"Knox…"
He hooks his fingers in my waistband and strips everything down in one pull. Panties and all. I'm bare on the counter.
"Spread your legs," he says.
I do. Holding his eyes. Steady. Unashamed. His hands settle on my inner thighs, pressing them wider.
His gaze drops between my thighs and his jaw flexes. "Fuck. Look at you."
He drags his thumb through my folds, sure and thorough, gathering the slick and spreading it over my clit. I shudder.
"Already this wet." He circles my clit, pressing just hard enough to make me whimper. "I barely touched you."
"Knox, please—"
"Please what?" Another circle. "Tell me what you need."
"Your mouth. I need your mouth."
He drops to his knees between my thighs on the kitchen floor. His hands grip the insides of my knees, spreading me wider, and he looks up at me from between my legs with an expression that makes my stomach flip.
"Hold on to something," he says.
I grab the edge of the counter underneath me. He buries his face between my thighs.
No teasing this time. He eats me as though he's proving a point. Tongue flat and wide on my clit, then pointed and flicking, then sucking hard enough that my hips buck off the tile. His beard scrapes the tender skin of my inner thighs, and the burn makes everything sharper.
"Oh god. Knox."
He groans against me, the vibration shooting straight through my core. Two fingers push inside, curling forward, finding thespot that makes my vision blur. He fucks me with his hand while his tongue works my clit in tight, relentless circles.
I'm loud. I can't help it. The kitchen tiles make everything echo. Every moan, every gasp, every wet noise his mouth makes between my legs.
"That's it," he murmurs against my clit. "Let me hear you. Every sound."
He adds a third finger, and I cry out, walls stretching around him, then clenching. He pumps his hand faster, harder, tongue never stopping, and the pressure builds so fast I can't breathe.
"I'm going to—Knox, I'm—"
"Give it to me."
I shatter. My thighs clamp around his head, my back arches off the counter, and I come so hard I see white. He keeps going, licking me through every pulse, every aftershock. His fingers stay buried inside me until I'm shaking, oversensitive, and pulling at his hair.
He stands, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, beard glistening. His eyes are black. His cock is straining against his jeans, the outline thick and obvious.
"Turn around," he says.
I slide off the counter on shaking legs and turn. My palms press flat against the cool tile. I hear his zipper, the rustle of denim shoved down, then he's pressing me forward until my chest is nearly flat on the counter.
The head of his cock drags through my folds from behind, coating himself in the mess he made of me. I whimper, pushing back.
"Patience." His grip tightens on my hip.
"I don't want patience. I want you to fuck me."
A sound comes out of him, low and guttural. He notches against my entrance.
"Look at me."
