Page 42 of Beautiful Desire
“Fuck!” I gasp, my head falling back onto his shoulder as his thick length stretches me open.
Hips striking against my ass, Fletcher sets a rough, brutal tempo that has my eyes crossing. “You like the way your stepbrother’s cock feels deep inside your needy cunt?”
I can do nothing but nod in response. His chest rumbles with a deep groan, and he brings his hand around the front of my throat, squeezing the sides.
“Yeah, you fucking do,” he growls. “You’re dripping for me, Peach. Your cunt fucking loves it.”
It feels like I’m floating, like every inch of my skin is electric. Bringing his fingers to my clit, Fletcher circles the sensitive bud, and I moan, a string of unintelligible words falling from my lips. The sound of our slick skin slapping together is lewd in the most delicious way, and I can’t get enough of it as his thrusts turn frenzied, his cock so deep in my pussy, it feels like he’s about to come up my throat.
“Goddamn, you feel so fucking good, Peach.” His breath comes out hard and fast against my neck as his movements become erratic. “I’m already so close, baby.”
“Me too,” I whimper, licking my lips to try to bring back some of the moisture to my mouth.
“Where do you want me to come?” he asks, and the roughness in his voice sends me over the edge.
“Come in me,” I cry out. “I have an IUD, please come in me!” Pressure builds, heat spreading along my lower belly. “Oh, f-fuck, Fletcher. Don’t stop, I’m gonna come!”
“Fuck yeah, come all over my cock,” he growls, fingers tightening around my throat as the first wave crashes into me. “Your cunt is squeezing me so tight, Peach,fuck…I’m about to—” His words cut off as his body stiffens, and a guttural groan rips from his throat as his cock pulsates inside of me.
He doesn’t pull out right away. Instead, he presses hot, open-mouthed kisses along the back of my neck while we both catch our breath, and when he finally does step back, I already miss the feel of his body against mine. Turning around, the silence is deafening as we fix our clothes, the reality of what we just did hitting me like a ton of bricks. But not necessarily so muchwhatwe did, butwhere. Anybody could’ve caught us. People could’ve walked by, and we were too gone to notice.
Fingers moving to my chin, Fletcher forces my head up. He holds my gaze, neither of us saying anything, but after a moment, he leans down and presses a soft kiss to my lips before he pulls back. “I’m fucking exhausted. Let’s get home,” he murmurs before turning and walking toward the sidewalk.
I’m thankful for the silence during the walk. My chest is tight. I don’t really know how to feel about everything, and I’m a little overwhelmed. Back at the house, we kick off our shoes before finally glancing at one another. Circling my waist with his arm, Fletcher pulls me into his chest, and I suck in a sharp breath. He brushes his lips over mine, but never actually kisses me. I don’t know if I’m more thankful or frustrated by that. My lips are still tingling from how hard he kissed me.
“Don’t be weird tomorrow,” he growls.
I chuckle because that’s not what I expected him to say. “I’m never weird.” Hiking a finger over my shoulder, I say, “I’m gonna go to bed.”
Fletcher nods, dropping his arm, but not before flashing me a smirk that makes my thighs clench. “Yeah, me too. Goodnight, Peach.”
Once I’m in my room, I pad over to the en-suite, washing the makeup off my face before brushing my teeth. It’s not until I strip out of my clothes and climb into my bed that I allow myself to replay everything. I’ve had two orgasms in the last hour, and my vagina is already sore, yet thinking about Fletcher fucking me again has my kitty tingling all over.
But what’s the most concerning is the way I didn’t want to walk away from him. The way I wanted to bring him in here to sleep beside me all night.
Ineverdo that.
19
Fletcher
“Uh, are you feeling okay?”
Georgia’s voice startles me as I flip the pancakes on the skillet. Turning to look at her, she’s standing in the entrance of the kitchen, with her hip pressed against the counter as she runs her fingers through her sleep-tousled hair. An amused smirk pulls on the corner of her mouth, her honey eyes red-rimmed, having just woken up, and a pillow crease indents the side of her face. She’s gorgeous.
Huffing out a breath through my nose, I say, “Feeling great. Why?”
The early morning sun spills in through the window, basking the kitchen—and Georgia—in a warm, golden glow. My gaze unabashedly trails down the front of her, noticing the white tank top she’s wearing is stretched over her tits, making it damn near see-through. My mouth waters as I can perfectly make out her rosy nipples and the silver barbells decorating them, and my body heats as memories from last night flash in my mind.
Georgia’s eyes flit over to the clock above the stove before coming back to me, her brows pinched. “Because it’s barely nine o’clock on a Saturday morning, and you’re making pancakes,” she mutters. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you make breakfast before.”
I flash her a toothy grin and say, “Actually, I’ve got a whole-ass spread in the making. Got some eggs, bacon, and some hash browns. I even picked up some fresh fruit at the store this morning.”
“What time did you get up?” she asks, reaching into the drawer beside her and pulling out one of her coffee pod things.
“About six.”
“What the hell for?” she spits out. “We didn’t get home until like after midnight last night.”
