Page 66 of Hopeless
I shove in hard a few times, getting off on the throaty noises she makes. Then I pull out, sliding back and forth over her clit. It only takes a few times until she shatters.
“Fuck! Beau!” She yanks my hair, and her teeth clamp down on my neck. The soaked insides of her thighs spread as she tumbles down on top of me, chest to chest. Her knees give out and she loses purchase on my sheets, slim legs slipping as they clamp my sides.
Her pussy pulses and slides over the edge of my cock. Down the vein, right to the base, where she stalls, trying to catch her breath with my full, round head pressed to her navel.
The worst fucking tease.
It’s a temptation so fucking strong I gasp for air and extricate myself from her soft, needy body.
Away from the bed at last, I stand and run my hands through my hair, needing to step away from her so I don’t go any further than I just did.
Way too fucking far.
I promised her I wouldn’t fuck her. I promised to help make things better for her. And I meant it.
She’s young and sweet, and has her entire life ahead of her. I’m the last thing she needs complicating her situation.
This arrangement? It’s a glorified bet. And she deserves better.
I should have stopped.
18
Bailey
Bailey:Take tonight off. Go to bed early. I’m fine.
Beau:No, thanks.
Bailey:Seriously, you can’t stay up late with me and then wake up an hour later doing your thing.
Beau:My thing?
Bailey:2:11
Beau:Bailey, you do your thing, and I’ll do mine. And mine includes sitting at your bar, so you aren’t alone.
The knife slices through the lime, and a fresh wave of pain hums through my veins as the citrus juice hits my paper cut. But I don’t even flinch.
I can feel Beau’s eyes on me from where he sits at the end of the bar, and I’m sure if I show an iota of pain, he’ll call 911 to have me airlifted to the nearest hospital. We may be on tense terms right now, but he’s still here, guarding me like a German shepherd, ready to leap to my defense.
I’m also not oblivious to the fact Gary is watching us, drunken interest all over his face.
My head shakes as I recall the conversation Beau and I had the morning after … whatever that was. The morning I’d woken up alone in his bed and gone searching for him.
“I’m sorry I took advantage of you.”
Those were his first words when I found him in the kitchen.
My eyes bugged out at hickey I’d left on his neck—the one that’s still there today, although more yellow and less purple. I didn’t know what to expect him to say in that moment. Because the night before he’d looked down at me, hands on his head, with the most confusing mixture of lust and rage on his face. Then he left without a single word, and my heart dropped. I wanted to follow him, and yet I knew he needed space and control.
“You didn’t.”
“It’s my job to keep you safe. And that includes from me.”
“It’s literally not.”
“We agreed we wouldn’t cross that line. We laid everything out. I want you to stay in the house, but if you hear me in here … you can’t come in.”
