"It was good for me."
"I want it to be better."
I shiver. "Knox..."
He kisses me again, softer this time. Guides the cardigan off my shoulders, lets it fall to the floor. My shirt follows. Then his.
"Okay," I breathe, "slow is good. Slow is—" I break off when he ducks his head to kiss my collarbone. "Really good."
He takes his time. Kisses every inch of skin he uncovers. He learns the map of me—finds where I'm ticklish along my ribs, where I'm sensitive at the dip of my waist, where a scrape of teeth makes me gasp and grab at his shoulders.
He pays special attention to the bite mark. Kisses it, licks it, worries at it gently with his teeth until I'm making soundsthat aren't words anymore, my hips rolling against nothing, searching for friction.
"Knox, I need—"
He works my jeans open, pushes them down along with my underwear.
The way he looks at me—like I'm something precious, something worth waiting for—makes my chest ache.
He drops to his knees. Looks up at me, holds my gaze. His eyes are shifting, the gold bleeding through. "Can I?"
My breath hitches. "Yes. Fuck. Yes."
He wraps his hand around the base of me first, just holding, feeling. I'm already so hard, twitching in his grip. When he leans in and drags his tongue up the underside, from root to tip, my whole body shudders.
"Knox—"
He takes the head into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. I have to lock my knees to stay upright.
"Oh fuck." My fingers tighten in his hair. "That's—oh—"
He takes me deeper, slow, letting me feel every inch of the slide. By the time his nose brushes my skin, I've forgotten how to breathe. The sound I make is broken, desperate.
He pulls back just as slowly, hollowing his cheeks, then sinks down again. And again. Setting a rhythm that has my thighs trembling.
"Knox, your mouth, I can't—" I'm babbling, hips twitching like I'm trying not to thrust. "Please, please, please—"
He pulls off just long enough to say, "You can move. I want you to."
Something breaks loose in me, and then my hips are rolling forward, fucking into his mouth in shallow thrusts. He lets me, encourages me, one hand gripping my hip while the other cups my balls, rolling them gently.
"I'm close," I warn, tugging at his hair. "Knox, I'm going to—"
He doesn't pull off. Instead he takes me deeper, swallows around me, and hums.
I come with a shout, spilling down his throat in hot pulses. He works me through it, swallowing everything, gentling his mouth as the aftershocks roll through me. When he finally pulls off, my legs are shaking so hard he has to catch me.
"Holy shit." I'm panting, boneless against him. "Holy shit, Knox."
He stands, gathering me against his chest. "Good?"
"I think I died." I laugh weakly into his shoulder.
"We're not done," he tells me, walking me backward toward the bed.
"I don't think I can move."
"You don't have to." He eases me down onto the mattress, and I go willingly. "I'll do all the work."
