Page 20 of Beehive Yourself
“No.”
Mine.
The roar of masculine satisfaction is deafening in my head as I let my gaze rake over her, letting her see the path I want her to take before she reaches that little bundle of nerves.
“Drag your fingers down between your breasts and tease yourself. Show me how you play with your tits when you’re all alone.”
“Like this?” she asks coyly, her touch timid and so unlike her.
“No.” Slowing my thrusts, I hear her groan, squeezing her thighs around me as if she can force me to go faster, but it’s not happening—not until she does what she’s told. “Do it right, or I’ll stop.”
I think she’s going to argue, but with a shuddery breath, her eyelids flutter shut and I watch,mesmerized,as she lets herself go.
As she lets herselffeel.
It’s beautiful and I want to freeze this moment, live in it forever, because I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, and if this is all I have of Hallie McKinley, then I’m going to make the most of it.
“That’s it, baby,” I praise. “Now lower. Show me how good it feels.”
Little gasps and whimpers provide a detailed map of the pleasure she’s experiencing, and I match her speed with the way I thrust and grind against her. It’s a race to the finish as she opens her eyes, the evergreen irises hazy with lust as her lips part and she comes on the sweetest sigh. Her body trembles, her pussy pulsing around my dick, and it’s enough to push me over the edge.
Her name is a strangled sound on my tongue as I thrust into her twice more before collapsing against her.
Fuck.
What the hell was that?
I squeeze my eyes shut hard against that line of thinking because I just can’t right now. What we just did is the kind of thing people describe as the other person imprinting on your soul—I’d bet my last dollar.
“Wow.” She says the word with such reverence that all I can do is press a kiss to her shoulder before leaning up to press one to her lips.
“Yeah,” I agree, the moment so much more than just a quick fuck to get it out of our systems.
But we don’t talk about that.
Any of it.
Easing out of her, I grab a towel and clean myself up before gently doing the same for her. Her smile is tired, sated, as she watches me, the corners of her lips turning up higher when I toss the towel straight into the washing machine.
It’s a problem for later. All of this is.
When I scoop her into my arms, she yelps, clutching onto my shoulders as I carry her through the house.
“What are you doing?”
“I told you I was gonna fuck you downstairs and then do the same thing upstairs.” Shrugging, I add, “Just making good on my promise.”
“You’re ready to go already?” she asks, shock, awe, and trepidation all mixed into one loaded question.
Chuckling, I shake my head as I duck into my room, bypassing the king-size bed and heading straight for the bathroom.
“Not yet.” Setting her gently on the vanity, I cross to the shower and turn on the water. The light blue walls and white trim are classic and fit the modern coastal vibe with the shower a standout in the room. White subway tiles, dual showerheads, and a sheet of glass create an outside feel inside.
“This is beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
“You did this?”
