Chapter 12 #2
“Fuck me.” The words feel powerful on my tongue, like I’m claiming something that’s always been mine. “Now.”
He tears open the condom packet with his teeth, rolling it onto his length before positioning himself between my thighs. Can he be any more sexy? The head of his cock nudges my entrance, and I brace myself, knowing this will hurt but wanting it anyway.
He eases forward, stretching me in a way that burns despite how wet I am. Then he meets resistance—a barrier he wasn’t expecting—and his eyes widen.
“Paris, are you—”
“Don’t stop.” I throw my arms around his neck. “Please don’t stop now.”
His forehead drops to mine, muscles trembling with the effort of holding back. “You should have told me.”
“Would it have mattered?” I shift my hips, trying to take more of him despite the pain.
“Yes, it fucking matters. I would have—” He shakes his head. “This isn’t how your first time should be.”
“I get to decide that.” I cup his face, forcing him to look at me. “And I want this. Want you.”
His eyes lock with mine, both of us suspended in this impossible moment. “It’s going to hurt.”
“I don’t care. Make me yours.”
Something savage flashes in his eyes. With one hard thrust, he breaks through the barrier. Sharp, immediate pain rips through me, wringing a strangled cry from my throat.
“Fuck.” He freezes inside me, buried to the hilt. “Paris. Look at me.”
I force my eyes open, unaware I’d squeezed them shut. His face hovers above mine, etched with concern, and his thumb brushes a tear from the corner of my eye.
The intimacy of his gaze is almost too much to bear. I feel exposed, vulnerable—seen.
“I’m okay.” I take a shuddering breath, willing my body to relax around his invasion. “Just…”
He peppers kisses across my face, my neck, my shoulders, his hands stroking my sides, my breasts, everywhere but where we’re joined. “You’re doing so good.”
Slowly, the pain recedes, replaced by a strange fullness that’s not quite pleasure but no longer agony.
I flex my hips experimentally, and gasp.
“Better?” He watches my face for cues.
I nod. “Move. Slow.”
He withdraws before delving back in, the friction sending sparks of something new and fucking good through my nerves. Again and again. Each thrust gentler than I expected from a man who could crush my heart in seconds.
“You feel—” His words dissolve into a groan as I tighten around him. “Fuck, princess.”
The pain fades completely, replaced by waves of pleasure that build with each snap of his hips. I wrap my legs around his waist, changing the angle, taking him deeper, and oh god—he hits something inside me that makes my insides scream.
“Do that again,” I pant.
“There?” He grins against my skin, repeating the motion that made me cry out. “Found it.”
He picks up the pace, driving into that spot with more force, and I’m dissolving into tiny little pieces, my body trying to keep them together. My nails rake down his back, leaving marks I hope will stay for days, proof that this was real.
“Turn over.” He slips out of me. “On your stomach.”
I comply, nerves fluttering with anticipation as he places a pillow beneath my hips, raising my ass. His hand strokes down my spine, appreciative, possessive, before he positions himself at my entrance again.
The first thrust in this new position drives the air from my lungs. He feels impossibly deeper, hitting places inside me I never knew existed. One of his hands tangles in my hair, coaxing me to arch my neck back, while the other clutches my hip.
“So fucking perfect.” He punctuates each word with a thrust. “Taking me so well.”
His pace increases, each stroke harder than the last, and I bury my face in the cushions, muffling the embarrassing noises escaping my throat.
“Not happening. Let me hear you, princess.” Knox tugs my hair again. “Want to know how good I’m making you feel.”
I gasp as he drives into me again. “Asshole.”
He chuckles, wedging his hand between the pillow and my clit, his fingers playing with the bundle of nerves in time with his thrusts.
“Knox,” I whimper, the pressure winding tighter. “Something’s happening—”
“I know.” His voice is rough against my ear. “Show me.”
My mind goes blank, and my body takes over, clenching around him as pleasure radiates outward in pulses. It's like my body stopped fighting to hold the pieces together and let them scatter completely before rebuilding all at once.
Nothing in my limited experience—not my own fumbling attempts at pleasure, not the romance novels hidden under my bed—prepared me for this. For him. For what it would feel like to be completely undone by someone else.
This total surrender, this complete obliteration of self.
Not even Knox fingering me.
“That’s it.” His rhythm falters. “Good girl.”
His fingers move to my hip, gripping hard enough to bruise, and I welcome the pain, wanting to carry his marks on my skin.
He buries himself deep with a final thrust, his entire body tensing as he comes. The sound he makes sends another pulse of pleasure through me, and his weight sinks me deeper into the cushions, our breathing synchronized and ragged.
Is this who I’ve been all along, beneath the loneliness and fear? This needy woman?
He carefully withdraws, both of us wincing at the loss, and rolls to his side.
I stare at the stale popcorn, stunned by what just happened.
By what I just did.
My body aches in places I didn’t know could ache, but beneath the discomfort is a bone-deep satisfaction that makes me want to purr like a contented cat.
Knox disposes of the condom, then drapes a blanket over us, tucking me against the solid warmth of his body. He opens his mouth to speak, but I place my fingers on his lips.
“Don’t,” I warn. “Don’t say anything stupid that might ruin this.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Good.” I trace patterns on his skin. “What were you going to say, anyway?”
Instead of answering, he kisses me, soft and sweet, so different from the hungry desperation of before. When he pulls back, his eyes are serious, almost vulnerable. “You okay?”
I nod, not trusting my voice. How do I tell him that I’m both more okay and more not okay than I’ve ever been? That he’s simultaneously my greatest comfort and my greatest fear?
I trace the line of his collarbone, following the ridge with my fingertip. “So my brother is what, exactly? Some kind of apocalypse villain?”
“Something like that. We need to talk about Gabriel. About what he’s doing. About what it means that you’re his sister. But—”
“Not right now,” I finish for him. I close my eyes, too tired of my stupid brother destroying everything for me. “You’re right. I can’t take any more tonight.”
“I’m sorry.”
Whatever my brother has become, whatever Knox’s community is fighting against, it can wait.
Right now, I need this. Need him.
Need to believe that for once in my life, I’ve found someone who won’t leave.