Page 50 of Beautiful Desire
Reaching the side of the bed, I sit back on my calves, mouth watering as the aroma of Georgia’s arousal fills my senses. Her heavy-lidded gaze meets mine, and she smirks. “You like being my good boy, don’t you?” she asks, voice full of gravel. I nod, heart thrashing against my ribs and my dick leaking like a faucet. Tipping her head toward the nightstand in front of me, Georgia says, “Grab the little black bag in there, would you?”
The speed in which I do what she asked would probably be embarrassing if I wasn’t so drunk on lust and the scent of my stepsister’s pussy, but I’m too fucking gone to care.
“Good boy,” she purrs. I nearly come from that alone. “Now, show me what’s inside.”
With shaky hands, I tug open the cinched drawstring on the velvet bag that’s no larger than the palm of my hand, and a burst of heat shoots down my spine, settling deep in my nuts, as I pull out a butt plug. It’s all silver, save for the red jewel at the top, and the metal is cool against the palm of my hand as I flick my gaze over to Georgia.
A smirk tugs on my lips. “You want me to use this on you, Peach?”
“Oh, that’s not for me,” she says, before biting down on her bottom lip and sitting up. I know where this is going before the words even leave her mouth, yet I’m no more prepared as she giggles and says, “It’s foryou.”
Oh shit.
23
Georgia
Iwish I could take a picture of Fletcher. Naked, hard, and kneeling in front of my bed, he looks equal parts horrified and intrigued, like he can’t decide if he should be into it or get dressed and leave my room. When the idea came to me, I genuinely assumed he’d fully tell me to fuck off, but looking at him now, I’m not so sure.
“Me?” he asks, the plug sitting in the center of his palm as he holds it up like he’s a server and it’s a tray of cocktails. The way his brows are furrowed and his lips are parted is adorable, and the fact that his dick is still standing proud despite his obvious unease is hot as hell.
Rolling my lips between my teeth to hide the amusement, I nod. “I’m assuming you’ve never done anal play before?—”
“You would be assuming correctly,” he sharply cuts me off, and it takes every ounce of self-control to not laugh at the alarm in his voice. Then he adds to clarify, “Well, I mean, not to me, but I have fucked somebody in the ass before.”
Already knowing the answer, I say, “And I’m going to also assume there was no prep done beforehand to make sure she was ready?”
“What, like lube?”
“All right, that tells me everything I need to know.” I snort. “Okay, well, unlike your unlucky partners, I’m going to make sure you’re nice and relaxed and ready before I fuck you and show youexactlywho’s in charge here.”
Fletcher’s eyes widen, his brows wrinkling his forehead. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” I drawl. “But it’s cute you keep pretending you don’t, as if that’ll change anything. Don’t worry, though, I’ll spell it out nice and slow for you.” I nod toward the nightstand again. “Open that second drawer, and hand me the box that’s in there.”
Watching me warily and still holding the plug, Fletcher opens the drawer with his other hand. He glances inside formaybetwo seconds before his head snaps in my direction again. “That isnothappening, Georgia,” he bites out.
I breathe out a giggle. “Why not?”
“Because I’m…” he sputters, tripping over his words as his cheeks turn a brilliant shade of pink. “Because I’m not into that.”
“You sure about that?” I tilt my head to the side as I drag my gaze down the front of his body. “Because the mess you’re making all over my carpet says otherwise.”
“Yes, I’m sure.” He scoffs. “Georgia, I’m not gay or bi or whatever the hell you think I am.”
“Whoa, nope. I’m gonna stop you there.” Holding up a hand, I say, “Enjoying anal and prostate play isnotsynonymous with being gay, or bi, or any other sexuality, for that matter. That notion is society’s way of shaming men for enjoying something that’s completely natural through thinly veiled homophobia and toxic masculinity, and I can’t stand that shit.”
Fletcher’s jaw tics, and the Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know you didn’t,” I murmur, my voice softening. “I’m just saying, you don’t know if you’ll like it until you try it. If you’re genuinely not into the idea, Fletcher, then, of course, we’re not doing it. Full stop. But from over here, it looks like you might be, at least, a little turned on by the idea of it, and if that’s the case, I would behappyto give you your first prostate orgasm.”
Chewing on the inside of his cheek, Fletcher holds my gaze, and just as I’m starting to think I might’ve taken it too far, he blows out a breath. “Okay.”
Heat races down my spine as a smile spreads up my face. “Okay, as in you want to try?” I ask, needing to hear him say it.
He nods. “Yeah, let’s try it.”
“Grab the lube and get up here,” I tell him.
