Chapter 20

Whiskee

I wasin love with Beethoven's home. It was perfect. The gym, movie theater, and game room were calling my name, but I wanted to be in his bed then his heated pool before the night was over. It didn't surprise me that he had a large home, but it did surprise me to see how well it was decorated. The typical bachelor colors of black, brown, and silver weren't used. Each room had its own vibe and color scheme courtesy of Supreme's wife, Nicole.

The last room he showed me was his master bedroom, which had a bathroom, sitting area, and dressing room closet the size of Mahogany's guest rooms. It was olive green and cream, and the plants, aromatherapy mists, and candles immediately gave me a relaxed vibe.

After cutting on the electric fireplace and starting up a jazz playlist that crooned through the speakers in every corner of the room, Beethoven changed the lighting to a dark red.

A low gasp escaped me when he pulled me into his arms from behind. As his lips lowered to my neck he said, "Nothing has to happen that you don't want to, but I want you naked in my bed so I can finally taste you."

"I want everything," I confessed, holding the back of his neck as the kisses he placed on mine caused my nipples to harden.

"You sure?" His right hand slid between my thighs. "Because I can wait to give you this dick. But I can't wait to have you on my tongue."

It took me a second to respond. I hadn't had sex since a grief-stricken one-night stand that was rough and fast and climactic but not truly satisfying. Not as satisfying as Beethoven's hands felt all over me. As one set of fingers gripped my neck, the other slowly swirled around my clit through my panties. He tilted my head by my neck, and the increase in pressure made me shiver.

"You like that shit, huh?"

Nibbling my bottom lip, I nodded. "Mhm."

"You like being fucked rough too?" When his grip tightened and he pulled me away before gently smacking me against his frame, I whimpered. "Or do you want me to make love to you?"

My pussy throbbed as he licked and kissed my ear.

"If you keep going, I'm going to cum just like this."

"Then cum. And tell me how you want it."

Beethoven's hand moved from my clit briefly and arched my back, pressing my ass directly against his hard dick. This was one time I loved being a woman who could comfortably strut around in six-inch heels. Without them, I'd be too short for this to feel as good as it was. When he returned his fingers to my clit, he began to circle his hips and press his dick against me.

"I… I want you to do both," I moaned, gripping his hand that was around my neck as my body tingled.

Each time his pelvis pounded against me, I unraveled a little more. Deep breaths as I clawed at his hand didn't keep my eyes from rolling into the back of my head. If this man could turn me on this bad with clothes on, I knew I'd be absolutely out of control when there were no barriers between us.

"Baby," I whimpered, feeling those tingles settle at my core.

"Hmm?"

"It's coming."

"Mm…" Beethoven smacked my ass and squeezed. "Give it to me."

And I did.

He held me up… close… keeping me from falling as my orgasm ripped through me. Before I could compose myself, Beethoven was lifting me and carrying me over to his bed. After placing me in the middle, he took off my heels and dress. Slowly, he removed my panties—showing the wetness he'd just created. When he pulled my panties to his nose and inhaled, my eyes fluttered as I pulled in deep breaths.

"You smell as good and clean as I knew you would." Tossing my panties over his shoulder, he spread my legs and pulled me lower against the bed. "I know you're going to taste as good too."

But he didn't find out immediately.

Beethoven took his time touching and kissing and licking my entire body—to the point my breaths came out choppy as my chest heaved when he finally returned to my pussy.

"Bay," I pleaded.

"Look at this pretty pussy."

His nose slid between my lips, and the groan he released as he sucked my clit into his mouth was enough on its own to take me to the edge.

I underestimated how sincere he was when he said he loved to eat pussy.

The time he spent eating my pussy had tears streaming down my cheeks by the time I finally pushed him away. Between his licks, sucks, and sweet nibbles, I'd cum three times and had to hold back from squirting. Even with me scooting up the bed, his arm wrapped around my thigh and pulled me back. I put my hand on his forehead, and he chuckled.

"Did I say I was done eating?"

"Baby, please. I'm about to tap out and I haven't felt you yet."

The man pouted and huffed like a child, and it was the cutest shit I'd ever seen. I wasn't sure how I'd gotten so lucky in this unlucky and forced arrangement. Beethoven wasn't just thoughtful and considerate when it came to making choices or date nights, he was selfless and attentive in the bedroom too. He wasn't just mindlessly having his way with me. Beethoven paid attention to what my body, my mind, my mouth reacted to—and he gave that until I crumbled.

"You mine?" My eyes were trained on him as he stood and removed his clothing.

His body was the work of art I knew it would be.

Tattoos covered his cashew-colored chest and abs, arms and hands, and his neck. His athletic build was toned with not a percent of fat in sight. But his dick… his dick was thick and heavy… long and curvy… my mouth watered just in anticipation of gagging on his length.

"Whiskee."

I lifted my eyes to his, and those golden-brown piercing orbs held me captive like they always did. When he smiled, my heart squeezed. This man was going to fucking ruin me.

"Yes?"

"Are you mine?"

The sight of him stroking his dick made my legs open and close as I nodded. "Yes," I almost whispered. "I'm yours."

"Because you want to be?"

"God, yes," I moaned, lowering my fingers to my soaking pussy. As sensitive as my clit was, I wanted him so bad I would suffer.

Finally, Beethoven made his way between my legs again. Our lips connected, but I wasn't able to kiss him back as he stretched my pussy. He didn't seem to care. He placed kisses all over my face and neck until he was all the way inside.

He gave it to me how I wanted it—rough and slow, long strokes that allowed his head to graze my clit before he slid back inside deeply. While one hand dug into his ass and asked for more, the other clawed at the headboard to keep me from sliding up it. Each stroke rocked my body. Even if I wanted to savor it and not cum quickly, that wasn't an option. I didn't just cum; I gushed all over him.

As he released curses and moans of his own, Beethoven wrapped my legs around his waist and softened his strokes. They went just as deep as he picked up a medium pace, but they weren't as hard. His tongue swirled around mine at the same pace of his strokes, being interrupted at times by moans and whimpers or me calling his name.

Somewhere around the third position, our eyes locked as he slowed his pace. Those gentle strokes had my chin and lips trembling as the sound of my wetness covering him filled the room and mixed with the jazz playlist. When I told him I wanted him to make love to me too, I hadn't taken into consideration how that would feel within my heart. How careful he would be. How intentional he would be.

My head shook as I snapped my eyes shut and tried to push him away, but that didn't work.

"Stay with me," he pleaded, lifting my hands over my head with one of his. "I'm not going to let you leave me in this moment."

As I pulled in a deep breath, a tear escaped my eye. He kissed it away before kissing my lips.

"It's okay," he muttered against my lips before inhaling a shaky breath of his own. "I got you, bae."

Between his sexy voice, the sound of his pleasure, and how good he felt inside of me, I couldn't take anymore. Our eyes locked briefly, just long enough for me to tell him I trusted him with me before I was cumming again… and again… and again.

I was so lostin my thoughts I didn't realize I wasn't alone until Beethoven refilled my glass. Quickly wiping away my tears, I gave him a soft smile.

"You wanna talk about it?" he asked.

I appreciated the fact that he asked instead of assuming that just because I was clearly sad I wanted to talk.

After we went several rounds, I figured I'd be out for the night. That hadn't been the case. I woke up around three in the morning missing my parents, especially Robert Carter, like crazy. His absence in my life was fresher than Mama's.

Being with Beethoven was bittersweet. I loved being with a man who took care of me and made me feel safe like my father, but at times, it made me miss him even more. And knowing I wouldn't have Beethoven forever made the low moments feel worse. He was going to be another person to leave me, and I was dreading that already.

I wanted to blame the sex and say it was so good it had me open, and maybe that was the case a little, but more than that—this was a heart issue—a heart issue that I had no clue how to fix.

"I miss my daddy," I confessed quietly, wiping away a tear. "And my mama." Chuckling, I sniffled. "And I'm already missing you too."

He sat behind me on the window bench. Instead of replying right away, Beethoven wrapped me in his arms and looked out at the moon with me. The soft kiss he placed on my neck soothed me, allowing me to melt against his frame.

"I heard this Memphis author say grief is just leftover love. Love you can't give to someone physically in that moment you miss and want them most." My eyes closed as I buried his words in my mind and heart. "There's nothing wrong with being sad, but instead, I think you should be grateful. Grateful that you had two loving parents for as long as you did. Grateful that you're capable of loving them beyond the grave. I know nothing or no one can take their place, but I'm here, and I'll hold the space for them—and that love. And I can love on you too." As I wiped away more tears, I looked back at him. "And as far as you missing me… bae, I'm not leaving you no time soon. I don't have to leave you ever."

"But you said you wanted to leave Memphis."

"That doesn't mean we can't stay in touch. Besides, that won't happen any time soon. If you focus on the past, you'll be sad and depressed. If you focus on the future, you'll be anxious and worried. All we have is right now, this very moment. And in this very moment, I got you."

That was true, so I accepted it. Snuggling deeper against his chest, I pulled in a deep breath and tried to focus on this moment. This moment where I had him and I had others to love and be loved by, and I prayed that God would grace me to allow that to be enough.