Page 126 of When We Break

“That’s what you’ve been doing, Beck.” I bite my lip when his mouth latches on to my nipple, sucking hard. “Ah, hell, that’s bloody good.”

“What else do you need?” He kisses over to the other breast and skims his teeth over my sensitive flesh before moving lower. “Tell me, baby.”

“Your mouth.” My voice is breathy, and I can’t keep my hands out of his hair. “On me.”

“It’s on you,” he reminds me before leaving a wet kiss just below my navel. “Be more specific.”

I whimper, but he doesn’t move lower.

Because he wants me to ask for it.

“I want your mouth”—I have to pause to lick my lips—“on my pussy. Please.”

With a growl, he shoulders his way between my thighs. Before licking me, he takes a deep inhale, breathing me in.

If it wasn’t so bloody sexy, I’d almost be embarrassed.

“This pussy is goddamn incredible,” he murmurs before he licks me from my entrance to my clit. My hips buck up off the bed, so he loops his arm over my stomach to hold me in place. “And all mine. You’re such a good fucking girl, Irish.”

I flush with his praise, and I feel him chuckle against me before he pushes two fingers inside me. My walls contract around him, making us both groan.

“Ah, Jesus.” I thrash my head back and forth, my breath heaving on the cusp of an incredible climax.

“Do not come,” he warns me, and I lift my head and stare down at him.

“What?”

“Not yet.” He shakes his head, pulling me closer to the edge. “I mean it, Irish. You can hold out.”

“For feck’s sake, Beck.” My hands clench around the bedsheets. I bite my lip. “I can’t.”

“Listen to me, beautiful girl.” I shake my head, but he keeps going. “Take a breath.”

“Let me come.”

He smiles against me, and I’ve a mind to squish him with my thighs.

“Beckett.”

He quickly pulls his fingers out of me, and I feel so empty, but then he climbs over me and slams his cock inside me.

“Now,” he growls against my lips. “Come for me, baby.”

There’s no way I can stop it. My back arches, my arms and legs clutch him to me, and I scream his name as I break apart.

“Yes, that’s it,” he says, and then he tenses and follows me over, rocking into me through his own orgasm, whispering words of love to me. “You’re so perfect. You’re everything, Irish. So fucking amazing.”

I couldn’t hold the tears back if I tried. They spill down my temples, and he leans down to kiss me.

“Don’t cry, baby.”

“I just love you so bloody hard, Beckett Blackwell.”

He sighs and brushes my nose with his. “I love you too, Irish.”

* * *

“Thanks for the ride,” Beckett says to Brad, who’s driving us to the airport, but first, we need to stop in to check on my boy. “This is easier than leaving my truck at the airport.”

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