Chapter 7

Sela

I lay absolutely still, contemplating my next move.

The sun rose about twenty minutes ago and I came fully awake, understanding that I was in Beck North’s hotel bed.

He’s on his back, one arm above his head on the pillow, the other resting across his lower stomach. He’s utterly gorgeous lying there totally nude, as the covers and sheets got kicked to the carpet hours ago. His mouth is slightly parted while he sleeps, and I remember in vivid detail what those lips did to me last night.

I lift my head and take a moment for the unfettered access I have to look at his body. My prior sexual experiences have been hurried and mostly with my eyes closed. There was usually a lot of fumbling in between hot kisses before falling to the bed, so with my foreplay experience there wasn’t a whole lot to see. Afterward, I never looked at my partner’s body. Didn’t have any interest, really, and I always covered myself up after the heat of passion cooled.

But Beck?

I’m totally dying of curiosity so I give in to it while he sleeps.

His body is perfect. He’s well built but isn’t overly muscular. His skin is a tanned a light golden color. There’s a smattering of dark brown hair on his chest, and another trail that starts from under his belly button and travels downward. He clearly takes care of himself, because the hair all around his penis is trimmed very short. Even though his hands are large and masculine, they are well manicured, and his hair looks rumpled perfectly…as if it were styled to look that great while still being a mess.

I look at his dick. I expect it might be overtired from last night. Right now it lays softly nestled in between his legs, still quite thick and long even in its rest.

I know exactly how thick and long it gets when it’s swollen to capacity as he fucked me no less than three times last night, in between handing me out orgasms as if they were treats from an ice cream truck.

Gently, I lay my head back down on the pillow and consider that.

A man gave me an orgasm.

Multiple orgasms.

With his mouth, with his fingers. Once, just with the pounding of his cock within me. It’s like once I started, my body was making up for years and years of having no sexual gratification.

That first one…oh God…it scared the shit out of me. I never knew anything could feel that good. Sure, I’d given myself the “O” before, but it was a mild quaking of pleasure that brought a soft smile to my face.

When Beck made me come that first time?

It was felt like the force of a nuclear explosion went off inside of me, and it shredded me from the inside out. It was so powerful that it rendered me nearly blind and deaf for a few moments. My brain was still trying to play catch-up with what it all meant before he pulled me to the end of the bed and put his mouth to me again.

The second time he made me come, tears leaked from my eyes from not only the joy of such perfect pleasure, but for the years wasted that I never felt such a thing before.

I have no clue why it happened and why he was the one to do it, but clearly Beck North simply doesn’t have a problem pulling them from me. I’m not sure if he’s magic or just so damned dedicated to the cause, but it was effortless on his part. I’m betting he could probably just look at me a certain way and I might explode.

My lips curve upward in a fulfilled smile, and for the first time I wonder if perhaps I’m not completely broken. I know I’m fucked up about a million different ways, but perhaps my ability to truly appreciate sex as something pleasurable was just lying dormant and wasn’t completely obliterated when I was raped.

Turning my head on the pillow, I look back at Beck. I don’t think either one of us expected to fall asleep, and I’m almost betting he’s not the type who likes awkward conversation the next morning. If I were a kinder, gentler Sela Halstead, I’d do the guy a favor and slip out of bed quietly, then slip even more quietly out of his life.

But I’m not kind or gentle.

I am, however, thankful and I want to thank this man for what he helped me achieve.

I push up, straight to my knees, and inch down the bed. I have no hesitation when I take his softened penis in my hand and gently squeeze it. At first, I get no reaction, but when I squeeze it again, it starts to expand against my palm. Gently I start to stroke it, watching in fascination as it lengthens and the tiny wrinkles of the loose skin start to disappear as blood fills his shaft. I’ve never watched a man get hard before and it’s fascinating.

“Sela,” I hear Beck murmur, and I tilt my head to look at him. His eyes are closed but there’s a smile on his face. “What are you doing?”

I don’t answer him.

I merely show him.

I bend over and take him into my mouth, straight back to my throat.

“Fuck,” Beck groans, and he pushes the fingers of one hand into my hair and grasps the back of my head. “Feels good.”

I moan my understanding and agreement against him, pulling up and down on his cock with hollowed cheeks and a swirling tongue. Beck, in turn, grunts and huffs out strangled sounds from deep in his throat. His fingers grip my hair but not hard, just enough to encourage my motions.

I’m relentless with him, bringing my free hand to his balls, which I gently roll between my fingers. My other hand follows my mouth up and down his cock, squeezing him in such a way that he curses and begs me to go faster.

So I do.

“Goddamn…Sela,” Beck mutters as he punches his hips up. I take him deep and that impresses him. “Fuck that’s good.”

Up and down, up and down I go. Savoring his taste and the satiny texture of his skin against my tongue. I pause at the top and scrape my teeth over the tip before taking him down deep again.

“Oh fuck,” he groans, and his hand pulls on my hair. “Pull off…I’m going to come.”

Swallow it.

All of it.

My head spins from the unwanted memory as I suck hard on my way up, let him pop free of my mouth, and then I jack him vigorously.

One, two, three…four times and he starts jetting semen over my hand and onto his stomach. I continue to stroke him as I watch pleasure contort his face and the cords of muscle in his neck contract from the force of his orgasm. I stroke him softly as he starts to come down, and finally he hisses out a long breath of relief.

His eyes open and he looks at me. “That was amazing.”

I give him a smile as I wipe my hand off on the sheet next to his hip. Shrugging, I merely say, “I wanted to do something nice for you.”

Beck’s brows furrow inward as he contemplates the return of a favor. “Did you enjoy doing that the way I enjoyed having my mouth between your legs last night?”

I refuse to blush and hold his eyes. “Yes. Very much.”

And that’s the truth. Up until the very end when past and present started to blur, what I liked most about that experience was in listening to Beck make all those sexy sounds. Knowing that I was responsible for so much pleasure was a turn-on itself.

“Then it’s not a return of a favor,” Beck says.

“What’s not?” I ask, now lost in the conversation.

“You said you were doing me a favor. That would have bruised my ego badly if you only did that as a return gesture.”

I nod in understanding. “Gotcha. I did that because I wanted to show you my appreciation, but I also very much enjoyed doing that to you.”

Neither one of us mentions the fact that I didn’t swallow and I wonder how important that is to him.

It’s not something I ever do for men, having my first experience forced upon me, but for some reason I think I would with Beck. If he hadn’t have pulled me off, I was so lost in the experience I might have swallowed, and I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have been wigged out about it.

“Listen,” Beck says as he sits up, leaning his weight on one hand planted in the mattress. “I’m going to take a shower.”

And, here it comes.

The brush-off.

He may not have kicked me out last night after our last round, but I suspect it’s because he was too tired. But now Beck is reiterating the point he made to me last night and that I readily agreed to.

This was a one-night stand and nothing more would ever come of it.

I start to roll out of the bed, intent on finding my purse and my clothes, when he stops me dead. “Want to join me?”

Looking over my shoulder at him, I raise an eyebrow. “In the shower?”

“Well, yeah,” he says with a smirk. “We’ll shower, we’ll fuck…then I’ll even take you to breakfast.”

I blink at him slowly, wondering what the hell is going on here. He’s looking at me as if he doesn’t want to let me go.

And for the first time since I left the party with Beck last night, I have an attack of conscience. From what I’ve read and observed so far, he’s seemingly a good guy, and here I am using him. He showed me unbelievable pleasure last night, made me feel semi-normal as a woman, and apparently wants to take me out for pancakes.

It’s not computing.

“Um…I need to check the messages on my phone, but I’ll be there in a moment,” I tell him, needing a few minutes to collect myself. I’ve got too many emotions swirling and competing for supremacy. I have got to get my head back on straight and remember why in the hell I’m even here.

I turn away from Beck and swing my legs out of the bed. I’m not even self-conscious in my nakedness, merely walking out of the bedroom and into the main living area of the suite. Beck calls after me, “Will you grab me a bottle of water from the fridge?”

“Sure,” I say over my shoulder, and I can hear him turn on the shower.

I walk to the mini-refrigerator that’s part of a built-in liquor cabinet and pull out a bottle of water. What in the hell should I do?

Beck North wasn’t on my radar yesterday. Now I’ve spent an unbelievable night with him, and he still has apparent interest in me. While I don’t presume to think he’s going to enter into a sugarship with me, I’m definitely not getting kicked out onto the street. Now I just have to figure out how to play this.

Walk out that door right now and be done with this? Figure some other way to get at JT, which will take longer, though?

Or do I try to hook Beck even further, draw him closer into my web, and use him to get in close enough to strike? No guarantee that will work. I mean, for all I know, he’s going to fuck me again, buy me breakfast, and then cut me loose forever.

My fingers fiddle with the label of the bottle in my hands, contemplating which route I should take. Either one will still put me on a path to my goal. One will be easier, although I’ll be sacrificing some of what few principles I have left to use Beck in that fashion.

The upside is more time with Beck. A little bit more time with a man who makes me feel like a real woman…whole, undamaged, and full of potential. That’s a benefit I never would have expected, and I’m a little ashamed that it’s something that I’m even considering as important.

But fuck it…I like how he made me feel last night.

Decision made, I ignore my pile of clothes on the floor and head back into the bedroom. I lay the bottle of water on the edge of the mattress and pad silently toward the bathroom. A billow of steam wafts out the door, and in the mirror over the large vanity I can see the naked form of Beck as he tilts his head back under the stream of water while one of his hands rubs a bar of soap over his chest. Then down his stomach and right in between his legs, where he glides it around the base of his cock, over his balls, and back up his stomach again.

God, that’s so hot.

Then he turns around and I realize I’m going to get to look at his ass, something I haven’t had the pleasure of yet. The minute he turns, I get just a peek of those tight twin globes paler than the rest of his tan skin, but then my breath catches as I look at his back. My hand reaches out, grabs hold of the doorjamb for balance, and I look at Beck with narrowed eyes.

On his right shoulder blade, taking up no more than five inches or so, a tattoo.

A red phoenix taking flight with wings and tail of flame.

Oh holy fuck.

Red bird on a rib cage.

Red bird on a wrist.

Red bird on a shoulder.

Red birds fucking everywhere, closing in on me.

A surge of terror mixed with adrenaline punches into my stomach and I spin from the doorway, stumble but catch myself, before running through the bedroom and out into the living area. I hastily put my dress on, abandoning my thong and heels, which are back in the bedroom. I can’t even imagine how ludicrous I’ll look walking through the lobby to hail a cab in early November with no shoes, but I can’t give that another thought.

I have to get the fuck out of here.

With my heart pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears, I grab my purse from the table by the front door of the suite where I had left it last night and I leave, quietly shutting the door behind me.

I have no clue what that phoenix tattoo means, but I know one thing:

Right now, it scares the piss out of me.