America's Geekheart (Bro Code #2)(90)

My hips lift, my toes curl, my shoulders arch, a pin in my hair digs into my skull, and I’m chanting incoherently while his mouth explores my pussy until I’m beyond capable of breathing.

And just when I can’t take it anymore, he sucks my clit between his teeth, and everything clenches hard, and I come apart in a starburst of blues and purples and reds, sparks shimmering behind my eyes, Beck’s mouth coaxing me higher and longer while my body shudders out transcendent sensations that rock me from my roots to my toenails, with pleasure radiating so thick and heavy from my clit that I will most definitely never be able to walk again.

I sag against the rumpled sheets as the waves gradually subside, and he peppers kisses to my inner thighs that tickle enough to make aftershocks jolt through my ovaries.

“So fucking gorgeous,” he murmurs, and when he lifts his gaze again, there’s so much heat in his eyes that I almost come a second time just from that giddy feeling of knowing, without a doubt, that he really does think I’m beautiful. And irresistible. And sexy.

Until he suddenly frowns. “Does your hair hurt?”

“Wha…?” Huh. Now that he mentions it. “Oh. Yash. Yesh. Mm.”

He shoves up to sitting, and guides me to do the same. I get an eyeful of the strain in his boxers—holy yes, please—but then he’s behind me, plucking more hairpins out, his erection pressing into my lower back, his lips dropping to my neck between untangling the unholy mess. “Did they put an entire pin factory in here?” he murmurs as half my hair finally falls down my back.

“Mom—massages—buttered me up—no will power,” I murmur.

“I’ll give you massages. And I’ll get you a spa pass. And your own personal massage therapist. Just—fuck, Sarah. Don’t let them do this to you.”

“Beck?”

“Mm?”

“When you talk like that, I want to jump you.”

His hands still in my hair. “Like the good kind of jump, or the taser kind of jump?”

“Mm-hmm,” I murmur, my fingers lifting to rub my nipples.

He laughs into my hair, and then his fingers join mine.

Just one hand.

The other’s still searching out random hairpins.

But he’s quite talented at teasing my body one-handed.

Especially when his hand trails down my belly to tease the curls just over my clit. “Still sensitive?” he murmurs into my neck while he plucks one more hairpin out.

“Touch me,” I reply.

His cock swells harder against my back, and I’m instantly aroused again.

There’s something so powerful about being wanted. And even more so for being wanted for me.

All of me. The good and the bad.

His fingers drift lower, and I groan and let my legs fall open while I drop my head back against him.

“Sarah,” he whispers, so reverently he might as well have whispered I love you.

I twist in his arms and go up on my knees, then grab his cheeks and kiss him.

Hard.

Deep.

Desperate.

I didn’t expect him.

I didn’t ask for him.

But I can’t imagine ever letting him go.

I’ll have to—his life is out there, globetrotting around the world with photographers chasing him, while mine is rooted here—but not tonight.

Tonight, he’s mine.

I straddle him there, with his back against his headboard, and I free his cock from his briefs.

He groans into my mouth as I stroke his hard length, and then he’s fumbling for a condom in the nightstand.

“I want you,” I whisper while I help him roll it on.

His breath is ragged, his eyes dark midnight under heavy lids, his lips parted, and when I sink down on him, taking him deep inside me, we both shudder in relief.

“So fucking perfect,” he grits out.

I clamp my mouth shut, because otherwise, I’ll start chanting I love you, and it’s not something I can take back, and love scares the hell out of me.

But Beck?

Beck doesn’t.

He thrusts up into me, neck straining, his eyes locked on me while he fills me and stretches me and pumps into me and I ride him hard, taking him so deep that he’s hitting that special spot over and over, building that tension, my walls tightening in anticipation, until I’m so, so close.

“Sarah,” he gasps. “I’m—can’t—need—come, Sarah. Come for me.”

He flicks his thumbs over my nipples and, groaning, lets his head fall back. I feel the pulse of his release, and it carries me over the edge too, clenching hard around his spasming cock while he wraps those long, strong arms around me and holds me so tight, buried so deep, connecting so thoroughly that I can’t imagine a time we’ll ever be disconnected.

No matter the miles.

No matter the mountains or oceans between us.

I didn’t even know I wanted him, and now I can’t imagine ever letting him go.

“Sarah,” he gasps again into my shoulder as his body begins to relax, and I wrap my arms around him and hold tight too.

Beck doesn’t just have a piece of me.

He has all of me.

And it’s the scariest and most thrilling feeling I’ve ever known.





Thirty-Six