Page 43 of Peaches

It’s not until he whispers a soft and filthy “Good girl,” plunging a finger in and curling it to wield the first wave of my orgasm, that I realize he’s been toying with me on purpose.

I’m still soaring when he stands, when the words leave his glistening lips. “I want to fuck you, Olivia, and I want to feel you when I do. I don’t want to use a condom.” His voice is assertive and strong, but the question in his eyes is real. “Can I fuck you the way I want to?”

I’m not capable of much thought at the moment, but something about his words still snags. “Does that line always work?”

His eyes sharpen. “Line?” he asks, shaking his head. I watch his intense focus scan along my ribs. My thighs.

“You know . . . with other girls.”

Something fractures through the light shining in his eyes. “It’s not a line, Olivia.” He inhales sharply, wrapping a warm hand around my shin, dragging it higher. “I might want to fuck you bare, but don’t think for a second it’s not another first for me.”

Afirst. Maybe he’s really never had a girl up here before. The weight of that truth prickles along the base of my neck. He’s going to respect my answer either way—I know it without a doubt. But Iwantto give him this. To see him come as undone as he’s making me feel, especially if he’s trading some of his firsts for mine. It’s not like I’m not on birth control. I tilt my chin up and stare right at him. “You can fuck me however you want to, as long as you do it rightnow.”

His pants are off in under ten seconds and he’s on me in another two. His nose grazes along my jaw as he inhales deeply. “You smell so good. You know that?”

“Peaches,” I say, smiling. Happy to tell him I know.

I feel him grin against my cheek. A small nod. “Peaches.” He bites into my neck when he pushes into me, barely making it inside an inch before there’s simply no more room. “Fuck,” he hisses, utterly,painfullystill, panting against my collarbone.

My pulse skitters beneath his lips.

“I don’t—I’m not—” I babble before Rhett shushes me, pressing a warm finger hard into my lips.

“You can take it,” he murmurs, the soft tone of his voice a clear offset from the second hard thrust he spears into me, slipping in another inch. I think I might rip in half from the delicious pressure of it, at once painful andimpossiblymagnificent. He kisses me sweetly, tenderly, before he rolls another hard slam of his hips. “You can take me, can’t you?”

On the next thrust, I cry out.

Again. Another inch.

“Tell me you can take it.”

A tear slips out the corner of my eye, and I’d be embarrassed if I wasn’t mush-brained. As it stands, all I can do is mumble out a half-hearted plea for more, needing to feel him deeper.

Rhett kisses me again, lips wrapping around the hinge of my jaw. “Such a good girl,” he murmurs. “So sweet.”

Hearing his praise a second time sends me into another dizzying spiral. I come around him, mouth wide in a silent scream. He presses more soft kisses all over my face: my eyelids, my nose, the corners of my mouth. Tender and rewarding and so pure.

He doesn’t give me much time to come down from it before he pulls out and flips me over, the rope biting into my wrists as it makes a full twisting rotation. His knees bracket around mine and close my legs together, and I’m almost scared this is over. But then I feel the head of his hard length nudge against my ass as he palms both cheeks to spread them wide before settling himself between them.

And then hespits. Wipes his saliva over himself. Over me.

He starts to move again, thrusting—notinsideme, but between the fleshy muscle of my ass. His fingers sink deep into my skin as he works himself over and over again. I concentrate on the way he grips me, pushing himself between my cheeks as his hips rock forward with every thrust. The sounds of his breaths turn sharp and wild as he seems to blow a lid off his need, chasing a release that’s right there for him to find.

“You’re so pretty, peaches,” he says somewhere above me. I can’t see anything from this angle, but I feeleverything. “Your skin, I can’t?—”

He grunts, his movement sputtering as if he’s surprised himself, and I feel his release paint the length of my back. He drops his forehead between my shoulder blades, his weight settling over me, and it takes him several long minutes to regain control of himself. Before he’s able to move, to breathe with a steadier rhythm.

His fingers wind through my hair as he works to calm himself, gently brushing it along the tops of my shoulders as his lips press against my spine, and my skin ignites in a riot of goosebumps from the featherlight feel of it. Eventually he pushes off me, pulling the end of the rope loose from where it’s anchored to the bed. And then he grabs a washcloth from the bathroom, drowning it in warm water.

The way he uses it to clean me up is almost reverent. Like he knows I can hardly think straight, let alone make the necessary moves to help myself. When he’s done, he pulls his boxers on and curls himself around me underneath the covers, scooping me closer into him. I almost laugh when I realize that, besides the loss of his jeans, we’re both still nearly fully clothed. “Do you feel this?” he asks, lifting my palm to his chest, pressing it against two buttons of his shirt. “My heart beats so fucking fast for you, Olivia, I feel like I’m dying.”

I can’t help but smile, hiding it beneath his bicep. “Mine beats fast for you too,” I whisper, closing my eyes.

It’s the last thing I remember before I fall asleep.

CHAPTERSEVENTEEN

RHETT

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