Total pages in book: 227
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
I take my cock, gritting my teeth as I guide it to her pussy, inhaling when I sink in, looking up to the ceiling, absorbing the incredible feeling of her hot, wet walls drawing me in. I puff out my cheeks. Take her hips. And slowly start to drive into her.
She moans, groans, whimpers, her head turning one way, then the other, her fingers clawing into the sheets. I keep my pace meticulous and slow, watching her, every bit of her, her face turned out, turned in, her scarred arm.
Reaching forward, I place my fingertip at the top of her back, watching her shoulder blades pull in again as I drag it down the center of her spine. She reaches back with her hand, and I grab it, squeezing, threading my fingers through hers before releasing so she can support herself with two arms again. “Beau, baby, you look incredible.”
A groan.
She’s close.
And I need to see her face.
I pull out, turning her quickly onto her back, and spread myself all over her, sliding in while sliding my hands up the inside of her arms over her head, lacing our fingers, clenching, kissing her, rolling my hips.
She inhales sharply, her tongue circling mine becoming faster.
Closer.
I grind harder.
“James,” she murmurs, releasing my lips and throwing her head back.
“Say my name,” I order.
“James.”
I pump harder. “Again.”
“James!”
Sweat beads plummet from my forehead. “And again.”
She looks at me, grates her teeth, reaches for my hair, and pulls my face down to her. “James,” she murmurs calmly, her hips lifting, my cock plunging, and I twitch, hissing through my teeth, forcing my eyes to remain open to watch her come with me, every part of her beneath me tense as we still, watching each other sustain the intensity.
She cries out, and I gasp, releasing her hands, flexing some life back into them, still fucking coming. “Fucking hell,” I whisper, closing my eyes briefly as Beau pushes my wet hair off my face. I exhale, collapsing onto one forearm, head hanging, my breathing labored. It takes me a few moments to find the energy to pull out and roll to my back beside her, the cool air hitting my front welcome. I drop my head to the side and reach for her breast, circling her nipple. “I love you,” I whisper hoarsely.
She smiles, turning onto her side, and starting at my shoulder, she drags light fingertips down my chest. “Broken, fixed, happy, sad,” she whispers.
“Are you okay?” I ask, shuddering under her touch, loving the smudge of mascara under her eyes from her sweat.
“No,” she breathes, crawling up my chest and straddling me. “I’m perfect.” She dips and kisses me, just as Georgie yells from her bedroom. I drop my head to look at the monitor. She’s kicking, thrashing, has woken up full of beans. And I can’t wait to get my hands on her again. I take Beau’s hips and move her to the side, getting up and pulling on some boxers, pacing through the villa to her room. The moment I’m looming over her crib, she stills and finds me. Takes me in.
“Hey there, princess,” I say quietly.
And she starts thrashing again, arms and legs. I laugh and scoop her up, getting her in the crook of my right arm. She immediately latches onto my bicep, dribbling all over me. Definitely teething on the way—everything within range goes into her mouth.
I take her back into the bedroom. Beau’s got her knickers on, propped up against the headboard, her phone in her hand. She drops it the moment Georgie and I arrive, arms up, making grabby hands. “That’s Mummy,” I muse. “Remember her?”
Beau snorts. “Give her to me.”
“No.” I prop myself next to her and bend my knees, laying Georgie on them. Beau tucks herself into my chest.
“Make her laugh,” she demands, prompting me to reach for the squeaky ball on the nightstand. This two-dollar piece of crap from the beach is the funniest thing since sliced bread according to our daughter.
“What’s this?” I gasp, holding it up. Georgie stills, anticipating the sound, her eyes jumping from me to the ball. “Are you ready?”
She kicks once.
And I slowly squeeze, forcing the most obscene sound from the ball, something between a squeak and a fart. Georgie breaks out in fits of gurgling giggles and, I swear, the sound is life. My wife falls apart next to me too, both my girls beside themselves, Georgie over the ball, Beau over our baby girl’s uncontrollable, addictive laughter. I could watch them all fucking day.
I lean down, a small chuckle falling past my lips, and push my mouth to the top of Beau’s head.
She’s no longer full of hate, only love. My darkness has always been her light, and her darkness has always been mine.
I didn’t think Beau Hayley could get any more beautiful.