The Belle and the Beard by Kate Canterbary (good book club books .txt) 📕

She shifted her hands to the headboard as she settled herself over me. We didn't have to say a word. We knew this now, we knew each other, and there was no need to discuss every move. We knew this.

When she sank down, I was reminded I fit inside her like I belonged there, and not in the old sense that a cock belonged in a cunt. I had it on good authority that a cock belonged in any number of willing places and this one wasn't simply willing, it had been made for me. It was mine.

Jasper moved over me with a steady pace, one designed especially for Sunday mornings. Every slide and stroke had me gripping her hips harder, holding her down longer. This was all I needed, this was it.

She leaned down, dragged her breasts over my chest, up to my jaw. She liked the way my beard chafed her skin and I liked the way her tits swung in my face as she fucked me. Even better when I managed to catch one of those nipples between my teeth.

"I'm"—she started, the word stretched out over a sigh—"I'm there. I'm right there."

It just didn't get any better than this. There was no way. "Yeah, you are, baby." I held her hips down as her muscles pulsed around me. Every orgasm of hers—every fucking one—felt like she was milking my soul right out of me. It was only a matter of time until she snatched it. "Get it. Get it, Jas."

The spasms rolled through her, pulling and sucking at my tip where it was buried deep inside her. Her body wanted me there, wanted to keep me there, and that did something to me. It fucked me up in a good, weird way. Made me think about keeping her in this bed all day, keeping her here always. It made me want to say that out loud, which was the truest sign I was fucked all the way up.

"I can't come again until you do," she panted, one hand working her clit while the other gripped the headboard. "Please. I need you to."

We were messy now, both of us hot and misted with sweat. I could hear the wet between her legs. Just like the lazy Sunday way it started, I wanted it this way too. I wanted it rough and unclean, and I wanted to feel her fingers around the base of my cock every time she worked herself the way she needed. Nothing about this was pretty. It wasn't beautiful, even when the most beautiful woman I'd ever met was bearing down on my shaft with such force I seriously wondered whether I might black out.

"I can't believe how hard you are," she whispered. "It's rude."

"You're rude," I growled back. "You shove those tits in my face one more time and I'll bite them."

She slammed down on me and when her breasts brushed up against my jaw again, I took hold of those beauties. They were mine now. I teased her with my beard because I knew she loved it and I teased myself with the feel of her light brown nipples on my lips because I loved it.

I felt myself teetering on the edge, just close enough to fall over, but Jasper was enjoying herself, even if her brows were pinched in fierce concentration, and I wanted another few minutes.

I lost myself in nipping at the tender underside of her breasts and pinching those nipples between my fingers. She didn't like pain in the grand sense—she didn't want anyone belting her and I respected that—but she had no problem with bites and pinches and pulling hard enough to mark her with fingertip-sized bruises—and I was into that. I didn't want to belt anyone but I didn't know how to fuck without doing it rough. I didn't know how to do it without leaving marks.

And that was what I did to those gorgeous tits. I marked the fuck out of them and I lengthened and swelled every time she let out another breathy wail-sigh that told me she felt those bites in her cunt.

"Lin," she called out. "You're—" She lost her words on a sob. "Now, now, now. I need it now."

Reaching up, I closed my hand around her throat. My hold was loose but it did it for both of us. She ground against me, forcing my cock as deep as I could go, and purred as I filled the condom. I didn't know how she could feel it but she did. She felt it enough for her body to work me even harder. Everything was liquid heat, everything inside and outside too.

Jasper leaned in close and rubbed her cheek against my jaw. Her eyes drifted shut. I slipped my hand into her hair, held her close.

"What do you need, Peach?"

I figured she'd want me to lick her or pet her clit or take her into the shower and do this all over again. Something like that.

Instead, she rested her forehead against mine, saying, "I really want some toast. An extra toasty slice too. Nice and browned. Just butter and some of that clementine marmalade." She shrugged. "Probably two slices. Yeah, definitely two."

The only thing I knew was I wanted this every weekend. Every fucking one of them. And that was a really dangerous thing to want.

We weren't due in New Bedford for dinner with my family until later in the afternoon so I talked Jasper into a post-breakfast walk in the woods. She wanted to make lists about her lists, or something of that sort, and I could not allow that while the conditions were bright and dry.

I couldn't allow us to stay in bed all day either. Regardless of what I'd vowed on Friday evening, sixty hours of sex wasn't going to fly. Aside from the fact I was not twenty-five anymore, I didn't want to use Jasper. Not even one bit more than was right—which was