Page 62 of One Last Encore

Their gazes locked, and the sight of her flushed, trembling made something inside him break open. Her pupils were wide and glassy, her cheeks blooming pink, her lips parted and trembling. She was breathtaking.

"You want me," Beck said, his voice rough but tender. "You ache for me, just like I ache for you." Her breathing hitched, her lashes fluttering but she didn't look away.

He slid his hands over her, deliberately catching her hardened nipples through the thin fabric of her leotard. She gasped, arching back into him instinctively, her moan a sweet, broken sound.

He dragged his hands lower, over her belly, down to the tops of her thighs. His fingertips tracing the seam of her leotard. She tensed, breath catching.

He smirked against her neck, his mouth grazing her skin as his fingers drifted lower, skimming over the tops of her thighs. Then, without warning, he hooked his fingers into the thin fabric of her tights and tore.

The sharp tear cracked through the studio like a whip, brutal and final. Ingrid gasped, the sound pure and desperate, all need and no disguise, as Beck dragged the ruined fabric higher, shredding it up both legs.

He watched in the mirror as he pulled her leotard aside, exposing her dripping heat andfuck, she was soaked. Hot, slick, so fucking ready for him. He groaned low in his throat, almost overwhelmed.

"You see that?" he rasped, meeting her wrecked gaze in the mirror. "You see what a mess you are for me?"

He slid his fingers between her legs, groaning low in his chest when he felt just how wet she was. He found her clit and circled it slowly, torturously light, savoring every little twitch of her hips.

She moaned, helpless and wild, grinding against his hand without even thinking. Beck rewarded her with a slow push of his finger inside her, savoring the way she jerked and whimpered at the stretch.

"That’s it," he coaxed, voice low and tender. "You feel that, Baby? Feel how easy you take me?"

He started moving his finger, slow and rhythmic. He watched her in the mirror, how her lashes fluttered, how her mouth parted in helpless little gasps, how her thighs trembled.

When she whimpered, silently begging, he rewarded her, slipping in a second finger, stretching her, filling her.

"So fucking good for me," he whispered, curling his fingers inside her, hitting that perfect spot that made her knees buckle.

Ingrid bit her lip hard, her hands flattening against the mirror for balance. Her reflection was consumed, desperate,his.

He curled his fingers, grinding his palm hard against her clit, merciless.

"So fucking tight," Beck groaned as he fucked her open with his fingers, steady and deep. "You're gonna come for me. Right here. I want you to watch yourself break for me."

She sobbed out a soft "please," her forehead pressing against the glass. Her hips moved restlessly, grinding against his hand, pressing her soaked heat harder into his palm, chasing the rhythm of his thrusts.

"Keep watching," he murmured darkly, thrusting his fingers into her slow and deep, making her reflection jolt with every roll of his hand. "Don't you dare look away."

She whimpered, her wide, glassy eyes finding their reflections, flushed and wild. She rocked her hips back in greedy little circles, grinding her clit against the heel of his palm with a needy whimper. He thrust harder, faster, his fingers dragging in deep, relentless strokes until she shattered. She gasped, her whole body locking up around his fingers, her reflection collapsing against the mirror.

But Beck didn’t stop. He kept his fingers buried deep inside her, fucking her through every wave, coaxing every last broken cry from her lips.

"That's my girl," Beck whispered against her burning skin. "So fucking perfect."

She shuddered and sagged, her body trembling violently in his arms. Beck slid his fingers free, his hand glistening with her slick release, and lifted them to his mouth, sucking them clean, tasting every drop while keeping his eyes locked on her reflection.

She was still panting, still shaking, her thighs slick with arousal. And he wasn’t even close to being finished. She fumbled to pull her leotard back into place, hands trembling. He chuckled, low and dark.

"You think we’re done?" Beck murmured against her flushed skin, his teeth grazing her shoulder before biting down, just enough to make her gasp and arch into his hard cock. He bit back a groan. "Princess, we’re just getting started. I haven’t even tasted you yet."

Her breath hitched sharply. Wide, dazed eyes met his in the mirror, still trembling. She pushed off her hands and turned to face him, her back pressing against the cool glass.

"Are you crazy?" she whispered, her gaze trailing hungrily down his face.

"Maybe," he said, a wicked grin flashing across his mouth, and then he was on her, claiming her lips in a kiss that was all teeth and heat.

He grabbed her thighs and lifted her. She wrapped around him, clinging, her soft, hot core grinding shamelessly against his cock through his jeans. The friction had his eyes rolling back, hips grinding helplessly as heat coiled low and tight. He was seconds from coming in his pants like a goddamn fourteen-year-old, just from the feel of her against him.

God, he had never wanted anyone this badly. Never been this close to losing it from nothing but pressure and need.

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