Silence.
My jaw hurts from how my smile burns across my face.
“Beck Reid,you like me.”
Her voice drifts through the line, smokey and low, and my cock fattens against my thigh. “I like you a lot,Just Beau.”
I snort, killing the mood, because I’d forgotten I’d played around, calling myself Just Beau. Though now, knowing the things I haven’t shared with Beck quite yet, the avoidance of my last name looks kind of smarmy.
I want to tell her all the things I haven’t gotten to yet. And I will–tonight. I won’t risk fucking this up.
“We can talk tonight… when I come over.”
“Hmm, communication,” she purrs jokingly. “I like the sound of that.”
“See you in an hour?” I still need to shower and, honestly, jerk off again. Because I’ve been thinking about her so goddamn much lately that I’m afraid if I don’t jerk once before I head over there, if her tits so much as graze me inany way,I’ll pounce.
In fact, as soon as I’d read that report, I turned that part of my brain off and thought about her. Aversion therapy, maybe.
I imagined the goosebumps that would take over my flesh if I were allowed to drag my nose along the nape of her neck, drawing in her sweet scent, committing it to memory. My skin flushed at the thought of knowing her so intimately. I didn’t just want to know how she smelled, either. My tongue itched to dip into her, curling and twisting, flicking and stroking until her nails tore my scalp as she pulled my hair, her head back, screaming for me to finish her, to make her cum.
And after those thoughts took over, I reached down, unzipped my dirty work pants and found my cock, hard and hungry. When my eyes closed, I no longer thought of eating her as I stroked myself. Instead, I thought about drinkingher.
I envisioned her stroking my cheek, smoothing my hair, and looking down at me breathlessly as my lips sealed to the chocolate tipped peak of her breast. In my fantasy, she’d moan a little as my tongue discovered her, tracing her areola before sealing tight on her nipple. I would suck her hard and her head would tip forward, the ends of her silky blonde hair tickling my back and chest as it curtained around us. A few sucks and my cock would be fully erect, an overwhelming need to cum thrumming in my balls. Then her milk would trickle onto my tongue, warm and sweet, and the way she’d hold my jaw as I tasted her would make me feel cherished and understood in a way I couldn’t explain.
And then I came all over my stomach after hurriedly scooping up my work shirt in my free arm to make room for my mess.
Even though that was just a couple of hours ago, the idea of being at Beck’s house for a night with just Jett and her is making me feel like another quick jerk couldn’t hurt because just thinking about being there has me hurting.
* * *
One hour later,I’m on the porch of Beck and Jett’s place, glancing nervously at my Tesla sitting comfortably in the driveway. I’m actually here.
She’s really giving me a shot.
My heart begins to race. I like Jett. I have this incredibly strong pull to him, to his heart, which I know is fucking crazy as fuck to say. If I heard a chick saying that to Atti or Miller, I’d tell him to fuckin’ run because saying you feel magnetically and unexplainably connected to someone else’s kid after just shy of two months of knowing them could come off… oh, I don’t know…fuckin’ nuts.
But I’m not nuts. And I have a lot of smart, talented, kind, and generous people around me who can vouch for that fact. Whomayhave to vouch for that fact because I don’t know how Beck is going to take the news that… Well, I’ve not been completely out there with some parts of my life, despite the fact I’m asking to be in hers.
Shit, that sounds bad when I say it like that.
And just as panic wraps her fucking freakishly strong hand around my throat, Beck opens her front door.
Everything I’d been thinking just a millisecond ago immediately evaporates. I don’t know where it goes–if it stays inside me and is just hugely hampered or if it fucking flies away like piss in the wind. But the moment my nose fills with the heavenly fucking scent ofher—that’s all it takes.
I will make this work.
Baby powder, her perfume, her skin, the shampoo she uses, the meal that’s on the stove, Jett’s detergent… it alters my brain. I know perfume and cologne do shit to the chemicals in your brain. This had been one of the many talks my dad had given me when I started wearing cologne to school dances back in junior high. But it’s not fucking just synapses firing off and pheromones buzzing around.
In my gut, I belong with them, the same way I belong at Wrench Kings.
Fuck, I didn’t know I’d decided to stay with Wrench Kings until this fucking moment. This moment is so goddamn enlightening that it easily usurps the last big moment of my life. The sinkhole of moments, as I refer to it.
“You’re forking gorgeous,” I say, but my voice is hoarse and it takes her off guard. Her head, which was tipped to the side slightly, straightens as her smile falls away.
“And you’re forking hot.”
Goddamn it, why didn’t I go for that third round? There’s a saying that the third time's the charm for a reason.