Chapter 35 #3
Task is about to lose it. He feels the hold he has on himself slipping.
Everything he’d promised himself he wouldn’t do, the thoughts he’d managed to push out repeatedly, they’re overwhelming him now.
He knows he should not, under any circumstance, be thinking about fucking his future kidnappee.
And yet, what comes out of his mouth is, “You’re being a little tease. ”
“Am I?” she asks, her voice a little breathy. He is not imagining it. He can feel her excitement radiating off her, mixed with her anxiety. She wants him.
“Yes,” he grinds out, his teeth clenched. “If you do not stop touching me right now, I am going to —”
“Going to what?” she says, her hands stilling at the edge of his waistband.
Fuck it, he thinks. He grabs her wrist and yanks her towards him. To hell with the wound. To hell with it all.
She falls on top of him, hard, and he tries not to grimace. It hurts, but not enough to stop what he’s just put in motion.
His lips collide with hers and she gasps, opening her mouth.
He pushes his tongue into her mouth, tasting her, exploring her.
He expects her to hesitate, to push him away, but she doesn’t.
She kisses him back, her lips moving against his, her tongue tangling with his.
She breathes him in, adjusts her position so she’s not completely crushing him.
She straddles him, her hips over his and fuck, he’s hard.
There’s a blanket between them, but he can feel the heat radiating from between her legs.
He knew he wasn’t imagining the tension, the way she was looking at him.
He moves his mouth down her neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses along her throat, and she moans quietly, winding her hands into his platinum hair.
She yanks his head back to her, kissing him harder, her teeth knocking into his lip, and sinks back on to his thighs, her hands running along his jaw, his cheeks, through his hair, almost as if she’s been waiting for this as long as he has.
“Careful,” he says, more as a reminder to himself than to her, but also a little bit to her because what is she doing to him?
He’s sitting up now, running his hands down her sides, resting them on her backside as he kisses her and kisses her like he can’t get enough.
He can’t get enough. She wraps her thighs around him and his cock presses up against her, deliciously, even though there are still far too many layers between them.
He twists his hand in her hair, attaching his lips to her throat again and biting and then sucking gently.
She gasps, but doesn’t move. Almost as if she wants him to mark her.
He runs his other hand underneath the edge of her shirt, then back down her thigh, grazing over her core, and she jolts.
“Oh my gods,” she half-sighs, half-moans.
He snickers a bit. They’re both so fucking horny, it’s ridiculous — they could come like this, barely touching each other, fully clothed.
Weeks and weeks and weeks of stolen glances and little touches, and it’s all been building up between them, threatening to boil over.
He presses his cock up into her again and she sucks in her breath. “Task.”
“Yes, love?”
“You’re hurt,” she says, pulling back from him, panting slightly, her eyes searching his face. “We can’t keep… I’m being an idiot.”
“So am I,” he says, his fingers trailing along her inner thigh. In more ways than one, if he’s being honest with himself. And he’d like to avoid being honest with himself as long as he can, not when he has this beautiful woman on top of him, fire in her eyes.
“We have to stop,” she says, though she doesn’t move.
“Do we?” he says, sliding his hand beneath her waistband, dragging it downwards so he can feel her through her underwear.
She’s soaking and he can feel her practically melting in his hand, gasping.
There is no fucking way he is stopping. He could be bleeding out and he’d keep doing this, just so she’d keep making those goddamn sounds.
“Task, this is so, so unethical. And bad.” She sounds entirely unconvinced and presses into him more.
“Mm,” he says, sliding his fingers beneath the band of her underwear, moving them down gently until he reaches her clit, further until he’s sliding one through her wetness. “Definitely bad.”
She lets out a muffled sound, dropping her head forwards as he slides his finger back and forth. “I should be taking care of you,” she tries weakly, as Task presses into her clit with his middle finger, hard. She shudders, arching backwards, opening herself up to him more.
“You can after this,” he says, pressing her open with his fingers and sliding one inside of her as he peppers her neck with kisses.
“Oh, oh my gods,” she breathes. He smirks, pulling it back out and pushing it into her again, his thumb pressing on her clit. She’s tense above him, trying to hold her position, keep her weight off him.
“Just relax,” he says, moving to press his lips against hers again.
She lets him, sinking down onto his hand.
His mouth moves slowly against hers, and he slides his finger in and out of her, his thumb circling her clit.
She clenches around his finger, and he adds another, sliding his other hand under her shirt, skimming the cup of her bra.
He pulls it down, squeezing a nipple between two fingers, and she cries out.
He’s hard as a fuck, and he’s fighting the urge to press himself against her, to flip her over and fuck her senseless. He knows that’s not a realistic possibility given the wound, but still, he aches for it.
“Shhh,” he says, still thrusting his fingers in and out of her, wanting to rip her underwear off so she can ride his fingers like he can tell she wants to.
“Hold on,” he says, removing his fingers.
She whimpers, her cheeks pink, breathing heavy.
He slides his hands up her thighs and pulls her scrubs and underwear down, shimmying them over her thighs.
She reaches down to pull them off, dragging them over one leg and then the other.
“Lay down,” he orders. He shifts under her, trying to maneuver himself out from between her knees. He’s not thinking clearly, doesn’t care about his wound, just wants to be with her, be in her, make her scream.
“Task, you’re hurt. You shouldn’t be…doing this with that wound.” She puts a hand on his bare chest, pushing him back down to the bed.
“Don’t care,” he says, reaching for her again, pulling her face down to meet his. She doesn’t resist him, and he knows he’s whipped her into a frenzy, her need too overwhelming to protest.
Task slides his hands up her bare thighs, kneading them into her round ass.
She’s leaning over him on all fours and he pushes her shirt up further, careful to keep kissing her, leaving a trail of wet over her throat again, latching on to her neck and sucking.
Purposely leaving a mark. He slides a finger back inside of her and she keens, her body shuddering as he thrusts it in and out of her.
He cannot believe how wet she is for him, how wild with lust she is — he’s going to come just from fingering her.
He circles her clit, faster, and adds another finger.
She clenches around him, bucking her hips backwards so she’s riding his hand.
“Just like that, love,” Task groans, resisting the urge to stroke himself while she fucks herself on his hand.
She lets out a breathy moan, her eyes closed.
He breathes her in, his heart hammering in his chest as he looks at her — her soft lashes on her freckled cheeks, her sharp collarbone jutting from the neck of her shirt where he’s pulled it off her shoulder, her pink lips slightly open as she gasps against him.
“Oh my gods,” she’s saying, over and over, almost like a prayer, as his thumb rubs her clit in small circles, continuing to pump his two fingers in and out of her.
Her legs are shaking and he can feel she’s close.
He reaches beneath her shirt again, his hand sneaking beneath her bra, tugging at her hard nipple.
If they weren’t in an infirmary, he’d have had her naked, he’d have worshipped her entire body.
He flicks her nipple again, cupping her full breast and rolling it in his hand, and she bites down on the hollow between his neck and his shoulder, stifling a shout as her release explodes through her.
He thrusts his fingers in and out of her as she rides out her orgasm, moaning as she comes.
She sighs as he pulls them out of her, collapsing on top of him.
He chuckles. “Careful. I’m wounded, remember?”
“Fuck,” she says, pushing herself off him, as if suddenly remembering where they are, what she’s doing. “Task, I’m…”
“It’s okay, love,” he says. He could do this forever, if she’d let him. Get her off over and over and over again. He’s still hard, but seeing her come undone like that was worth it. Kit, always so together, unraveling in his hands.
“Are you alright?” Her gaze is soft as she extricates herself from where she’s tangled up in him, pulling her underwear and trousers back on as she stands.
“I’m fine,” Task says, glancing at the dressing on his abdomen. Blood seeps through, but he can’t be arsed to care. Not when he is trying to calm himself down, ignore the way his cock strains against his trousers. He wants her to touch him, badly.
“You’re bleeding!” Kit exclaims, reaching for the strip of gauze that covers the wound.
Task grabs her wrist, holds it tight in his hand. “And I don’t care.”
“Task,” Kit breathes, pink staining her cheeks anew as she takes him in. “I…”
“Please,” he says. Begs, really. He’s unmoored right now, caught in a haze of pain medicine and hormones and a desire that threatens to overwhelm him.
“Let me at least patch it again,” she says, moving her fingers along the dressing, murmuring the words to activate the magitech as she presses gently against his lower stomach.