“How did you get it?”
“It’s a long, stupid, mood-killing story.”
Not a lie, but not exactly a truth either. She waited with baited breath to see if he’d question her further.
“It feels like you got more than a handful, which is enough for me.” To her great relief, he moved on from the scar, caressing the undersides of her s while his rough thumbs worked her s.
Soon the tension of the scar conversation was replaced by something else. A delicious thread of desire licked down her stomach, and when she looked down, her s were standing at attention. He dipped his head and pulled one into his mouth, and the warm, wet sensation made her forget the previous conversation all together as her lips parted on a moan.
He gave her engorged a few long, lazy tugs before he said, “Tell me how this is making you feel.”
“Nice,” she said.
He stroked her with his tongue again. “Just nice?”
“Good,” she added. Then she moaned when he drew her into his mouth and sucked on her quite a bit harder. “Really good. You’re sucking on my , but I can feel it down there, too.”
“Down there? Tell me where. Exactly.”
Embarrassment flooded her otherwise aroused senses. “You know where, Mr. Prescott.”
“I know I know where, but I want you to tell me.”
“Down below, inside my kit kat.”
She felt silly using such a childish word, for not being the grown woman an exchange should require her to be. But she didn’t have a lot of experience with being sexy.
Wayne had preferred for her to lie there, quiet and docile, while he moved on top of her. He’d never asked that she actively participate in their lovemaking, especially not like this.
She expected Beau to tease her about not using the right words, for not talking sexy like his hotel room groupies, but instead he said, “Take off the rest of your clothes and lay back on the bed.”
She did as he asked, but once she was lying down, she had to fight the urge to cover her chest and womanhood with her arms and hands even though she knew he couldn’t see her, that’s how self-conscious this made her.
You’re just an object to him, she reminded herself. A warm body. He doesn’t care what you look like.
But what he did next was even more intimate than looking at her. He climbed up on the bed, still fully clothed, and lay down beside her.
“Turn toward me,” he said. Then he started touching her.
First her hair. “It’s not straight anymore, and it’s shorter,” he said, feeling the asymmetrical wedge of riotous curls at the top of her head. His hands then found the shaved sides. “Much shorter.”
She waited for him to state his displeasure with the cut Mindy had labeled drastic.
“I like it,” Beau said. “That weave you were wearing before didn’t look like the real you.”
She wondered how he could think he knew anything about the real her, but then his hands made contact with her glasses. “Are these…?”
He smiled like a little boy on Christmas. “You’re still wearing the cat-eye glasses I bought you?”
“I ran out of contact lenses,” she said defensively. “And I haven’t had time to get a new pair of—”
He kissed her again, hot and strong, his tongue delving into her mouth like a proprietary claim. And once again her kit kat responded, swelling hot and bothered, just because Beau Prescott was kissing her.
One hand cupped her nape and the other continued his exploration, moving from her neck down to her chest, where he again revved up her , torturing it under his thumb until she was squirming.
“Mr. Prescott…” she said, helpless with need.
“Hold on, darlin’. I’ll get to that part of you soon enough.”
Then his hand was moving down again, and she tensed but he stopped when he got to her ribcage.
“You’ve lost weight. A lot of weight.”
She would have thought that would have pleased him as many skinny starlets as she’d seen him out with, but he was frowning.
“Yes,” she said, searching for some credible explanation for actually being almost twenty pounds lighter than she’d been in high school. “I’m not sick or anything, I just lost weight because…” …because of her previous all-soup diet, because of her recovery from being married to Wayne… but in the end she said, “…because Loretta’s not feeding me anymore.”
He didn’t laugh at her joke. “I want you to gain some weight,” he said. “That’s an order.”
“You can’t just order somebody to gain weight,” she informed him. “That’s not how it works.”
“For what I’m paying you, that better be exactly how it works. In fact, you can start eating dinner with me, so I know you’re working on getting those curves back.”
Somehow this was oddly flattering after Wayne’s insistence that she workout every single day, even when she was sick, so she “didn’t get fat like some of the other attorneys’ wives.”
But then he grabbed her butt and all thoughts of Wayne went away.
“You’ve still got this,” he said, referring to her plump derriere. The weight loss had hit her every place but there, and Beau massaged her backside like an old friend. But he didn’t stay there too long. Soon his hand was gliding around her hip, his fingers, searching, searching until they found…
Her breath caught.
“You stopped narrating. Tell me what you see.”
“What?” she said.
“Tell me what you see,” he repeated.
“Um, um, your hand on my kit kat.” She let out another gasp, when two of his large fingers parted her folds. “And now your fingers are going in there, going inside me.”
“How do they feel?”
“Big… tight—I mean, they’re making my kit kat feel tight.”
It wasn’t the most eloquent picture, but a dark smile shadowed his lips like she was saying exactly what he wanted to hear. “I can feel you clenching around me. Do you know how hard that makes me?”
He kissed her before she could answer and said, “Touch me, too.”
She could have acted disingenuous, demurely touched his chest or his arms like she didn’t know exactly what he wanted, but the liquid heat his fingers had stirred up came to a boil inside of her and her innocence seemed to evaporate. She fumbled open the buttons on his jeans, reached in, and soon brought his manhood out, thick, rigid, and dripping with . Fascinated, she stroked the magnificent beast in her hand, watching more clear fluid ooze out the tip.
“Fuck, yes, darlin’,” he said. “But narrate it for me, tell me what you see.”
With his fingers still thrusting into her, relentless and steady, she could barely breathe much less talk, but she did her best.
“My hand on… your big finger. I’m stroking it up and down… and it’s getting bigger.”
He slipped two more fingers inside her, and she had to stop. A tide unlike anything she’d ever experienced when she used her own fingers on herself was building inside of her. She moaned. “I can’t talk anymore,” she gasped out. “I can’t… ohhhhh!”
“Don’t close your eyes,” he growled. “I want you to watch. Tell me what’s happening.”
“I’m— I’m stroking you. And you’ve… you’ve got four fingers in me now.” She watched his fingers moving in and out of her in a daze. She saw herself clenching around his hand, almost seeming to suck his fingers back in every time they moved out. “It feels so… so… so… good.”
She let out a loud moan and watched herself cream his fingers. “I’m coming! I’m coming so hard, I can see myself dripping all over your hand.”
She said this with helpless disbelief. She wasn’t trying to send him over the edge, but that was exactly what she did.
“Josie,” he said, almost like an accusation. His jerked in her hand, and then big ropes of cum spurted out, splashing across her arm.
She held on to it, so enthralled by the sight she didn’t think to let go until his stopped spasming and she realized out loud, “You’re still hard!”
His answer was to turn away from her and reach for his nightstand. He knocked a lamp over sideways before finding the drawer and yanking it open. He pulled out a small, red package and apparently Beau had done this so many times he didn’t need to be able to see to put on a condom, because he was sheathed in one moment, and on top of her the next.
Josie relaxed. The unexpected bout of foreplay had thrown her for a loop, but simple missionary she was familiar with.
She waited for him to move on top of her a few times then roll over like Wayne used to, but he guided his manhood over her still quivering slit carefully, before sinking into her.