Page 82 of One Last Encore

He looked down and nearly lost it–the sight of her, on her knees between his thighs, lips stretched around him, her eyes dark and locked on his face like she wanted to watch him fall apart.

"Ingrid," he groaned, his fingers tangling in her hair, hips twitching despite himself.

She moaned around him, the vibration sending electric jolts up his spine, straight to his cock.

Her pace picked up, just a little, just enough to set him on fire. She sucked him deeper, no mercy.

"Fuck, I’m close," he gasped, his voice hoarse, hips jerking against her mouth. At his warning, she only hummed again, and the world shattered.

His orgasm hit like a freight train, ripping through him, raw and violent. A guttural sound tore from his chest as he came hard, pulsing into her mouth in hot, helpless spurts.

She didn’t pull away. She swallowed him down, her hand stroking him through the aftershocks, milking every ounce of pleasure from his trembling body.

When he finally sagged back against the couch, spent and wrecked, his chest heaving for air, she pulled back with a soft, obscene pop, her mouth glistening, her smile utterly satisfied.

She crawled up onto his lap again, soft and warm and entirely too smug. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight against his chest, pressing his nose into the sweet, heady scent of her hair.

"Jesus, where did you learn that?" he blurted before his brain could catch up. The moment the words left his mouth, he immediately regretted them. He didn’t want to know the answer to that question. Because the thought of her doing this with anyone else made something raw and possessive flare inside him.

She hesitated for a beat before admitting softly, "That was my first time doing that."

Was this real life?A rush of pride and caveman-level ego swelled in his chest like he’d just discovered fire. He didn’t care about her past. He wasn’t that guy, but finding out he was herfirstfor that? His inner Neanderthal was doing laps around the cave.

A groan slipped out, half frustration, half awe. "Well, congrats. That was officially the fastest I’ve ever come in my life." He let out a dry, defeated laugh as he dropped his face into her neck. "I’ve been reduced to a two-pump chump. You’ve ruined me."

She tilted her head back to look at him, wide-eyed and sweet, and he brushed his mouth over hers, slow and lingering, tasting her smile.

"Can I ask you something personal?" he murmured, his thumb tracing slow circles along her jawline.

She let out a breathy laugh. "I just had your dick in my mouth. I don’t think it gets more personal than that."

His lips twitched, but there was something he needed to know. "Are you a virgin?" His voice was careful, not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable. The last thing he wanted was to pressure her or assume anything.

"No," she said with a casual shrug. "I’ve had sex before. Just never enjoyed it."

Beck’s brain came to a screeching halt. A hot surge of irrational rage lit up inside him, aimed squarely at everyincompetent asshole who had ever touched her. What kind of monster didn’t make sure she had a good time? Was this not literally the one job?

"Excuse me?" he said, voice cracking like a pubescent falsetto. "You say that like you returned a blender."

She shrugged. "Basically. ‘Didn’t perform as advertised, smelled weird, made a strange noise, returned after one use.’”

He stared. "Jesus. Who are these guys, and why haven’t they been exiled from society?"

"One cried after. Full-on tears. Another pitched me his crypto podcast mid-thrust."

Beck felt physically ill. "I need names. I need addresses. I need revenge."

She laughed. "Trust me, they’ve suffered enough. They had to live with themselves."

He dragged a hand through his hair, like trying to physically pull himself back together.

"Alright, well. When we have sex..." He leaned in, voice dropping to a gravelly promise, "I’m aiming for life-changing. I want you to rethink your existence. I want you to see God or at least a few new colors. Like, ultraviolet shit."

She laughed, shaking her head. "You talk a big game."

"I walk a big game. Baby, you're gonna need Gatorade, a recovery playlist, and maybe a therapy dog."

“I don’t think Freddie will agree with a dog. But I’m willing to take that risk.” She leaned in and kissed him.

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