Chapter Seven #2
Heat flares in his eyes, brighter than the sun. "Fuck yes," he rasps. "Mark me anywhere you want. Mark me everywhere, baby."
He pops the button on my shorts with one hand and drags them, along with my panties, down my thighs. The cool air sends goosebumps up my naked legs, but I'm burning everywhere else, especially when he nuzzles the inside of my thigh and marks me there, too.
"You're shaking," he murmurs, his voice rough with need.
"I need you," I whisper.
"I know," he says, his mouth curving upward as he looks up the length of my body, something predatory and beautiful in his gaze. "But I want you so desperate for me, you can't even remember your own name."
I'm not sure I remember it right now. All I know is the feel of his body against mine and the heat of his lips against my skin.
He kisses my hip, then dips lower, trailing his tongue over the top of my thigh, teasing me until I'm squirming.
"Please," I gasp. "Oh, God. Please, Kingston."
"I love the way you sound when you're desperate for me," he says, his voice so low and deep I feel it between my legs, where I'm already so wet I don't think I can take any more of this. "But I want you to scream for me, Evie."
He doesn't wait for me to answer. Instead, he spreads my knees wide and lowers his mouth to my pussy like he's been starved for it. The first hot, wet pass of his tongue nearly unravels me. The second has me clutching the sheets, arching straight off the bed.
I've never in my life begged for anything, not even as a kid, but I can't stop myself now. I plead. I whimper. I sob his name over and over while he devours me like he thinks he can eat his way straight into my soul.
"Fuck, Kingston," I gasp, pulling his hair. "More, please. Don't stop."
He hums against me, the vibration so intense it sends me straight to the edge. His hands pin my hips, spreading me wider. He alternates slow, teasing licks with hard, brutal suction on my clit until my entire body is a live wire, short-circuiting and sparking all over the place.
"Look at me," he demands, his voice a rough command.
When I glance down, I nearly come right there. His eyes are molten, the pupils blown wide, his lips glistening. He looks wild, dangerous, and entirely in control of my body.
"That's it, princess," he rasps. "Eyes on me so you know it's your man making you feel this fucking good."
I can't do anything but cry out and clutch the sheets as he dips his head again, working me up, up, and over the edge, never letting up, never letting me fall back down.
My orgasm tears through me, white-hot and endless. I sob his name until I can't even hear myself anymore. I can't think. All I can do is take every damn ounce of pleasure hurtling through me with the force of a bomb.
He slides up my body while I'm shaking, leaving wet, desperate kisses along my skin, every one of them a brand. "Goddamn, baby," he rasps, his lips crashing into mine, his kiss feral and hungry as he shudders against me. "You're such a fucking good girl, screaming for me like that."
I reach for his jeans, my hands shaking. The button is stubborn, my fingers trembling and weak from how hard I just came, but I can't stop, not when he's looking at me like there's nothing else in the world but this.
He doesn't help. He just holds himself up, staring down at me, his breath a ragged pant.
"Please," I whine, my fingers fumbling again.
"You want it that bad, princess?" he whispers, his cock a hard, heavy line against my thigh.
"Yes. God, yes," I whisper, my voice a raw scrap of sound.
"Take it then, baby. It's yours."
When I finally get his fly open, he lets out a wild sound, like I just scored the game-winning goal in overtime. He kicks his jeans off, and his cock springs free.
I wrap my hand around it, marveling at the size, the weight, the silky heat of it against my palm. He's so fucking big he's going to split me in two.
He jerks against my touch, hissing out a breath, his eyes fluttering shut. "God, Evie. Fuck. Don't stop."
I stroke him, slow at first, then harder, loving the way his hips thrust into my hand. He shudders and bites my lip, groaning like I'm wrecking him this time.
"Evie," he groans, his voice all thunder and praise. "You're killing me. You want it?"
"Yes, please," I gasp, squeezing him.
He twitches in my hand, his eyes going darker than I've ever seen, and then he pulls away slightly, his cock falling from my hand.
Before I can miss the feel of it against my palm, he presses the blunt head against my opening, still watching my face, and lifts my thigh over his hip. My whole body strains up to meet him, my breath stalling in my throat.
He slides in, inch by perfect inch, his jaw locked and his breath ragged. I arch my back, gasping at the stretch and the fullness, every nerve ending splintering to life.
I feel him everywhere, thick and hot and perfect.
He bottoms out with a deep, shuddering groan, his hands braced on either side of my head. For a second, he just lingers there, buried inside me, letting me adjust.
The feel of him, so deep I can barely think, has me trembling.
"Fuck, princess," he whispers, his voice breaking. "You feel so fucking perfect wrapped around me. Like you were made for me."
I want to tell him yes, I was, that I'm his, that I want to keep him exactly like this forever, but all that comes out is a needy, choked sound.
He rocks his hips, slow at first, moving in and out in long, relentless strokes that pull a whimper from my throat each time. Each one feels better than the last, the friction and heat building until I'm clutching at him, my nails digging into his shoulders.
He's so patient, holding back even though I can feel how badly he wants to lose control. I sink my teeth into his bicep, desperate to feel him let go. I don't want him patient and in control. I want him to lose it the same way I am right now.
"Harder," I beg.
His hand catches my jaw, turning my face until our eyes lock. "You want it rough, princess?" The delicious threat in his words makes my whole body spasm around him.
I nod, my breath a shaky gasp.
He gives me a brutal, starved kiss before slamming into me so hard the headboard cracks against the wall.
I cry out, the sound echoing off the glass.
He does it again, and then again, each thrust harder, deeper than the last. It's not delicate or careful; it's everything I want, everything I didn't know I needed.
He fucks me like he's trying to make me forget my own name and replace it with his.
And it's perfect, so fucking perfect, all I can do is sob.
"Yes, yes, yes!"
I meet every stroke, greedy for him, desperate. My nails rake down his back so hard he hisses a curse and fucks me even deeper, harder.
"Kingston!" I cry, trying to tell him that I'm almost there.
"Wait for me, Evie," he grits out, one hand fisted in my hair, the other braced beside my head. His voice is wild, pleading, and possessive all at once, his command vibrating through my whole body. "I want to come with you. Can you hold it, baby? Can you wait for me?"
I nod, not even sure I can speak. My body is strung tight, every muscle shaking, every inch of me humming with need.
He shoves in deep and grinds, not moving, just holding there, the pressure almost unbearable. His hand clamps tight in my hair, pulling my head back so I have no choice but to look him in the eyes as he pushes so deep it feels like he's splitting me in half, making me brand new from the inside out.
I'm close, so close, everything building and building. The world shrinks to the heat of him inside me, the taste of his mouth, the way his eyes devour me.
He grinds his hips, circling, and my whole body bows up. I try to hold it. I try so fucking hard…but it's useless.
I let go, screaming his name as he shatters me to pieces. I feel my pulse everywhere—my throat, my wrists, between my legs, syncing up with each thrust.
He breaks, too. I feel it before I hear the sound he makes—almost a sob, guttural and raw—and then he's coming, his hips stuttering, his arms locked so tight around me I can't breathe.
For a second, we're both weightless, suspended in this perfect, wild oblivion. He doesn't exist, and neither do I. We're just shudders and come and groans.
And then we're tangled together, gasping and sweating, our bodies fused, his body so close I feel every frantic beat of his heart.
I wrap my arms around him, my nails tracing shapes on his back, memorizing his warmth and weight. I could fall asleep right here, under him, surrounded by him, with the ocean and the stars outside and the salt of his skin on my lips.
"Jesus," he murmurs into my neck, his voice hoarse. "Jesus Christ, Evie."
I hear the thread of awe in his voice, and I know he feels the same thing I do, like this right here is where we're meant to be.
I bury my face in his throat, my world in shambles around me. What's left isn't what I expected. Somehow, it's even better. It's him and me and more of this. So much more of this.