Page 39 of Tangled Rose

“Yeah, oops.” He snickers. “And don’t for a fucking second think I didn’t notice that you didn’t want to talk. You sidetracked me, but you can’t avoid the conversation forever.” He scoops me up and leans back into the cushions with me between his legs. I shift, getting situated as he pulls the blanket over us.

Gotta admit. It’s kinda nice being all cozied up with Beau. I’m just not ready to have that whole discussion about why I’m so fucked up in the head yet.

I wiggle around, rubbing my backside against his still-hard dick. “But wasn’t what we did instead more fun?” If I act like everything is fine, then maybe we’ll both believe it.

“You haven’t seen anything yet.” He nuzzles his face against my neck.

I tip my head back and look up at him with a sassy smile. “Is that so?”

“Goddamn right.”

“Here we come!” Scarlett’s laughing voice is at the head of the pack. She enters the room, bringing a few bowls of popcorn and napkins with her. She sets them down on the table in front of the couch, then chooses the seat at the far end of the same long couch we’re on. Micah, Xander, and Griff follow with assorted bowls of chips and dips. Xander sits right next to Scarlett, pulling her into his side. Micah plops down dead center.

Eyeing all the food, I shake my head. “Wow. Poor Darla. How does she keep up with you?”

Griffin laughs and sits down next to Micah, leaving a couch cushion between us. “Experience. She knows us as well as Mom does. I swear, that woman anticipates our every need. We’re totally spoiled.”

I can’t decide whether I’m jealous or sad that no one has ever cared for me like that. And to think, they have their mom and Darla.

Blowing out a deep breath, I tuck all that in the back of my head for examination later. Right now, I want to be a normal teenager—hang out with friends, watch a movie, eat snacks, and find out what else Beau has in store for me.

He stretches his arm out to the end table and grabs the remote to start the movie again before looping his arms around my middle like a seat belt.

After five minutes go by with me wrapped up in Beau’s arms, I fully admit that I won’t be able to concentrate on the movie. In the dark, my senses of touch and smell are on overload. Resting my head back against his chest, I breathe in his masculine scent. It makes me ache. The heat coming off of his hard body is dizzying. If anyone were to ask me what movie we are watching, I couldn’t even say. I’m that affected by sitting here with him.

With every rise and fall of his chest, I try to center myself. To breathe.

That’s all for nothing when his arms unlock from around my stomach and his hands begin to wander. Oh boy. Here we go. He warned me he wasn’t done. He skims his fingertips over the soft skin of my lower abdomen, just above the waistband of my sleep shorts, and my heart skips a beat, then thumps double-time. His touch is light and slow, trailing back and forth, drawing lazy patterns that make me wonder what it would be like if he were to touch me more intimately.

As if my thoughts were broadcast directly to him, I feel him tense behind me. He hesitates, but then slides one hand down to cup me between my legs. Moisture pools there at his possessive touch. I can’t believe he’s doing this in a room with other people.

Then again, he’d let me watch him with the blow job queen, so maybe this is his thing? But this… it’s different than me walking in and finding him with her. He’s doing this on purpose. With me. And an audience, if they were to pay attention.

For a full ten seconds, I stop breathing. Then, finally, I let out the pent-up breath, shuddering. His hand moves with purpose, fingers finding their way past the waistband and into my shorts. His touch is a caress, ever so soft.

He turns his head and the whisper that falls from his lips sends a fresh jolt of lust through me. “Open your legs for me, Lyla.”

My chin tilts up and my gaze locks with his. I swallow carefully. My heart rate is speeding off along with the race car in the movie. Holy shit. Am I really doing this?

The sizzle down my spine and the blood rushing to my cheeks says yes. Yes, I’m going to do this.Yes, I want this. Inch by inch, I spread my legs apart, all the while attempting to not let anyone else in the room know what I’m doing. My eyes flick to Griff beside us, who is shoveling popcorn into his mouth, and to Micah with one leg stretched out, foot up on the coffee table. Scarlett is curled into Xander’s side, and his arm is wrapped around her, fingers lazily tracing patterns on her back. They seem very engaged in the movie and it’s at one of those critical, on-the-edge-of-your-seat moments, so when Beau slides his hand down further and slips a few fingers through my slick, wet folds, no one seems to catch my gasp.

Again, Beau whispers near my ear, “You aren’t wearing underwear.”

Nope. They’re all hanging up, drying in my bathroom.

But I can see when I look up into his eyes that he fucking likes it. Such a guy. And I’ve set him up for easy access and plenty of room to play. His eyes heat and his cock stiffens into steel at my back.

“Relax. Watch the movie.” He catches my earlobe between his teeth, biting gently as he finds my clit and works the bundle of nerves in steady, slow circles.

A shuddery breath escapes my lips, and I nod. Oh God. His touch is drugging. It’s enough to drive me mad. And there’s no escaping the filthy heat that whips through me when my gaze roams again over the other people in the room. Can they tell what Beau is doing to me? Do they know?

The cotton shorts have plenty of stretch, so now that he knows there is no other barrier, he glides a second hand down, teasing a path over my belly before it dives lower to join the first. The fingers of both hands stroke through my arousal and spread me open for him. He groans in my ear, “So fucking wet.” He teases me mercilessly for several minutes, touching me everywhere, all while his—our?—friends sit just a few feet away. This seems so forbidden, so fucking naughty, it makes the experience a million times more intense.

And I swear, when one of his fingers finally dips into me, I almost come apart. Then he adds another.

At my ragged moan, he pumps his fingers into me over and over and over again, slowly finger fucking me until I’m wound so tight, I’m seeing stars. I’m going to lose it. It’s never felt like this before. Never. I can’t remember ever wanting someone’s touch so much.

And the idea that I could ever stay still and quiet while he’s so skillfully working me is ridiculous.

---