Page 60 of The Encore Effect

His eyes darkened, pupils blown wide with lust, and he rewarded her with a slow curl of his fingers, a deliberate pulse against the secret place inside her that ached for his touch. “You going to let me inside you now, love?”

She squeezed his shaft, and he sucked in a breath, his eyes sparkling as he fucked her grip. “I thought I already did,” she said, flicking her eyes to where his fingers were buried in her pussy.

He hummed an acknowledgment and dropped a slow kiss to her lips, the unhurried movement of his mouth against her in contrast to the increasing rhythm of his hips. When he pulled away, he withdrew his fingers, her body clenching around the sudden emptiness. He slid his fingers between his lips, sucking them clean as she watched.

“Beckett,” she whined, stroking him faster.

“You want my fingers? Or are you ready for my cock?” Her eyes drifted to the place where her hand worked beneath his sweatpants, a small spot of precum darkening the fabric. “Take what you want, baby. It’s yours. It’s always been yours.”

She couldn’t think about the way his words sent hope spiking through her veins, not now. Instead she shoved his sweatpants to the floor, finally taking in the sight of him. He was thicker than she remembered. Longer, too, though she knew neither was truly possible.

Her eyes drifted lower, catching on the gnarled mess of scars covering his right knee. Her chest ached as she cataloged each angry silver-pink line of new skin climbing up his thigh, crisscrossing the carved muscle there. She knew the accident had been bad, that he’d endured multiple surgeries, that the pain still followed him, but to see the evidence so plainly on his skin was another thing entirely.

He caught her under the chin with two fingers, lifting her eyes away from the scars, concern pulling at the corners of his lips. She wrapped her hand around his cock again, stroking slowly from base to crown, dragging her thumb over the flared ridge, the leaking tip, over and over until that concern melted from his face, replaced by the kind of desire that felt like a warning. She guided him between her legs, lifting one heel to rest on the counter and open herself up to him. He caught that leg behind her knee, hooking it over his arm as she slid the head of his cock through her folds.

“Luna,” he groaned, his eyes falling closed as he strained to hold himself back, to let her control the moment. He dropped his forehead to hers. “Fuck, baby, I don’t have a condom.”

She continued the slow glide of his tip through her seam, pressing him against her clit, coating him with her wetness. It was reckless. There were a hundred reasons they should stop, but, “I don’t care,” she whispered.

He drew a shuddering breath, his eyes still squeezed shut. “I was tested before the start of the tour.”

“Me too. Before the reunion. I’m on birth control.” She held his tip against her entrance. “Beckett?” He hummed in acknowledgment, his eyes fixed on the place where she teased them both. “Please fuck me.”

He met her gaze, dragged a thumb over her lower lip. Slowly, he pressed forward, filling her inch by agonizing inch. It was the most delicious kind of torture, to have him move so slowly, to feel every inch slip past her opening. She gasped and whimpered through it as he impaled her until he was fully seated, pelvis to pelvis, the flat, muscled plane of his abs against the soft rolls of her belly.

“Fuuuck,” he groaned, the sound melting into their kiss.

The kiss grew frantic, driven by the movement of his hips as he drove into her again and again. She pulled his hair, bit his lip, raked her nails down his back, each sting of pain spurring him on.

“Need you to come,” he said, sliding his free hand between their bodies to strum her clit. She sucked in a startled breath as pleasure swam in her periphery. “Come on my cock, baby.”

After all this time it shouldn’t have been so easy to make her fall apart, a few frenzied thrusts, the insistent stroking of her clit—it shouldn’t have been enough. But he’d always known how to bring her more pleasure than anyone else ever had. She gasped in disbelief as her orgasm bore down on her, and he grinned in triumph.

“That’s it, Luna. Let me feel you. Come on my cock and then I’ll lick you clean, feast on this sweet pussy until I’ve had my fill. You don’t know how many times I’ve dreamed about this. Fucking can’t wait to taste you again. But you have to be a good girl for me and come on my cock first, love.”

Her thighs shook as her climax raced down her spine, heat shooting to the bottoms of her feet. He fucked her through it, stroke after stroke, that finger on her clit unrelenting as she contracted around him. As her orgasm receded, he kissed the shuddering breaths from her lips, drinking down her pleasure as if it were his own.

“Christ, you’re gorgeous.” He pressed his forehead to hers, the insistent rhythm of his hips pumping into her over and over. “Where do you want my cum, baby?”

Her inner walls fluttered again, aftershocks and a fresh wave of desire mingling within her. “On my tits.”

He swore and pulled out, taking himself in hand with hurried strokes as she pushed her breasts together. An offering. She wanted to be scalded by his release on her skin, to wear the proof of his passion, to let it mark her like the tattoos that adorned his body. He groaned, long and low, as he came, hot jets of his pleasure painting her chest and belly.

When at last he was done, he dropped his hands to her thighs, squeezing as his eyes raked over her naked body. “Fuck, you’re beautiful covered in my cum.”

“You too,” she said, tilting her chin towards his softening cock.

He chuckled and kissed her again, not caring that the movement pressed her sticky front against his before tugging her off the counter and into the shower with him. He turned on the water and pulled the glass door closed behind them.

“I’m not nearly covered enough,” he said as he got on his knees at her feet. He pressed a kiss to her belly and lifted one of her legs, placing it over his shoulder. His lips on her calf, the inside of her knee, higher and higher, until he buried his nose in the soft curls on her mound, breathing deeply. “But don’t worry, love. We’ll fix that.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

“Beckett! What gives, man?”

The pounding on their hotel room door was muffled from their position in the bathroom, the space filled with steam from their unusually long shower. Beckett had hardly even noticed the disruption, he’d been so busy watching a naked Kat dry herself with methodical passes of the ridiculously small towel. He’d never thought he’d get to have her like this again, to have a second chance to prove to her they belonged together. He pulled on his boxer briefs as the pounding resumed, dimly registering in the back of his sex-drunk brain only because she shot him a frantic look.

“Is that Nico?” she whispered.