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I let out a laugh that comes out in a huff. “That’s rich coming from you. And trust me, you don’t have to worry about me going after men like you.” I can see my words sting as he visibly flinches. “You made it abundantly clear by your behavior toward me in the office that Vegas was a mistake for you. Whatever. That’s fine if you feel that way, but to punish me by lashing out at me and treating me unprofessionally afterward was childish.”
I go to step past him, but his arm shoots out to grab my elbow.
“You think I don’t know that?” He grits the words through his teeth. “You think I like feeling this way? Knowing that I can never have you even though I can’t close my eyes without seeing you behind them.” He tightens his grip on my arm as he tugs me closer to him. “You think I enjoy the burning pit of jealousy I feel when I see another man’s hands on you like I did last night? The way he touched your ass? The way his lips tasted yours like mine did?”
I struggle to hold on to my anger as I see his stoic facade slip away. I want to tell him that I want more, that I hate the idea of another man’s hands or lips on my body also, but I don’t know what’s being exchanged between us right now and I refuse to be seen by him as just another regret.
“I can’t even take a single fucking breath without thinking of you.” His lips inch closer to mine, my resolve slipping as the towel wrapped around me slowly slides down my body.
He doesn’t hesitate now. He spins me around to face him, his hands diving into my damp hair as his lips find mine. The kiss is hungry, possessive, demanding. He isn’t asking, he’s taking, and my mouth opens to let him in.
“Stop,” I say suddenly, pressing against his chest to separate myself from him. “No—you can’t just do this. You can’t use me, then act like I’m worthless, then get jealous when you made it clear I was a one-time thrill for you.”
“I didn’t mean to make you feel worthless, Brontë; that’s the last thing I wanted.” He hangs his head. When he lifts it again, his eyes are soft. He steps closer to me again, his fingers slowly sliding up my arm, leaving a path of goosebumps in their wake.
“You are amazing and wonderful, more than a man like me deserves.” He walks me backward till the window in the room is at my back. His other hand reaches up to slide up my other arm till his hands meet at my neck. “You are an enigma, a fever dream of everything I fantasize about.” He leans forward slowly, kissing the corner of my lips. “Delicious and forbidden.”
I close my eyes as he continues to speak, his words and featherlight kisses causing my head to swim. He spins me around to face the window, reaching around me to part the curtains so we’re looking down at where my family is gathered around the massive built-in grill.
“Tell me you don’t feel it too.” His breath is warm against my neck as he leans down to whisper in my ear. “Tell me you don’t lie in bed at night touching yourself, imagining it’s my fingers, my tongue on your warm skin.” His hands glide down my exposed body till he reaches my hands.
“Grab the window frame,” he says, lifting my hands and placing them against the white molding around the window. “Don’t move them,” he commands before turning my face toward him and kissing me hungrily. “Understand?”
“Yes,” I half moan as he reaches beneath my bikini top and cups my bare breasts. My eyes flutter closed as he rolls my nipples between his fingertips, then pinches them hard. “Ow!”
“Be quiet,” he says, pinching me again, harder. My body responds, need pulling deep in my lower belly as he unapologetically commands me.
“Oh, honey.” His voice is thick and deep in my ear as his fingers slide down my belly, into my panties and right between my folds. “You’re already soaking wet for me.”
I close my eyes, biting down on my bottom lip as my fingers dig into the window frame.
“You like being used by me. You act like you don’t, but you know it makes your tight little pussy quiver at the thought of me taking what I want from you.” He teases me a little more before sliding two fingers all the way inside me.
“Ohhhh.” I can’t stifle the moan that falls from my lips as he begins to fuck me with his fingers.
“That’s right, baby. Look at you about to come on my fingers while your entire family is just right down there. They have no idea just how filthy you are, do they?” His lips are at my ear, his fingers sliding in and out of me from behind now while his other finger dances across my clit.
“Just remember this next time some boy at a bar wants to buy you a shot or grind up on your body. Can he make you feel like this, Brontë?” His strokes are long and slow, keeping me teetering on the edge and it’s driving me wild. “Answer me,” he says, stilling his movements.
“N-n-no,” I manage to choke out as he resumes his movements. I can feel anticipation building in my body, about to explode. Tingles are moving from my toes up my legs.
“That’s right, sweetheart. Now, relax and come on my fingers so I can taste you.” He barely finishes the statement before my orgasm finally finds release. My legs shake as waves of pleasure roll through me.
Beckham’s thumbs are in the waistband of my bikini bottoms, dragging them down my thighs as he falls to his knees.
“I promise this will be quick; I just need to lick you clean.” Seconds later his hands are splayed against both of my ass cheeks as he buries his face in my pussy, devouring me till I’m shaking, coming on his tongue in under a minute.
* * *
Lightning bugs dance across the back patio, Jenson and Silas chasing them as they run off their sugar high from the cake earlier. I never got a chance to meet the kittens when I went upstairs to change but after cake, the boys officially introduced them to me and showed me their favorite toys which we played with for over an hour.
After my little rendezvous with Beckham earlier, the afternoon went off without a hitch. We enjoyed the cookout and he left shortly after, taking a piece of cake for the road. If my family had any inclination about what happened between us upstairs, they certainly didn’t act like it.
“So, sweetie, how does it feel to be a quarter of a century old?” My dad walks outside and places his hands on the back of my chair.
“Well, when you put it that way—old.” I laugh as Chantelle playfully smacks his arm.
“I hope you had a wonderful day today.” She looks at me questioningly and I smile and nod.
