Page 83 of Moms of Mayhem
I glanced over my shoulder, the heat in his eyes evident even in the dim light. “You’re seven weeks post-op with a hip held together by sutures and stubbornness.”
He grinned. “So, you’re saying there’s a chance.”
“I’msayingI’d have to write up my own incident report, and that’s not how I want to spend tonight.”
By the time we reached the top, his hands were back on me—sure, steady, hungry. And I was already his for the taking.
We tumbled our way into my bedroom, clothes leaving a trail from the doorway to my bed until I was laid out under him in just my boots, bra, and panties. I held one foot up, and he gripped it by the heel, gently tugging until it slid free. It fell to the floor with a thud, followed by the second one.
“Fuck, you’re stunning,” Beckett said, reaching behind his head to pull off the henley he wore in one swift movement.
I sat up on my elbows, hips almost to the edge of the bed as he stood between my legs, His arms flexed as his hands slowly undid the belt at his waist. After weeks of working out together, I was fully aware of the muscles lining every inch of Beckett’s body. But nothing prepared me for the way the moonlight streaming through my windows hit just right, emphasizing every cut, every line.
“Not so bad yourself.” My voice was rougher than usual, not even kind of hiding how badly I wanted him.
He smirked, his head shaking lightly as his hands slid upmy calves and to my thighs, gently pushing them apart to make room for his hips.
My eyes dropped to his open belt, his jeans sagging just enough to show the waistband of boxer briefs. There was still a faint bruise on his hip, and I knew the surgery scars sat just below. “How’s your hip? Maybe we should stop.”
Beckett shook his head, then lightly slapped the inside of my upper thigh. “You’re not in charge here, Emmy. I’m fine unless I say I’m not.”
My breath came out in a little gasp, and I tried to squeeze my thighs together, but he didn’t let me.
His hands slid across my thighs, then settled on my hips. Between one breath and the next, he lifted me and moved me further back on the bed, making room for himself.
The feel of his shoulders pushing my hips apart, my hips lifting under his hands, was enough to make my head drop back on the mattress. His nose ran over my seam, then his tongue laved over my hip bone, leaving a trail of kisses along my waistband.
“Beckett,” I moaned, my hands sliding through his dark hair, searching for purchase. “Please.”
“Please, what?” His head came up enough for me to see the heat in his blue eyes, shining bright in the dim room. “Tell me what you want, Peach.”
“God, anything.” I sounded desperate, but I didn’t have it in me to be embarrassed when he chuckled at my answer. “All of it.”
He rose to his knees, then climbed over my body, kisses trailing over my stomach and between my breasts. By the time he made it up my neck and to my mouth, I was a puddle of want. Ofneed.
My back arched into the kiss, and he reached behind me,unhooking my bra. I moved my shoulders to slide it free, then flung it across the room, needing to be free of anything keeping his skin off mine.
The chill air in the house had my nipples pebbling instantly, but before goosebumps could erupt over my skin, Beckett’s warm mouth covered one. He sucked gently, his warm hand kneading the other until I gripped his hair again, holding him to me.
My breaths came in short little gasps, warmth pooling in my belly with each passing second until I was on the verge of shaking, I needed him so bad.
“Touch me,” I said, hardly recognizing my own voice.
He released my nipple with a little pop, his head coming up to smile at me. I couldn’t look away from him, hands trailing over the muscled ridges of his broad shoulders, the planes of his back. A hand dropped down between my legs, moving under the hem of my panties until his fingers slid down my center.
I inhaled sharply, my chest rising off the mattress.
“Like this?” He glided his fingers through me, then circling over my apex. Over and over, he did it, the touch just barely enough to satisfy the bone-deep craving I felt. “Is that what you want?”
“More,” I groaned, my fingers digging into the meat of his shoulders.
His lips came down over mine again, and a finger slid inside me. I gasped into his mouth, loving the way it curved upward just right, wiggling against where it felt best. He withdrew his finger, sliding back up over my clit, then down again. Over and over, until I was an absolute mess, needing way more than this.
I must have said that, because suddenly he added anotherfinger. The stretch was more, in the best way, and I squeezed my eyes shut as the wave of ecstasy built inside me.
“Do not stop,” I said between panted breaths, my body buzzing with electricity.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Beckett curled his fingers just right until everything inside of me squeezed. “You’re going to come for me, aren’t you Peach? Show me what I’ve been picturing for weeks. Let me hear you so every time I jack off thinking of you, I know exactly how you sound.”
