Page 78 of Beckett
She moved toward me, each step deliberate despite her exhaustion. When she reached me, her hands came up to rest on my chest, fingers splaying over my heart.
“I need you,” she said, and the words came out cracked. “I need to remember my body belongs to me, not him. Please.”
I cupped her face, feeling the delicate bones beneath skin stretched too thin by months of barely surviving. “You’re sure?”
Instead of answering, she rose on her toes and kissed me. It started soft, almost careful, like she was afraid I might dissolve if she pushed too hard. Then it deepened, became something wild and necessary.
I lifted her, her legs wrapping around my waist instinctively, and carried her to the bedroom. The morning light through the curtains painted her skin gold and shadow. I set her on her feet beside the bed, then stepped back.
“Let me see you,” I said.
She nodded, understanding what I needed—to catalog every mark, every bruise, to reassure myself she was really here and whole. We’d been together enough times that undressing had become familiar, but this morning, it felt different. Sacred somehow.
Her fingers went to her shirt buttons, undoing them with practiced ease. The fabric parted, revealing skin I’d mapped before but that looked different in this fragile morning light—still pale from weariness but healthier than when she’d arrived. The regular meals and safety of the past weeks had restored some of her curves, though shadows of exhaustion still clung to her.
I helped her with her jeans, my hands steady despite everything churning inside me. When she stood before me in only her panties, I traced a finger along her collarbone, remembering how prominent it had been when I’d first seen her,grateful for every pound she’d regained while here. Even while cursing myself for not pushing to find out more earlier.
“Beautiful,” I murmured, feeling her shiver.
I stood and stripped efficiently, watching her eyes track over my body—the scars from combat, the newer marks from ranch work. When her gaze reached my cock, already hard and straining, her breath hitched.
“Lie down,” I said softly.
She stretched out on the bed, and I took my time looking at her, memorizing this moment when she was choosing trust over fear. I started at her feet, pressing my thumbs into her arches, working out the tension. She moaned softly, her eyes fluttering closed.
“Stay with me,” I said. “I want you here, present.”
She opened her eyes, locking on mine as I worked my way up her calves, kneading the muscles that had carried her through months of running. When I reached her thighs, spreading them gently, she tensed.
“Trust me,” I whispered.
I leaned down and pressed my mouth to the inside of her thigh, feeling her pulse race beneath my lips. Moved higher, using my tongue to trace patterns on sensitive skin. When I finally reached her center, still covered by cotton panties, she was already wet, the fabric damp against my lips.
“Please,” she gasped.
I hooked my fingers into the waistband and drew them down slowly, revealing her to the morning light. She was perfect—pink and glistening, her clit already swollen with need. I spread her legs wider, settling between them.
The first touch of my tongue to her clit made her cry out, her hips bucking off the bed. I held her steady with one arm across her stomach, using my free hand to part her folds, exposing her completely.
“So beautiful,” I murmured, then lowered my mouth again.
I took my time, alternating between broad strokes of my tongue and focused attention on her clit. When I slid two fingers inside her, curling them to find that spot that made her see stars, she grabbed my hair, holding me in place.
“Don’t stop,” she panted. “God, don’t stop.”
I didn’t. I worked her with mouth and fingers until she was writhing beneath me, her thighs trembling, internal muscles clenching around my fingers. When she came, it was with a scream she muffled with her fist, her whole body arching off the bed.
I gentled her through the aftershocks, then kissed my way up her body—her stomach, the valley between her breasts. I took one nipple in my mouth, sucking until it peaked, then gave the other the same attention. She was making soft, needy sounds that went straight to my cock.
When I reached her neck, I paused. “Can I?”
She nodded, turning her head to give me access. I pressed the lightest kiss to her nape, right where I knew the scar was. She shuddered, but not from trauma. The bastard had made this spot hypersensitive, turned it into a trigger. But triggers could be reprogrammed.
I spent long minutes there, using lips and tongue and gentle teeth to reclaim that spot. Each kiss was a promise—this belongs to you, not him. By the time I pulled back, she was panting, her whole body flushed with arousal.
“I need you inside me,” she said, reaching for my cock, wrapping her fingers around the length. “Now.”
I grabbed protection from the nightstand, but she took it from me, rolling it on with careful hands that made me groan. Then she pulled me over her, guiding me to her entrance.
