“Atta girl. Ride me,” he urges as his fingers work me over expertly.
A sheen of sweat covers my body as my hands grip and scratch. My eyes flit from one delicious corner of him to the other before they sink into those silver pools.
“You gonna come on my cock, Bailey?”
“I think so,” I breathe out. Every corner of my body is warm and sizzling with anticipation. Every muscle coiling as he fills me up.
“That’s my girl. Give it to me.” His thumb presses harder. His fingers pinch tighter. His bare cock pulses inside me and like a countdown one, two, three … I’m washed away.
Bowled over by a wave of pleasure so intense, I feel like I’ve left my body. I topple forward as the exquisite burst claims me. I feel everything.
Him.
Me.
Warm.
Safe.
Before I can even gather my senses, he’s flipped us over, his body caging me in. One hand strokes my cheek, while the other hikes my thigh up high. The angle is new and I gasp when he sinks into me from above.
He stops, cock filling me to the brim while my pussy still pulsates around him. “Bailey, baby,” he bites out, voice rumbling over my skin, setting it aflame. God, just the vibration of him against me has my nerve endings jumping. “I don’t think I can hold back any longer. My control is—”
“Give it to me.” I repeat his words back to him, lifting my head just enough to brush my lips over his. “And don’t hold back.”
“Fuck.” He spits the word out and crushes his lips to mine, taking my mouth in a searing kiss as he pistons into me relentlessly.
The bed shakes with the ferocity of his thrusts and my body aches in the most delicious way as he claims me.
“Hottest fuck of my life,” he growls, then he shouts my name against my shoulder before biting down hard. His body goes taut, and his cock jumps and pulses as he spills himself inside me.
“I love you, Bailey Jansen,” he murmurs, stroking my hair and licking gently over what I’m sure will be a bite mark tomorrow.
And all I can do is smile. Because that was worth the wait.
I have never felt more cherished than I do with Beau Eaton wrapped around me.
36
Beau
Jasper: Did you tell her?
I lather soap over Bailey’s body, rubbing her shoulders to ease any tension, running my thumbs firmly over the tight spots. Her head tilts, and she lets out a moan as she leans into the pressure.
After I shampoo her hair, I rinse it under the warm spray, then follow with a generous amount of conditioner. I comb my fingers through her strands to rid them of any knots and turn her, enjoying the way her body moves readily to mine. The way she trusts me is more than I deserve.
Our eyes meet in the steamy space. But we don’t talk and she watches me as I carry on soaping her and massaging her body. Her chest, her breasts, gently and quickly before moving over her ribs.
I drop down onto my knees before her, using the bar of soap to wash her hips, the trim triangle of hair I helped her shave, her thighs, calves. Hell, even her feet.
Her perfect fucking feet.
They go with everything else that’s perfect about her.
I’m at a loss for words. For what she shared with me tonight. For what she’s shared with me over the past several weeks. I feel unworthy in the most profound way. But I want to be worthy.
I feel desperate to be.
Reaching behind her, I trace the soap over the round globes of her ass before putting it back on the ledge and directing the water to rinse the soap away. I retrace my steps, ignoring the nip of the porcelain against my knees. When her fingers comb through my hair, I drop my stubbled cheek against her stomach and hug her to me.
This girl has brought me back to life without even trying. All that time I searched for someone to make me feel something, and she was right fucking there.
My lips press a kiss to the spot just above her belly button and then I tip my head, dragging my gaze up to meet her dark eyes, swirling with emotion and edged in confusion.
I don’t think anyone has ever cherished Bailey.
Not like I do.
And no one else ever will.
“I love you,” I repeat to her, not caring I’ve said it multiple times tonight and she hasn’t.
You don’t tell a person you love them with the expectation they’ll say it back. You tell them because you want to. You tell them because it’s true.
I spent many hours in a cave in Afghanistan wishing I’d told more people how much they meant to me. I promised myself I would start, but I’ve been too hung up on my shit to get around to it.