But when he reaches me—when his hands flash out to pull my body into his, one hand on the nape of my neck, the other pressed against my back—my thoughts are lost as my need surges. His lips find mine in a frenzy of lust. Lips mesh, tongues lick, teeth nip.

Desire unfurls and breaks its way through the haze of alcohol. His hands map the lines of my body, fingers dipping beneath the lace of my bra to tempt and touch but not to take, not just yet. Soft moans turn into urgent murmurs of hurry, quickly, I want, and I need.

I’m desperate to feel the heat of his chest against mine, skin to skin—the initial connection that will sate the frenzy until I can expose the rest of his flesh. His lips and tongue continue their pleasurable assault on my lips, distracting me thoroughly from the task at hand, getting him naked.

I can’t help but giggle as I drag my mouth from his to draw in the air he’s knocked out of me, and to get my fingers to unfasten instead of grip his shirt. I laugh again as I try to concentrate on the little buttons that don’t want to slip through the tiny holes.

His chuckle is deep and strained, and I can feel its vibrations against my fingers. “Let me,” he says, my eyes flicking up to his, but not before I catch the amused smirk curling up the corner of his mouth. His hands close over mine and tug apart the shirt. The sound of buttons hitting and scattering over the hardwood floor is the only other noise filling the room besides our labored breaths.

His eyes darken and cloud, and then his lips are on mine. I run my hands up the toned plane of his chest while he pulls his arms from his shirt. My nails scrape and his breath hisses as he brings a hand up to fist in my hair and pull my chin up so that he can work his mouth along the line of my jaw and across the curve of my neck.

“Sweet Haddie,” he murmurs as his hand finds my breast and yanks down the cup of my bra, his callused palms replacing the softness of the lace. I gasp out loud as his mouth slides in its tempestuous descent. “Sweet, sweet Haddie … I wonder if your pussy tastes just as sweet as your kiss … as your skin … as right here.”

The heat of his mouth replaces the caress of his fingers on my breast, and I’m swamped by the sensation of it. Of him. My head falls back, and my words tumble out. “What are you waiting for?”

That chuckle of his hums against my breast before he tilts his head back and looks up at me under lust-laden eyelids. “Demanding, are we?” His eyes dance with humor before the dare flickers through them. Try me, they say.

And a part of me wants to. A part of me wants to push him to see just how much control he’s willing to give me. Is he going to do what I say, or will he do what he wants?

Challenge accepted.

“Then taste me, Becks. I want to feel your mouth on me, your tongue in me. I want you to taste me on your lips as I’m still coming and while you’re fucking me.”

He sucks harder on my nipple; a tortured groan escapes his lips as he rises to his full height and stares at me. “Fucking hell, Had,” he says before his lips brand mine, his mouth possessing, taking, claiming as if I were his. “Are you trying to tell me how to fuck you?”

I feel the heat of his breath on my lips, see the taunt in his smirk and the raise of a brow, but I can’t think of the witty comeback I know is there. His hands slide down my torso and grip my bare waist, causing my breath to stutter as he yanks my body into his. His impressive hard-on presses against my lower belly, causing the ache simmering there to intensify.

Becks leans in close, his lips grazing my ear in a move that causes chills to chase over my skin. “Rest assured, Haddie, I know how to fuck you. I know how to make you come.” His teeth tug on my earlobe to reinforce his words. “I know how to make this hot-as-fuck body of yours tremble, tense, and beg for more … so lie back, and let me taste you.”

And just when I think my body can’t coil any tighter from desire, from the explicitness of his words and the taste of his tongue on mine, he picks me up at the waist and throws me back on the bed. I giggle as I hit the mattress, the air escaping from my lungs, and before I can take a breath, Beckett’s on me. I try to wriggle away—try to flip over as we both laugh in our alcohol-infused state—but I’m no match for him.

“Sweet Haddie,” he taunts as his arms pin my wrists to the bed on either side of my head. He leans down and teases my lips, tracing my bottom one with his tongue before slipping it into my mouth, his erection pressing exactly where I want it to be. I wriggle my hips; patience is so not my virtue. He pulls away and sits on his knees, between my thighs. My eyes scrape down the defined lines of his torso—a torso that I’ve seen so many times before—but tonight, with him sitting in front of me like this, holy hell, do I realize I’ve never taken the time to appreciate just how hot he really is.

I work a swallow down my throat as he angles his head to the side and stares at me for a beat. I’m so entranced by the unsated need pooling moisture between my thighs that when I feel his fingers trail up the outside of my panties, I gasp. “The question is,” he asks with an arch of his brow as he leans down, “how many times can I make you come?”

And with those words, his hands press my thighs down, and his mouth closes over the fabric covering my clit. The warm heat of his mouth causes me to grip the comforter beneath me. The seduction of his words already has me craving his touch, and now the silk barrier between his tongue and my flesh drives me insane. Giving me and not giving me what I want all at the same time.

“Becks” is all I can manage as I throw my head back, close my eyes, and allow myself to absorb the pleasure. Fingertips trail up the inside of my thighs, and I can feel the cool air on my heated flesh as he uses a finger to pull my thong to the side. And when his mouth makes contact this time, I cry out as the liquid heat flows through me, my arms and legs tensing.

“God, you taste good,” he says, his voice hitting my ears as I’m being pulled under a tidal wave of sensation. His tongue continues to lick while I feel his fingers spread my flesh apart so he can slide inside me. He moves them so subtly, but whatever he’s doing has me moaning instantly when they find the spot that sets my nerve endings ablaze.

He continues his tantalizing barrage on my senses, rubbing and laving with just the right amount of friction to cause the wave of sensation to rise up and crash all around me in a flurry of breath-stealing ripples. His name falls from my lips, over and over, as I ride out my climax, his mouth still buried between my thighs, licking his way into me until the sensation is almost too much to bear.

My eyes are shut tight, the room spinning from the heady rush of desire, and I feel him slide his way up my body. Then his mouth is on mine again, tongue delving between my parted lips. “Can you taste how sweet you are? Can you taste what I just did to you?”

My response is an incoherent moan as he moves his knees to either side of my hips. He brings his hands up to cradle my head and control the depth and angle of his kiss, holding nothing back until I am left breathless from the intensity when he pulls away and looks in my eyes.

“That’s one …,” he teases, his voice trailing off as I reach out to his waist. He sits with such a delicious weight on my lower belly and I start to undo his trousers. My body may still be pulsing from my orgasm but I want more.

Becks hisses as my hands slide between his boxer briefs and his heated skin, gripping onto his erection and pulling it free. I slide my hand up and down, my thumb rubbing the drop of moisture at the tip around his length. He angles his head up to the ceiling and emits a groan of satisfaction that leaves my core tingling for more.

“One, huh?” I tease, trying to keep this playful because fuck if his mouth alone isn’t worth coming back for seconds. I take his length in my palm and slide back down him, enjoying watching his abs tense. “Please, tell me you’ll keep your promises because I need to come more than once,” I tell him, delighted at how he’s pushed away my thoughts from earlier. “And, Becks, you’ve had more to drink than me, so please tell me you won’t suffer from a case of whiskey dick right now.”

His head snaps forward, and his eyes hold mine, that chuckle falling from his mouth again. He shakes his head as he closes his hand over mine on his cock and says, “Demanding, are we? Is that not hard enough for you?”

I fight my smirk, because if he’s going to throw out promises, he sure as fuck had better keep them. “It’s hard all right, but I just wanted to make sure it stays that way.”

“I believe you’re insulting me,” he says, running our joined hands up and down again, eyes closing momentarily from the sensation.

“It’s not an insult if it’s true.”

He continues to stare at me, and within a beat, he’s off the bed. I push myself up on my elbows, trying to see what in the hell he’s doing. Please, tell me he didn’t get offended by that comment. If he did, he can just keep on walking, regardless of his magical tongue. I don’t need a man who gets his feelings hurt by a little teasing.

But then again, his tongue is pretty fantast-orgasmic.

A small part of me sighs in relief when Beckett stands still with his back to me and doesn’t walk to the door. The other part of me frets that if he stays, he just might be the completely unexpected but perfect combination of naughty and nice that has the ability to make me go back on the promises I made to myself. Promises about what I will or won’t do in the long term. No strings, Haddie. No ties, I remind myself.