Page 114 of Changing Lanes

“Just like that,” he demands. “Keep my name on the tip of your tongue just like that while I fuck you with the tip of mine.”

And he does. Beckett lowers himself, fucking me with his tongue until I follow through on my end of the deal and scream his name so loud the band onstage can probably hear it over their adoring crowd.

Grabbing a condom out of his shorts’ pocket while trying to undress one-handed, he quickly rolls it down his straining cock once it’s freed.

Catching me studying every detail, he says, “I like you watching me. Everywhere. At work. At home. In the shower. Now. I want your eyes on me always.”

There he goes again with the eternal talk.

I drop my stare to the pastel quilt, my fingers plucking at a stray thread.

“Fuck it. Let’s go for another one.”

“What?” I ask but Beckett doesn’t answer as he sits beside me, keeping his heavy-lidded gaze locked on mine.

I break first to watch between my bent knees, mesmerized as he glides two fingers along my sensitive slit. When he presses both fingers inside, I clamp around him, moaning from the delicious intrusion. He rewards me by pumping in and out but in a slow rhythm that I swear will be the death of me. He may have asked me to put him out of his misery but I can promise I’ll be the one dying a slow, torturous death if he continues like this.

To help him out, I press my hand over his, arching my back clear off the bed and moving with our combined hands in a faster, harder pace. Unable to resist, he matches me pump for pump, his eyes eventually dropping to watch us bring me over the same wall of ecstasy I just climbed only moments ago.

I release his hand, letting my own fall limply beside me.

“That was hot,” he says before snapping, “eyes on me now.”

“Give me something to look at then.”

“God, I love that mouth.”

He removes his hand from between my thighs then proceeds to crawl up my body licking both fingers like he can’t help himself.

“I might love your pussy more though.”

Recovered and ready for more, I pull him to me, making sure every bit of his front is touching every bit of my front as my knees fall open to the sides. I crave his skin. I yearn for his touch. I need him.

It’s like he said, I’ll never get enough.

No.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. None of this.

But here I am, scrambling to get him closer. To let him in further.

Leaning on one elbow, he looks down at us, his long body fitted to mine, and grips the inside of my thigh to push my leg open even wider. Lining us up, he plunges inside, fusing us together and continues to watch himself roll his hips then slowly pull his cock out only to plunge back inside all while using my thigh like a handle.

A wobbly gasp flutters across his cheek and his eyes squeeze shut.

“Careful. I could blow right now and I still got a point to prove.”

“What point is that?” I breathe out.

Slowly, he drags his gaze up to my face and says, “You’ll see.”

Too many emotions bubbling to the surface, I close my own eyes, trying to keep them in. Keep them from him.

I don’t need to see though, my body’s willing to blindly go wherever the hell his takes it. My mind, however, is working overtime to keep my heart where I need it. Where I can control it. My ribs have proven just how useless they are and now it’s up to my brain to protect my most valuable defense.

He slides my left leg over his back giving him better access and his back muscles constrict beneath my fingernails as he lures me out of the self-imposed mental refuge I’m stuck in.

A growl from his throat, from his very core, stirs me though and I open my eyes again. “Stay here. With me.”