Bespoken: An Opposites-Attract Standalone Romance (Carmel Cove Book 2) Page 26

  Jules

  “Mick, please,” I begged, extending a hand toward the man who’d just turned my body into a constellation of stars, floating free in a sea of pleasure.

  He’d given me everything.

  Almost everything.

  And now, even with limbs that felt like jello, I wanted it all.

  “Darlin’, I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my entire life than you right now.” His slow, appreciative rumble made my toes curl and my body clench for more.

  Dragging my tongue over my lips, I fought through the fury of my racing heart, torn between the insatiable urge for what came next and the pleasure I felt basking under his warm gaze.

  My hair, curled from being pinned up, now spread in a wild mass over his sheets, staining them like spilled coffee. My body quivered against the soft sheets, my breasts rising and falling with unsteady candor, happily betraying the effects of what his mouth had just done.

  “Is this your first time?”

  I met his gaze, my lips parting when my chin dipped in confirmation. The subtle shudder through his body made my body bloom with heat.

  He didn’t like the idea of anyone else touching me.

  More than that, he liked giving me firsts.

  And this one, I couldn’t imagine with anyone else.

  “I want to see you.” The wanton feeling of lying naked in his bed while he was still wearing pants was eclipsed by the ache to finally see him.

  “We’re goin’… we have to take this slow,” he said with a strangled voice, reaching for the waist of his jeans.

  The way he stood, I could see the thick outline of his arousal against the denim. My mouth watered in anticipation along with the lower parts of me that slickened with desire once more.

  It was a strange kind of torture watching him shuck his jeans and briefs, each pull of the fabric over his erection made his muscles clench in pain.

  Swallowing over the lump in my throat, I held my breath hostage in my lungs as he rose back up, completely naked, with his penis hanging heavily in front of him.

  “Oh my,” I exhaled.

  He was gorgeous. A golden Goliath with the body of a Greek god come to life.

  I’d always thought him gorgeous, but seeing him nude, every large muscle cut by toil and strength and the uneven tan of his skin evidence of his labor, it was overwhelming.

  But what was between his legs, hanging long and impossibly thick from the nest of brown hair, was the most magnificent part of it all. My eyes roamed hungrily over his impressive cock, large and swollen with veins snaking up to the tip. It strained toward me, though it was too heavy to rise upward.

  Gorgeous.

  Aside from classic art, I had no experience—no comparison—for what I was seeing, but I knew it couldn’t be common. Nothing about Mick Madison was common.

  “It’ll fit,” he promised hoarsely, interrupting my gaze, and I realized he probably thought I was worried.

  “I know.” My breath hitched as he wrapped his fist around his length, the purple tip bulging under the pressure.

  I scooted up on the mattress, eager for him to join me. My sex, already having forgotten its most recent orgasm was clenching greedily for another.

  His hands slid along the outsides of my thighs as he came to rest between them. My head fell back, my body bowing slightly under the tender touch. I was expecting a lot of things—but not for him to gently rest over me and press his lips to the spot where my collarbone and shoulder met.

  “Never had sex with a virgin before, Jules,” he murmured.

  His confession thrilled me. A first for both of us. A thought that made me feel cherished and powerful and special.

  Raising his hand, his fingers cupped and fondled my breast, stoking another flame inside my body. My mind frayed, trying to keep track of every sensation he inflicted on my body. His mouth on my shoulder. His thumb brushing over my nipple. And his cock pressing like a rod of hot steel all along my sex and up onto my stomach.

  A strained, high-pitched whimper echoed into the air, pulled from my lungs like one continuous thread, as he slid his mouth down to latch his lips over my nipple.

  “I love all the noises you make, darlin’,” he praised, flicking his tongue over me until my hips beckoned with quick jerks against his. “Love hearin’ how you’re feelin’… how much I’m pleasurin’ you…”

  Tremors shook down my body, pleasure like a drug wreaking havoc on my untried senses.

  Heart racing, I pleaded, my hips moving of their own accord in search of another release—in search of the feel of him inside me.

  “Mick, please…” I shifted my hips, causing the tip of his erection to bump against my swollen entrance, teasing me with just a taste of what was coming.

  “Damn, darlin’.” His breaths were ragged. “I need to take this slow. Need this to be good for you.”

  “You are good for me.” I wriggled again, reveling in his pained hiss.

  His low grunt caressed my skin, and I felt his length sliding through the slickness drenching my sex until he probed against my entrance.

  He paused. “Are you on the pill?” His brow furrowed in discomfort.

  I blinked, startled by the question and having to dig through the fog of desire for my answer.

  Before I could reply, he groaned and explained, “I don’t… I can’t… there aren’t really condoms that… fit me too well, but if you’re not—”

  My lips formed a small ‘o’, but I couldn’t say I was surprised.

  “I’m on the pill,” I interjected, and caught his visible exhale in relief.

  “Thank God.” His eyes flared possessively, trapping my gaze while his hand slid down, grabbing just below my knee and bending my leg up between us, allowing the tip of his cock to sink just inside my aching warmth.

  “This is going to hurt a little, Jules,” he warned with a rough tenor, his voice mirroring the tense vibration of his muscles as he fought to go slow—to be careful.

  “All the best things do.” Locking my arms around his neck, I pulled his lips to mine and set my gentlemanly beast free.

  With rough precision, he claimed my mouth, his tongue crashing into mine, and pushed himself inside me.

  Mick’s kiss swallowed my gasp at the splitting intrusion, my tight muscles forced into a wide stretch as the blunt head of his cock speared through them. Stars burst in my vision, my body drowning in the sensations of immense fullness and massive invasion.

  “Christ, darlin’, you’re so damn perfect and tight. Holy fuck, you feel incredible…” He groaned, pulling back from our kiss though he kept his lips hovering just over mine.

  His words fine-tuned my desire, heightening every sensation to the sharpest edge.

  Every muscled cord of Mick’s neck pulled taut as he continued to wedge his thickness inch by delicious inch through my sex, peeling back unused muscles so far they had no choice but to submit to his size.

  I shivered and shifted underneath him, my body trying to clench around his girth, unable to tell if what I felt was too much or not enough.

  Tenderly, his lips pressed to mine, his intrusion halted for him to rasp, “Goin’ to get worse for a second but it’ll get better,” he promised, dropping soft kisses along my cheek and jawline. “Trust me?”

  I nodded eagerly. As soon as he’d stopped moving, I knew I needed more.

  A sheen of sweat made his body glisten as I peered down between us, gulping to see only about half of his length was lodged inside me.

  Even though he saw my nod, I couldn’t stop the words from coming out. “I trust you.” Bold and steady, my body tightened around him with my declaration.

  “Jules, I might not survive fuckin’ you,” he growled and his hips drove forward in one smooth, splitting, earth-shaking thrust, sealing in blood what my heart already knew: I was his.

  My mouth opened but no noise came out.

  Now, the pressure burned, enormous and inescapable. But I couldn’t focus on the pain, not w
hen he was buried to the hilt inside me. Instead, it only magnified the exquisite fullness and friction of my body stretching to accommodate him.

  His forehead drifted to mine, our bodies locked in the most intimate embrace. Aside from the heavy, quaking breaths, neither of us moved. Something about the moment held us captive—something profound and life-changing. Something that thudded as firmly and unchanging as the beat of my heart.

  “Please…” I couldn’t get enough of this—of him.

  Sweat beaded on his brow as he drew his hips back cautiously before slowly thrusting forward again. Pleasure shot through every inch of my body, the tingling heat swarming through my cells. The friction of his pulsing length against my walls, and the gentle bump against something buried deep inside me made the edges of my vision fizzle.

  “Damn, darlin’,” he breathed, his voice hoarse with need. “Think I might be in heaven.”

  Slipping my hands to cup his jaw, I pressed my lips to his. “Take me with you.”

  “Don’t want to hurt you,” he bit out.

  “You’re allowed to protect me out there, but in here, like this”—I wriggled my hips, loving the feel of his cock buried inside me—“I don’t need you to protect me from yourself… from how much you want me. Stop being a gentleman.”

  His groan was feral—and it matched the flash of raw hunger in his eyes. He pressed my knee closer to my chest, allowed him to sink that last little bit until I felt him in my stomach, and then he began to move.

  Not slowly. Steady. Demanding.

  My mouth drifted open, his lips still resting on mine, but we didn’t kiss. There was no more room left for kissing.

  I succumbed to the pleasure with each thrust. My core clenched up every time he pulled back, only to be broken back open when he shoved his heavy cock forward. My hips rose to meet him with a mind of their own. Like breathing. In and out. Uncontrollable. Essential.

  “Oh, God, Mick…” Breathless gasps spilled from my lips, encouraging him—feeding his driving need.

  His movements grew less restrained, and I held him tighter. The harder, faster thrusts set my body on fire. My fingers snaked down onto his back, my nails skimming over his skin, searching for something—some way to tell him I needed more.

  “That’s it, darlin’,” he rasped, the sound of his hips slapping into mine heightened the feel of his cock spearing through me. Claiming me and relinquishing himself.

  My eyes squeezed shut, losing sense of everything except the way my sex clenched greedily around him. The fullness. The sparks that shot like fireworks every time he hit that spot deep inside me. It was too much. It was everything.

  “Please… that feels… so good… I can’t…” My voice stumbled as my body spiraled higher and higher, uncontrollably toward another release.

  “Jules…” He slammed harder and faster into me, unable to stop himself, and it drove me over the edge.

  I screamed his name as my insides convulsed and then shattered around his cock. My release shook me to the core, and he was right there with me. Tunneling inside my quaking body once more, he held himself impossibly deep as a low throaty groan tore from his chest and the heat of his release flooded me.

  His head dropped into the crook of my neck, and I felt the steady throb of his cock against my clenching muscles, continuing to flood me with his cum. It was delicious and erotic and I wanted to scream with the exquisite sense of freedom I felt bone-deep in my soul.

  But I barely had the strength to steady my breath, so I let the feeling soak into every bared corner of me.

  Time dissolved into a space that was measured only in breaths and beating hearts, our bodies reluctant to drift back to normal.

  “Damn, darlin’.”

  A soft sigh escaped my lips feeling Mick trail soft kisses along my neck, up to my lips, and then onto the tip of my nose.

  Air flooded my lungs as his weight disappeared with a muted grunt, and I whimpered when the fullness of him went with it. For something that had felt so large and foreign, my body now felt like I was missing a limb without him inside me.

  “Don’t move,” he instructed hoarsely, stalking to the bathroom, returning a minute later with a warm cloth.

  My heart skipped, catching the smear of blood along the side of his still-hard cock.

  He’d been my first.

  He bent over me, gently cleaning the tender place between my thighs.

  I wanted him to be my forever.

  “I have an extra toothbrush in the bathroom. And towels if you want to take a shower,” he offered, my attention snapping back to him.

  Sliding my tongue to wet my lips, I reached for his arm, staying his movements, and asked quietly, “Before we do that… would you hold me for a little while longer?”

  Like I’d been doing for some weeks now, I’d taken two irreversible steps tonight—one that severed me from my past, and one that opened up a new future. A future with him.

  The bed dipped again under his weight, his arms wrapping back around me. “Darlin’, I’ll hold you all night.”

  He would always hold me. Always support me.

  And, as I snuggled closer to the heat of his chest, I wondered if it was possible to not fall in love with Mick Madison?

  Because if it was, I was incapable of doing it.

  Jules

  Silk pajamas. Memory foam mattress. Egyptian cotton sheets.

  I’d had none of that last night, and I’d never slept better.

  Then again, I had a feeling it had nothing to do with the clothes, the bed, or the bedding, but everything to do with the man I shared them with.

  Last night had been both the worst and best night of my life.

  I’d lost my parents—not physically, but in the rest of the ways that mattered. As much as I’d felt the pain and betrayal, what hurt the most was the reality that came from those moments swept up in the ocean and safe in his arms… that I’d lost very little in walking away from Rock Beach and my family.

  But what really took my breath away was to then find myself back in Mick’s arms, a man I’d only really known for a short time in comparison, and feel just how much I’d gained.

  It seemed wrong to feel more attached to one man than I felt to my family and their legacy. But it wasn’t. I knew in my heart that it was right—that it was good—to be drawn immeasurably to those who lifted you up rather than remain obligated to those who’d tried to hold me down.

  Home meant a safe space. A place where I would be loved and supported and encouraged to speak up for my dreams.

  Rock Beach had never been that. But Mick had.

  It was early, the light still dim that filtered through the window and onto the light gray sheets. I’d never been one for sleeping in, and it looked like neither was Mick. The other side of the bed where he’d slept—where he’d held me all night as I slept—was empty, and I could hear some shuffling outside the bedroom door.

  Slipping out of the covers, I immediately felt the soreness between my thighs from last night. I caught my lower lip between my teeth, smiling to myself at the delicious memory that was worth every slight wince of pain.

  Righting Mick’s shirt that I’d put back on after my shower last night, I opened the door to the hall and immediately caught the scent of cooked eggs.

  He was standing at the stove, shirtless, and with his gray sweats that hung low over his hips. I let myself linger and stare at the way his back muscles moved in symphony while he cooked. Rubbing my thighs together, I felt the ache start to form between them—a different ache than the one I’d woken up with.

  “Good morning.”

  He turned immediately, his dimple peeking out from one corner of his mouth. I shivered as his eyes slid over me, his smile deepening with desire.

  The sizzling pan drew his attention and he said, “Wasn’t sure what you liked, but I made some scrambled eggs. Figured you might be hungry after last night.”

  I nodded, taking a seat at one of the stools at the counter, and add
ed, “Thank you,” when I realized he couldn’t see the motion. “What time is your flight?”

  I squeezed my fingers nervously in my lap. I knew he had to go, and I worried I was holding him up from getting out to see his family.

  He waited to speak as he scraped some of the eggs onto a plate, turning back to me and giving me a full, thigh-squeezing view of his chest. The savory scent of peppers and garlic and eggs invaded my nose and my stomach grumbled in excitement.

  Handing me a fork, he set the plate down in front of me with a twinkle in his eyes and replied, “I’m not leaving—”

  The metal utensil clattered angrily to the plate as I looked up to him with far too much emotion about to spill from my eyes.

  “Mick, you can’t not see your family on Christmas. I’ll go stay with Laurel. It’s not a big deal. Just because my family… was never a family, doesn’t mean you should…” I shook my head, wiping a tear. “I shouldn’t have called you. I never wanted this—to ruin Christmas with your family…”

  I trailed off into a moment of silence, staring at my eggs until I realized that neither they nor Mick were responding.

  My misty eyes rose to his.

  “You done, darlin’?” He arched an eyebrow. “I didn’t want to interrupt you and whatever you had to say, but if you’re finished, I was goin’ to tell you that I’m not leavin’ here… without you.”

  Without…

  My mouth dropped. “W-What?”

  He shrugged calmly. “I’m not leavin’ this mornin’ without you.”

  Leaving me gaping, he returned back to the stove like he hadn’t just calmly dropped the bomb of not only meeting his parents and his family, but meeting them on Christmas.

  “I-I don’t want to intrude. Really, Mick, I’ll be fine here. I didn’t ask to come here last night because I wanted to impose on your holiday. Christmas should be spent with family and we hardly know… your family doesn’t know…”

  He finished plating his food, setting the pan calmly in the sink before he rounded the counter.

  I let out a small yelp as he spun my chair, reaching on either side of me to grip the counter and cage me between his arms.