Check in goes quickly, although the clerk really lays on the compliments for my man. Sorry honey, that’s my melty.
And I don’t even wait for him to close the door to our hotel room before starting to strip. Clothing tossed in a trail, ending up with me sprawled naked across the lush, fluffy white comforter before he ever kicks off his second boot.
There’s real hunger in his eyes as he peruses every inch of my body. “So eager,” Beau says. Though I’m not sure if he means me or him. “My mouth or my cock, darlin’?”
I’ve had it with the waiting. “Any. All. Both. Fuck, I don’t care. Just fuck me, Beau.”
He drops to kneel in front of me, spreading my legs wide and dragging my bottom to rest at the edge of the bed. Planting my heels against his thighs, he cups an arm under and around each of mine, tilting my hips up into the exact position he’s after. Using his luscious mouth to pepper kisses up my inner thighs, nipping then laving his tongue over each spot his teeth grazed, he’s not shy about showing how much he enjoys the feast, groaning out his excitement or approval.
Writhing and squirming, I grip handfuls of comforter just to have something to do with my hands. It’s already too much, and he’s just getting started. From there, Beau’s mouth turns magical, licking, sucking, and nipping exactly where I need his mouth to be. Pure blissful torture the way he goes at me. Slowly and purposeful, and totally in control.
My hips move, grinding down against him because what he’s doing is great, but I need more. Beau’s not in the mood to be rushed, moving his forearm to rest against my pelvis, stilling my hip movements, relentless in his slow punishment.
Like I said, magic.
I can’t hold on as wave after wave of unadulterated pleasure rushes over me, making me come harder than I thought humanly possible. And considering the orgasms he gifted me before I high-tailed it out of town, that’s saying something. Yes, it’s safe to say the man has unprecedented oral skills.
While I’m still riding that euphoric high, I feel him slide inside me.
Oh shit.
With every thrust, he moves us up the bed until my head hits the pillow, never once breaking his rhythm. I’m literally along for the ride. Then repositioning us, he throws one of my legs over each shoulder. Before resuming the festivities, he pauses to kiss me. This one sweet, tender, as he whispers against my lips. “Love you, baby girl.”
Then just like that, he begins overwhelming my senses, building my sexual world up with every pull, only to topple it through every push. Those thick locks, I want to run my fingers through it, rake my fingernails over his scalp until he gives me his approving grunts of pleasure, but he won’t let me, holding my hands above us as he continues the pounding, the frantic.
The slapping of skin is the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard. I feel another orgasm coming on. So close. But before I get the chance to get there, he stops, flips me over to my belly and brings my hands up to hold onto the headboard. From there he lifts my right leg to hook backward around his thigh, and he grinds. The grind alone would do it, but Beau takes me to the next level reaching around to press his finger against my happy spot while lacing the fingers of his other hand through mine still gripping the headboard so we’re gripping it together. And he keeps grinding. I can’t…he just…oh god.
This is different from anything we’ve ever done before. Slamming my head back against his shoulder, I detonate, my orgasm bomb going off all around him. Again. He won’t let up. Won’t let me recover. Pressing kisses down my neck while he continues to press against my happy spot. His manipulations almost painful, so raw, so sensitive. Yet he won’t let up on the pumping and grinding until he rings out another two orgasms before he finally follows me in post-coital bliss.
Four orgasms in one night.
I’m spent.
The man’s a miracle worker.
Why was I fighting this?
His release came just as beautiful, the way he turned my chin to look him in his eyes as he unloaded inside me. Then falling against my back, he trapped me between the headboard and his body for only a moment under all his body weight before pushing up on one arm while brushing strands of hair, which had fallen in front of my eyes, behind my ear with his other hand.
Beau lays us down, face to face, chest to chest. I have to remind myself he’d lied to me. Yet, the way he never breaks his stare, it’s so personal. So intimate. So much more than great sex.
I’m lost to him again.
“Done fightin’ me, now?” he asks on a heavy breath.
God he’s beautiful, sweat glistening his brow as he smiles that crooked smile down at me. He already knows the answer.
I nod. My head being the only part of my body I seem to have retained control over. Never knew it could be this good.
“Why, Elise?”
His question confuses me, pulling me from the blissful state I’d taken up residence in.
“I need to hear you say it,” he then says, and it hits me, what he needs to hear.
“I don’t know if I can tell you yet.”
“You can. You’re thinkin’ too much. I don’t wanna know what’s in here.” Then he brushes the back of his hand along my temple. “The head always messes shit up. I wanna know whatcha feel here.” He moves his hand to press the skin over my heart.
Oh, what do I feel? What. Do I feel? Only that my head and my heart are at war with each other, and I should be putting up more of a fight (my head) but I’m tired of fighting and just want to enjoy my time with him (my heart).
“Part of me might still hate you, Beau.”
“Darlin’.” He shakes his head then brushes a light kiss over the apple of my cheek. “None of you hates me. You’re just scared, and I get it. I wasn’t exactly up front with all the information.”
“Just give it to me now.”
“Can we agree to you tryin’ life as my old lady, first?’
“I’m here aren’t I?”
“Don’t know. Are you here or are you here? Because baby girl, I need you to know the parts I withheld, those are the unimportant parts. The feelings I’ve given you, those are what’s real, what matters.”
“I’m here, Beau. But I’m not ready to give you any more than that yet.”
“Fair enough. Waited seven years. Can wait a little longer.”
Hell, even if I didn’t still love him, after he gave me four orgasms? Yeah. I nod again. Snuggling closer against his chest. I’m good giving him that.
“Okay,” Beau says, very seriously. As if we’d decided something.
“Okay.” I repeat, too tired and sexually spent to say more.
Then after leaning over to kiss my forehead, he tugs us both up the bed. As he folds down the covers, I arch my butt up to help him along, then we’re laying side by side, me tucked up under his arm once he’s brought the blankets back up to cover us.
“Now sleep. We got a lot to talk about. I wanna rest before we get into it, and I want us past it by the time we get home.”
“Sure.” I yawn, letting Beau flip me over to use him as a full body pillow. He flings my arm across his pecs and my leg across his thigh. And I’m perfectly fine giving up all the control because I lack the energy to do anything but submit.
Pulling me closer, kissing the top of my head once more, he lets me alone to drift off to sleep.
When my eyes open again, it’s to the sensation of Beau kissing my neck, sucking the skin into his mouth. There’s no light filtering in around the curtains from the outside, so it must still be early morning.
“Hey, baby girl.” He pauses his ministrations to greet me.
I finally get to reach up and run my fingers through that thick hair. Losing the hairband, his luscious peanut butter locks fall down around his neck. He presses into my hand, his low growl, an admission to his enjoyment on how I work my fingers.
“I think I wanna fuck you again before we talk.” Beau brushes his lips along my earlobe.
“Weren’t you supposed to tell me th
e truth while buried to the hilt inside me?”
He pulls back allowing me to see his whole face, but mostly my eyes fixate on that adorably crooked smile. “You remembered.” It’s a statement, not a question.
“Hardly an offer a girl could forget.”
Beau rolls over on top of me, resting most of his bodyweight on his forearms. “Open your legs, darlin’.”
I do, allowing him to settle between them. My inner thighs resting against his outer thighs. “You ready to hear the truth?”
Yes. I nod my answer. No buildup necessary this time, just the promise of what’s to come, namely me. As I am achingly ready.
He positions himself at my entrance and slides in, slowly filling me up to the hilt. Nothing has ever felt as perfect as Beau inside me.
Before he begins to move, he holds my stare. “I never set you up. Think you know that by now, but it’s important I get that out first.” Then he moves his hips, withdrawing almost all the way before sliding in slowly again. Every inch of him extracting concentrated pleasure. “Was plannin’ on tellin’ you that day, so I could be there for you, support you at your father’s funeral.” He picks up the pace, only subtly, kissing everywhere his lips reach.
I think it’s perfect until he throws a twist of his hips in hitting the spot. And I scream his name, digging my nails into his back. I might have drawn blood. I don’t know. What I do know, this…this is perfection.
“I wanted us to show a united front. I needed the town to know they mess with you, they feel the wrath of the Brimstone Lords. I have loved you since high school, Elise. You should’ve been mine from that day in front of the Whippy Dip. Not Logan’s. But you chose him then, so I hung back for you and for him. ‘Course, by spring of your senior year you found your way back to me. You and me, we were already in love. Even if you hadn’t said the words yet.”
“But you didn’t want me because of the baby.”
He twists his hips again rendering me incapable of thinking straight.
“You’re wrong, darlin’. I wanted you and was willin’ to raise Logan’s baby as my own. Everyone was hurtin’ so bad at the funeral, lookin’ to me to make it right. I thought if I just gave them that day…”
My heartrate kicks up as his pace picks up.
“Oh, Beau…”
“Elise, baby girl. You left that day…and never…oh fuck! Never…came back.”
I clamp down around him at the start of my release, triggering his release, and we come together.
And then we pass out.
It’s later in the morning by the time I open my eyes again. I can tell by how the light that didn’t shine earlier, shines around the closed curtains now. He’s beautiful lying next to me, slumbering in a way which seems to have evaded me despite the mind-blowing orgasms he’s pulled from my body.
If I stay in bed with him I’ll keep tossing and turning, only succeeding to wake the poor, clearly spent man from his restfulness. So I carefully, slowly slink from the bed and his arms, and move to the bathroom for a little me time.
Can I accept what he’s told me and move on? Because I never want to be that woman, the one who brings up shit that happened twenty years ago just to hurt him. If he and I are going to make this work, I have to be able to put that time behind me.
The water jets in the shower help to reduce my stress some. Lying flush against the travertine tiles, they massage my body with spray from three walls.
Truthfully, what does holding a grudge do besides cause us both heartache? How much more time am I willing to waste? Our truth isn’t easy, but it’s ours. And I have to accept it or let him go for good.
With the water pelting against my skin, I sink to the floor. Realization hitting like a hammer strike: I’m not ready to let him go for good.
I’ve decided to forgive Beau Hollister.
When I step back inside the room wearing nothing but the fluffy, white towel, he’s awake and his eyes alight with intense desire for me. To his credit though, he doesn’t look solely at my body, moving those chocolate brown eyes up to meet my blue ones.
“What brought on that smile?” he asks. “It lights up the whole room, you know that?”
“I forgive you Beau.” I shrug, needing him to feel my sincerity.
He knifes up, a thickness to his voice. “For what? What’d I do this time?”
“You aren’t getting it. I forgive you.”
There’s the lightbulb moment. “Fuck.” He runs his fingers through his hair gathering it like he’s going to pull it into a bun but without his hair tie, lets the strands fall again. “You mean it? Really, honestly mean it? Because I can’t go on with life thinkin’ we’re good only to have you spend your life fumin’ away, waitin’ to explode all over me.”
“I mean it. I’ve spent all night thinking. And well, you didn’t really do anything wrong. Aside from not supporting me at the funeral. Or telling me who you are.”
“Who gives a fuck if I’m Mark or Beau?” He slams his hand down onto the bed next to him. “I’m still the man who loved you in high school. I’m still the man who loves you now.”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Apparently I don’t care. So if you want me, I’m telling you now, you have me. All of me.”
Throwing off the bedclothes, Beau leaps from the overstuffed mattress. Smile lines crinkle around his glassy eyes, and the crooked one around his lips. In two steps has me, holding me in his arms. Tenderness to his touch, using a crooked finger, he tips my chin up. “Let’s go home, darlin’. We’ll go to the store, invite some friends over. I’ve got a kickass grill. Steaks sound good?”
“With bleu cheese, fried onions and creamed spinach on the side?” I laugh as hot tears run down my cheeks.
Beau swipes at my tears, clearing his throat. “Can you cook creamed spinach?”
“Sure. I’m a great cook.”
He shifts slightly, still buck naked, to unhook the towel covering me, letting it drop to the floor so our bare bodies press together. Although the scene becomes intimate he doesn’t act on it, moving his hands to my hips instead.
Beau presses his forehead to mine, squeezing his eyes shut. “Check us out,” he says. “How very domestic of us.”
“Domestic sounds nice.”
“Domestic sounds fucking perfect.”
14.
Beau
She mounts my bike with her whole self pressed against my back, trusting me with her life as we start to ride. She’s trusting me with her life, but I’m trusting her with mine. There really ain’t much else in the world to fuck a man up other than a woman. Elise Manning don’t know the power she holds. I got my brothers in the club and my woman on the back of my bike. Nothing else I need in life. Few wants, sure, but as for needs, this is it. Without either of them, shit, I can’t even imagine that life.
Even before she was mine, I knew she would be. I knew I’d make it happen. A few hiccups along the way, but now she is.
The drive goes faster than I want it to. Wind smacking my face, the rumble and vibration of the bike underneath me, pushin’ the machine to its limits through every mountain pass from the time we crossed over the Kentucky boarder, about two hours ago. We’re forty minutes away from home when my phone vibrates in my pocket.
“Get that for me?” I yell to Elise.
She slides her hand down to reach inside my front jean pocket, stroking me a few times teasingly as she grabs for the damn thing. “It’s Chaos.” She calls back.
“Answer it.”
She does. “You’ve reached sex god Beau Hollister’s phone. Love slave Elise Manning speaking.” The silly woman giggles.
Silence.
“O-oh. Okay. He needs to speak with you. Pull over.”
This can’t be good. As I signal, I cut to the shoulder of the highway, Elise hands me the cell.
“Brother,” I say.
“Boss, you gotta get home, now,” is all he says and hangs up.
While we’d holed up in our little sex den f
or the night, the brothers had continued on through to deliver Elise’s belonging to my house.
“Fuck.”
“What?” Elise asks, squeezing her reassurance against me, and she don’t even know she’s doing it.
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “But I got a feelin’ it’s bad. Hold on tight, baby girl.” Handing her back my phone I burn out of there with such speed both our heads snap back. Her grip tightens around my waist with one arm as she shoves the cell back inside my pocket lacking her earlier playfulness, then brings her second arm around to really hold tight.
With her fingers cuttin’ a death grip into my skin and her face buried against the back of my cut, we take the forty minutes in just under twenty.
My house has cops and the fire department and my brothers swarming the property—in the drive, on the porch, rounding from the back. Neighbors stand around watching the scene unfold.
Tommy and Chaos approach us at the same time.
“Elise.” Tommy greets her sharply with a curt nod.
“What the fuck?” I ask, completely dumbfounded.
“You might want to keep her back.” Chaos warns.
At the same time Elise yells, “Oh my god!” and jumps off the back of my bike, running for the porch before any of us realize she’s doing it. The scene has us that fucked up.
When I reach her, she’s shaking, staring not at the broken out window or inside the open door leading to the fuckin’ firebombed living room. No, she’s caught up in the words spray painted across the front of the house. The whore or you. The signature looks like an anarchy symbol, but with an H in the circle instead of the A.
Bedlam Hordes.
“What the hell do the Horde want with Elise?” Tommy asks me.
Hell if I know.
Over the past few years that Houdini character has held a grudge against me personally, causin’ problems. Fucker always escapes just before. We’ve caught several of his brothers, made them pay for his antics, but none have ever broken. We still don’t know the pussy’s identity. And he is a pussy making his brothers take his hits.
Lady Sings the Blues Page 13