Beautiful Beginning(53)

and it burned, spreading like wildfire down between my legs, serving only

to increase the impatient need I felt.

As if sensing how close I was, Bennett pushed back into me, focused now on

getting me there. He was sweaty, his hair damp from exertion, and a drop

fell from his forehead onto my chest, and then another.

“Tell me how good it is,” he said, his voice low and commanding.

“I . . . I . . .”

With a sharp jab of his hips, he thrust harder into me. “Tell me, Chloe,

how good the f*cking is.”

I couldn’t answer, already starting to dissolve. He was wild: rough

touches and punishing thrusts, flipping me on the bed and taking, taking,

taking. My eyes closed, my cheek resting against the cool blankets when his

hands fisted in my hair, forcing my head back as his mouth found my neck,

each labored exhale sending waves of warm breath across my dampened skin.

He kissed along my shoulders, his tongue reaching out to taste me, his

teeth nipping and dragging along my skin. I arched my back, angling my hips

to meet each push of his hips. My arms reached out, hands twisting in the

sheets, my entire body shaking with the need to let go.

But he didn’t give me what I needed. Instead, he teased and took, and took

some more, and then finally, with a determined set to his jaw, and more

desperate need in his eyes than I’d seen in days, leaned in close,

circling over me and giving—giving, giving—me an orgasm so intense it

left me shaking and near tears in his arms. What had built in my belly to a

low, heavy ache exploded up my spine and spilled like liquid heat into my

limbs until my toes were curling. Fuck, it had been so long since I’d felt

that: my body coming around him, trying to draw him in, greedy for every

commanding inch. I worried my heart might smash through my ribs with how

hard it was beating.

The relief in the epiphany—he wouldn’t change, he could only ever be this

greedy, demanding Bastard—was such intense relief that I finally did give

in to my emotions, shaking in his arms, clutching him until I caught my

breath. But when I asked him what he wanted, and he groaned, “I want you

to take over. I want you to wreck me,” I smiled, slowly climbing on top of

him.

He was sweaty, hair dripping onto the pillow beneath him, and muscles

bunched and coiled beneath smooth, tan skin. His eyes saw nothing in the

room but me, flaring hotly at the anticipation of what I’d do. I looked

him over: freshly f*cked hair, blazing hazel eyes, lips so wrecked from my

mouth and skin they were red and chafed. His pulse hammered in his neck,

and I dragged one finger down the sweaty center of his chest, over the

vulnerability of his solar plexus, down to his belly button, and then

followed the trail of hair leading to his cock, still wet from me, still

hard and perfect and practically pulsing for my touch.

“No,” I said, running my hands back up his torso, reveling in the feel of

him. It really wasn’t fair. In a perfect world, Bennett Ryan would be a

manwhore so that more women would get to appreciate this body.

But let’s be honest: Fuck that.

“‘No’?” He repeated, eyes narrowing.

“You wore me out,” I said, shrugging. “I’m tired.”

“Chloe. Put the f*cking dick in your mouth.”

“You’d like that?”

His nostrils flared, hips arching up into me seeming without intention on

his part. “Now, Chloe.”

“Say please.”

Sitting up beneath me abruptly, he growled, “Chloe, please choke on my

dick.”

I burst out laughing, curling into him and sliding my hands into that mess

of sweaty, amazing hair. Leaning forward, I covered his mouth with mine,

sucking and wet, hungry for the taste of him, the feel of his sounds. I

kissed him for making me laugh, for making me scream. I kissed him for

being the only person who truly understood me, for being so impossibly like

me in some ways it was a wonder we ever agreed on anything. I kissed him

for being Bennett Ryan, my Beautiful Bastard.

Against my lips, I felt him smiling, heard the quiet vibration of his

laugh, muffled by my mouth. “I love you,” he said.

Pulling back, I nodded, whispering, “Me, too. I love you a scary amount.”

“Then seriously, Mrs. Ryan,” he said. “Put my dick in your mouth.”





Acknowledgments

It’s surreal to be done writing the Beautiful series less than a year

after we sold it to Gallery. We’re excited to move on to something new,

but it’s bittersweet because we’ve really had the time of our lives

writing these saucy books. We’re going to miss these crazy characters.

We want to begin by thanking everyone who has made the journey with us in

these books—from Beautiful Bastard to Beautiful Beginning—we have had the

most fun doing this with you. Thank you, truly, for buying and reading our