Hard Beat(50)
“Did I do something wrong?”
I snort. Fuck yes. But where do I even begin to explain? You made me want you? You made me worry when I told myself I wasn’t going to put myself in that situation ever again? You f*cking don’t ever listen about not going off on your own? I want you so goddamn bad right now that the desire is so sharp, it’s painful.
The elevator dings, and I stride off the car to her door without looking back to see if she’s following. My body just knows she is.
It takes her a moment to fumble with her bag, get her room key out, and open her door, all the while casting curious glances my way.
“Put the camera down,” I order the minute we’re inside the door and it’s shut.
“What is your problem —?” she asks, but the question is cut off the second the camera strap leaves her hand, my body crashing into hers and pushing her up against the wall behind her. My lips find hers instantly.
It takes her a millisecond for the shock to fade and for her to respond, but once she does, we meet in a savage union of frenzied hands gripping, mouths taking, bodies begging to join in every way possible.
Beaux weaves her fingers in my hair and holds tight as she tears her mouth momentarily from mine. “I thought you were pissed at me.”
I kiss her fiercely, all tongue and teeth and possession, before I respond. “I’m furious. But I want you more.” It’s as true a statement as I’ve ever given, the moment stripping away any superfluous words. “You came back to me.”
“I’ll always come back to you,” she says, her voice breathless but resolute. And a part of me feels a tiny iota of relief from her words before my senses are shaken and upended when a moan falls from her mouth as my hand finds its way down her pants and I use my one foot to knock her legs wider so that I can have better access. I may be completely consumed with her kiss and taken with the possession of her touch, but there is no mistaking her desire as my fingers run over the tight strip of curls. Her gasp fills the space between us as I part her cleft to find her heated and wet for me.
Jesus Christ. If I didn’t want her enough already, feeling her push her hips into my hands makes that want turn into a need that somehow I feared wouldn’t be satisfied anytime soon. We’ve built up to this moment for so long that I know as hard as I try to hold on to control, as much as I try to slow down, every nerve in my body is at such a riotous fever pitch that it’s going to be impossible not to succumb to the urgency.
Then Beaux shocks me back to reality by saying, “I need you in me right now.”
And that’s what I want more than anything, to be buried in her. Yes, my hand is already between the lips of her *, but I need more of her, want all of her, naked and accessible.
“Tanner.” My name leaves her lips as a plea, a moan, and everything in between when she releases her hold on me and moves to help tug her shorts down. But just her shorts aren’t enough. I want all of her clothes off. She must feel the same way because, without a word, we begin an awkward dance toward the bed, an unspoken race to see which of us can get undressed quicker as we cover the few feet of distance. And just as she has her bra off so that we are both completely naked, I grab her from behind and pull her back against my chest.
As desperate as I am to bury myself in her, I also need to slow this down just a bit. Last time she came hard and quick, and as desperate as I am to do the same, I know that this will be our first second time that now holds meaning, and so I don’t want to make it any less than it could be by making it quick. Our labored breathing fills the air as my hands cup her breasts and I scrape the stubble on my chin across the curve of her shoulder and up to her ear. The sound of her sighing out my name is so f*cking hot, it’s an aphrodisiac all in itself.
“Beaux.” Her name is all I say before I lace openmouthed kisses down the line of her neck, tasting salt on my tongue, while her perfume and the smell of her arousal assault my senses in an oddly arousing combination as I work my way to the other side of her neck. “I’ve had so many thoughts about what I was going to do with you once we had sex again. How I was going to slide between your thighs, tease you with my tongue until you were breathless and spent. Make you beg for more… but that game’s on me, isn’t it? Because right now I’m so goddamn primed, I’d beg, borrow, and steal to take you, and I think that’s just what you want. For me to take without asking, because that’s what you’re used to. Well, think again…,” I murmur in her ear, and leave the last word hanging as my hands slide down her abdomen once again to the pleasure between her thighs.
The hitch in her breath and the voluntary lift of one foot onto the bed so that I have better access tell me she feels this too, wants this too. “How do you like it, Beaux? Do you like when I slide my fingers right here, rub a little harder… faster… or do you like when I bury my fingers in your * and stroke right here?”
And I do just that, dip my two fingers inside her so that she tightens around me at the same time as her hands dig into my forearms when the sensations swamp her.
And I love feeling the intense reaction, take pride in knowing I can make her stop everything, and break her concentration with just my touch. Then I curl my fingers and rake them over the interior patch of nerves again as my other hand slides around her waist just in time for her knees to weaken. There is something so intimate about the moment, so real, that it throws me momentarily and causes her to lean back so that my cheek rests against hers.