The minute we stepped foot over the threshold, all rules went out the goddamn window. I’ve always been used to keeping others at bay, but I have to relearn my habits and let Knox in if this is going to work.
I’m already so hot, and the firestorm hurtling through my bloodstream has no intention of slowing down.
We stand in the walkway of his apartment, my back against the wall, him in all his six-foot-three glory towering over me. Our bodies are so close that one calculated adjustment of my hips would have my cunt rolling over his not-so-little erection. Honestly, I have no idea how he drove with that thing sticking out like a second gear stick.
One of Knox’s brawny arms shoots out to frame the side of my head, and his other hand occupies itself with caressing my cheek, the stygian darkness from outside budding between slivers in his slightly ajar curtains.
“Can I kiss you, Ace?” he whispers under his breath, his eyes wide and imploring and nearly iris-less given the size of his pupils.
The calloused pad of his thumb trails sideways to brush over my bottom lip. He parts it from the top with apop, and a responding shiver accordions through my body.
Our world is reduced to a fuzzy dreamscape, my periphery condensed as if I’m looking out a porthole. There’s a reason humans are petrified by the unknown, and right now, the inner workings of sex is where my expertise ends.
Sure, maybe I did have my first kiss with Bernard Shernanberg behind the middle school bleachers midday when the air was too muggy and he tasted of potato salad, but that’s not a memory I tend to revisit. Besides that, I haven’t been with another guy. I haven’ttouchedanother guy. I’m as virginal as they come. I feel like a sacrificial lamb being led to slaughter, but the only thing getting slaughtered tonight is my poor, inexperienced pussy.
However, I don’t let the fear gore me with its thick, curved claws. I shed my nerves and follow Knox headfirst into the fray without worrying about how I’ll find my way back. Because, for the first time in Staten history, I’m not afraid of getting lost.
It only takes five words to change the trajectory of my life.
“Yes, you can kiss me.”
Nothing about Knox’s movements is slow or wary. He doesn’t savor this moment. No, he rushes to taste it in the understandable fear that it may never happen again.
He bends his head before smashing his lips onto mine, and my brain cuts out like bad cell service in the bowels of a dense forest. It’s impressive how much he’s able to accomplish without aid from his tongue, and the kiss alone has me mewling in my throat, my heart rattling against my ribs, and my vision reminiscent of light pillars extending into the eternal night, reflected by a formation of ice crystals that sweep low against a frost-covered ground.
A rare phenomenon fit for an equally rare midnight make-out session.
Knox’s chest presses against my front in the hormonal flurry, the tip of his tongue prodding along the seam of my lips for backstage access. His palm is still glued to the side of my face—more out of respect than anything—and I welcome him deeper with undying obedience, marrying our tongues together so I can feel every inch of him. It’s sloppy and wet and obscene in all the right ways.
My hands seek purchase on his upper back, digging into the muscles that have been laced into a knot from a double whammy of both literal and figurative tension. A foreign and carnal need awakens inside of me—a need that won’t be satisfied until he’s bearing the crescent marks of my untreated territorialism.
I arch my back, yanking him closer than we’ve ever been before, a sick part of me loving the way his distended cock bulges into my belly.
Fuck, this feels so good. This is what I’ve been depriving myself of? Am I crazy?
Even for a second kiss, there’s no awkwardness, no clumsiness. I anticipate his next moves and know exactly where to be to maximize the outcome. I slide my tongue over his with agroan, feeling his physique begin to shake from the bombardment of stimulation.
He lightly dents my lower lip with his teeth and pulls just the slightest bit, a smear of saliva glistening on collagen. When the tether snaps, I fiend after my next dose with a desire that refuses to be satiated. A continual hunger rippling in the pit of my belly, feeding off my sensibility while it waits for something of substance to fill its bottomless hole.
“I need more. Please,” I beg, the warmth in my cunt forewarning a painful kind of pressure. I can feel it leak in obedience, a glob of slick lining the gusset of my panties.
Knox grins against my mouth. “You don’t have to beg, Ace. I’ll do whatever the hell you want me to do. You want me on my knees?”
I nod, gritting my teeth so hard that they could crack a wishbone. I’m too afraid to speak. Everything hurts. I’ve felt lust in short spurts, sure, but I wasn’t prepared for ruination to personally show up on my doorstep. And Knox, well, he knows his way around some mutually assured destruction.
He lowers the neckline of my dress, peppering kisses against my clavicle, justbarelyskirting the tops of my breasts. “Do you want my mouth…on your cunt?” He looks up at me while he asks it, this large, hulking hockey player clinging to my waist with the desperation of a man starved.
Eye contact. Fuck, Knox was right about eye contact.
My legs begin to tremble, and my thoughts hydroplane. If I wasn’t so aroused, embarrassment would tie my tongue. “I—nobody’s ever…gone down there.”
The growly drawl of his voice pitches with surprise. “Nobody?”
I shake my head.
“Fuck,” Knox mutters, the tendons in his neck drawn tauter than a bowstring, the curve of his canines glinting in the all-encompassing darkness. “Do you want me to be the first, baby?”
Baby.I nearly come right on the spot.
