Chapter 30
Chapter
Thirty
FALLON
Oh god oh god oh god—
The words cycle through my mind on frantic repeat as tension coils tighter and tighter in my core, winding like a spring ready to snap.
I'm so close to the edge it's almost unbearable, and my panties are still on—the fabric soaked through, clinging to me.
His mouth is absolute magic. He keeps sucking my clit with perfect pressure, while rolling and pinching my nipples between his fingers, pushing me higher and higher until I can barely remember how to breathe, until there's nothing in the world except the heat of his mouth and the building pressure threatening to shatter me completely.
"Kade..." I stutter between desperate moans, my fingers tangling in his hair, holding him exactly where I need him. "Don't stop... please don't stop."
He growls against my center, the sound primal and possessive. "Never," The word comes out muffled against me, vibrating through the soaked lace. "Stopping."
The rumble of his voice vibrates straight through the fabric and I come apart completely—speaking in tongues or gibberish or prayers, I don't even know what sounds are leaving my mouth anymore.
All I can do is surrender to the sensations flooding my body, drowning in pleasure so intense it borders on painful, so overwhelming it feels like I'm breaking into pieces and reforming all at once.
I pull at him frantically when I start coming down from the high, everything suddenly too sensitive, too much, my nerve endings raw and exposed.
He slides up my body slowly, deliberately, kissing everywhere his mouth can reach—my stomach, the curve of my ribs, the valley between my breasts.
He pays special attention to my nipples again, sucking and teasing while I'm still panting beneath him, chest heaving as I try to remember how lungs actually work, how breathing is supposed to feel automatic instead of impossible.
He lifts his head finally, eyes dark with want. "You taste like peaches too. Everywhere."
Then he's kissing my lips again and I can taste myself on his tongue—sweet and musky and wrong in the best possible way.
We lay there tangled together, him settled between my thighs, grinding against me through his jeans while kissing for what feels like hours but is probably only minutes.
Time stops making sense. Eventually he slides back down my body, hands exploring, and hooks his fingers in the waistband of my ruined panties.
He drags them down slowly, deliberately, watching my face the entire time before tossing them somewhere across the room where I absolutely don't care about finding them later.
Then he takes my hand gently, sitting me up with careful strength, and pulls my dress over my head in one smooth, practiced motion.
It lands on the bed beside us in a crumpled heap of fabric.
His eyes roam over my naked body like he's memorizing every detail. "You ready to come on my face again?"
I don't know if I am. Don't know if I can possibly take that intensity again so soon after the first. But I do know something I desperately want—need—to do.
"It's your turn."
I reach for him with trembling hands, working the button of his jeans free with fingers that won't quite cooperate.
The zipper slides down with a metallic rasp and I pull the denim down over his hips, freeing his cock.
He's so hard it has to be painful—thick and heavy and beautiful, the head already glistening wet with precum.
I wrap my hand around him, stroking a couple experimental times, learning the weight and heat of him before leaning in and licking all around his crown, tasting salt and musk and him.
He groans deep in his chest and the sound only spurs me on, makes me bolder.
I take him deep until I gag on his length, throat protesting, then push through the resistance, taking him further. Still not all the way—he's too big, stretching my jaw too wide—but I'm determined to try.
"Fuck." The word punches out of him on a ragged exhale, his abs contracting.
I pull back slowly, tongue working along the underside, and do it again, then again, working him deeper each time, learning what makes his breath catch and his hips jerk.
Then I pull him out completely, air hitting wet skin, and stroke just his crown while I lean down to lick and suck his balls into my mouth, exploring every sensitive inch.
"Goddamn, Peaches. I'm going to come." The words sound strangled, desperate.
I release him with an obscene pop and look up, maintaining eye contact while still stroking him with deliberate, firm pressure. "Good. I want to taste you."
I take him back in my mouth immediately, bobbing my head up and down while stroking him with my hand too, working in tandem. His hand tangles roughly in my hair and suddenly he's taking control completely—fucking my mouth exactly how he wants, using me, claiming me.
I let him. Want him to use me exactly like this. Want him to come down my throat and mark me as his.
I moan around his length, the vibrations making him curse, and bring my free hand down between my legs, needing desperately to relieve the pressure building there again already, impossibly ready for more.
"You're so fucking hot, Peaches. Keep touching yourself while I fuck your face."
I whimper around him, working my clit in tight, frantic circles while he picks up his pace even more. His movements become rougher, more uncoordinated, rhythm faltering as he gets closer to the edge.
"Fuck—" He roars and I feel hot come hit the back of my throat in thick pulses, flooding my mouth.
My pussy throbs and clenches around nothing as he fills my mouth, my own orgasm pulsing against my fingers in sympathetic waves.
When he finally pulls out, still twitching, I swallow everything he gave me, not wasting a drop.
Seconds later he comes down hard and kisses me—rough and bruising and absolutely perfect, tasting himself on my tongue the way I tasted myself on his.
"Lay back." His voice is rough gravel and dark promise.
He pulls away despite my protesting whimper and drops to his knees on the floor between my spread legs, hands gripping my thighs and pulling me to the edge of the bed.
Then his mouth is on me again, tongue and lips and teeth, and I'm moaning shamelessly before he even finds my oversensitive clit, already knowing this time is going to destroy me completely.
I don't last long this time. Maybe thirty seconds of his mouth on me, tongue working magic against my oversensitive clit, before I'm exploding again—coming so hard I see white, my entire body seizing with the force of it.
I've barely come down, still trembling and gasping, before I'm pulling him up by his hair with desperate hands.
"Fuck me. Please." The words tear out of me, raw and shameless. "I need you inside me. Please, Kade—"
I feel like I'll die without him filling me. Like something essential is missing. My body aches for him in ways I didn't know were possible, empty and desperate and needy.
The next thing I know he's between my thighs and has me spread wide, my legs hooked over his arms, completely open to him. My hands roam everywhere I can reach—his face, his hair, his shoulders, down to his chest. I look up to see him watching me with dark, hungry eyes.
"Please," I say again.
He thrusts into me hard and deep in one smooth, devastating stroke.
"Yes—God, yes—" Words tear from my throat, loud and broken.
Then he does it again. And again. He feels so good I can't form coherent thoughts. Can't believe I'm older than him but he's giving me things I never knew about, never knew it could be like this, never knew my body was even capable of feeling this much pleasure.
"Shit." He stops suddenly, looking down at me with a worried expression that makes my heart stutter.
I panic. "What's wrong?"
"Please tell me you're on birth control."
My eyes go wide and I look down to where we're connected—he's bare. No condom. I wanted him so badly I didn't even think about it, didn't consider consequences or protection or anything beyond the desperate need to feel him inside me.
"Peaches—"
"I'll get a condom." He starts pulling back, already sliding out.
"No." The word surprises us both.
He pushes back into me slowly and my eyes roll back in my head, body accepting him like it was made for exactly this.
"I'm on the pill," I manage to say, pulling his face down close to mine. "I want to feel you inside me with nothing between us. I want you to fill me—"
I barely get the words out before his lips are on mine and he's thrusting into me again—slower this time but deep and hard and absolutely perfect.
He keeps up this pace, hitting my g-spot with every deliberate stroke, and I'm making sounds I didn't know I could make, shameless and loud and completely lost to sensation.
"Fuck, you feel so good." His voice shakes like he's barely holding it together.
"You feel perfect," I breathe, hands gripping his shoulders.
He picks up the pace at my words, hitting that spot faster now, over and over, driving me higher until I see stars explode behind my eyes. The orgasm hits bone-deep, making my whole body shake with the force of it.
"Damn—shit—fuck—" I scream every curse word known to man, propriety completely abandoned.
"Fuuuuck—" He roars, pounding into me harder as he comes apart, filling me with heat.
We stay like that for a few minutes, both of us covered in sweat and panting, hearts racing against each other. Then he rolls off of me carefully and pulls me into his chest, tucking me against him like I'm something special.
I press my face into his neck, breathing him in—spun sugar and Kade and the salt of his skin. My body feels boneless, satisfied in ways I didn't know were possible. Daniel never... we never...
I push the thought away violently. I don't want him anywhere near this moment, don't want his memory contaminating something that feels this perfect.
"You okay?" Kade's voice rumbles through his chest, hand stroking lazy patterns down my spine.
"Mmm yes." I tilt my head up to look at him. "That was..."
"Yeah." His lips curve into something that's almost a smile. "It was."
I trace the tattoos on his chest with gentle fingers, following the lines and curves of ink, learning the topography of his body. He lets me explore in silence, patient and still beneath my touch.