His hand slides between us, a rough thumb finding my clit.
“Oh, God.”
“How’s that for courtesy?” His face watches me as he moves, like he’s studying every reaction, but what he sees there causes him to lose all control.
Suddenly, I know what it feels like to be fucked by Knox. Gone is the pleasant veneer. His mouth finds mine, swallowing the sound I make.
I don’t know what to do with my hands. I grab him, the sheets. As if sensing my indecision, he moves one hand above my head.
“Give me the other one,” he says, and I comply, gasping as he grips them both in one hand.
I’m pinned beneath his body, my arms equally pinned above my head. There’s nowhere for me to move.
Everything intensifies.
The look in his eyes.
The way he feels between my thighs.
“You like that, Maren?”
I nod, even as tears sting the corners of my eyes. I’ve never felt emotional during sex before, but I can’t seem to rein in how I feel.
“Love your fucking body,” Knox says. “Love the way your cunt is soaked for me.” He squeezes my wrists a little harder when I try to move. “Stay where you are and take it for me. Want you to give me that orgasm you’re holding back. Can you give it to me, Maren?”
God, I want to. I want to so badly. “Yes.” The word comes out on a cry.
His cock hammers into me. I’m going to be sore and have bruises tomorrow, but all of it’s delicious.
I close my eyes.
“Open them,” Knox grunts. “Want you to see who’s fucking you when you come. Want you to remember I did this to you.”
And when his lips find mine again, everything goes bright and vibrant and weightless.
“Oh, God,” I say against his lips.
“Yeah, come for me, sweetheart. Soak my fucking cock.”
My orgasm barrels through me, shaking me to the core, and ruining me forever.
Knox releases my hands and scoops his hands beneath my ass, holding me to him. His forehead drops to the pillow next to my head, so I do the only thing I can think of: I wrap my arms around him, one palm on his back, the other one in his hair, holding him close.
His movements shift. “Don’t hold back,” I whisper.
His breath stutters once.
“Maren—” The word is groaned into my pillow.
The rhythm loses its edge, need threaded through every thrust. The guttural groan he releases through his orgasm brings on a weaker and unexpected orgasm of my own.
I feel every pulse and twitch. That feeling I’ve always dreamed of. I know the condom is practical, but I can’t help but wish his cum was flooding me right now. I imagine it is. There’d be a lot. I know it. And it would slowly drip out of me in thick strands.
“Feels so…fucking good.” Knox’s words are still muffled.
We tremble together, and for a long moment, neither of us moves beyond the occasional stroke of skin or circling of hand.
Knox presses a kiss to the side of my neck, to my shoulder.
