Page 163 of Carrick
But me? I was trying not to get hard while Bellamy absentmindedly stroked my thigh. At first, I thought it was just comfort. She was tired. Touchy. Grounding herself in something solid. But then her fingers dipped just slightly. Lower. Slower. Deliberate. She didn’t look at me. Didn’t even shift her posture. Just kept watching the movie while her hand slid over the inside of my thigh and traced one slow line up.
My jaw flexed. I leaned toward her. “You’re playing with fire,” I murmured under my breath. Her mouth twitched—barely a smile. “Maybe I like fire,” she whispered back.
I shifted in my seat. Not a lot—just enough to slide my hand behind her back, tracing the hem of her shirt with my thumb. I felt the shiver work through her, subtle but sharp, like static rolling across skin. She didn’t stop watching the screen. Didn’t even flinch when I let my hand dip a little lower. Her breath caught, quiet, almost inaudible beneath the swell of dramatic soundtrack music. But I felt it. The way she stilled. The way her fingers tightened on my leg.
God, she was trying so hard not to react. So I leaned closer. Let my lips brush the shell of her ear. “I told you,” I murmured, voice low and silk-wrapped steel, “you start something with me, you better be prepared to finish it.” Her exhale trembled against my neck. But still, she didn’t move. Didn’t answer. And that was all the permission I needed.
I let my hand dip beneath the waistband of her shorts. Slow. Deliberate. Just enough to let my knuckles graze the soft, heated curve of her hipbone. She stilled. Not in alarm—never that—but in anticipation. That barely-there tremble of restraint, hermuscles taut like coiled wire under my touch. Waiting. Fighting her own reaction like it was a dare.
I dipped lower. Her pulse jumped beneath her skin the second I brushed the lace edge of her panties. I could feel the heat radiating from her, even before I slipped just beneath. And then—God. She was soaked. My fingers slid through her slick heat like a promise, and her thighs clamped down on me in one instinctive, desperate twitch—trapping my hand against her like she hadn’t meant to, but couldn’t stop.
I bit back a groan, jaw clenched as my cock strained against the fly of my jeans. She hadn’t said a single word, and I was already coming apart. Beside me, Bellamy shifted with calculated ease, reaching back with one graceful arm to grab the throw blanket off the top of the couch. Her breath came too steady, too practiced, as she shook it out and casually draped it over our laps—like she was cold. Like she hadn’t just silently begged me to keep going as her legs parted just a fraction more beneath the cover.
Clever fucking girl.
Jax’s voice drifted across the room, calm and clinical as always. “Did anyone else catch the laundering trail embedded in the code on that laptop screen? Cayman Islands. Very sloppy.”
“Jax,” Sully muttered, exasperated, “for the love of all things unholy, let us enjoy our action flick without a lesson in digital crime.”
Maddy laughed under her breath. Bellamy didn’t. She bit her lip—hard enough to leave a mark.
I slid two fingers through her again, slower this time, dragging them through the slick heat between her thighs to circle her clit with just the barest graze.
A whisper of contact. A torment she couldn’t escape.
Her breath hitched hard and sharp through her nose, and her head tipped back against the couch cushion for a fleeting,perfect second. Her lips parted, lashes fluttered shut, and for that suspended moment, she looked like she might actually give in to the pleasure threading through her—like she could pretend she wasn’t two breaths from unraveling in the middle of movie night.
Leaning in, I let my breath graze her cheek as I traced one slow, devastating circle against her. “Still feeling brave?” I murmured.
She didn’t speak, didn’t move, just let her throat flex in quiet restraint as her hips shifted forward—subtle, controlled, unmistakably defiant—pressing herself against my hand with a need that sparked molten through my veins. My vision blurred for half a second from how hard I wanted her.
Fuck me. I could’ve kissed her right then, could’ve dropped to my knees and worshipped every inch without a second thought—if we weren’t surrounded by ex-military operatives who could sense tension like a bloodhound and probably kept a mental scoreboard of who was getting laid. But Bellamy moved on my fingers under that throw blanket like chaos was in her wiring, like reckless pleasure was coded into her skin, and she was designed to fall apart for me and no one else.
I smiled, kissed the corner of her mouth—slow, soft, reverent—and felt the subtle shiver run through her as my fingers slipped inside again, finding that rhythm she craved. Not deep. Not fast. Just enough. Enough to keep her trembling and wet, to keep her perched on the edge of detonation. She shifted beneath the blanket, trying to draw me closer without giving us away, but I felt her thighs tighten around the pressure, felt the jump of her muscles as my thumb circled that tender bundle of nerves I knew would be her undoing. Her hand clutched my thigh in a death grip, strong enough to bruise, but her gaze never left the screen—eyes locked forward like she could will her body into silence through sheer determination.
Leaning in again, I brushed my lips just under her ear, voice husky and low as smoke. “You gonna cum for me right here, sweetheart?”
She shivered. And then, so quietly it barely passed her lips, she whispered, “Don’t you dare stop.”
Jesus. That broke something in me. I curled my fingers and pressed. Her lips parted on a gasp she didn’t let escape. On the screen, a car chase exploded into chaos—tires screaming, engines roaring—and it just barely covered the small, desperate whimper that rose in her throat.
Sliding my free arm behind her, I pulled her close, careful to make it look casual, just a man wrapped around his girl during a movie. Nothing unusual, nothing worth glancing at twice. But Jax had never missed a thing in his life.
“Heart rate spikes,” he said smoothly, eyes still on his screen. “Pupillary dilation. Subtle hip movement. You’re either having a stroke, Bellamy, or Carrick’s hand is under that blanket.”
Everything froze. Bellamy tensed. So did I. The entire room paused for the briefest, sharpest second—until Sully groaned from the floor.
“Oh my God, are you serious? In the middle of movie night?”
Maddy made a noise halfway between disgust and laughter. “You animals couldn’t wait two hours?”
I withdrew my hand slowly, lips twitching as Bellamy yanked the blanket up over her head in mortified silence. And Jax, still not looking up, just shrugged and muttered, “You know I can see body heat signatures on my tablet, right? This isn’t even difficult.”
“Blyad yebat,” Niko muttered from across the couch. “Every damn week it’s something with you two.”
“Careful, Niko,” Jax said, still watching his screen. “You and Maddy currently hold the record for most public indecency infractions on this property. It’s not a close race.”
Bellamy made a noise somewhere between a groan and a growl from behind the blanket. I leaned down and whispered, “Next time, pick a quieter movie.”
