The Beckett Boys- The Complete Series Box Set

by Olivia Chase

  I pump my fingers harder, curling to stroke her G-spot, and her body starts to shudder. Her cream is so good and tangy that I want to eat her for hours. I can tell she’s getting close to coming because she’s even tighter around my fingers, her pussy pulsing. It’s hypnotic, and her taste could become dangerously addictive.

  When Brooklyn’s gasps become incoherent words strung together, I keep at it, fucking her faster with my fingers, licking her clit and nibbling on her pussy lips. My sole purpose is to make her come. I need it more than I need oxygen.

  She stiffens, her legs locking in place, then releases a wail so loud that my cock bounces in response. Her whole body shakes, down to her fingertips on my scalp, and I’m feeling a rush of pride, and something else that I’m not quite sure how to label.

  It takes her several moments to relax her limbs. When she does, everything sinks heavy and she droops on the bed, the most self-satisfied smile on her face that I’ve ever seen. “Oh God,” she groans. “I’ve…” Her cheeks turn a delicious shade of pink, and she moves her hands to cover her face. “I’ve never done that before.”

  “Did you enjoy it?” I ask her as I move to curl beside her. Her body is pliant when she wiggles to curl against my front. My cock is still raging, but oddly enough, I want to just hold her right now. Let her bask in her pleasure.

  Something tells me this was a big deal for her. I just want her to feel good, secure. Safe.

  Cared for.

  My heart gives a hard thud against my chest at that last thought. Of course I’ve always wanted my sexual partners to have a good time. But this feels different. I don’t know why, but it does.

  I’m not quite ready to examine that yet.

  I stroke her hair. “How are you feeling, darling?”

  She sighs and presses her back to me, and my ridiculous heart gives this strange flip that unnerves me. “So good. I had no idea it could feel like that.” She swallows and I feel her suck in a deep breath. “I’m…well, you probably guessed, but I’m a virgin. I haven’t had a lot of sexual experience.”

  I chuckle gently. “I kinda figured as much.”

  “What made you guess?”

  “You have this ‘virgin’ vibe around you, almost like a halo.”

  She laughs and turns around to face me, slugging me in the chest. “A virgin vibe? What the hell is that?”

  I try hard to keep my face straight. “Men like me can pick up on it a mile away. We smell women who are innocent and pure—it’s like a pheromone beckoning us. Makes us want to deflower them.”

  She rolls her eyes. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

  I laugh. “Spent a whole lifetime honing that quality.” I pause and weigh my next words. “So…can I ask why?”

  “Why I’m a virgin?” There’s a tinge of hesitance in her voice.

  “I’m not gonna hold a gun to your head and make you explain,” I say with a smile. “I’m just curious. It’s unusual for people our age to be, that’s all.”

  The tension in her body eases a touch. I can still see a little stiffness in her, like she’s used to defending her decision on this. “Sex is important, too important for me to be casual about the person I connect with.” She takes a breath and her gaze slides away from mine to stare over my shoulder at the wall behind me. “As I told you before, my sister is a single mom. She fell for a guy and got pregnant, and when she told him, he vanished. She has no idea how to find him—apparently, he was couch surfing and took off when he learned he got knocked her up.” Her eyes get sad, tinged with a flash of anger. “I promised her I’d never get myself in that kind of position.”

  My stomach gets this weird sensation. I can read between the lines. Her sister fell for a guy like me, I imagine. Someone who wants to be free, not tied down. Who enjoys sex but not commitment.

  “I…can see why that would make you hesitant,” I finally say. “But sex doesn’t have to be something crazy or serious. It can just be fun. Enjoyed for the sake of itself.”

  She sighs. “For some people, I’m sure. I just don’t know if I can do that. How is it you can?”

  It’s a fair question, asked without judgment, but something about it sets me on edge. Maybe because it reminds me that she and I are vastly different in how we feel, how we approach things. And like it or not, I’m growing attached to her. Far more than I should be.

  I keep my voice even. “I can because I’ve lived with what happens when you let yourself be…too attached to someone. I was three when my mom left us. And while I don’t remember well how my dad was before that, I do know it impacted him after. He never dated anyone else or let another woman come into his life.”

  Her eyes turn sad. “I’m sorry.” She strokes my upper arm and shifts until her knee is between my legs. I’m reminded that we’re both naked, lying curled on her small bed, and I’m sharing shit from my past that I never talk about with anyone. “I can’t imagine what that was like. I think it would make me scared, too.”

  The way she’s looking at me, I feel like she can see deep inside me, and I fight the urge to squirm. I’m not used to pillow talk like this. I’m used to fucking a girl hard, giving her a smooth, easy kiss on the mouth, then sliding my way out of her bed, out of her life. No complications, no fuss.

  Not curling up beside her, wanting to know more about her. Wanting to discover why she is the way she is. And even more, wanting to reveal things about myself that I never show anyone.

  What is it about Brooklyn that draws this out of me? I don’t know, but it kinda scares me. This isn’t who I am.

  “We made it work,” I finally say in a flippant tone. “My dad was better off anyway. We didn’t need someone like her around. He was good enough for two parents.” My heart gives a painful little squeeze when I really think about my dad. Memories I don’t like to think about come rushing to the surface. How there would be nights I’d wake up at two or three in the morning, and I’d walk into the living room and see him staring blindly at the TV, no expression on his face.

  Or even worse, the nights I’d hear him softly crying in bed.

  My dad missed her. Despite how she abandoned all of us, without a word, he still ached for her.

  Fuck that. I’m never going to let a woman break me that way.

  Then Brooklyn’s hand comes up and strokes my cheek, and I realize that every moment I spend with her, I become a little less myself. I’m losing the things that make me fun, make me the guy I’m used to being.

  She’s changing me.

  The thought makes my lungs squeeze tight. But I can’t just stop. I want her too badly. I’ve had a taste of her and I need more.

  I want to make her come again.

  I want to make her smile again.

  She’s slipping into my veins, pumping through my bloodstream, giving me life like oxygen. Brooklyn is unlike anyone I’ve ever known.

  “You okay? You’re awfully quiet. That’s not like you.” I hear the teasing tone in her voice, but underneath there’s a lot of shyness. She’s not feeling like herself, either. She’s let me go further than anyone else has.

  She’s got just as much to risk as I do.

  I try to let go of my thoughts and give her a broad smile. “I’m fine, darling. Just enjoying the moment. Being naked is one of my favorite things.”

  Brooklyn laughs, and I see the tension ease up in her body language, on her face. “I could have guessed that. Something about you strikes me as that kind of person.”

  My grin is effortless, and I stroke her bare hip, enjoying the feel of her silky flesh. Trying to not let myself get paranoid that I’m feeling far more for her than I should.

  For now, I’m just going to relax and enjoy this.

  So we lie in bed and just talk for a while, and I don’t try to force anything else sexual to happen. I’m rock hard for her the whole time, but I also know that she’s inexperienced and I don’t want it all to be too much for her.

  And then, sensing the time is right, I get up and pull on my
clothes and give her a quick kiss.

  I can’t stay any longer, even though part of me really wants to. But that part of me is not something I can give in to. That would just confuse the issue, and it would make everything between us more complicated than it already is.

  As I’m leaving her, there’s a tug in my chest and I feel like I want to turn back around, sweep her off her feet and bring her to bed. Lay there with her all day and night and explore every inch of her body and mind.

  But I don’t listen. I ignore that tug and continue on my way.

  For some reason, I’m in a mood.

  Not a very good one.

  “What’s your poison?” I ask the customer at the bar in a flippant tone. He’s clearly new, not one of our usuals, wearing a pale blue polo shirt with expensive sunglasses perched on his head. But Smith has thrown me enough glares over ignoring all the new people that I’m making a minimal effort with them, despite my disdain.

  “Um. Do you have a cocktail menu?” he asks.

  Is this dude serious? I quirk a brow. “What do you want? I can make it.”

  “Well, that’s pretty confident of you,” he says slowly. I can tell he doesn’t believe me.

  “My business is liquor,” I tell him. “I’m fucking good at it. What do you want?”

  He pauses, scratches his chin, takes a look at his generic blond girlfriend. She titters and gives a little shrug. “Um,” he finally tells me. “How about a Jack Daniels on the rocks?”

  Thanks for giving me something difficult. I bite back my sarcasm and just pour the drink for him, then slide it across the bar. He tosses money on the surface and sips his drink while his girlfriend works on her frou-frou cocktail.

  Ugh. This is so fucking stupid. Who the fuck asks for a drink menu in a place like this? You get beer or liquor. Why is that so hard?

  I grab a couple of empty glasses and focus on cleaning them.

  “This place has changed,” Sam, a regular in our bar, says with a sigh. “I’m barely recognizing it anymore.” He’s perched on his usual stool, chin resting on his hands, eyeing the crowd around us. “What’s happening here?”

  I sigh. “I don’t know. Smith thinks it’s better for us to change things sometimes.” I try to give a casual shrug, like I’m not bothered by everything.

  Why do things have to change? Why can’t they stay the way they are? What we had was working for us. Our clients had a safe space to be wild and free. And we were happy to provide it.

  Now that Aubrey’s in the picture, suddenly Smith’s had a change of heart. He doesn’t want us to be what we were. We’re supposed to be different now. Cater to a bunch of rich and stupid assholes who can’t handle us.

  Sam finishes his swig of beer and eyes his watch.

  “It’s eleven-fifteen,” I tell him. He’s here a little late for a Thursday night…normally he rolls out right before eleven. Sam’s one of our regulars who comes to this bar to escape whatever the fuck is going on in his life. We used to be a place of solace for him.

  Now, based on the way he looks around at the increasingly preppy crowd, we’re just another regular bar. I’m getting the feeling he might not be coming around as much after tonight.

  My stomach sinks. Fuck this. I hate that we’re changing, and Smith needs to know. It’s going too far.

  I toss down my dishrag. Grab Sam’s drink and pour him another full beer. “This one’s on the house,” I tell him. “We appreciate you being a loyal customer.” Smith might get pissed about that, but who cares? Why aren’t we taking more care to retain the people who loyally kept us in business after Dad died?

  Their needs matter, too.

  Sam gives his first warm smile of the night. “Thanks, Jax. Always thought you were a good one.”

  “Then you’re the first,” I tell him with a wink. I move out from behind the bar and head back to the office, where Smith is crunching numbers.

  When I click the door closed behind me, he looks up, irritation in his eyes. “What?” he barks out.

  I cross my arms. “We need to talk.”

  “Yeah, that much is clear. You’re in the office.” He gives an irritated sigh. “What do you want, Jax?”

  “I don’t care for the way things are going with Outlaws, and neither do our regular customers.”

  Smith sighs and rakes a hand through his hair, leaving small spikes on top. “We’ve gone through this before. We sat down and discussed what changes we were going to implement to keep the bar running.”

  “But it’s not the same bar anymore,” I shoot back. “It’s just another generic joint where people can get generic beer and generic appetizers and have generic happy hour specials. We used to be different, one of a kind.”

  “And we used to be on the verge of closing,” he retorts, holding up a bunch of receipts. “Do you remember how broke as fuck we were? Because I sure as hell do. I’ve been crunching the numbers every day.”

  “So? Your big idea is to completely change us and alienate those who remained loyal through our hard times?”

  “The people who remained loyal are cheap and rowdy and got us in trouble. We can’t afford that shit anymore.” Smith’s voice is getting a frustrated edge now. He stands up and glares at me. “What the fuck is going on here? Why are we getting into it now?”

  “Because this isn’t working for me,” I tell him bluntly.

  He stalks around the desk to stand in front of me, eyes narrowed. Smith is an intimidating fucker. But he’s my brother and I know all his tricks. “I’m sorry it isn’t working for you, princess. But our bills are getting paid, and the police and neighborhood are finally backing off. You haven’t had to deal with the brunt of their bullshit. I have.”

  “Dad would be pissed if he saw what you were doing here,” I say, dropping the big ace in my hand.

  Smith stills, his eyes hard on mine.

  It’s true. And we both know it. As much as Smith might feel he’s doing good for the bar, he’s changing everything from what our dad intended. It wasn’t supposed to be some fucking generic bar—fuckers can go to Applebee’s or TGI Fridays if they want that kind of shit.

  Outlaws was ours and it was supposed to be special.

  What we had was great. Until he started fucking it all up. Putting out ads and coupons in the local paper, for God’s sake. Coupons. What the fuck.

  “That’s a low blow,” he replies. “I think Dad would most want the business to stay afloat.”

  I feel a twinge of guilt over my harshness, but it’s overrun quickly by my frustration. “So little of him remains now,” I say. “The bar was his legacy to us.”

  “Right. To us. For us to do as we see fit.”

  “Or as you do.” There, the words are out.

  Smith inches closer to me, his jaw tight. “What the fuck are you trying to say?”

  “I’m saying that you’re doing what you always do. You run with your own ideas and don’t bother consulting me or Asher.” My anger is a festering pit in my gut. “Even though this bar is part ours, too. But that doesn’t fucking matter to you, because you’re a golden god and you know better than anyone else what is right.”

  “Fuck you,” he spits. “If you had to run this bar on your own, you’d see how fucking hard it is. Trying to keep a business running when everyone around you wants you to fail. I think Dad would be more concerned with staying in the black than with keeping true to your outdated vision.”

  I turn away from him and leave the room. I’m so mad I can’t speak. I head back to the bar. I don’t give a fuck about the police, or anyone else who wants to shut us down. I won’t cower from them.

  My anger spurs me into action. I saunter over to a table with two sexy women and their boyfriends. Shoving aside my emotions, I paste on a fake smile and lock eyes on one of the women, a brunette with great tits. “Hey, darling,” I purr. “What can I getcha?”

  She responds instantly, her lips parting, despite her boyfriend’s glare. “Oh. Hi. Um, how about some kind of a cocktai
l with rum?”

  “I’ll make it extra sweet for you,” I say, then lean forward. “If you can handle it, that is.”

  The boyfriend stiffens. “Ahem.”

  I ignore him and turn to the other girl. “And for you? Maybe you need something with a bit more punch than you’re getting.” I shoot a deliberate glance at the man beside her. His face reddens. Then I look back at her. “I bet you can handle it, can’t you.”

  Her eyes widen, and she gives a shocked giggle.

  The two men stand and shoot hostile glares at me, but both are smaller than me by a good few inches and several pounds. I release all of my anger and stare at them until they wilt.

  They grab their girlfriends’ hands and tug them out of the seats, saying how Outlaws is dirty and greasy and they didn’t want anything here anyway. Then the four of them leave.

  I’m petty. Petty as fuck. But a small part of me gets a burst of pleasure from fucking up my brother’s big plans to have a bunch of local shithead preps come into the bar.

  Let’s see if they ever return again.

  For the next half hour, I spend my time ignoring anyone who isn’t a usual at Outlaws. Fuck them—if Smith wants them served, he should do it himself and crawl out of the office. I whistle and pour beers, and I’m happier than I’ve been in days.

  The front door to the bar opens, and a group of college-aged girls step in, their eyes blinking wide as they check out the place.

  And then my heart gives a strange lurch—in the back of the group is Brooklyn.

  Brooklyn

  The moment I walk into Outlaws, with the loud metal music blasting, the smell of beer pungent in the air, the clusters of rowdy people shoving each other and giving blaring laughs, I know I’m out of my element.

  I’ve never experienced a place like this before. Something so wild and out of control. I can see why Jax loves working here—it seems right up his alley. Is this really what he’s like? I can’t help but wonder. And remember how he was last time I saw him, lying naked in my bed, his eyes so vulnerable, him sharing things about his past.