Chapter 5 — Francis #2
Knox backs me up until my legs hit the bed and then he's pushing me down, following me, his body covering mine.
He kisses me hard, all teeth and urgency.
His hands are everywhere, mapping my body like he's trying to memorize it. When he reaches my breast his thumb circles my nipple and I arch into the touch, gasping.
"I'm going to make you feel good," he says against my mouth. "And you're going to let me."
It's not a question.
His mouth moves down my neck, my collarbone, working toward my breast.
When he takes my nipple into his mouth and sucks hard I make a sound I don't recognize, high and desperate.
His hand slides down my stomach to the waistband of my shorts. He pauses there, waiting.
"Yes," I say.
He pulls the shorts and underwear down together, working them over my hips and thighs.
When I'm naked beneath him he sits back and looks at me with an expression I can't read.
"What?" I ask.
"Just looking."
"Knox."
"You're beautiful. I'm trying to figure out where to start."
His hand slides up the inside of my thigh and I let my legs fall open. When his fingers find how wet I already am he makes a rough sound low in his throat.
"Been thinking about this," he says. "About what you'd feel like. What you'd taste like."
He slides two fingers inside me without warning and I cry out, hips lifting off the bed.
The stretch is intense and exactly what I need.
He works me with steady pressure, watching my face the whole time. When his thumb finds my clit I nearly come apart right there.
"Not yet," he says.
"I can't hold off."
"Yes you can."
He's wrong. The pressure is building too fast, coiling too tight, and when he curls his fingers inside me I lose it.
I can hear myself making sounds, gasping and desperate, but I can't stop.
He doesn't stop either. Just keeps that steady pressure until I'm shaking with it, oversensitive and raw.
When I finally come down he pulls his hand away and brings his fingers to his mouth. Licks them clean while watching me.
"I need to be inside you," he says.
"Yeah."
He strips off his jeans and boxers and I see him fully hard, thick and heavy between his legs.
Something in my stomach tightens because he's bigger than Ben, longer and thicker, and it's been over a year since I had sex with anyone.
He settles between my legs and I feel the weight of him pressing me into the mattress.
His hand slides down my thigh, pushing my leg wider, opening me up for him. When he lines himself up I feel the blunt pressure of him against me and my whole body tenses.
"Breathe," he says.
I do, forcing air into my lungs. He pushes in slowly, just the head of him, and the stretch is immediate and intense.
I gasp and his hand tightens on my hip.
"You okay?"
"Don't stop."
He pushes in another inch and I feel my body resisting, trying to adjust to the intrusion.
It's been too long and he's too big and I have to consciously relax, force my muscles to let him in.
"That's it," he says, voice rough. "Take it. Take all of me."
He slides in deeper and I cry out, hands clutching at his shoulders.
The stretch borders on painful but there's something else underneath it, something that makes me arch up into him wanting more.
When he's fully seated we both go still.
He's buried so deep I can feel him everywhere, pressing against places that haven't been touched in over a year.
His forehead drops to mine and I can feel him shaking with the effort of holding back, can feel the tension in every muscle.
"Move," I say.
He does. Pulls out slowly until just the tip of him is inside me, then slides back in with a slow deliberate thrust that makes me feel every single inch.
My breath catches and my fingers dig into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks.
"God, you feel good," he says. "So tight."
He sets a slow rhythm, long deep strokes that make me gasp every time he bottoms out.
His hands grip my hips and I realize he's favoring his wounded side, keeping the pace controlled.
But I don't want controlled.
"Harder," I say.
"Francis..."
"I won't break. I need more."
His face changes. His jaw sets and his eyes go dark and he pulls almost all the way out before driving back in hard enough to punch the air from my lungs.
"Like that?" he asks.
"Yes. God, yes."
He does it again. And again. Setting a brutal pace that has the headboard hitting the wall with each thrust.
I wrap my legs around his waist and dig my heels into him, pulling him deeper, harder, taking everything he's giving me.
His hand slides between us and finds my clit, circling with rough pressure that makes my eyes roll back.
"Not yet," he says when I start to tighten around him. "Not until I say."
"I can't hold off."
"Yes you can."
He slows down, grinding deep instead of thrusting, and the pressure is maddening.
I can feel the orgasm building, coiling tight in my stomach, but he won't let me get there. Just keeps that slow grind while his thumb works my clit in maddening circles.
"Knox, please!"
"Please what?"
"Let me come."
"Not yet. I want to feel you from a different angle first."
He pulls out and I whimper at the loss.
Before I can protest he's flipping me over, pulling my hips up so I'm on my hands and knees.
His hands spread my ass cheeks apart and I feel exposed, vulnerable, every soft part of me on display.
"Beautiful," he says, and then he's pushing back in from behind.
The angle is deeper, more intense. I can feel him hitting places that make my toes curl, can feel the weight of his body covering mine as he leans over me.
His chest presses against my back and one hand slides around to cup my breast, kneading the soft flesh while he drives into me.
"This body," he says against my ear. "These curves. You have no idea what you do to me."