He’s standing there in a black hoodie and jeans, messy, pale and absolutely irresistible. I get weak in my knees, but he barely lets me open my mouth. He grabs my face and crushes his mouth to mine like he’s been starving for days.
I stumble back, my hands sliding up his chest, and he follows, kissing me like he needs it to stay alive.
His hoodie smells like rain and something warm and familiar that makes my brain melt. He kicks the door shut behind him, sinks both of his hands in my hair and mumbles without pulling away from my lips.
“Is your—mom—still at work?” he murmurs against my lips, the words barely formed because he refuses to pull away.
“Till—morning,” I whisper back, kissing him between every syllable.
“Good,” he breathes into my mouth. “Fuck—I missed you so much,” he murmurs, voice low and rough like it’s been clawing at him for days.
I try to answer but he kisses me again, harder, backing me into the wall until my legs go weak. His fingers tighten on my waistand suddenly I’m off the ground. He lifts me without effort, my legs locking around him automatically.
He doesn’t stop kissing me. Not when he stumbles on the stairs. Not when he pushes the door to my room open with his shoulder. Not even when he hits the dresser with his elbow.
He drops me on the bed, not gently, just desperate, and follows immediately, his lips already on my throat, my jaw, that spot that makes my breath catch. He pushes up my T-shirt, kisses my stomach like he’s been dying to eat me.
“Don’t you—wanna see my room?” I manage, laughing breathlessly as his hair brushes my skin. “You’ve never been here.”
He doesn’t even look up.
“Mhm… it looks great,” he mutters against my skin, kissing just below my ribs, thoroughly uninterested in anything except me.
His hands slide up my sides, his mouth following, warm and hungry as he slips my T-shirt off.
“You’re all I thought about,” he mumbles before he gets back to my chest.
Does he have any idea how far he’s pulling me in?
I want him—everything he is, everything he’s willing to give. The days without him carved out a space in me, and now I want him to fill every part of it.
I take the hem of his hoodie and slip it over his head together with the T-shirt under it.
His carved, broad body hovers over me, shadows tracing every line of him. Veins run up his arms and hands, thick and raised, like my touch woke them up. One runs across his bicep and disappears when he moves, another coils along his forearm, pulsing under my thumb when I slide my fingers over it. His abs tighten when he exhales, and my eyes trail down thesharp indent of his V-line disappearing under his jeans, making something low in my stomach twist greedily.
His skin is warm under my palms, smooth over muscle, not so smooth on his lower abdomen—the thick black happy trail leading down from his navel, darker and softer than I imagined, pointing exactly where I shouldn’t be staring, and I absolutely can’t stop staring now.
He’s perfect.
Raw and real and absolutely ruining me just by existing this close.
He slides my bra off and leans in, taking my nipple into his mouth, his lips moving slowly, like he’s testing my reaction, then moving deeper, hungrier.
The sensation drops straight through me, tight and overwhelming, my breath catching as I lose control of the sounds leaving me.
“Let me kiss you,” he mumbles against my skin, his voice desperate and pleading.
I don’t know if he’s asking or not, but he’s already stripping my jean shorts down my legs, then kissing me everywhere the edges of my panties meet my skin. He sits up again only to take off the last piece of fabric off my body.
His mouth grazes the soft skin right above my pussy, teasing me, as if making sure I’m desperate first.
Finally, he gets lower and starts kissing my soft spot. A silent groan escapes his mouth and vibrates against my pussy as he takes my legs and holds them so firmly, like he’s starved and doesn’t want to let go.
“You’re so sweet,” he mumbles against my pussy as I grip his hair with my fingers, gasping from the pleasure and fear combined. He pulls away just so he can slide two fingers inside me, roughly.
I squeal out loud from the sudden pressure. His mouth grazes my lower belly, his long and scarred fingers sliding gently in and out of me. His skin is so rough in the most delicate way. I’m afraid nothing will ever top this signature harsh touch of his.
“Mhm, I need you to cum for me, Kiara,” he mumbles against my skin before his tongue touches my clit again, gently sucking on it.
