Chapter 9
Now I Help You
Story lets out a soft, surprised squeal as I rocket to my feet, and her thighs wrap around my hips.
She buries her face in the side of my neck and inhales, holds it, lets it out in a long, shuddery sigh.
"Killy—" she whimpers. "I need you." She grinds her hot naked core against my bare belly, leaving a wet smear.
"Please. Please, Killy. Give me something.
Touch me. Fuck me. Eat me. Fucking please. "
It's funny how I never really noticed until just now that she doesn't curse almost ever, and never has. But my fucking god, get the girl worked up and she's a fierce, fiery, dirty-talking siren.
"Jesus fucking Christ, Story," I snarl, pivoting and tipping her backward, letting her fall to the couch with a bounce that does deliciously dick-hardening things to her huge, natural tits.
"Talk to me like that and I'm liable to forget the circumstances and fuck you until you forget your own name.
" I plant my fists in the couch-back beside her ears and nip her earlobes.
"Ohhhgodfuck, Killy," she whines. "Don't tease me with what you won't give me."
"When we finally have time and privacy," I murmur, kissing her cheekbones, her closed eyes, her upper lip, "that's exactly what I'm gonna do."
"I won't make it that long," she whispers, cupping my head as I kiss her chin, her throat, her breastbone. "I need you now."
"I think I can maybe find a way to tide you over," I answer, sinking to my knees in the V of her open thighs.
I gaze at her lovely face, and her need-crazed electric blue eyes search me, and she runs her fingers over my hair and then rests them on my shoulders.
"I haven't felt good in so long, Killy," she whispers. "Not with anyone, and not alone, either. I'm so horny it hurts. I need you."
I lean in and flick the tip of my tongue against her nipple, making her flinch and gasp. "I know." I do the same to the other side. "You can relax, Story. I promise, I won't leave you in need."
I rise on my knees and press in to take her mouth—her arms coil around my neck in that sensual, affectionate way she has, and she clings to me, kisses me back until we're both breathless, and then she brings her fingers to my face and trails them down my cheeks and rests the tips against my temples and on my eyelids—and fuck me, the things she does with her hands, the tender affection with which she touches me, it…
fuck, I don't even know. It slays me. Destroys me.
Makes my heart swell in my chest and crack open, and yet with each new touch, each kiss, each whimper, my heart fills again, expands again, cracks again.
I bring a hand to her knee, and she immediately spreads her thighs wider in a silent plea.
God, she’s needy. It's fucking…intoxicating.
I want to sate her needs, satisfy her every desire.
I want to erase every bad thing she's ever heard about herself, every negative thought she's ever had about herself.
I slide my hand up her thigh, accepting her wordless invitation.
As my fingers slip over the delicate bowl of velvety skin in the no-man's-land where thigh meets sex meets hip, she whimpers into the kiss, breaking it, tipping her head back and whimpering, even though I haven't even touched her pussy yet.
I take my time exploring—thigh, hipbone, belly. Trace the curve of her thigh down and in to her buttocks, and then back up along the outer swell of her lip. She huffs breathlessly.
"Killy," she breathes. "Stop fucking teasing me."
"I'm not," I answer. "I'm exploring."
She takes my face in her hands and grips hard, fixing me with a wild, demanding glare. "Killian Harris, I'm going to snap in a second if you don't fucking touch me."
I grin. "Well, when you put it like that."
I trace my fingertip down the seam of her pussy, and she flinches, tucking her tailbone away from my touch and then relaxing. "Oh god," she whimpers. "Please."
"Relax," I murmur. "No begging necessary." I pause. "Although…it is fucking hot as hell when you plead."
“You want me to beg? I'll beg. Anything you want, Killy. Just please, fucking please, I—I'm so horny it hurts. I need to come."
I trace down her seam again, and then again—and the third time, I slip my finger inside her.
She's so drenched with need, my finger slicks deep inside her tight hot channel with ease, and I cannot believe this is real, this happening.
I'm touching Story Binyamin’s pussy. She's begging me to make her come, begging me to fuck her, to touch her.
"So fucking wet," I whisper.
"For you."
I fill her with a second finger, but she's too tight for a third. "So fucking tight."
"For you," she repeats.
I suckle her nipple into my mouth and flatten it between tongue and roof, eliciting a soft cry, and at the same time, I drive my two fingers deep, until my knuckles catch against her skin.
I curl my fingers, and she cries out again, this time loud and shrill—she claps a hand over her own mouth and keens through gritted teeth.
“I’ve just gotten started, Story."
She shakes her head, moaning. "Killy…oh god. More. I need…oh god. I need everything. I need to come. Please help me come."
I thrust my fingers in and out a few times, and her hips buck, and she whines again, hand still tight over her mouth. "God, I wish you could scream."
Her only response is to bite down on the second knuckle of her index fingers and snarl like a trapped wildcat, head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut tight; I tear my gaze away, reluctantly, from the sight of her glistening pussy swallowing my fingers.
Her eyes snap open and fix on mine, mad and wild and spitting the fury of long-pent need finally given freedom.
"Killy—" she breaks off with a gasp as I curl my fingers inside her again, scraping them against the inside of her sweetness. "Do that again."
I do, and she throws her head back, biting her lip to muffle another breathless wail.
Her head jerks forward again, gaze blazing even hotter, and she cups my cheeks, toys with my hair, and then clutches my head, pushes me down. "Killian?"
I let her push me. "Story?"
"Put your mouth on me. Eat my pussy. Now.” She pushes, guides, and now I'm sitting on my heels and wrapping my arms around the outside of her thighs to pull them as far apart as they'll go, and I flick my tongue up her seam.
"Ohfuck. God, yes. Yes, Killy. Do you have any fucking clue how many times I’ve masturbated while picturing you, right there on your knees between my thighs, eating my pussy? "
"Tell me," I growl, and then press my lips to her sex and thrust my tongue inside her.
"Everyohhhhhhhmyfuckinggod—every fucking day for years."
"What stopped it?"
She shakes her head. "No more talking." She pulls me against her, thrusts. "Just make me come."
I laugh—not out of mirth but out of pure, unadulterated arousal and joy and wild, primal glee. And no little amount of love. "Anything you want," I answer.
"I can’t have what I want," she snaps. "What I want is your cock inside me. What I want,” and here she sounds almost angry, "is for you to fucking ruin me.
" She softens, tips my face up to lock eyes with me.
"For now, this will do." She accompanies this, spoken in a soft, loving whisper, with a tug of her hand around the back of my head, urging me to her pussy once more.
I go eagerly.
She tastes fucking amazing.
I slick my tongue up her seam a few times, and then drill it into her clit, and she bucks, wailing between gritted teeth into her bicep.
God, so incredibly responsive. It makes me crazy for her, makes me want to see what noises I can drag out of her, how hard I can make her thrash, how loud I can make her scream.
I slide the warm weight of her thick, heavy thighs around my neck, resting them on my shoulders, and she greedily curls them in, pulling me closer.
I carve my hands up her stomach and find her tits, groaning into her skin as I fill my hands with the silky heat of them, the soft weight of them, the incredible fullness of them.
I squeeze and caress her breasts as I set about learning what makes her scream.
It doesn't take long—I quickly discover that she responds best to quick, light strokes of my tongue against her clit, and so I give her that until she starts to whimper and thrust, and then I change it up, find the next thing that makes her wild: suckling her clit.
I get her to the edge again, make her buck and whimper and thrust, and then I find something else to drive her wild with.
I pierce her clenching pussy with a finger, and then a second, and now she's so wet and hot and slick that I can fit a third finger inside her, wedged deep in a delta shape, and I thrust them in and curl, scrape her G-spot while flicking her clit with my tongue in light, soft, slow, rhythmic upward strokes.
I repeat that action without hurry, no matter how hard she thrusts and mewls, no matter how tightly she wraps those hot velvet thighs around my skull with punishing, crushing, beautiful power.
While I'm doing this, I'm pistoning my fingers inside her, slowly at first and with gradually increasing speed.
She meets me eagerly, thrusting against my mouth and fingers, using her thighs to keep me where she wants me and clutching my head with her hands and humming and whimpering and keening through clenched molars.
I hear a snort from the other room, and the snort becomes a groan—the sound of rousing.
Shit. Not yet, Enzo.
The snores resume their rhythm, and I can breathe again. If he'd woken up and I'd had to stop, I don't like to think about what Story's response would be.
Kind of scaroused just thinking about it, honestly.
I look up and meet Story's eyes—and I see mirth. She's shaking with laughter, and when my eyes meet hers, she snorts, and then dissolves into giggles. "Hurry," she whispers. "I'm close."