Chapter 25 #2
There was a reason why I’d wanted to see him in private. A good reason.
We’ve done this before, we’ve done this before, we’ve done this before, I chanted in my head—while I took the sketchbook from March’s hands, closed it, and put it on the table again.
While I pushed him to sit back on the armchair, then climbed on it, too, my legs on either side of his.
While I sat on his thighs and he watched me with wide, unblinking eyes and parted lips.
I sat there. Only sat there, hands on the armrests.
It wasn’t a big chair, but it fit us just fine—for now. I looked down at him, fighting the urge to touch him, to memorize every inch of him with my hands.
Not until I knew this was okay with him as well. Because whatever had happened up there in that tower, it had changed me, and it had most likely changed him as well. He’d had to give up his trust.
“I know what you’re doing,” March whispered, and his hands fell on my knees first, then slowly moved up to my thighs.
Fire underneath my skin.
He rubbed my thighs, came all the way up to my pelvis, dug his thumbs in until I was afraid I’d moan, then went down again as he looked up at me and grinned.
“What’s that?” My voice came out more breathless than I excepted. He really had an incredible effect on my body.
“Trying to distract me,” he said, and I arched a brow—he could do better than that, I was sure. His grin widened and he added, “Trying to distract yourself, too.”
That was more like it.
My hands shook when I raised them to his cheeks. His skin was so smooth, so warm, so right it should have scared me. But like March said—I was trying to distract myself from whatever it was that needed my attention.
Not tonight. Not yet. I didn’t want to think.
“Then stop me if you don’t want it.” And I leaned in to kiss him.
A hand on around my chin just before my lips brushed his. My heart stopped for a moment—he didn’t want this?
But March didn’t push me way, nor let me lean back. He held me there against his lips and said, “You’ve changed.”
I had. “And I still want you.”
Heat on my cheeks. I never before had been so courageous to speak my mind, especially to a boy I liked.
I’d never before dared to even imagine sitting on a boy’s lap, either, yet here I was, so desperate to escape my reality, so desperate to feel something good, to remind myself that it wasn’t always like this.
Despite the blood rushing in my veins, and despite the thoughts in my head screaming at me to move back—I was here.
“Fuck, Ora.”
He crashed his lips to mine.
The kiss took off wild and it didn’t slow down. Within seconds, my arms were around his neck, and my chest was pressed against his, and his hands were on my ass, squeezing and pulling me against his hard erection.
Madness, I tell you. Madness from the get-go.
I was calling out his name a minute in, when he let go of my lips to kiss and bite and lick the side of my neck like he was born for that very purpose only.
I willingly gave up control as I moved against him, my body picking up the rhythm his hands set without trouble.
My center rubbed against his hard cock, and I was already falling.
His lips were my salvation, and every time he kissed me, I felt a little more complete.
But my mouth yearned for his, and so I pulled his head back by the hair and claimed it, while his hands roamed up and down my body.
They slipped underneath my tunic and wrapped around my waist, squeezed tightly.
I ran all out of breath, but the lack of air wouldn’t kill me now.
My hips moved faster and faster, and the feeling was so all consuming that I forgot everything about the past, present or future.
Nothing existed except the way he moved me, kissed me, touched me.
March wrapped his arms up my back and he leaned forward, moaning as he devoured my mouth with his tongue, forcing my legs to move around him, lock behind his back.
Like that, he moved me with more ease, and he had complete control over my body.
He pushed and pulled me against his cock at his own pace while I half sat, half lay in his arms. He supported my weight without trouble, and when I began to feel the fireworks coming, I raised my head and arched my back, desperate to feel more of him.
Sparetime save me, I need so much more.
His lips fell down my neck again, his fingers digging into my back as he pulled me down, then pushed me up again. I couldn’t tell which moan was his and which was mine, and if somebody could hear us, they wouldn’t be able to tell us apart, either. We were one.
This.
This was exactly what I’d needed. This was exactly what my body had craved. This was how I could get through another trial and a million.
Then March stood up like I really weighed nothing at all. I didn’t care to even open my eyes to see where he took us. He walked a couple feet, then threw me on the bed with exactly the right force so that I bounced a couple of times before settling, his name on my lips a cry.
He took his shirt off in one swift movement, his eyes never leaving mine, that small grin on his face a promise.
I was melting right there in front of his naked torso and I didn’t even mind it.
I thought he’d take his trousers off, too—take it all off!
my thoughts screamed—but he didn’t. He just toed his boots off, then came closer to the edge of the bed, watched me watching him propped on my elbows, burning with need.
“Distracted yet?”
I genuinely had to take a moment to think back to what I was supposed to be distracted from.
His smile turned wider, and Holy Hour, my thighs clenched tightly. I was so wet I could drown.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
He grabbed my leg and pulled it up, and with his eyes never leaving my face, he began to untie my laces and take my boots off.
I watched, and I panicked that it would take too long, that I’d go back to whatever it was that I’d been trying to distract myself from, but it didn’t. The way he moved, the way he looked at me, the way he dug his fingers into my legs as he held them up.
He had me now. I was all his.
When he discarded my boots to the side, March grabbed both my ankles and pulled them up before climbing on the edge of the bed on his knees. The anticipation was killing me. I had the sheets in my tight fists, imagining it was his hair, but he didn’t rush.
Instead he brought my heels to his shoulders, then proceeded to caress my legs as he looked at me. Over the leggings but I still felt the heat of him enough to lose my damn mind.
He no longer smiled as he watched me react to his touch now, then turned his head and kissed my feet with all of him, one then the other.
He bit and kissed his way up to my ankle like he meant it, and there was something about his dedication to every single movement of his hands, every press of his lips against my skin, even on my feet.
When he had enough, he finally leaned in almost all the way to me, my heels still over his shoulders so I was practically folded in half.
Another cry escaped me, but his face hovered just over mine. He held himself up still, his hands on the bed on the sides of my head.
“This okay?” he breathed.
“Yes!”
If he couldn’t see how okay this was for me, he had bigger issues than I realized.
Then his lips crashed against mine and my thighs were basically pressed to my chest. His hard cock was right against my center, so I forgot what I was even thinking.
It didn’t last long, though. I was just getting started tasting his tongue properly, when he moved back again, raised on his knees, and pulled me to sit up by the arms in one movement.
“March,” I complained, but I shouldn’t have worried, because he pulled me up to take my tunic off. When he grabbed the hem, I raised my arms up all too eagerly, which then made him grin.
“I think this is working a little too well. Don’t you?”
But to answer him required thinking, so I said, “Shut up and kiss me, Heartling.”
A dark look came over his eyes one second, and the next, he obeyed.
We fell on the bed again, and he was between my legs, his naked torso against mine, his hands everywhere on me he could reach.
His back was satin-smooth against my palms, and I dragged my nails up and down him, but if it was painful, he didn’t complain.
His moans only grew louder as he devoured my mouth.
My legs were locked around his hips, too, and I kept grinding against his cock, so desperate for release it could have been funny. And March pressed himself on me harder each time, too, like he was thrusting inside me.
Now, I was a virgin, had never taken my clothes off with anyone before, but just the idea of it was going to drive me over the brink. Whatever it was about this Heart boy, he had changed me, too. He’d changed a lot of what I thought I knew about myself, and I was at his mercy.
His hands found their way under my back, and I raised up as well as I could so he could unclasp my bra and take it off me. It required letting go of him for a moment, too, and when I did, March was eager to pin my wrists down on the bed.
He was breathing fast, heavily—we both were. He hovered over me for a tick, his hips against mine, his hands pinning me down, his eyes burning with a fire I’d never seen before.
And he said, “This okay?”
I was going to murder him if he asked me again.
“Don’t stop,” I breathed, and I meant it. I never wanted him to stop.
“As you wish,” he whispered, and raised up on his knees between my legs. The way his eyes roamed on my naked torso, stopped on my breasts, I blushed bright scarlet, my cheeks hot as the sun.
It didn’t matter, though. I could be shy about this tomorrow—tonight I was taking everything he gave me.