Skyler #4
Kip’s fingers start moving again, this time with more fervor, the heel of his hand pressing more into my clit. He kisses me hard, sucking my bottom lip between his teeth and holding it there. Each time he works harder with his hand, so do I, each of us rushing closer to the edge.
My breaths are shallow, hollow, not a single one of them deep enough to provide enough oxygen.
I feel the fire of my orgasm threatening to catch, each new rub of his palm on my clit another spark, another flick of the match.
I feel my grip on him loosening, my focus lost, and Kip kisses my neck before growling out his next words against the slick skin.
“This is about you. I want you to come. Come on my fingers so I can taste you.”
“Oh, God.”
His words are so dirty, so unfiltered, they make my knees quiver under the pressure of them. I finally let my hand drop from his rigid cock, my fingers pressing into the slick wall behind me, instead, as I try to find something to hold onto before I fly over the edge of my release.
Suddenly, Kip pulls me up into his arms, bending so I’m cradled inside them before he steps out of the shower, carrying me into his bedroom with my body dripping water and marking a trail along the way.
He drops me into the ruffled sheets, his mouth finding my skin in the next instant as he kisses down my stomach, biting the inside of my thighs before his tongue circles around my clit.
Oh. My. God.
If I thought the man knew how to work his hand, it’s nothing compared to how he is with his tongue.
It’s like he knows every move to make, every spot to hit, like I drew up a personal map for him and he’s writing the instruction manual.
My legs tremble, thighs shaking on either side of his face as his blue eyes watch me like they’re just daring me to come.
I’ve never been one to back down from a dare.
He plunges two fingers back inside me, and just a few curls of them combined with his tongue on my clit sends me spiraling.
My toes spread, numb as all the blood in my body rushes to where Kip touches me.
My vision grows black, and I have no idea if I’m screaming his name or if I’m completely silent.
I feel myself pulsing around him, and my vision comes back just in time to see his grin turn wicked as he keeps his tongue working, his fingers in perfect rhythm, pushing and pushing until every ounce of my orgasm is spilled onto his fingers.
My tense muscles all let loose at once, my legs falling limp, and Kip carefully removes his fingers, causing another tremble.
He softly kisses his way back up my body, and when he’s balanced on one elbow above me, his blue eyes hard on mine, he smiles, slipping his still-soaked fingers inside his lips and licking them clean.
Goddamn.
I close my eyes, savoring the feel of that moment, of being desired that much.
Kip’s lips are on mine, pushing and eager, his tongue slipping in so I can taste myself there.
And it feels a little like an hour, a little like only a second before his warmth leaves me as he moves to grab the towel I’d laid out in the bathroom.
As soon as he’s gone, as soon as his hands are no longer on me, the spell is broken.
My heart ticks up a notch, the thumps hitting harder against my ribcage as the reality of what I’ve done settles in like a slow, cold flood. I watch the water rise higher, knowing it will suffocate me soon, and yet I still can’t move.
I’ve betrayed Erin. I’ve betrayed Kip. I’ve put my own heart at risk. Because now that he’s touched me, now that I know what it feels like to have a piece of him, I want all of him.
I need all of him.
But I can’t have him.
In the moment, I convinced myself that I could. I told myself it would be fine, just let go, just exist with him now — here — in this moment. But here I am, sitting in the cold, merciless flood waters of the truth.
I’m royally fucked.
Kip is still smiling when he emerges from the bathroom, helping me dry off in a warm, fuzzy towel before helping me get dressed in his boxers and a t-shirt.
He pulls me into the bed with him, tucking me close with his body in a perfect seam with mine.
His knees fold into the space behind mine, his chest hot on my back, his arms wrapped around me like a body pillow.
I still my movements, closing my eyes and holding back the hot tears pooling behind my eyes. I’ve never felt more safe, more at home, than I do in his arms right now.
But he’s not my home.
When he thinks I’m asleep, Kip lets himself drift off, too.
I wait until I can say his name without him stirring, and then I peel myself out of his grip, slipping into the living area to redress.
I leave his clothes folded on the bed next to him, watching his chest rise and fall as he sleeps for a long moment before I sigh, biting my lip against the urge to cry and crawl back into bed with him.
Then, I leave.
Because I’m Skyler Thorne. And like I’ve told every guy I’ve been with at PSU, Skyler Thorne doesn’t sex and sleep.
Though for the first time, I want to.
And that’s the worst part.