Page 53 of Breaking All The Rules
He dropped his hand with the condom to the bed and the other, the one that was already where she wanted it, changed purpose. It went from an impersonal, functional grip to a looser hold, his fingers curling all the way around his shaft, then sliding lazily from root to tip and back again. His eyes closed as his breath hissed out, and Bea had to lock her knees again to keep from melting into a puddle. Her nipples were two hard points against her tee, scraping erotically, causing the ache between her legs to become a throb.
“Like this?” he asked, his eyes flicking open, spearing her with a look so full of desire, Bea felt as if she could drown in it.
She nodded. Her throat too dry to form words. Exactly like that.
“How long?”
She swallowed, wet her lips. “How long can you last?”
“As long as you need me to.”
But the strain in his voice, the taut bow of his back, the bulge of the veins in his neck were telling. His hand was still a dirty, dirty spectacle, moving lazily up and down his shaft, but he was clearly fighting hard to keep his arousal in check. Bea was flattered by his need to give her what she wanted, and she admired his resolve, his stamina. For damn sure she was going to test it at some stage. But for now, she really just needed to be on him.
“It’s okay, cowboy, easy there,” she relented, still torn between the show and some action. “You can suit up now.” Then she removed his hat, whipped her T-shirt over her head, and crammed the hat back on again.
Austin neither removed his hand nor put the condom on as he ogled her breasts. “Holy shit,” he muttered, staring as hard at her as she had stared at him. “Beatrice…you are fucking sensational.”
Beatrice knew her boobs were a bit on the small side and were disproportional to her wider hips, butt, and thighs, but in this moment, she believed Austin 100 percent. In this moment, she felt like a freaking supermodel. It gave her the courage to push down her sweats and her panties, too, and kick out of them, just as Austin had done, and then to stand there in front of him and let him look his fill.
Until she remembered she hadn’t gotten around to doing anything about the state of her hoo-ha. Crap. A surge of heat flushed her cheeks, and it took all her willpower not to shove her hands in front of her bikini area and stammer out an apology.
Maybe he hadn’t noticed?
Jesus, don’t be an idiot, Beatrice. Of course he’d noticed. It could probably be noticed from space. He was staring right at her, and she had the Amazon forest growing between her legs.
She knew from her headful of useless advertising stats that there was an entire generation of men out there who didn’t realize women came with pubic hair, thanks to porn and the pressure from advertising, and Austin probably fell smack in that demographic.
Shooting her an impatient look as he quickly donned the condom, he said, “Saddle up, cowgirl. This stallion is champing at the bit.”
God yes, a stallion. Bea couldn’t have described him better had she tried. All fit and honed and lean, solid muscles rippling beneath taut flesh, nostrils flaring.
The hard length of his arousal proud and potent even confined in a thin layer of latex.
“Beatriss, honey,” he said on a low kind of growl, “you’re killing me.”
And he was looking at her—every single inch of her—from his hat to her knees and lingering at all the things in between, and he clearly liked what he saw, and it was just the liberation Bea needed. Suddenly, she didn’t give a rat’s ass about her lack of grooming. In fact, fuck grooming. Fuck…waxing and plucking and lasering and all the other painful, expensive hair-removal crap women felt pressured to do so their bodies were more palatable for men.
Yep—from now on, she was going the full bush, and men could take it or leave it.
With that decided, Bea put a knee on the bed and crawled, in what she hoped was a sophisticated, feline kind of way, toward Austin’s reclined form. She didn’t know if she pulled it off, but the way his eyes roved all over as she advanced led her to believe he appreciated it anyway, which, in turn, did funny things to her breathing. When her knee nudged his hip, she halted, sat back on her haunches, and barely stopped herself from undulating in a lazy feline stretch, pushing her chest out as his gaze settled on her breasts, her nipples reacting shamelessly to his ogling.
The air between them churned with the ragged noise of their breathing. Leaning forward a little, Bea raised her hand, bringing her index finger to his mouth. His lips parted, and she traced them, remembering how he’d tasted. Her finger trailed down his chin to his throat, his windpipe undulating beneath the caress as he swallowed.
Trekking lower still, she swirled the tip of her finger around the hollow at the base of his throat before tracing lower. She paused at the midpoint between his nipples, deciding which way to go, aware of his gaze on her, of the husky timbre of his breath—and hers—of the tension in his body as if he, too, was on a knife’s edge over her next move.
That kind of power was heady, and it flushed through her system, supercharging her arousal. Decision made, her index finger trailed left and turned lazy circles around and around and around the nipple.
He muttered a word that would have shocked her grandmother all the way to the roots of her hair as his eyes fluttered shut, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, his hands fisting the sheet. A low hum of satisfaction joined the buzz of anticipation coursing through her system. It felt good to be able to touch his body like this. To be free to do as she pleased. To be unconstrained.
A few weeks ago, her life had been constrained in ways she hadn’t even realized, and now here she was, in the middle of the goddamn country—naked—with a guy—also naked—she’d known for a week, touching him freely. Causing him to mutter filthy-sexy words and his body to draw tight as a bow.
Her hand slid away, and she watched his stubbly face as his eyes drifted open. “You just going to play with me, honey?”
A smile hovered on his mouth, so Bea didn’t think he was objecting, but it did raise the question. “Could I?” Because seriously, while every nerve in her body was stretched taut in anticipation of the first orgasm she’d have with another human being in a very long time, this—just touching this man—was a climax of a different sort.
The tactile kind that was stimulating on a whole other level.
“Absolutely.” He swallowed, his gaze locking with hers. “I am at your disposal.”
