Clean Point

27 Scottie

27

Don’t Delete The Kisses – Wolf Alice

The taste of Nico Kotas’s lips, the gentle rub of his stubble against my cheek, and the way his fingers gripped the back of my head as we kissed was all information I hadn’t woken up thinking I would learn.

But there we were, one hand on my face, pulling my lips close to him, the other at my lower back and gliding further southward, mouths moving together and exploring. My uninjured fist at his shirt, the feeling of the tight muscle underneath pulling at something in my lower stomach.

He was a filthy pleasure I couldn’t wait to unwrap.

He moaned into my mouth as he grabbed at my ass, the noise addictive as my skirt pulled up to reveal the thin shorts underneath. I melted into his body, pressing forward, needing to feel him against mine.

In one quick motion, Nico moved past me and used his arm to clear the counter, before he leaned down, his arms hooking at the back of my thighs and pulling me up. I instantly wrapped my legs around his waist, the centre of his body pressing into mine. The kiss turned desperate, my fingers interlacing with his hair and tugging, lightly at first but as I felt a curve grow on his lips, I used them to leverage his head into a different position, taking some control and deepening the kiss.

We grew hungry, pulling at each other, teeth grazing. I needed as much of him as I could get, desperate to satisfy the endless starvation that had only grown for him. The feel of him was impossible, a ripple of firm muscle and soft skin. My nails dug at his shirt, desperate to remove it so I could trace the black lines of his tattoos that disappeared underneath.

I needed every inch of him. Everything he said before, nobody had ever made me feel the way I did with him. Safe, secure, cared for, and nobody had ever driven me quite this wild.

I breathed him in, losing myself in the smell of his shampoo, wondering if he’d notice if I stole his body wash to cover myself in it. He was, for me, a basic human need. Oxygen, water, shelter, Nico Kotas. And judging by the hardness rubbing in between my legs, it was the same for him.

His hand pulled at the back of my top, finding his way underneath. The way his touch felt against my bare skin sent sparks up from the base of my spine to my neck. His fingers spread, digging into me and pulling me closer – as if there wasn’t any space to begin with. His mouth left mine, kisses trailing across my jaw, finding the base of my neck and sucking at the sensitive skin. My fingers curled on his back, eyes rolling back at the sensation.

He made his way to my ear, pulling at the band of my ponytail and letting my hair fall past my shoulders, then breathed out, ‘Tell me to stop.’ It was a desperate plea, begging for a mercy that I wasn’t going to give him. A mercy that neither of us even wanted. The smile on my lips was out of my control, my brain drunk on the knowledge that as much as I needed him, he needed me back all the same.

‘What if I say keep going?’ I replied, my hands sliding to his face, pulling up, so he left my neck to look at me.

‘Then I will …’

He looked undone, torn, and desperate. His lips red and swollen, grey eyes wild. I imagined mine looked much the same. My chest heaved for air, my heart thundering in my chest as I looked at him, committing every detail to memory. I never wanted to forget seeing the great Nico Kotas looking at me like this. Like I wasn’t just a want, but a wild, unabandoned need.

‘Then keep going.’ I squeezed my legs, pulling where he was hard against the centre of me, and moved my body against his. We both moaned at the touch, the relief driving us again as he thrust, clutching at me for grip.

If we’d been lighting a fire, then the rotation of my hips had thrown petrol on the whole damn thing.

We moved, craving and frenzied, as we found a rhythm, the perfect friction between us driving us further together. I needed more, needed the length I could feel growing against me, my dirty mind hungry to know how impressive he was, how good it would feel when I lowered myself onto him. His touch left my back and moved to the band of my skirt.

‘Can I?’ he breathed against me. I nodded enthusiastically, words out of reach with the anticipation of feeling him against me. He continued, his palms sliding down my front, under my skirt and underwear until he reached me.

‘You’re soaked.’ His voice was low and controlled. The feel of his finger trailing down, the tease of it, had me moaning into his ear as he continued, ‘Is this all for me?’

‘Yes,’ I whimpered at his words as he played with me, his finger gently teasing against my clit, making perfect round circles that were driving me to the edge.

‘Would you let me taste you?’

‘Yes.’

He grinned, his own wickedness teasing me now. ‘The things I’ve been dreaming of doing to you. It’s going to take us a while to work through them all.’

I was ready to beg, and would’ve, too, if it hadn’t meant moving from our position and losing the contact that was driving me wild, pulling my body tighter and tighter, winding me like a coil, ready for release. My reply was nothing more than a hungry moan as he continued. I rubbed desperately against every point of contact, feral for the pleasure he promised me.

I could feel the release nearing when there was a noise outside the kitchen door. My body tensed as I let out a sharp inhale, glancing around the empty kitchen, suddenly remembering where we were. Anyone could have walked in and found him all over me. Sarah could have taken a photo, making any possibility of denying our relationship impossible. Labelling us as fuck buddies before we even got the chance to make our Wimbledon debut. One moment, and this could all be over. And then the chair screeched to the side. Nico yelped slightly, bringing my attention back to him, his face creased with pain.

‘I hit my leg,’ he explained, letting out a deep breath as some distance grew between our bodies. Some very necessary distance. It felt like a bucket of ice water had been thrown over me as reality really kicked in.

‘Are you okay?’ I asked, eyes searching his. The air was hot and tight, but nevertheless the tight knot of need that had been tightened by his every touch, loosened somewhat.

‘It’s fine,’ he tried to reassure me with a grin, but this time it was weak, like he could sense the imminent end had arrived too.

‘We should stop,’ I whispered. Stop before I let you take me raw, hard, and fast against the counter and it’s too late. I hated saying the words, but I knew it was for the best. We were out of control, risking something both of us had put everything on the line for. Him, more than me.

His hand pulled out, resting on my back as he moved back to look at me, expression full of concern. ‘Did I go too far?’

I shook my head, still catching my breath. ‘The opposite.’

He crooked an eyebrow, that devilish smile appearing. ‘Not far enough?’

‘We can’t.’ I tried to release the tight knot inside of me with a breath. I was wound so tight, I was surprised I could tell him to stop, surprised I didn’t jump his bones to finish the job.

‘We can.’

‘We shouldn’t.’ I shook my head, telling myself that this was for the best.

‘I can feel how needy you are, and I can’t think of one single good reason to stop.’ His eyes broke from mine, looking down at my ruffled skirt, his hand disappearing inside the white material. His fingertips moved against my aching core. ‘Say the word and I’ll get down on my knees and tell you exactly how sweet you taste.’

I almost cried out with the overwhelming want I felt for him. The throbbing absolution I needed for him. I leaned forward, my head resting on his shoulder, his comforting smell overwhelming.

‘Wimbledon,’ I muttered into him. The excuse was easy. I’d been making it to myself for weeks now. ‘That’s a reason.’

My head lifted from his shoulder as he hummed his reply. ‘Hmm, try another?’

His forehead tipped forward to meet mine, the moment softening slightly. I wanted to cry with how desperate I was to continue, with the effort it took to fight this tsunami of need for him.

‘Nico.’

‘I want you.’ It was a strangled final plea, not made to influence me but only to remind me what I meant to him, that this had been more than a spill in the kitchen. As if he had to say it; I could still read it in his eyes.

I had taken a moment, swallowing down the impulse to kiss him again. I was an addict, doubting I’d ever crave any other pleasure more in my life as much as I wanted him.

‘I know,’ I managed. ‘But we should stop.’

He nodded, just once, before taking a step back, clearing his throat as he did. He’d wiped his hands along the front of his shorts before offering me help down. I couldn’t even meet his eyes as I shuffled off the counter. In awkward silence, we cleaned up the mess we’d made, putting the kitchen back as it should be. Leaving it almost as if we’d never been there in the first place. As if it had never happened. The way it should be, I had told myself. Even if it broke me to keep him at an arm’s length.

‘I think I’ll head to bed,’ I said, unable to will myself to stay another moment in his presence, not without caving and making him mine over and over, not without giving into the temptation to add my name to his tattoos, tucking it away somewhere hidden.

Property of Scottie Sinclair.

‘You should eat,’ he reminded me. ‘Elena probably has leftovers from dinner in the fridge.’

I shook my head again. ‘I’m not hungry.’

Not that kind of hungry, at least.

He gave me a look, pressing the urge to shovel food down my gullet. Like I could think of food when I was wound up like this, my body aching for his touch. I needed a shower, a long one. I wondered if there was enough water in the world to cool me down after him.

‘I promise I’m not hungry,’ I insisted, the look on his face not diminishing. I sighed. ‘If I want to eat later, I’ll come and raid the fridge.’

It took him a moment, his eyes still more black than grey, focused on me, before he relented. ‘I’ll head up, too.’

I almost teased him, considering what we had been up to less than a few minutes ago, but it died before I could say it, unable to will myself to make the situation more awkward.

Silently, we headed out of the kitchen, and upstairs, the already long corridor feeling more like miles than metres. He walked alongside me, our arms brushing every so often and each small touch had me closing my eyes, breathing in. The heat inside of me spurred hotter, the need for him only growing. We reached my room first, and the already awkward air grew heavy and almost unbearable.

‘This is me.’ I immediately fought the urge to slap myself in the face. Six weeks living together, as if Nico didn’t know where I slept? My cheeks had burned hot as I watched a teasing smile curl onto his lips. I almost missed the more difficult days where he would’ve already grunted and run.

Instead, he looked at me, his eyes filled with something I couldn’t quite place, leaned forward, and kissed me on the cheek. The simple touch was electric, his lips pressing against my skin. My fingers, despite the injury, curled into fists, my breath restricted, my lungs tight.

‘Goodnight, Scottie,’ he’d said softly, taking one last look. Then he turned and continued down the hallway.

I hadn’t dared to move until he turned the corner, disappearing into the night. All the while, I cursed myself with every name under the sun for letting him go.