Page 57 of When We Break

“Grab the pole.”

She frowns, her eyes bouncing between me and the rough wood. “How?”

I move up behind her and let my hand drift over her hip and up her side, and she trembles under my hand. “I want you to bend over and grab that pole for me.”

“I still have my jeans on.”

Grinning against her neck, I drag my nose back and forth over her skin, making it pebble up in goose bumps.

“I don’t fucking care, Irish.”

Letting out a shaky breath, she leans forward, sticking her perfect peach of an ass out, and grabs the pole.

“I’m going to tie you there,” I inform her. “Okay?”

“Yes.” There’s no hesitation in her breathless response, so I wrap the thin leather around her wrists in a figure eight before securing it around the pole. I check to make sure that she can’t slip out of it but also that it’s not cutting off her blood flow.

“Good girl,” I murmur, leaning in to kiss her shoulder. I love that I have control of her. That I can pleasure and enjoy her until I’m ready for her to return the favor.

Her sweatshirt has ridden up, exposing the smooth flesh of her lower back, and I press wet kisses there, making her moan. Reaching around, I unfasten her jeans and work them over her ass and down her hips to mid-thigh, where I’ll leave them.

“The air feels cool,” she says, her voice thick with arousal.

“I’m going to warm you up.” I press more wet kisses over her ass cheeks on both sides, then squat behind her, spread her open, and push my face into the sweetest pussy I’ve ever fucking tasted.

“Oh feck,” she groans, her hips moving against me.

“Stay still,” I warn her and grin when she stills. I lick her from her clit to that small puckered muscle at the top and back down again. Her head hangs down, her fingertips white against the pole. “You’re already soaked for me, Irish.”

“I know. Christ Jesus, Beck, I’ve never … Oh God.” My tongue is inside her now, lapping and pushing.

“You’ve never what?”

“Felt anything like you.”

“Mmm.” Pushing one finger inside her, I suck on her hard clit, and her hips start to move again, earning her a slap on one side of her ass. Not hard enough to hurt but hard enough to get her attention.

Skyla gasps and tries to look back at me as I soothe the skin with my palm.

“Beckett.”

“I warned you to stay still,” I remind her and go back to sucking on her, feeling the rush of wetness coming from her pussy. “You’re unbelievable. So fucking beautiful. Your body was made for me.”

I stand, two fingers inside her now, so I can check in on her. She’s biting that lip, her eyes are closed, and she’s so damn gorgeous, I know I can’t hold back much longer.

Quickly, I unfasten and unzip my jeans and pull my already hard and weeping cock out, brush it up and down through her soaking wet folds, and she moans again.

“Yes,” she says over and over again. “Yes. Please.”

“I fucking love it when you ask for it.” I’m gripping her hips so tightly that there will be bruises later. I push inside her until I’m bottomed out, and we’re both moaning in pleasure. “Do you know how perfect you are?”

With a whimper, she drops her head again.

“It’s so good, Beck.”

Her voice and her tight little pussy are more than I can take. I’m pushing in and out of her so hard and fast, I’m surprised the pole doesn’t give out and make the barn collapse. Reaching up, I pull the hair tie free and loosen her hair, then fist the strands at the nape of her neck and tug, making us both groan.

“I love your hair.”

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