Page 104 of Hot Damn
His mouth on mine trips a switch I had no idea existed and no desire to turn back off.
My hands find his head, my fingers twisting in his hair, as fire races through my veins. It pulses hot and frenzied, snapping every cell to attention, tightening and tightening and tightening something so deep in my belly it really does feel like I’ll die if he stops.
When he lifts me from the floor, it’s automatic for me to raise my legs, to wrap them around his hips and squeeze so there’s not even air between us.
The hard length of his cock presses against my throbbing clit and I’m helpless to stop from grinding against him.
It’s not enough.
I want to feel his skin on mind.
Feel his heat singe my slick core.
Feel every inch of his hardness inside me, filling me up, taking me over.
With a groan, I pull my mouth from his.
“Beckett.” His name is a plea. A curse. A demand.
“I know,” he murmurs into the curve of my jaw as his mouth moves downward. “Jesus. Cam.”
He shudders against me and I can’t stop myself from demanding more. “Fuck me.”
The sound he makes is guttural, a primitive cry that could be agreement or objection. Whatever it is, it has my fingers clawing at his shirt, scraping at his skin.
“Beckett,” I moan, the need racing through me restricting my breath.
He mumbles something I can’t understand before sealing his mouth to mine once more.
Hot and wet, this kiss is no less frenzied or more practiced. It’s raw and hungry and matches the craving taking me over.
A rock of my hips has us both groaning, the sounds swallowed down. When Beckett matches my actions, thrusts against me, I can only whimper in need.
I want this man inside me.
I want his skin against mine.
I want?—
“Dad? Is Cami okay?”
The shout from below has us yanking apart. Harsh breaths saw in and out of both of us and the lust filled gaze locked on mine delivers relief as well as frustration.
“Shit.” He drops his forehead to mine. “I’m sorry. Give me a second.”
“Dad?” Whitney’s voice is closer.
Beckett clears his throat as he lifts his head and turns to the side and calls out, “Cami’s fine. We’ll be down in a second.”
Breath still ragged, our eyes locked again, we don’t say a word for what feels like an eternity but is probably only a few seconds.
When I unhook my legs, he slowly lowers me to my feet and holds my waist until I’m steady. I have to stifle a groan of disappointment when his hands leave me.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have?—”
I press a hand to his mouth. “Don’t say it.”
He arches an eyebrow.
