17. Maddox #2
“I like to take screenshots of the date and time on my phone when something cool’s happening, just so I can get back to it afterward. It’s fun. I did it on that day I first saw you, and also on my way home from that day at the bowling alley. I guess it’s creepy, but I’d say it’s romantic.”
It actually is romantic.
My heart thumps in the same way as when I’m watching a show and someone says words so sweet and disarming that the atmosphere changes. “Are you for real, Killian? You saved the date of when we first met?”
“Mm-hmm! First met is stretching it because you were ignoring me, but yes.”
My chest rumbles, and I pull away, throwing a hand over my face as I battle a fit of laughter. Killian laughs, too, and this is all so bizarre that I can’t tell if he’s messing with me. Honestly, right now, I don’t care if he’s messing with me .
The guy can say the most alarming things without even breaking a sweat, and what does it say about me that I find it endearing above anything else?
“Mm,” he hums, not even a little offended by my laughing.
He goes back to stroking my back, and when I turn back to him, I don’t know what possesses me.
It’s cute aggression, I think. Or, simply put, I’ve lost my goddamn mind.
Either way, I squeeze him by the cheeks and press my lips against the top of his head, giggling the entire time.
He goes completely still.
“Sorry,” I say, still giggling. “Not sure why I did that.”
He rasps out, “Not complaining.”
God. He’s funny and silly and downright cute. “You should do something about your month-long dry spell, by the way,” I hedge. “Being sexually pent-up isn’t healthy.”
They’re the exact words he used on me before, and judging from the way he snickers, he remembers. “You going to help me with it?” he jests.
Without missing a beat, a voice that sounds suspiciously like mine says, “Sure.”
Huh?
What the hell?
I freeze. He freezes, too, eyes huge and mouth parted.
“I’m kidding,” he says, voice strained. “I know you like to think things through and—”
“Actually, what I believe I said last time was that maybe what I need is to be impulsive for once. What’s wrong?” I ask, again repeating words he’s used on me before. “Scared?”
Killian sucks in a breath. “Maddox…”
Holy shit. It really is official. I’ve lost it. Being this forward is unlike me, but the simple truth is that I want Killian.
I’ve already admitted it to myself. I’ve more or less hinted as much to him, too.
And it’s time to do something about it .
“Come on, then.” I’m trying to sound a lot more confident than I actually am. Staring at his mouth, I murmur, “You going to kiss me, Killian?”
A hundred different emotions run through his face. His jaw clenches and Killian grits his teeth, gnashing them together. He doesn’t make a move despite me spelling it out that he can, and suddenly, I feel as if I’ve made a huge mistake.
He doesn’t want me that way, and I’ve just made a gargantuan fool of myself.
But…
Killian rubs a thumb against my lower lip. He presses down on it, and when I part my mouth, his eyes darken and he runs the pad against my lower teeth. It shouldn’t be hot, but it is. It really, really is.
The way he looks at me—the force of it shakes me. It makes my chest vibrate and lodges a ball into my throat. I feel the impact of it throughout every part of me, and a warmth spreads down my face to my neck.
Even if I brought this on, even if I’m pretending to be forward about it, the anticipation of what he’s actually going to say—
“I want to kiss you… all the time,” Killian says, interrupting my thoughts. “You have no clue what you do to me.”
My heart rattles. I can practically hear it beating in my ears. I put a hand on his neck, curl my fingers around it slightly, and tip my head down until our noses brush. His breath is warm against my mouth.
Just a little more. If I so much as shift a millimeter, I’d have those lips on mine. I’d finally find out what it’s like to kiss Killian.
I want it.
I ask, voice too quiet, “Are you going to kiss me or not?”
And this time Killian doesn’t hesitate. I can see every moment of it—how his eyes flutter to half-lidded when he grips the back of my neck, pulling me close. The warmth of his wet lips as they brush against mine, so light and chaste, but more than enough to shift my world on its axis.
Something untangles within me .
I kiss him back, his grip on my neck tightens, and he murmurs something low that sounds like my name.
We go slow and gentle at first, light kisses that don’t even begin to scratch the surface.
Despite that, my mind’s running through a hundred thoughts a second.
He tastes so good. Killian must have eaten something sweet at his train wreck of a dinner, because the taste lingers on his lips.
He lets out a soft hum when I lick his lips, and I feel him smile against me.
Without thinking about it, I murmur, “You taste good.”
That seems to spur him on. Killian lets out a groan that makes my dick twitch in my pants, and he holds me tighter, his fingers drifting up and through my hair and pressing against my scalp.
He murmurs my name again, whispering it against my mouth, and I don’t think I’m ever going to forget the sound of it.
My heart’s beating so fast and my mind feels full of cotton. There’s a pressure in my chest that I can’t get rid of. Despite it all, it doesn’t feel unpleasant. Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever felt more alive.
And if he can do this with simple kisses, what more can I get out of him?
He presses his lips against mine more deeply, and when Killian runs his tongue between my lips, I open up to him willingly.
He licks into my mouth and continues to make the breathiest sounds, and I realize that I’m no better when a soft whine escapes me.
I can’t get enough of him, and my hand drifts down his naked torso.
He’s taut all over, hard lines, and I make sure to be as gentle as possible around his bruises.
Killian slips his hands under my clothes, planting his palm flat on my stomach, and the warmth of his skin against mine makes me pause.
It reboots my brain.
“I don’t recall saying you could touch me,” I say as a joke, only because that’s something I said the other day.
Killian lets out a surprised laugh and immediately lets go of me, which startles me because I thought he could tell I’m kidding.
He doesn’t even call me out on the supposed double standards.
My hands are all over him, slipping across his chest, around his back, and hooking a thumb under the waistband of his pants.
How he so blindly obeys me makes me feel powerful. Makes me realize that Killian’s the only man who’s ever actually listened to what I want. He’s always made me feel as if he’d give me anything I ask, and this only proves that.
“Maddox,” he breathes. He pulls back to give me a long look, searching my expression. Killian blinks at me slowly. “Are you sure about this?”
Yes.
I really, really am.
My voice will crack if I speak, so I only give him the most confident grin I can muster and nod. I can tell he wants this, too, even if he’s wary. The hardness of his cock against my thigh makes that clear, and in a moment of boldness, I shift my leg to rub it against the front of his pants.
“Oh, god.” Shuddering, Killian takes a long exhale and presses his forehead against mine.
I press a kiss against his mouth, pressing my knee against his hard cock. He makes a soft sound and throws his head back, exposing his neck. God, I want more. I want to put my hands on him, want to find out what he tastes like.
“I want to blow you,” I whisper. “Would you want that?”
“Literally kill me if I ever say no to that from you.” He kisses me, long and sweet, then asks, “But I can’t touch you?”
“No,” I say before I can even think about it.
It’s not because I’m being petty or even because I have a need to be in control. No, he can’t touch me because I suddenly have the powerful urge for this to be all about him. I want to unravel him, and I want to see every single second of it.
Killian laughs softly at my response but, again, doesn’t question it.
I pull away and he grunts and chases after my mouth.
Chuckling, I shake my head at him and push at his shoulder—the uninjured one—to get him to lie flat on his back.
His eyes blow wide as I climb on top of him, straddling his thick thighs.
I lean down, and Killian cranes his neck when I kiss right at his pulse point, and his breathing becomes heavier as I trail my mouth downwards.
I trail light kisses down his pecs, down his stomach, nipping at the skin right above his waistband, and I simultaneously unbutton his pants and pull the zipper down.
He lifts himself a bit as I help him shake his pants down, revealing dark boxer briefs that are tented. Oh, god. Even if I can’t see it yet, I can already tell he’s huge. My dick gets even harder, straining against my tight jeans.
I keep my eyes on him as I pull his boxers down, and he holds my stare.
He’s keeping his hands flat on the bed, not touching me like I commanded, and when I finally get a hold of his cock, he groans and fists his sheets.
My mouth waters at the feel of him in my hand, all thick and warm, and I make an experimental, slow stroke.
He exhales heavily and presses the side of his face against his pillow, the cords on his neck straining. I stroke him from root to tip, and he gnashes his teeth together while his back arcs.
When I scoot further down his thighs and lean down once again, my glasses slip down my nose. I move them out of the way, making them rest on top of my hair, and I’m not sure why, but that makes Killian take in a deep breath.
The moment I put my mouth on his length, Killian curses and his hands fly up to hold my head—but then he covers his face instead. He’s really taking my request not to touch me to heart.
I love how he’s respecting my command not to touch me. I’ve never had this much control over someone before, and it’s apparently… doing it for me? Holy fuck, who would have thought?
I can’t see his face, though, so I pop off his dick and mutter, “Look at me.”
“Fuuck,” he whines, slamming his hands against the headboard behind him instead.
He holds the edges tight enough for his knuckles to go white, and I give him a wicked grin before going down on him again.
A tease at the sensitive vein under his head causes him to grunt and buck his hips slightly.
I play with his balls, too, which are hot and heavy in my hand, and I can’t get enough of how Killian’s looking at me as if he’s going to lose his mind.
I’m so hard. It’s taking everything in me not to palm myself.
“Why can’t I touch you?” he asks, voice raspy. “C’mon, Maddox. Let me touch— ah, shit.”
His words taper off to a whine when I hollow my cheeks and take him in deeper, keeping my eyes on him the entire time. Killian’s panting now, and he curses as I pick up my pace, stroking at the base of his dick where my mouth can’t reach.
Killian says my name, again and again, between curses and ramblings that I can’t make sense of. He arches his back, squirming and shuddering underneath me. My eyes widen when he suddenly lets go of the headboard and grasps my hair, but even I’m not mean enough to tell him to put his hands back.
Killian pulls at my hair, trying to tug me off. “Close, Maddox. I’m close.”
I grunt in response, annoyed that he thinks I wouldn’t want to taste him.
Spurred on, I take him as deep as I can.
He makes a guttural sound and bucks up, hitting me in the back of my throat and making my eyes water.
He comes with a shudder, spilling into my mouth, and whines as I work him through it and swallow every bit.
I release him with a gasp, wiping my hand against the corner of my mouth, and he stares at me with his jaw dropped open. Grinning, I gingerly tuck him back into his boxers.
“Fucking hell, Maddox,” he grits out, grabbing me by the hair again and pulling me against him. He crushes his mouth against mine, holding me tight, and I feel myself sagging into him. Killian licks into my mouth, not even caring about the taste. “My turn. Please. Let me touch you.”
“Nah,” I say, laughing. Because even if I’m hard as fuck, I can tell that coming his brains out reminded his body how battered it is. His eyes are half-lidded and he looks content. He looks as if he could pass out any second .
“Y-you don’t want me to make you come?” he asks, eyebrows crumpling together.
I press my lips against his. “I do, but not now—right now, I want you to rest. Please.”
Killian opens his mouth, no doubt to argue, and I press down on his bruised shoulder. He winces and glares at me.
After a beat, he attempts to make his case, anyway. “I want to make you feel good, too. Just… give me a fucking minute. Just a minute. Let me catch my breath.”
“Okay,” I say, mostly just to shut him up. I get off him and lie on my side, facing him, and he makes a disgruntled sound and drags me close as he buries his face in my hair.
And within a minute, his breaths slow down, and his hold on me loosens.
He’s asleep. I try not to snort in amusement.
In the silence that follows, my brain quickly pieces together what just happened. My chest is tight when I lean away enough to study his peaceful face.
Taking care not to wake him up, I slowly disentangle myself from him and climb off the bed.
This feels too good to be true.
And, now that I’m thinking straight again, an ache in my ribcage reminds me that this is possibly the last time I’m going to see him.
It’s the same ache that hits me every time I’m with someone and I know I’ve given them what they want.
It disorients me how drastically my mood drops after the high it was on.
My dick doesn’t even argue as it softens without ever being touched tonight.
Even if I know I’m being unfair to him, that irrational part of my brain works overtime to convince me that history’s about to repeat itself, and that now that we’ve hooked up, Killian will be ready to move on.