Page 52 of Breaking All The Rules
“Tell me,” he murmured. Then he squeezed her nipples, and Bea’s eyes fluttered closed on a hot wave of ecstasy, her hand sliding to his hips for purchase as more flaming arrows found their mark. “Tell me how you like to be fucked.”
Bea opened her eyes, meeting his with frankness and purpose. That was the thing—she didn’t want to just lay there and be serviced by him. She’d been too damn passive in the bedroom. Letting men lead. Letting men do stuff to her, often to the detriment of her own pleasure. And enough was enough.
“I want to fuck you.” Yes. That’s what she wanted, damn it. She wanted to fuck him. Not the other way around. She was so freaking mad at herself for her passivity—she wanted to screw Austin very, very badly.
Clearly unperturbed by the idea, he grinned and said, “If you insist.”
Bea took a step back, and his hand slid from her breasts. He didn’t object, but her nipples certainly did. She quashed their rebellion ruthlessly with promises of an imminent orgasm. Planting a hand in the middle of his chest, she shoved him lightly, and he took a step backward.
“I want you to take off your pants and your shoes.” Bea gave him another light shove, and he retreated again. “I want you to lie naked in the center of my bed.” Another shove, another step backward. “And I want to climb on top of you and ride you until we both come.”
Her eyes fell on his hat on the coffee table, and she picked it up. Who needed to ride a horse when she could ride a cowboy? Or the closest thing to one she’d ever met. “That okay by you?” she asked as she plonked the hat on her head, still advancing.
He didn’t bother answering, nor did he stop retreating as he reached for the stud on his pants and yanked his zipper down. The metallic tearing was like a gunshot in the quiet of the room, racing down her spine and tightening everything from her belly to her vocal cords.
His boots came next, toeing them off and kicking them aside, yanking off his socks, without falling over or even halting his inexorable walk backward. The only thing that did was the mattress hitting the backs of his knees. He stopped then and so did Bea, probably about six feet separating them.
But then his hands got busy, his blue gaze holding hers as he reached into his back pocket, grabbed his wallet, and pulled out a condom. Bea swallowed at the sight of it.
Things were getting real.
He tossed his wallet on the ground and the foil packet on the bed, then slid his fingers inside the waistband of his pants at his hips and eased both them and his black boxer briefs down together. He broke eye contact to bend at the waist and push his pants all the way down his legs and step out of them, but then they were gone and he was straightening, standing buck naked in front of her, his gaze once again seeking hers.
Bea, however, was not returning his gaze. Her breath cut off with a strangled kind of gurgle in her throat as her eyes dropped to inspect Austin’s body in all its glory. Hell…the man was the full package—tall and broad and solid. Chest. Shoulders. Arms. Abs. Quads. The perfect symmetry of bone and muscle, of flesh and blood that ancient artists had captured so faithfully in paint and marble.
And that aptly named Adonis belt slung between hip bones and funneling down to a thatch of darker hair from which rose a magnificently solid penis, standing thick and proud and hard, taut and flushed, ready for action.
If Bea had been a virgin, she might just have been intimidated by the size of him. She was not, but it still didn’t stop her from swooning a little, and she had to curl her fingers into her palms to keep from reaching for it. She didn’t want to get distracted, and Austin’s cock looked like it was the ultimate weapon of mass distraction.
As per his instructions and without needing to be reminded, Austin sunk onto the mattress, disturbing an indignant Princess, who meowed loudly, jumped from the bed, and made a beeline for the kitchen. Austin, clearly not put off by the cat’s presence, shimmied backward on the mattress—a truly fabulous sight to behold. Bea, however, wasn’t sure what the rules were in exposing a pet to what she hoped was going to be explicit pornographic content, so she pulled the cheap plastic concertinaed divider across to keep Princess out.
“Here okay?” Austin asked as she returned her attention to the bed.
Bea blinked. She couldn’t be certain without getting out some kind of measuring device, but she was pretty sure Austin was lying dead center of the bed. Maybe it was the cop in him, but Austin was clearly a man who knew how to follow instructions.
And damn if that didn’t make her that much hotter for him.
She nodded. “There is just fine.” She took a moment to ogle his body again. How could a man in a reclined position look so damn ready? Like his muscles were primed to spring, like he was pumped for action. His dick, now resting on that swath of muscle between his hips, was fully cocked. And his balls, pulled in tight, looked locked and loaded.
The very sight of him lying there in such readiness made her sigh. “You’re just fine.”
He shot her a lazy grin—hell, even it managed to look eager—as he reached for the foil packet. “Want me to put this on?”
Bea nodded. Hell yes she did. “Please.”
He chuckled as if her manners had amused him, but Bea promptly forgot about that as he grabbed his shaft with one hand and lifted the packet to his mouth with the other, tearing the corner open with his teeth. She wanted to lecture him about the dangers of puncturing the condom using that technique, but watching him manhandle himself sucked every atom of oxygen from Bea’s lungs and her brain, plucking every thought out of her head. Seeing his big hand in such a private place was twisting her belly into knots.
“Wait,” she said as Austin went to apply the condom to the taut, flushed dome of his cock.
He stopped, his gaze flicking to hers. “Everything okay?”
Bea nodded. “Could you…” She stopped, swallowed. Her pulse fluttered madly. Dare she ask him that?
“Could I what, honey?” he asked, his voice gravelly, his eyes hot as blue flame as they captured hers in their heat, his chest rising and falling a little unevenly.
“Could you…touch yourself for me?”
“Christ, Beatrice.” He huffed out a kind of half laugh, half groan. “I’ll do anything for you.”
