Beautiful Bombshell (Beautiful Bastard, #2.5)

She cried out, arching against me at the first touch of my tongue to her skin, her fingers digging into my hair and her voice ringing all around us.

The space was awkward but it didn’t matter, and was more than made up for when I looked to the side to find her watching our reflection in the mirror, teeth biting into her bottom lip. I met her eyes as I tasted her, sliding my tongue across and inside.

I added a finger, then two, and watched as they moved in her, wet with how much she wanted me. Her voice was nothing more than a breathy whisper and my name over and over as she asked for more and opened her legs wider, the heel of her sexy shoe scraping along the countertop. I could feel the heat of her all around me, the way she started to tremble as she got closer.

“Good?” I asked, making sure my voice vibrated against her.

She nodded, breathless, moving her hands above her head to push into her hair. “So good. Oh fuck, Bennett, so close.”

God it was torture, wanting to watch her lose control, but wanting to feel it, too, needing to feel her.

I tried to hide my desperation as I fit my hands to her hips and all but threw her to the bench, hovering above her to lick a line from her navel to the scrap of lace she called a bra. Sitting up, I unbuttoned the top of my shirt, reached blindly for my belt, and undid my pants. I freed my cock and almost gasped as she swatted my hand away and took me in her palm.

“No,” I said, flipping her over to her knees and stepping behind her. “You had your time to play earlier. This is mine.” I lifted her ass into the air, slapping it hard.

She gasped, turning around to look at me.

I gave her a dark smile, running my hand over her skin, soothing. “Do you want me to stop?”

Her eyes narrowed into a glare.

“You are welcome to stop me anytime,” I murmured. “I’m sure this is absolute torture for you.”

I brushed the tip of my cock through her wetness and down to her clit, circling, teasing.

“You’re an asshole,” she managed finally, and I brought my hand against her ass again, harder. But this time instead of surprise, she moaned, hoarse and hungry.

Then that was all there was: Chloe and the sounds she made, the way she asked me to push inside, to fuck her. And when I did, and smacked her ass again, she pleaded for harder and more.

But even when I took what I wanted it wasn’t enough; it never would be. I could feel the weight of it somewhere deep in my stomach—the absolute love I felt for her, the constant need to touch and feel and take, to mark her from the inside out.

I twisted my fingers in the material of her shirt, pulled it lower so I could see her breasts move as I fucked her. Her hair fell across her back and I ran my hands under it, feeling the cool strands against my skin. I watched as I slid in and out of her, the way she pushed back against me, her skirt bunched up over her pink ass and around her hips.

“I miss this,” I said, covering the mark I’d made, pressing down on it. “All the time.”

She nodded, said my name. I could hear the frustration in her voice as she reached for something to hold on to, her other hand moving down between her legs.

“That’s right,” I said, watching her touch herself. “Get there. Make yourself come.”

It must have been what she needed because she cried out, spine arching as she pushed back against me. I was close, could barely think and so fucking hungry for it I could hardly breathe. My legs burned, muscles protesting as I thrust into her over and over. The legs of the bench scraped against the stone floor; the leather creaked beneath us.

“Bennett. Fuck, Bennett,” she said, and heat pooled low in my stomach, building and building until it was pulsing through me, my vision going dark and fuzzy around the edges as I came.

Every part of me seemed to give out at once as I collapsed, panting and exhausted, gripping the bench for support.

“Holy shit.” The room was spinning and so quiet that my voice and even our breathing seemed to echo off the marble. I wondered how loud we’d been.

She stood, wobbling the slightest bit as she straightened her clothes and moved to a stall to clean herself up. “You know I have to walk around after this?”

I grinned. “Of course.”

“You did that on purpose.”

I rolled to my back and blinked up to the sparkling chandelier. “At least I let you come, too.”

I knew I should straighten my clothes and find the boys, but right now all I wanted to do was sleep.

She moved to stand over me, leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss to my mouth. “You need to go get some dinner or you’ll be drunk by midnight.”

I groaned, trying to pull her down to me, but she escaped by shoving her finger between my ribs. “Ow! Isn’t that the point?”

“I’m sure they’re wondering where you are.”

“I told them I had an ulcer to get them to go on without me.”

“And they believed you?”

I shrugged. “Who the fuck knows.”

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