Chapter 21 Felix #5
The kiss deepened, and I found myself pressing closer, chasing that warmth and the way Kit’s breathing had gone ragged beneath me.
His hands roamed my back, fingers tracing the line of my shoulder blades.
Pure bliss tingled through me. My cock twitched as it hardened, pressing against him through my jeans, and my face burned with embarrassment and want in equal measure. For a heartbeat, I froze.
But then Kit’s hand found the back of my neck, fingers threading through my hair, and he murmured something encouraging against my mouth. The sound went straight through me, and without really meaning to, I rocked forward slightly, pressing against him.
The friction sent a jolt of pleasure through me that made my breath catch. Kit’s response was immediate—a low rumble that vibrated through my chest where it pressed against his.
“That’s it,” he murmured. “Whatever feels good.”
I moved again, more deliberately this time, grinding down against the hard line of him through our jeans.
The sensation was overwhelming—too much and not nearly enough all at once.
My movements became more insistent, seeking that perfect pressure, that heat that made sparks shoot up my spine, that made my whole body sing with need.
Kit’s hands stayed gentle on my back, never gripping too tightly, never controlling my movements. Just steadying me, encouraging me, letting me set the pace.
I buried my face against his neck, breathing hard, the scratch of his beard against my skin adding another layer to the sensory overload.
Without thinking, I pressed my nose against his throat, breathing him in.
My brain tried uselessly to categorize the scent—pine needles, the faintest trace of mechanical oil, sweat—but underneath it all was just Kit, warm skin and something some part of me recognized as safe, as mine, and I found myself rubbing my face against the rough hair like I was trying to absorb it.
“Have you ever touched yourself while thinking about me?” Kit whispered straight into my ear, causing gooseflesh to erupt down my neck.
“Yes,” I answered automatically, the word leaving my mouth without permission.
It was unusual for me. Unlike ninety-nine percent of the male population who were seemingly obsessed with wanking, I’d often go weeks at a time without feeling the urge to.
But last night in bed, I’d been aching hard and my thoughts had strayed to Kit’s hands all over me in the ballroom.
Then my mind conjured that image of his naked body in the woods—his broad chest, the dark hair that trailed down past his navel, the glimpse I’d caught of his cock.
I’d barely had to touch myself before I was violently coming, Kit’s name gasping from my lips in the darkness of my bedroom.
The memory of that moment made me move more urgently against him, chasing that same desperate intensity. Kit’s breathing grew heavier, and when I ground down particularly hard, he let out a sound that was half groan, half growl.
I wanted more. Needed more.
With a boldness that surprised me, I reached for Kit’s hand and guided it between us, pressing his palm against the hard line of my cock through my jeans.
Kit’s fingers curved around me immediately, applying just the right amount of pressure, and I nearly sobbed with relief.
But even that wasn’t enough. The layers of fabric between us suddenly felt like torture.
I wanted that hand under my jeans, wanted those fingers firmly wrapped around my cock, wanted—
“Kit,” I gasped against his throat, desperation bleeding into my voice. “I—”
His phone rang.
The sharp trill shattered our hazy bubble of want, making us both freeze. Kit groaned, his head falling back against the sofa cushions.
“I’ll turn it off,” he muttered, sliding his hand out of his pocket.
But when he glanced at the screen, we both saw Seb’s name flashing across the display.
Kit’s expression shifted immediately, hazy pleasure giving way to conflict.
“Take it,” I said quickly, so that he didn’t have to decide. “You have to.”
“He’s getting back to me about the attack,” he said, thumb hovering over the accept button.
I shuffled upwards, reaching for my mug of now-cold tea with shaking hands. The dregs were bitter, but I needed something to do to calm myself down.
I remained perched on his lap, unwilling to move despite the interruption. Kit’s free hand rested on my hip, thumb tracing absent circles through my jeans while he spoke.
“That’s right… Dead, like I said… About two hours ago… Right now? Can’t it wait until…” Kit threw his head back onto the sofa cushion. “Fine. Aye. I understand. I’ll be there soon.”
The entire conversation lasted maybe thirty seconds. When Kit hung up, he looked at me with deeply sorrowful eyes, both hands finding my hips.
“Seb wants me at the hotel. Right now.”
A funny noise escaped my throat—something between a whine and a grunt of protest that I definitely hadn’t meant to make out loud.
Kit’s mouth twitched, fighting back a smile. “Are you seriously… pouting right now?”
“I most definitely am not!” I pulled my face into its best scowl.
Kit’s grin broke free, broad and delighted. “You absolutely were. That’s the most dramatic bottom lip I’ve ever seen.”
“I’m not— It’s just— We’re sort of in the middle of something!”
“Aye,” Kit agreed. “Aye, we are in the middle of something.” He reached over, snatching the cold tea from me. “And that’s far more important to me than moody, demanding vampires.”
I breathed out an “Oh,” relief flooding through me.
One hand travelled from my hip to trace the hard line of my cock through my jeans. The touch was light, teasing, just enough pressure to make me push into it with a sharp intake of breath.
“You didn’t really think I’d leave you like this, did you?”
His hands found my shoulders, guiding me down until I was lying fully on top of him, the weight of my body against his, chest to chest. I could feel his heart beating steadily beneath me, could smell that scent of leather and soap growing stronger, headier.
One of his thick thighs slotted between my legs, the solid muscle pressing up against my aching cock through the layers of denim.
The pressure made me gasp, my hips jerking forward involuntarily.
Kit brought his mouth to my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “With how hard you are right now, I doubt this will take long.”
I gasped. He wasn’t wrong. I couldn’t remember ever being quite this hard, quite this desperate for release.
His fingers tightened on my hip, physically guiding me forward, making me rut against his thigh in a slow, deliberate rhythm. And oh. The drag of denim against denim, the firm and steady friction building with each movement…
“That’s it,” Kit murmured, one hand stroking through my hair while the other held me tightly. His voice rumbled through his chest, vibrating against mine. “Just like that.”
I couldn’t do anything but let him control the movement, couldn’t think beyond the fire inside coiling low, tight and desperate. Sweat prickled at my hairline, at the back of my neck. My pulse hammered in my ears, in my throat, in my cock.
“Kit,” I gasped, his name cracking apart on my tongue.
“I know,” he said, his thigh pressing up harder against me. “Just relax. Let me take care of you.”
The need overwhelmed everything, building with each guided rock of my body. Sounds spilled from my throat—whimpers I couldn’t hold back no matter how hard I tried. I pressed my face into his shoulder, tasting salt and skin, but it didn’t muffle them. Didn’t stop the desperate noises escaping.
“I want to hear you,” Kit said, his voice low and commanding. “Don’t hold back.”
Permission granted.
The sounds poured out unchecked—breathless gasps and soft moans and Kit’s name breaking apart on my tongue. His grip on my hip tightened in response, guiding me faster and faster against his thigh. His breathing hitched. A low groan rumbled through his chest, vibrating against mine.
The heat coiled tighter and tighter, a fist clenching. The drag of denim. The solid pressure of Kit’s thigh. The rhythm his hands set on my hips. Nothing else existed—just the friction and the building need and how close I was, how desperately I was shaking with it.
This is actually happening, some distant part of my brain managed. Kit Thorne is—
The thought dissolved into static.
“Kit—” His name broke apart in my throat. “I’m—fuck, I’m—”
“I’ve got you.” His thigh pressed up harder, a hand flying to my hair, tightening just enough to make my scalp tingle, to send sparks racing down my spine. “Let go, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart.
The word hit somewhere behind my ribs, made my heart clench and squeeze.
My orgasm hit like a system crash—sudden and total and overwhelming.
My whole body locked up, every muscle going rigid as pleasure whited out my vision, blanked every thought.
I came with a strangled cry that I barely managed to muffle against Kit’s neck, my hips jerking in sharp, uncontrolled movements as I spilled into my jeans.
The release tore through me, stolen breath and racing heartbeat and Kit’s scent filling my lungs.
It was like nothing I’d ever experienced.
The pleasure kept rolling through me in waves, each one stealing my breath.
My fingers dug into Kit’s shoulders hard enough to bruise, probably, but I couldn’t make myself let go.
Couldn’t do anything but shake and gasp and ride it out while Kit held me through it, his hands steady and sure and grounding.
When I finally went boneless against him, aftershocks still sparking through my nerves, I felt wrung out. Empty. The best kind of exhausted.
It took a fair while until reality crept back in.
“Do you need to go meet Seb?” I eventually managed.
“Seb can wait. He’s got an eternal lifespan.”
Kit’s hands never stopped moving—one stroking up and down my back in long, grounding sweeps, the other still working through my hair in those gentle patterns that made me want to melt into him completely.
Made me want to purr like a contented cat.
God, I loved it so much. The gentle repetition of it, the way his fingers worked through the strands like he couldn’t get enough of touching me.
I could happily lay there, on him, all night.
But it was Kit’s turn now, surely.
So very slowly, I peeled myself off of him, immediately missing the warmth of his body beneath mine. My jeans felt uncomfortably damp and sticky, cooling now in a way that made me grimace.
Heart thumping dizzyingly fast, I moved my hand very shyly towards the massive bulge straining against his jeans. You can do this. You want to do this. You—
Kit caught my wrist before I could touch him, bringing my hand to his lips to press a soft kiss to my palm.
“Don’t you worry about that,” he said. His gaze dropped to the wet patch on my own jeans, and he made a noise that could only be described as a satisfied growl.
“But—”
Kit pressed a finger to my lips. “I’m going to go now.”
“Okay,” I said automatically, even though I really didn’t want him to leave. “That’s okay.”
“And you’re going to take a long, hot shower.”
I blinked at him, still feeling floaty and disconnected from my own body. “Okay?”
Kit flashed me a toothy smile, his voice dropping to that low register that made my pulse skip. “And in that shower, you’re going to close your eyes and think of me. Think about all the things you want me to do to you. And then you’re going to write me a very detailed list.”
“A… what?”
“A list,” Kit repeated, his thumb tracing along my jaw. “Every single thing you think you might like. Everything you want to try. Send it to me tonight, in a message.”
“Oh.”
The single syllable came out strangled. Warmth flooded my face, spreading down my neck. The idea of writing down sexual acts—typing them out—made my insides flip with equal parts mortification and something else. Something that felt suspiciously like anticipation.
“Can you do that for me?” he asked softly, stroking his thumb across my cheekbone.
I swallowed hard. “Um… I can try.”
“Perfect,” he said, then began the torturous process of extracting himself from underneath me. I let him manoeuvre me sideways, suddenly feeling cold and unsteady without his warmth.
He reached for the soft throw draped across the back of the sofa, wrapping it around my shoulders. Then he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead.
I sat there, slightly stunned, watching as he straightened his rumpled cardigan and ran fingers through his dishevelled hair.
“I’ll be checking for your message,” he said, moving towards the door. Then he turned back with a wink that made my breath catch. “Don’t keep me waiting too long.”
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving me alone with my racing heart and his lingering scent on my sofa cushions.
I stared at my phone on the coffee table. A list. Of sex things. That I wanted Kit to do to me.
The thought was half thrilling—Kit reading my words, knowing exactly what I wanted—and half mortifying in a way that made me want to bury my face in the blanket and never emerge.
Another round with that vampire might be preferable.
I picked up my phone, then set it down again. How was I supposed to write a list of sexual acts when I barely knew what half of them were called? My face burned just thinking about typing the words.
But Kit’s voice echoed in my head: “Every single thing you think you might like.”
The memory of his hand between my legs, the hungry way he’d looked at me, sent a rush of heat through me again. Maybe I could figure out a few things to put on this impossible list.
There was only one way to find out.