Chapter 7
A Sexual Awakening
"Killy—" Story starts, her blue eyes conflicted.
"I've been at war with myself over you for fucking so goddamn long, Story," I whisper, unable to tear my eyes away from the plump pinkness of her lips. "Now that I know you want me too, how am I supposed to resist you?"
"Want?" she breathes. "That’s not even almost the right word."
"What is?" I ask, daring to let my hands wander down her back to the sliver of skin between scrub top and bottom.
She slips a hand under my borrowed T-shirt, rests it on my bare stomach; the other flutters under my chin, and then her fingertips settle on my lower lip, just the index and middle ones, tracing and rubbing over my lip as if she's trying to read the pattern of the skin like Braille.
"Crave?" she murmurs, her eyes watching her fingers on my lip. "That's a good place to start."
My heart thuds in my chest, pounding against the bars of my ribcage; "crave" really is the best word for what I'm feeling. I crave her. More of her. All of her.
Skin, breath, curves, touch.
I just need her.
But how could I possibly stop, if I started?
Story answers the question for me.
Her eyes flit and dart, searching my face, lingering again on my lips, and then she surges forward on me, and her mouth finds mine.
Her lips are hot and wet and eager, and a moan escapes me unbidden as I return the kiss. At the sound of my moan, Story's tongue stabs into my mouth and she exhales and then her lips press into mine all the harder and her hand under my shirt claws into me, fingernails digging into my skin.
I can't stop myself, then. With a soft growl, I slip my hands up under her shirt and scour her bare back and shoulders, my stomach tumbling as I pass over the wide strap of her sports bra.
I send my hands downward to the small of her back, hesitating at the waist of her scrub bottoms. And then I wedge my fingertips under the waistband, which is cinched tight by the drawstrings.
Not so tight that I couldn't get my hand underneath, however. If I dared.
And god, do I want to. Need to.
As I hesitate, Story pulls away from the kiss just a few inches, toys with the hair at my temples. "Killy?"
"Mmm?"
"Yes."
I nuzzle her mouth with mine. "Yes, what?"
She pushes her butt upward. "Yes." Her mouth crashes against mine in a brief, hard kiss. "Please. Touch me."
"Thank fuck," I growl, and slip my hand under the cinched waistband, find smooth cotton over firm flesh.
Story's fingers trace my lower lip again, and then she brushes her lips on mine, flicks her tongue against my lips. "Almost."
I plunge my hand under the elastic of her underwear and find skin, fill my palm with her ass, groaning in delight. "Mmmm—there we are."
She whimpers softly, rests her forehead on my chest, nodding her agreement with my sentiment. "Finally," she breathes.
But it's not enough.
"Untie them," I say. "Please."
She smirks up at me, eyes glittering with equal parts humor and arousal and defiance. "No."
"You want to," I say. "I can tell. I can read it on your face plain as day."
"Mmm, well, if you want to be pedantic about it, Killian, then I want them untied. I just don't feel like doing it myself."
"Ah, I see." I slip my hand out from her pants, rotate around and sit up with her on my lap. "In that case…"
I surge to my feet, pivot, stalk across the tiny living room with her ass in both hands—and my good god, what an ass it is. I need it bare, now. All of her, as fast as possible.
As I carry her the few steps to the front door, against which I pin her with my hips, she clutches at my face with both hands and tips my head back and kisses my throat, my jaw, my chin, and then when I have her pinned to the door, she seizes my mouth with hers and gasps breathlessly as I squeeze the plump tautness of her backside.
"Story," I whisper, "my god."
"What? What'd I do?"
"Tortured me with this fucking incredible ass for fucking years," I growl. "That's what."
Her nose nuzzles the side of my neck. "Wasn't trying to torture you."
"I know. You just can't help having the world's most perfect ass."
She cackles, an abrupt burst of sarcastic laughter. "Okay, Killy. You need to get your eyes checked. The thing is—"
"A fucking delight," I cut in, setting her on her feet. "Glorious. Marvelous. Hypnotic. A work of art."
She laughs again, breathlessly this time, and possibly a little choked up. "Okay, Killy."
"You believe me?"
"I believe you believe it, and that's what counts."
"You're self-conscious about it?"
She captures my hands in hers and nuzzles her cheeks into my palms, and then guides my hands downward. “Not important. I just want your hands all over me."
"Funny, because I actually want my hands all over you, too.”
“So then why am I still wearing pants?" she breathes.
"An excellent question." I find the bitter ends of her drawstring and tug free the knot; immediately, the scrub bottoms sag loose and droop low on her hips—her ass is too plump to allow the bottoms to fall all the way off, however, and just hang there at her hips.
I lean into her, forehead to forehead. "Much as I need you naked, this is still not a situation I feel comfortable going there."
"Are you seriously cock-blocking yourself again right now, Killian Harris?" Story whispers.
"Not…entirely." I take her mouth with mine and slide my tongue against hers, and dig my hands under the elastic and cotton to grasp the fullness and firmness and silky hot softness of her ass again, and I groan into her mouth. "Fucking hell, Story."
She whimpers again, and the sound rockets straight to my dick, sending a throbbing rush of blood southward, engorging me instantly.
"Oh," she breathes, rocking her hips against mine. "Oh my. Did I do that?"
"You know you did."
"Who, little ol' me?" Her mouth curves on mine in a sultry smile I feel rather than see. "I would like to remind you, however, that I do, in fact, possess other body parts than a butt."
“You do?"
"I do. I feel like you should see if you can find them."
The playfulness is fucking killing me. Sex has always seemed…serious, somehow. Intense, or hurried, or drunk, or high, or wild. It's never been…silly, playful, and fun like this.
I'm addicted.
I grin, nip at her lower lip, and then pull away a bit so I can look down at her. "What if I'm not done enjoying your butt?"
She shrugs. "Who am I to tell you what to do with my body?"
A cackle bursts out of me. "When you put it like that…" I squeeze once more, groaning at the feel of her ass in my hands, something I've quite literally fantasized about since I first discovered masturbation.
"Can I tell you a secret?" I mutter.
She nuzzles my jaw, nips my earlobe. "Anything."
"It's kind of embarrassing, and I'd only ever tell you."
"Is it a sexy secret?" she whispers, pulling back to look at me with humor and desire and affection and curiosity—an intoxicating admixture of emotions to have leveled at me.
"Something like that." I close my eyes and caress the drum-taut curves of her ass, wishing yet again that we were alone so I could have her nakedness all to myself.
“Tell me, Killy."
"Please don't make fun of me."
"I would never."
"Telling you this is fucking scary as hell."
"Jesus, Killy. What?"
"When I was thirteen, you were eighteen."
"That's how a five-year age gap works, yes."
"You hadn't come down the summer before."
"I spent that summer with Mom and Dad in Israel, visiting the town where Mom grew up."
"I know." I swallow hard. "You came down and I hadn't seen you more than a year.
I already had a crush on you, but I'd hit puberty and my hormones were on fucking afterburner.
It was like looking at the world through new eyes—suddenly, girls were everywhere, and I was fucking…
god, so completely unable to stop myself from staring at every girl I saw at the beach. "
She cackles softly. "Oh god, I remember. You were so wide-eyed that summer. It was adorable."
"What I'm gonna tell you may not be so adorable.
" I laugh again. “So then you showed up.
That first night, we just had dinner at Val and Key's.
The next day you wanted to hit the beach bright and early.
I'm almost always the first up of the four of us, so I was surprised when you were down at the water before me.
" I close my eyes, and I can see her like it was yesterday.
"You were wearing a pink, green, and white floral bikini.
The bottoms left most of your ass bare, and the sides were cut high, riding above your hips, so the front piece was this long triangle.
And the top. Dear Jesus. Your boobs were all but spilling out over top and out the sides. "
She blushes. “I was feeling myself that summer."
“You had every right to feel yourself. You were the most intoxicating sight I'd ever laid eyes on.
I stopped at the top of the hill and just stared at you, literally open-mouthed and all but fucking drooling for almost five minutes before I managed to make myself go down and talk to you. I was so fucking nervous, Story."
"Nervous? To talk to me?"
"Yes! I told you, I already had a crush on you by then, but up to that point it was…I dunno how to put it. Emotional? A crush based on wanting to talk to you, hang out with you. Be around you. That summer was the first time I saw you as a girl—a woman. When the crush became physical."
"What's the big admission, Killy? I'm on tenterhooks, here." She shoves her hands up under my shirt again, and then somehow it’s gone, and she's scouring my chest and stomach and shoulders, cupping the small of my back.
"Don't rush the story, Story." I slip my hands up out of her scrub bottoms and up under her shirt, mirroring her exploration of my back.
"That day at the beach with you was the first time I knew what real sexual desire was.
I could not stop staring at you. Every time you were turned away from me, my eyes were glued to your ass. "
"Trust me, I was aware."
"You were?"