips, grinding into her ass before I lifted her skirt and gripped her panties in my hands. “Rip them,” she whispered.

I’d never been able to be this raw and primal with anyone before, and it felt so f*cking right with her. I yanked hard and her flimsy panties tore easily. I tossed them to the floor, running my hands along her skin and sliding my fingers down her arms to her hands, where I pressed her palms flat on the table in front of us.

She was a f*cking gorgeous sight: bent at the waist, skirt pushed up over her hips, perfect ass on display. We both moaned as I lined myself up and slid in deep. Bending over, I placed a kiss and another “Shhh” on her back.

More laughter came from outside. Joel was down there. Joel, who was basically a good guy, but who wanted to take her away from me. The image was enough to make me push into her more forcefully.

Her strangled sounds made me smile, and I rewarded her with an increase in tempo. A twisted part of me felt a sense of vindication seeing Chloe muted by what I did to her.

She was gasping, fingers searching for something to hold on to, and my cock so hard inside her, harder every time she tried to make a sound but couldn’t.

Speaking softly against her ear, I asked if she wanted to be f*cked. I asked her if she liked my mouth dirty, if she liked to see me filthy like this, taking her so rough she would bruise.

She stuttered out a yes, and when I moved faster and harder, she begged for more.

The bottles and jars on the table were rattling and tipping over with the force of our movements, but I couldn’t find it in myself to care. Gripping her hair, I pulled her up so her back was against my chest. “Do you think he can make you feel this way?”

I continued to thrust in and out of her, forcing her to look out the window.

I knew I was slipping. My walls were falling around me but I didn’t care. I needed her to think of me tonight as she lay in bed. I wanted her to feel me when she closed her eyes and touched herself, remembering the way I’d f*cked her. My free hand ran up her sides to her breast, cupping it and twisting her nipples.

“No,” she moaned. “Never like this.” Sliding my hand down her side I placed it behind her knee and hitched it up to the table, opening her up wider and allowing my thrusts to deepen.

“Do you feel how perfectly you fit around me?” I groaned into her neck. “You feel so f*cking good. When you go downstairs, I want you to remember this. Remember what you do to me.”

The sensation was becoming too overwhelming and I knew I was getting close. I was beyond desperate. I craved her like a drug, and this feeling consumed my every waking thought. Taking her hand in mine, I laced our fingers and moved them down her body to her clit, both our hands stroking and teasing. I groaned as I felt myself glide in and out of her.

“Do you feel that?” I whispered into her ear, spreading our fingers so they slipped on either side of me.

She turned her head and whimpered into the skin of my neck. It wasn’t enough, and I needed to keep her quiet. Removing my hand from her hair, I gently covered her mouth and placed a kiss against her flushed cheek. She let out a muffled cry, the possible sound of my name, as her body tensed and then tightened all around me.

After her eyes closed and her lips relaxed into a satisfied sigh, I started taking what I needed: faster now, watching in the mirror so I could see how my thrusts made her breasts move.

My climax began to rip through me. Her hand fell from my hair to cover my own mouth and I closed my eyes and let the wave overtake me. My final thrusts were deep and hard as I spilled into her.

I opened my eyes, kissing her palm before removing it from my mouth and laying my forehead against her shoulder. The oblivious voices from below continued to carry up to us. She leaned back into me and we stood there quietly for a few moments.

Slowly, she began to pull away, and I frowned at the loss of contact. I watched as she straightened her skirt, retrieved her bra, and attempted to retie the straps of her top. As I reached down to pull up my pants, I grabbed the torn lace of her underwear, shoving it into my pocket. She was still struggling with her dress and I walked over, brushing her hands away and retying the straps without meeting her gaze.

The room was suddenly too small and we glanced at each other once in an uncomfortable silence. I reached for the knob, wanting to say something, anything, to fix this. How could I ask her to f*ck me and only me, and not expect anything else to change? Even I knew asking for that was likely to earn me a swift kick to the nuts. But the language for what I felt when I saw her with Joel wasn’t crystallizing fast enough. My mind was blank. Frustrated, I opened the door. We both stopped short at the sight before us.

There, standing outside the doorway, arms folded and eyebrow raised knowingly, was Mina.





Eight


The moment he opened the door and we came face-to-face with Mina, I froze.

“What exactly were you two doing in there?” she asked, her eyes moving between the two of us. A recap of all she could have heard flashed through my head, and I felt a burst of heat spread along my skin.