Chapter 13
She tasted like salted candy, ambrosia on his tongue.
As she gushed with flavor, he drank in her taste.
It was as if he’d waited all his life for a taste of her, for all her delicious sounds, the twisting and writhing of her body as he sucked on her, savored her.
He didn’t need a fantasy. He didn’t need a crowd to watch.
All he needed was her sweet body beneath him and her voice in his ear, her moans, her cries, just the way he’d heard them night after night on the phone.
He rode her with his tongue until her quaking subsided and she laughed involuntarily, as if she didn’t know she’d even made a sound. Tangling her fingers in his hair, she pulled him up. “Oh my God.”
He knew how good it was, felt it, tasted it. He stood over her, relished her spread legs, her rucked-up dress, her mussed hair. “I want my cock inside you. I want to feel you surrounding me, working me.”
She reached for him. “God, Knox, I need it so bad. I’ve dreamed about feeling you inside me so many times.”
They had always been about the words. And hers were like a stroke along his cock. He pulled a condom out of his jacket pocket.
She arched a perfect eyebrow. “You came prepared.”
“I stole a glass of champagne for you and a condom for me.” He made quick work of it, even as his fingers trembled with how badly he wanted her. Then he stood at her threshold. “Say it,” he whispered.
“Please, Knox, make me come. Make me scream. If you don’t take me right this second, I think I’m going to die.”
She was so beautiful as she begged him. He eased inside her, finding her wet and hot and already clenching around him, forcing a low groan out of him.
Stretching, moaning, she wrapped her legs around him, trying to drag him deeper. “Please, Knox, please.”
He stroked her with just his crown, just there, right at her entrance, slow, agonizing. She shuddered around him, squeezing him, driving him mad. Pointing her toes, she flexed her muscles, gasped, groaned.
“Knox, oh my God. That’s so good, so perfect. Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”
“Christ, I love it, just like on the phone, with you chanting at me, needing it so bad, and I feel it too, the way you milk me, squeeze me.”
It was all he could do to maintain control, gritting his teeth, because he wanted her to go off again, wanted to feel her come around him, didn’t want to miss the sensation when he was blinded by his own climax. “Open your eyes. Look at me.”
Moonlight glittered in her gaze. “Touch me,” she begged.
Gripping her hips, he guided his cock over the sweet spot inside. “I want to see you touch yourself. I’ve only ever imagined it. I want to see you while I feel you surrounding me. Do it for me. It’ll be like the vibrator with my cock inside you, the way you told me you loved to be taken.”
Her hand between her legs, she swirled her fingers around the tight little clit he’d sucked. He gritted his teeth as her body pulsed around him.
On a hiss of air, he muttered, “Christ, yes, just like that.” His legs quaked from the strain of the deliciously slow taking and of not giving in to his own pleasure yet.
Groaning, she squeezed her legs around his hips, shuddered, and said between gritted teeth, “Knox, please, please, please.”
She was almost there. His mind knew it, remembering exactly how she sounded every time she came on the phone.
His body knew it in the gathering storm around his cock.
And still he stayed steady, stroking her on the inside while she caressed herself on the outside.
Holding her hip, he trailed his fingers over her in light touches, her thighs, the crease between her legs, her soft skin, her pubic hair.
She tensed, moaned, her fingers flying, her eyes closed, her lips parted. Finally, before he completely lost his mind, her body clamped down tight, squeezing him, dragging him in.
He started his own chant. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” As she spasmed around him, he slammed home, deep into her, pounding her because it was what they both needed.
With her contractions, the friction of his cock inside her, the pulse of his heart in his ears, his body took over, coiling, shuddering, and shooting everything inside her.
He gritted his teeth, grunted, growled, even as she convulsed around him, taking him deep into oblivion.
And into a bliss he’d never known except on the phone with her.
He collapsed on her, his breath heaving from his chest, turning his throat raw.
Cupping her chin, he pulled her to him, kissed her, tasted her until he owned her.
And she owned him.
Summer could have asked if he was the incubus in the night who would claim her then disappear the next morning, leaving her alone and yet still chained to him.
But she didn’t want to think, wanted only to feel the throb of his cock inside her, the pressure of his body on hers, the taste of him on her lips, the scent of him filling her up like champagne bubbles.
And the deep timbre of his voice in her ear. “Fuck, you make me crazy.”
“Was it as good as it would have been in the club with everyone watching?”
He made a move against her, maybe it was involuntary, and stroked every part of her, inside and out. “Better,” he whispered. “So much better.”
After a time, after the tics and jerks of her body settled, he said as if he’d never stopped talking, “I don’t need the club to fuck you. I don’t need a fantasy to fuck you.” He held her tightly. “I only need you.”
Holding hands in the car as he drove, they didn’t talk, like the long moments after they’d hung up the phone, and Knox drifted in a lingering fog of pleasure, sated, his mind expanded, his body in tune with hers, despite the distance between them.
Parking by the curb at her townhouse, he climbed out, walked around the car, opened the door for her, pleased that she’d waited.
She took his hand, and he helped her climb out of the car.
Then he gathered her in, kissed her sweetly, just the glide of their lips against each other, lingering and luscious.
When he pulled back, she asked, “Are you coming in?”
Knox had thought about it the entire drive back. How it would feel to hold her, to make love to her in her bed, then again in the middle of the night after he’d woken her with a kiss, to wake up to the morning light with her in his arms.
But there was a distinction in her question. Are you coming in? Not will you come in? Not come in with me, stay with me, I need you.
The distinction clued him in that she wasn’t ready. She needed more time. But there was hope in the fact that she hadn’t wanted him to take her in the club, whether it was one man watching or a crowd. Not for their first time. She’d wanted that to be just about them. About him.
That had to mean something.
Cupping her face, loving the feel of her warm skin against his palms, he took one last taste of her sweet lips before he said, “Not tonight.”
He watched her walk down the path to her front door. If he’d walked with her, he wasn’t sure he could leave. Turning for one last look at him, she didn’t smile. She simply met his gaze, then she shut the door.
He parked the car a block away, turned off the engine, put in his earbuds, and called her.
On the phone, they could say anything.
In the kitchen, she was pouring herself a glass of water when her phone rang.
She hadn’t begged him to spend the night. And now she knew what he wanted, another piece of her. Her body hadn’t come down off the high of those orgasms, and her mind hadn’t come out of the clouds. Her heart was still beating too hard.
The earbuds sat right there on the counter, and without hesitation, she slipped them into place. Then she swiped to answer him.
He didn’t wait for her to say hello. “Are you in bed yet?”
His voice thrummed through her. “I’m in the kitchen getting a glass of water.”
“I’d rather imagine you upstairs in your bed.”
“I’m already walking up there.”
“Tell me when you’re standing by your bed. I have plans for you.”
Though her heart hadn’t yet slowed to a regular pace, he was starting over again.
And she liked it. God, she loved it. She loved how alive he made her feel, how every sensation seemed amplified, right down to how plush the carpet felt beneath her feet.
She climbed every step, the scent of her earlier bath still hanging in the air, her skin heating.
“If you wanted more,” she teased, “why didn’t you come in?”
“Because I wanted your voice on the phone. The perfect end to a perfect night.”
“Where are you?” she asked as she set the water tumbler on her bedside table.
“I’m right where you need me to be, on the other end of the phone.”
She wasn’t sure what he meant. That he thought she needed him to keep his distance? Or that he knew she wasn’t done with him tonight? Maybe both were true.
“I’m standing by my bed,” she told him.
“Take off your dress.”
Usually she’d head to the bathroom to remove her makeup and moisturize her skin. But for him, she slipped the top button in back, then gathered the dress in her fingers, drawing it over her head. She tossed it on the end of the bed, not even bothering to hang it up.
“It’s off,” she told him.
“That dress is so fucking hot. That keyhole gave me sexy flashes of your breasts in front and bare skin all the way down your back. When I touched you, it was like touching fire. I can see you now, naked, no panties and bra. Your nipples are hard.”
She pinched them the way she knew he wanted. “They’re hard pebbles waiting for your mouth to suck on them.”
“Christ, I can already taste them. Get into bed.”
She laid her phone on the bedside table. “I’m slipping beneath the covers. They’re like silk against my hot skin.”
He groaned. Then he seduced her with a whisper. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”
“It’s what I want to do to you,” she said in the same barely there whisper he used.
“Tell me.”