I lick my lips as his eyes go soft and wide. Knowing, he flips us over then lowers himself down by body, groaning when he spots the stream of milk dripping down the swollen underside of my breast. They’re so swollen tonight, too. Nighttime is my big pumping session, and I missed it.
When the tip of his tongue flicks across the super sensitive, hardened tip of my nipple, a shudder wracks my body. “Drink me,” I whisper, arching my back to better accommodate his mouth. His groan is feral and raw, and he reaches between his legs to feel where his cock sinks into me as he begins to suck. He swallows, the sound making me heady and dizzy, making my clit pulse without friction.
This orgasm is going to be insane.
“Oh god, Beau, fuck me while you drink me,” I cup his cheeks, then my hands slide to his throat to feel him swallow me down. He gulps again, and my skin goes hot from feeling his swallow. The noise alone sets me on fire, but paired with feeling the lump move under his hot flesh makes me crazy.
“I’m already close,” I admit as he pumps his long, thick cock in and out of me, over and over, sucking in big mouthfuls of sweet, creamy breast milk, swallowing it down in deep gulps. He strokes in and out of me more slowly now as he moves to my other breast, treating my nipple to a tonguing before he finally latches.
With the fullness of my breast, I’m liable to choke him. When I flood his mouth, giving him more than he can swallow in this position, he licks it off me, making sure to not waste a drop.
Now moving in deep, slow strokes, he nips at my breast, taking smaller swallows. He’s close to cumming; I can tell by the way his cock hardens a bit more inside me, how he drinks me less.
“Fill me up, Beau. Empty yourself inside me. I want to be full of you. I want you dripping and sticky on my thighs tomorrow.” I nip his lips. “It would be my honor.”
I want him to know that Gerald Horsach and Dustin Reid do not decide anyone’s self-worth. That a person creates themselves, they make their own destiny and Beau has done that for himself and Jett.
“Fu-uck, your dirty talk is a mind fuck, baby,” he growls, his cock still. His neck tightens, his jaw flexes, and heat spears through me in rich, pulsing waves. He shoots into me hard, and I ground down on him as my pussy gives in, clamping down around his fat steel, aching and quaking all around him. He rolls us over again, I push up off his chest, taking my breast from his lips, and ride him hard and fast to orgasm.
“I’m cumming with you,” I say, bouncing myself on his cock gently. I hold my breasts as we shift. He licks his lips as he looks up at me mounting him, my hips rocking through the remainder of my orgasm.
“Fuck. That was insane. Your mouth.” His eyes are wide. “It makes me hard just thinking about it.”
I smile, but still swing my leg around, dismounting him. Sex is a messy sport; his hot cum dribbles down my thigh as I reach for a bath towel.
“Don’t worry, in a few minutes I’ll have you on your back with your knees behind your head so not a single drop can leak out. You’ll keep my cum deep inside you where it belongs. You’ll keep every drop deep inside until we put babies in you.”
“You want babies? As in, plural?” My mouth goes dry. “I’m thirty-seven.”
“We better get started soon.” He wiggles his brows. “Teasing, no pressure. There are tons of options, but I’m ready to have those talks, Beck. I’m not scared to commit.”
His lips are soft when they brush mine. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I reply. And as I have my knees pinned behind my head by the man who told me to calm down months ago, I realize it's the first time since my divorce that I’ve actually felt truly calm and at peace with everything.
Beau helped me get there so as he pounds me hard again in round two of our makeup sex, I grip his shoulders and take it, wanting nothing more than to be full of him.
The fucking Wrench King himself.
25
Beau
“Need something to go with the champagne?”
“Ilike it; it’s… nice,” I offer after surveying the small apartment aboveDelilah’s Deli. “Cozy,” I add, then give a little shake of my shoulders to send it home. “I love cozy.”
Goldie rolls her eyes. “I know cozy meanstiny, Beau.” She flops down onto her loveseat–theonlychair in the apartment as of now.
“Do you get discounts on bread from the place downstairs?” Miller asks as he comes through the open door, setting a large box on the floor. “I couldn’t live above a deli. I’d be eating non-stop just because it smells so good. I wouldn’t even be hungry, but I’d still eat!”
Goldie’s misery temporarily turns into an opportunity, one she can’t pass up. “When what you’re putting in your mouth is that good–”
“Nope.” I halt her probably sinister train of thought with a hand between us. “Miller is good. He is innocent and kind. We don’t rot Miller’s brain.”
“Hey,” he defends sourly. “I’m not ababy.”
He’s actually myexactage but seems so much younger because of his bright-eyed and bushy-tailed persona.