Chapter Seventeen #3
I kiss her again, just above her navel. Then lower.
Then at the waistband of her underwear. Her hips shift, seeking, and I hook my thumbs into the elastic and slide them down her legs.
She lifts, helping, and then she's bare from the waist down, sitting on the edge of my bed like a prayer I don't deserve to answer.
"You're so beautiful," I say, voice rough.
"I'm huge," she counters, but there's no heat in it.
"You're perfect." I kiss the inside of her knee. "Every single part of you."
Her breath hitches when I move higher, lips tracing the soft skin of her inner thigh. I take my time, savoring the way she trembles, the way her fingers tighten in my hair when I get close but don't give her what she wants yet.
"Aleksi, please—"
"I know," I murmur against her skin. "I've got you."
I spread her thighs wider, settle between them, and the first taste of her makes my brain go quiet. Salt and heat and something uniquely hers. She gasps, hips jerking, and I hold her steady with one hand splayed across her belly, the other gripping her thigh.
I work her slowly, learning what makes her shake, what makes her moan my name like a curse and a benediction. She's slick and wanting, and when I slide two fingers inside her she clenches around me immediately, already close.
"Don't stop," she breathes. "God, don't stop—”
I don't. I curl my fingers, find the spot that makes her back arch, and keep the pressure steady while my tongue circles her clit in rhythmic strokes.
Her thighs start to shake. Her breathing turns ragged.
And then she's there—coming apart with a cry that she tries to muffle against her own hand, her body pulsing around my fingers, her other hand fisted in my hair so tight it borders on painful.
I don't stop until she's boneless, until she's pulling me away with shaking hands.
"Too much," she gasps.
I press one last kiss to her inner thigh, then rise to my feet. My cock is straining against my jeans, aching, but seeing her like this—flushed and sated and still trembling—is worth the wait.
She reaches for my belt, fingers clumsy with need. "Off. Now."
I help her, shucking jeans and boxers in one motion. My cock springs free, already leaking, and her eyes darken when she sees it.
"Come here," she says, scooting back on the bed.
I follow, crawling over her carefully, bracing my weight on my forearms so I don't crush her belly. She spreads her legs, making room for me, and the head of my cock brushes against her entrance.
I push in slowly, inch by inch, and the feeling of her—wet and tight and bare around me—makes my vision blur. She's so hot, so perfect, and the lack of barrier between us feels monumental, like a wall coming down.
"Fuck," I breathe when I'm fully seated. "Kendall—"
"Move," she says, nails digging into my shoulders. "Please, Aleksi, move—"
I do. I pull out halfway and thrust back in, slow and deep, watching her face for any sign of discomfort. There's none. Just pleasure, raw and honest, written across her features.
I set a rhythm—steady, deep, hitting the spot inside her that makes her gasp every time. Her hands roam my back, my shoulders, my ass, pulling me closer, deeper. The room fills with the sound of skin on skin, our breathing, the small desperate noises she makes when I angle my hips just right.
"You feel so good," I murmur against her neck. "So fucking good—"
"Harder," she demands, and I comply, picking up the pace, driving into her with more force. The bed creaks beneath us. Her breasts bounce with each thrust, and I dip my head to catch one nipple in my mouth, sucking hard.
She keens, back arching, and I feel her start to tighten around me again.
"That's it," I encourage, switching to the other breast. "Come for me again. I want to feel it."
"Aleksi—" My name breaks on her tongue. "I'm—oh God, I'm—"
She shatters, clamping down around me so hard I see stars. I fuck her through it, relentless, chasing my own release. It builds at the base of my spine, pressure coiling tighter and tighter until I can't hold it back anymore.
"Kendall—" I thrust once, twice more, and then I'm gone, spilling inside her with a guttural groan, hips jerking as I empty myself completely.
We stay like that for a long moment, both of us shaking, slick with sweat. I press my forehead to hers, breathing hard.
I pull out slowly, careful, and roll onto my side next to her. She curls into me immediately, her belly pressed against my hip, her head on my chest.
"Stay," I say, even though she already said yes. "Please."
"I'm not going anywhere," she murmurs, already half-asleep.
I pull the blanket over us, press a kiss to her hair, and let the weight of her anchor me to this moment, this perfect, impossible, beautiful moment where she's mine and I'm hers and nothing else matters.
It's the first time in months that I think I might get good sleep without my nervous system trying to tell me that I forgot something, like I left the oven on or I forgot to lock my car. Because the two things I forgot are finally wrapped around me tonight, safe in my arms.