Page 26 of Beauty and the Cop
I don't know what I want.
I want more. I want everything. I want him, all of him, but I can't say that out loud. Instead, I nestle my face into the crook of his neck and whimper as he slides a finger inside me.
He groans, the sound deep and rough. "Jesus, Elsie. You're so tight. So fucking wet for me. Is this okay?"
I nod, my lips ghosting across his skin.
He pushes deeper. The stretch is strange but good in a way nothing else has ever been.
He moves in shallow pulses, curling his finger until sparks shoot up my spine. I rock against his hand on instinct, moaning his name.
"That's it," he whispers. "Ride my hand, baby. Just like that."
I do. I can't help it. The motion feels natural, primal, like I have to move or I'll explode. Every time I slide down, he presses against that spot that makes me see stars, and I rock a little faster, a little more frantic.
He adds another finger, slow and careful, and my whole body tenses around the intrusion. The burn fades to a desperate ache. I clamp a hand over my mouth to keep from sobbing his name in response.
He notices, of course. "Let me hear you," he says, gently prying my hand away from my mouth. "I want you to scream for me."
Oh god. He's going to kill me. I'm going to die right here in his lap from sheer embarrassment or sheer ecstasy. I'm not even sure which.
He works me with steady, patient strokes, curling his fingers inside me while his thumb rubs circles on my clit. Every muscle in my body draws tight, tighter, and then the wave breaks.
I lose my mind, my body, my soul. When my orgasm hits, it's a full-body detonation, my cry muffled by his shoulder as I shake apart in his arms.
He holds me through it, still working me slowly, drawing out every last tremor while whispering praise against my ear.
It takes me a while to come back to myself.
When I finally do, my cheeks are burning, and my skirt is bunched around my hips. I can feel his cock pressing up against me through his jeans, hard and huge.
"Hey," he says, his voice soft. "You okay?"
"I think I died for a second there," I say, burying my face in his throat, afraid to face him now. Not sure what to say or how to say it.
"You're beautiful when you come, Elsie."
I whimper softly, my cheeks burning.
He just holds me, like he's perfectly content with me on his lap, my cries of pleasure still hovering in the corners of the room.
I'm not sure when or how I fall asleep, but I do. And unlike most nights, I don't dream about him. I don't think I dream at all.
For once, I just sleep.
Chapter Nine
Elsie
The sun is barelyup when I wake, feeling like I fell asleep in a sauna, with something jabbing me in the butt cheek.
I groan and stretch…and then freeze.
I'm not in my bed, and I'm not alone.
I crack my eyes open, my heart pounding, and peek over my shoulder. Sure enough, I'm not in my bed, and I'm not alone.
Noah is nestled on the sofa behind me, one arm thrown over my waist, the other cradling my head like a pillow. He's still sleeping, looking more peaceful and still than I've ever seen him.
