Page 35 of Roads Behind Us
Bea’s body was my only cure.
“What are you doin’?” she said. “Did I go too far?”
“Not fuckin’ far enough,” I gritted through clenched teeth, trying to control the release that wanted to erupt out of my body. “Lift up your skirt.”
She moaned and complied a lot faster than I thought she would.
“Sit on my face, Bea. Come in my mouth. I wanna taste you.”
Chapter Twelve
Bea
A tall, sexy man with a filthy mouth?
Sign me up.
“Are you sure about this?” I asked. “Am I hurtin’ you?”
“You’re not hurtin’ me, sweetheart,” Bax said, the endearment like a caress. How many times had I been called Sweetie? But sweetheart? Not nearly enough. From his mouth, it made me feel warm and beautiful. Not at all like a gloppy, too-sweet Cinnabon. “Besides, I do my best work flat on my back.”
Oh God, yes. This wouldn’t turn out like the last time I’d been with a man. If Bax thought for a second I was unsatisfied after this—whatever this was we were doing—I felt certain he wouldn’t leave my cabin until I screamed his name.
“Good. I like orgasms as much as the next girl. If you can make me lose my mind on the floor in full light, you will have earned yourself a steak dinner.”
“I already had dinner.”
“So eat me for dessert.”
“Fuck,” he breathed. “But I’m sorry the floor’s kinda dirty.”
“I don’t care about dirt, Bax.” I cocked an eyebrow above him, daring him.
Using the edge of the couch, I braced for stability and felt his hand slip beneath my skirt. He held me in place, his fingers clutching the skin above my hips, and then I lifted the skirt and exposed myself to him again.
I wanted him, and the wild look in his eyes, like a mustang who’d just gotten the scent of a mare in heat, made me moan and roll my hips.
Being seen as one of the guys at work or as a little girl because I was so short didn’t do much to enforce the belief that men found me sexy, but the appreciative hum in the back of Bax’s throat and his tongue peeking out of his mouth as he examined my body, was trying to convince me. He looked at my underwear like they were nothing more than pink skin on a peach, and he was about to tear them off with his teeth.
“C’mon now,” he said as I lifted higher on my knees. “Get these things off. Let me taste you. I want you to ride my tongue till you scream.”
Oh yeah, that sounds so good. He may not have been ready for sex, but damn. The dirty talker had come out to play!
“Rip them off,” I ordered.
He winced. “They look expensive.”
“Do I seem like the kind of woman who spends hard-earned money on underwear, Bax? I bought ’em at Walmart.”
He hesitated. Had he changed his mind? Insecurity tried to derail me. “If you can’t show me you want me, what are we even?—”
Riiiiiiip.
With a handful of cheap lace, he molded his warm fingers to my ass cheeks, and he pulled my body to his mouth.
Breath hitched in my chest when he made his first pass between my pussy lips, testing me with the flat of his tongue, and I moaned when he swallowed. Relaxation flowed through my every nerve ending. My head fell back and breath escaped me in a long, quiet sigh.
His mouth felt amazing, but I was still afraid to do something that might hurt him. I barely allowed my body to touch his lips.
