Page 63 of Never Say Yes To A Stranger

“I could beg you for it if you like.”

“You don’t have to.” His breath is warm against me as I rock against his face, my skin bursting into goosebumps. “I can already taste how much you want it.”

He licks me all over, giving my clit attention and tearing it away. He’s mean, and then he’s sweet, horrible, and gentle. He’s a tease, and then he means business. He’s a god of the sheets, and he owns me, body and soul. Also, clit and ovaries too.

My climax surprises me and scares the shit out of me as it rips through me. Beau keeps going, his mouth doing sinfully miraculous things to me. I can feel my heart sprinting in my chest, and I can also feel myself shaking like this bed comes with a vibrating massage function. Even Beau, for all his weight and muscle and massive size compared to mine, has to hold me a little bit harder to anchor me down. No matter, I feel like I’m coming apart anyway.

“I want to do that again.” I scramble for him, tugging him up to me. He doesn’t hesitate to blister my lips with another kiss that nearly gives me whiplash. I taste him and myself, and it makes me tingle all the way down to my toes and back up to my clit like an electric shock. Aftershocks 2.0 times Beau. “But with your cock inside me.”

“Oh my god.” Beau grunts. “Oh my god, Sam.”

“Yes. Sam. I’m Sam, and I want your cock buried to the hilt inside me.”

“Sam.” His eyes are practically rolling in his head, crossing all over themselves as he looks down at me. “You’re so small. And I’m really jazzed up for this. Maybe I should go to the shower and rub one out, so I have more control.”

“More control?” I can’t keep in a stunned laugh. “I don’t want you to have control. I want you to barely fit to the point where it hurts and then make me come all over you. I want you to do it right now, and I want you to want it so bad that you leave your sweats on, your boxers, everything.”

He snickers. “You’re going to get what you want, especially with a smart mouth like that.”

“Fuck me like you want to fuck up my roof, Beau. Show it who’s boss.”

He freezes. And then he laughs. He laughs until he shakes, which makes the bed feel like it’s a massager all over again. The bed frame isn’t strong enough to hold up against our combined laughter. It jiggles and creaks. It won’t give, but it does have some play in it. It sounds like it’s laughing with us. It makes the mattress vibrate beneath us, which makes us laugh harder.

“Are you trying to make me laugh?” He looks at me accusingly.

“I don’t know. Maybe? Would it be better if I asked you to do it more politely and correctly?”

“No, I like the way you asked me. Except I need to go slow enough not to hurt you. I never, ever want to do that.”

I caress his cheek and find the little scar on his chin where something on the roof dug in deep as he fell. Then I slip my hand into his sweats and run my fingers over the raised scar on his thigh where he got all those stitches. I don’t want to mess up his pump, so I don’t caress his abs, and the scar that I know is there from when the roof tore his pump out of his skin when he fell. I’ll take off his shirt when I can, and I’ll also go slowly and carefully. I plan to thoroughly memorize, please, kiss, and taste every inch of him before the sun comes up again.

“I don’t want to ever hurt you either,” I say to him.

I want him to feel safe enough to lose himself with me.

Right now. Always.

His trembling above me is the most adorable thing. But it’s not adorable how much I want him. My desire is nothing short of claws and fangs tearing at me. It’s pretty obvious that if he doesn’t do it soon, I’m going to be devoured by the sex beast inside me. Imagine chestbursters in weird horror movies, except not that gross but more like spontaneous, harmless, alien-less climaxes.

I frantically half tear off his sweats, exposing the rock face he calls his ass. Not just boulders, no. His butt is the whole rock face. They just come off in the back, so he does the front, tearing them down. We’re technically still dressed here, and it’s so hot. Next time, we can worry about peeling clothes off.

He’s slick, his cock leaking all over me as he gets it lined up. As he pushes inside, he looks at me and stops immediately. “For the love of chai tea, which I really don’t love, you’re tight.”

“Describe it,” I plead.

He groans. “I’ll last two seconds if I describe it.”

“I want to know what it feels like for you. What I feel like.”

He kisses me so hard that I have to grasp his face and tug on his hair to keep from being speared straight into the bed.

“You’re so tight that I barely fit already,” he murmurs.

I wriggle against him, and he fills me a little bit more, stretching me to the point of pain. It’s not the worst feeling in the world. In fact, it might be the best thing I’ve ever felt. “Don’t stop. I like that you barely fit. I like the fact that you’re huge, and I’m small. I like everything about you. You’re just right. You’re always going to be just right in every way to me.”

Another inch, and I make a noise that could probably be construed as not liking what’s happening, but I do like it very much. Predictably, Beau freezes. “It sounds like I’m killing you,” he gasps.

“You’re not. I’m good. It’s amazing. Keep going,” I pant.

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