Page 50 of Beauty Of Her

“You feel so fucking good,” said Brett through shaky exhales as he rolled his hips, getting used to the rawness of nothing between us.

My body arched as Brett began to move inside me, each thrust sending shock waves of pleasure through every nerve ending. “Go slow. I want you to really feel me come.” My nails raked down Brett’s smooth chest and stopped at his pecs, squeezing one of his nipples.

He sucked in a sharp breath, held my gaze, and obeyed my command. This was quickly becoming the most amazing tortuous slow fucking of my life. My heart pounded against my ribcage as Brett complied with my request, his movements becoming languid and deliberate. Every inch of his body pressed against mine, filling me completely and igniting a fire within that threatened to consume us both. The sensation of him stretching me, the delicious ache of desire building in my core, was almost too much to bear.

His hands grazed over my pebbled nipples, leaving a trail of tingling warmth in their wake. His fingers danced along my thighs, tracing delicate circles as he continued his deliberate, slow pace. Each thrust elicited a quiet, controlled moan from deep within me. I stared into Brett's eyes, swimming in them. There was an intimacy in this moment that surpassed any physical act alone. We were meant to be together in this bedroom, under this roof, in the same home. I cursed myself for being unable to say the three words Brett declared to me minutes ago, but I would surrender myself to him now with the promise of saying the word, love, back to him one day.

I clung to him desperately, my fingers digging into his back as I urged him on. The intensity between us grew with each passing moment, fueled by our mutual hunger and the unspoken promise of what lay ahead. He knew exactly what I needed, exactly how to make me unravel beneath him.

As our pace quickened and our bodies moved as one, the room filled with quiet gasps and groans. The bed began to rock from Brett’s heavy thrusts, beads of sweat traveling down his chiseled torso and dripping onto my trembling skin. He readjusted ever so slightly, angling his hips to hit that special spot that instantly made my toes curl and chase after my climax.

“Fuck, Brett. Just like that.” I dug my fingers into the back of his neck.

“Yes, yes. Tell me. Tell me exactly how you want it.”

My voice caught in my throat as I struggled to find the words amidst the pleasure that consumed me. "Harder," I managed to breathe out. "I want you...to fuck me harder."

A primal growl escaped Brett's lips as he complied with my demand, his hips now snapping against mine with an unrestrained force. The sound of our bodies colliding echoed in the room. I reached between us, my fingers finding my swollen nub and circling it in time with Brett's powerful thrusts. The combination of his deep penetration and my own touch threatened to send me spiraling into oblivion.

Sensing my impending climax, Brett shifted his focus entirely to my pleasure. His hand moved from my hip, finding its way between our bodies. His skilled fingers replaced mine, teasing and rubbing my clit with an expertise that left me breathless. Every stroke set off sparks in my core, sending waves of ecstasy crashing over me.

I arched my back, unable to contain the pleasure of threatening to boil over. A silent scream tore from my throat as I shattered, waves of ecstasy washing over me in blissful pulses. My body trembled, riding out the aftershocks of my orgasm, clinging to Brett’s muscled forearms.

He continued to thrust into me relentlessly, chasing his own release. His muscles tensed, and his breath became ragged. Three more thrusts were all it took to send Brett over the edge as he buried his mouth into the crook of my neck, spilling every drop of his cum into my quivering body. As our bodies lay tangled together, covered in a thin film of sweat, we tried to catch our breath. I could feel Brett's heart pounding against my chest, matching the erratic rhythm of my own heartbeat.

Laying here with a man who adored… no, loved me, felt unreal. In my mind, the logic proved to me that I was home. The physical proof was evident. There were walls and a roof; my children were all here to welcome me daily. But since the divorce, my heart wasn’t full. My heart was never completely home. And it wasn’t like I needed a man to make me feel complete. It wasn’t that at all.

It was the belief that never being able to trust again or feel like betrayal was inevitable. Still, with Brett, he was healing me. Showing me that everything I had believed was impossible was possible if I would open up for the right one. And being here with Brett on an unlikely rainy night finally brought my heart here. I was finally home.

“I thought I’d never see the day where you’re totally in love,” said Bridgette while munching on a jumbo tomato and cucumber salad.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re having fun with this, I see.” I frowned over a heaping plate of sushi. I had the afternoon free, and Julia was busy working on a new campaign. The girls were with Peter for dinner later, so I was a free man. It felt kind of off having nothing to do with the people who had quickly become integral to my life. While I loved the new routine, I was unsettled when I didn’t see them. Their absence created a void I waited to fill, and it started to hit me that maybe I was growing too attached. Also, the fact I had told Julia I loved her two weeks ago, and she still hadn’t reciprocated the gesture was a tad disappointing, but I wasn’t shaken. I guess I wanted it all, and the hardest part was finding the patience. And this was how I met Bridge in the city at one of the restaurants she designed. Lately, it seemed the only place I saw my cousin involved in her work because this was how Bridgette kept herself sane. She distracted the fuck out of herself.

“Oh, I’m just teasing.” Bridgette twirled lettuce around her fork. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Please, I get hurt? You should be worried about the other person.” I snorted, but I stopped at the sickening thought of me hurting Julia. That was the last thing I wanted to do to her. I couldn't deny my feelings for her had grown deeper by the day. Every time we were together, I fell harder for her. But a lingering question gnawed at me: did she feel the same way? Was she just enjoying what we had now, or did she see a future with me?

The age difference between us added another layer of complexity to our relationship. At twenty-seven, I still had so much ahead of me—dreams to chase, goals to achieve. Julia, on the other hand, had already experienced marriage and motherhood. She carried the weight of past heartbreak and trust issues that came with her divorce. While we navigated these differences as best as we could, there were moments when they cast a shadow over our love.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Bridgette began.

“Which means I’m definitely going to take this the wrong way.” I stared back at her blankly.

“Was Julia damaged by her divorce where she hasn’t said I love you back?”

“Bridgette, with all due respect, you can’t talk about damage.” A flash of anger ripped through me. Why did Bridgette need to say that to me? As if Julia would never heal and meet me halfway so we could thrive as equals. Where Julia would tell me one day she loved me. I wasn’t even looking at Bridgette when I commented, but when I lifted my gaze from my spicy tuna roll, her glassy eyes stared at the ceiling, fighting away fat tears.

Bridgette pushed the salad away and threw her napkin on the table. “What kind of thing is that to say?”

“Oh, come on, Bridge. I didn’t mean it.” I grimaced.

“Well, you can’t just say things you don’t mean.” Bridgette glared.

“What I meant was, you can’t sound all judgmental. I’m not saying you’re like Julia, but the two do share something in common.”

Bridgette crossed her arms, shook her head, and clenched her jaw. The trifecta signs that I should shut up, but I didn’t listen.

“Look, you even have to admit, when was the last time you gave a guy a shot?”

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