Chapter 24 #2
Christian kisses my lips, hovering over them and grinding his hips into mine. “I haven’t been with anyone in… in a long time, Lana.”
And I can’t remember the last time I had sex that wasn’t alone. The last time we had sex. “Not since you…”
“And I always used…”
I frown. “I don’t want to hear about that right now.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispers and kisses me softly. “I’m sorry.”
“Christian,” I whimper, lifting hips. “I want you.”
The next grind of his hips is a slow one. “Birth control?”
“IUD,” I breathe, arching. “Kiss me.”
His lips are moving across my chest, sucking and kissing as his fingers work to pull down my shorts. I try to reach for his jeans, but he swats my hand away.
“You know my rule,” he husks.
I think I do, but I can’t remember anything as my shorts and panties leave my hips. His hands are everywhere and he’s only half naked as his mouth kisses down my body again—his tongue tracing each line and curve.
His rule.
The only rule of his I enjoy.
Christian licks my nipples before sucking on them, his teeth nibbling on the hard peek. He’s always been this way—taking the time to draw this out. Foreplay is kind of his thing, and I’d be lying if I said he doesn’t make it my thing too.
He pulls away to stand at the edge of the bed, looking down at me with darkened eyes as he undoes his jeans. Toying with my nipples, I watch as he pushes his jeans and underwear from his hips all at once. And my mouth waters with him naked before me.
He is cut like a Greek god. The ones they make sculptures of and put on pedestals in museums. Forget David and all the other ones in Greece or Rome or the Louvre, I’ve got Christian and he’s better than anything the world will ever see.
Beautiful with indescribable features, a body that makes me clench, and lips that I never want to stop kissing.
Mine.
He’s mine.
“Come here,” I breathe.
Christian shakes his head and kisses my stomach, eliciting a whimper from me. I lift my hips and he pulls back. “Stop teasing me, Christian.”
I look between my legs and he’s grinning like a devil. I narrow my eyes and, deeply and huskily, he says, “Let me have this.”
I lick my lips as he lowers his and I watch him have that first taste, dragging the flat of his tongue up my center. I fall back onto my mattress, my fingers twisting in his hair.
“Oh fuck, Christian,” I gasp.
I don’t how, but Christian is a master with his mouth, his tongue. He knew my body well then, all the buttons to press, the places to kiss, the skin to touch. And he knows me just as well now—maybe even better because I think I’m going to be lit on fire with how close I already am.
“Oh god,” I moan when two of his fingers slide into my pussy.
My body arches and I catch a glimpse of us in the mirror against my wall, and I like it.
He must hear the smile dressing up my moan because he stops and looks up at me.
His lips are glistening, covered in me, his eyes dark and sinister, and his hair is a wreck from my fingers. I love it. I love him.
“See something you like?” He smirks and pumps his fingers slowly.
Biting my lip, I inhale sharply through my nose. “Mhhm.”
His hands wrap around my thighs and he pulls me to the edge of the bed. “Sit up,” Christian husks. “Sit up, baby, and watch.”
I moan my approval and sit up, leaning back on my hands.
In the mirror, I see his back, the rippling stacks of hard muscle.
The way his shoulder and arm flex as his fingers move inside me.
My elbows are going to give out any minute now, but I think I’m now obsessed with the image of him between my legs.
I put one of my hands in his hair, tugging hard to keep myself somewhat steady as his tongue flicks at my clit expertly. My moans and breaths come quicker, more breathy and shaky. “Christian… Christian.”
“You taste so good, baby.”
My body falls and it happens so quickly.
I don’t realize I’m coming until I’m half a second from it, and my body is floating.
My trembling legs are held open and pushed up to my chest by his strong hands, preventing them from falling closed.
Heat spreads through my body and it doesn’t stop as Christian’s tongue keeps moving.
I’m crying out his name, pulling at his hair and pushing at his shoulders to get him away from me, but he doesn’t relent.
No, this bit is for him. Christian comes off his knees and is bending over me now, his mouth still between my legs and his hands tighter around the backs of my knees, holding me open.
“Fuck,” I scream, “Christian, please.”
This is the part where he devours me for his own enjoyment. He’s moaning into my pussy, taking from me like a possessed, starved man. And I let him. I have to. I just have to, especially when I feel myself right there again.
“Fuck Lana,” he rasps, just before he spits on my pussy, his eyes right on mine. He lowers his mouth again, and his eyes don’t waver. It’s a stare off, both of us moaning, until I’d pushed over the edge. Again.
My body is boneless in the mattress, spent and limp, but still aching for more. He releases my legs and my hands fly to undo his jeans. “I want you,” I say and reach for his lips. “Now.”
I kiss him, tasting myself on his lips and tongue as I stroke him. I pull him over me just to push him onto his back. I expect a smirk or coy comment, but it’s all lustful, dark eyes and sexy groans.
“Move up,” I murmur on his lips, my hands moving over the muscles of his chest. Fuck, every indent and ridge feel like mountains under my palms.
Christian follows my command, holding himself up on his elbows. I kiss him quickly before I make my way down his body. I settle between his legs, bending over with my ass in the air, playing the same game.
My hand wraps around his cock, long and thick and incredibly hard, and he licks his lips. I command, “Look in the mirror.”
My lips wrap around his tip just as he looks behind me, and he growls deeply. “Fuck, Lana.”
I missed this.
I bob my head up and down, moving my hand in tandem, spitting on the swollen head of his cock. When I look up at him through my lashes, his eyes are behind me and in the mirror. “Lana,” he breathes, his head falling back. “Lana, come here.”
His hands pull me up his body and I yelp. His mouth is on mine a second later and he’s adjusting us until he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, his legs hanging off and my knees on either side of his thighs.
“Christian,” I moan, his lips dropping to wrap around my nipple. “Oh my god.”
His hands on my hips lift me like I weigh nothing.
I’m turned around on his lap, his dick pressing against my backside, and I see us in the mirror.
An arm comes around me, his hand splayed on my stomach.
His other hand gently pulls my hair back over my shoulder and his breath tickles my ear when he whispers, “Watch us, baby.”
I bite my lip and reach between us. My eyes lock on Christian’s in the mirror as I sweep the tip of his cock through my slit, making him hiss. His hands are on my waist, gripping tightly, and my free hand is reaching back into his hair.
“Lana,” he breathes shakily and kisses my shoulder. “Please.”
I align us and his hands tighten further on my waist—so tight I hope his fingerprints bruise. “Christian,” I shudder as I slowly lower onto his cock.
“Fuck,” he growls and I gasp.
I watch us in the mirror, his chin on my shoulder and his big hands holding onto me—but really, I think he’s holding himself together. I lift my hips and drop them once, and he groans in my ear. I’m so full.
“You like this don’t you?” he asks in my ear, his deep whisper making my pussy pulse around him as I bounce. “Sitting on my dick and watching us fuck?”
I bite my lip and nod with a frantic whimper. His hands lift my body and bring me back down—fuck, I love when he does that. “Yes,” I breathe, my finger pulling his hair. “Yes. Fuck you’re so big, baby.”
“And you take me so well, Lana,” he rasps. “Such a good girl.”
My head is thrown back as he moves me up and down, faster and harder, and he meets those with his own hard upward thrusts. He thrusts up hard, I slam down even harder, and I feel him everywhere. In all my spaces.
He has infested my house, made himself at home, and sat on my couch, perching his feet up on my coffee table like this is where he belongs. And it is, he belongs with me, wherever I am—and I belong with him in all the same ways.
The sound of skin slapping and choppy moans fill the room, and I try to keep watching us in the mirror as his fingers move down to my clit, but I can’t keep my head up. I am barely holding myself together.
I use my other hand to cover his on my pussy. I move my hand lower to feel where he moves in and out of me, and he grunts when my index and middle finger graze his cock with each thrust.
“Fuck, Lana.”
Two words.
I gasp when I’m thrown onto my back and Christian is over me. “I fucking love you, Lana,” he says on my lips, his cock gliding between my folds. One of his hands wraps tenderly around my throat and he says it again. “I love you.”
“I love you,” I breathe and pull him closer by the nape of his neck.
He pushes back into me all at once, ripping a gasp from my throat and he says it again, “I love you.”
Christian holds himself up above me, his fists on either side of my head and his arms are flexing in the most jaw-dropping way. The lines of his triceps and biceps make my mouth water before it falls open when his hips slam into mine.
Oh god, I feel him everywhere.
“What’s my one rule?” Christian husks. The words slipping from my mouth are incoherent, much more like moans. So he asks again, “What’s the rule, Lana?”
“I…” I gasp with the next hard slam of his hips, forcing myself to remember and say the words. “I come…before you do.”
“You come first,” he breathes in my ear. “Always.”
Christian sits up and pushes back his hair with a heavy breath, his eyes between our bodies. I arch, my back bowing off the bed when I feel the pad of his thumb brush across my oversensitive clit.
“You feel so fucking good, Lana,” he husks deeply. “Fuck, baby, you’re so wet.”
“For you,” I moan.
Sex with Christian was always explosive. Earth shattering, mind altering, and making my legs tremble harder than a grade seven earthquake. And now, somehow, it’s even better. Or worse, but in a good way.
His thumb moves faster and faster, and my body is convulsing. Every part of my body feels like it might break—my bones, my muscles, my existence. All at his hands.
“Christian,” I cry, my back bowing off the mattress again, my legs closing tight around his body. “Fuck, Christian!”
“Come, baby,” he growls. “Fuck, you get so much tighter when you come.”
I’m gasping for air and my body snaps. His hand comes back around my throat and squeezes, and the lack of oxygen makes my body shake even harder. A bunch of expletives are spitting out in my mind, but my mouth is stuck open with no oxygen moving in or out, and I’m okay with it.
Let me die like this.
I’m coming back down from the high, my back reconnecting with my mattress, and his hand loosens. “That’s my good girl,” Christian groans and pulls me up by my throat to kiss me.
Shit, we are so good at this. We always have been.
I’ve never been a fan of walking, he can carry me everywhere tomorrow if need be. I chuckle when the thought crosses my mind and he pulls back, his brows furrowed as he looks down at me.
“I was thinking,” I moan, and he moves slowly to listen, “about not walking tomorrow.”
He smirks with a breathy laugh. “Not a fan?”
“Never been,” I giggle.
“Me neither,” he smiles.
We kiss the laughter off each other's lips and his hips slam against mine, again and again, hitting the spot that is so close to pushing me off the diving board. Then it does and Christian is cursing in my ear, kissing my neck.
“Now you,” I breathe, and he presses into me deeply, harder, and my nails burrow into the skin of his back.
Christian moans deeply and huskily in my ear—the sound I’ve played in my mind on so many lonely nights—and his body jerks. I feel his muscles tremble beneath my fingers, my legs still shaking around him and his thighs trembling against the backs of mine.
“Lana,” he breathes and he makes my name sound like a sonnet.
And then it’s over, and it’s okay because we’ve reached the part of sex where we’re still just us—tired, spent, sweaty, and vulnerable.
The part where we’ve already seen what there is to see and it’s okay because you know who you’re with, and you still love them.
I can feel his thudding heart with his chest pressed into mine, and this might be my favorite part.
It feels like listening to a powerful orchestra and this part is the part where it calms into a beautiful ending that ties the piece together—that brings you peaceful closure after a song like that.
Or maybe it’s the whole song, I don’t know.
“You okay?” Christian whispers in my ear.
I nod. “You?”
Christian pushes up onto his forearms and nudges his nose with mine. “I haven’t been this good in years.”
“You’re just saying that because you got laid.”
“No, because I’m with you now.”
I kiss him and whisper, “No more guest room.”
“Okay.”
“You sleep with me and you hold me to sleep every night.”
“Okay,” he whispers and kisses me.
“And you owe me a conversation about what you told me earlier,” I tell him.
“I know, baby,” Christian whispers, putting his forehead to mine. “I’ll tell you everything in the morning.”
“I love you.”
“I know,” he breathes. “I love you too.”
“I know.”