Just like that storm inside of me, he’s the wind, the quake, the fire—complete beauty in chaos. He has the power to reshape, to create…and to destroy. I’ve seen his ability to destroy, been on the receiving end of it. And I’m so terrified to find out what we could look like reshaped from brokenness. What we could create from the ashes.
I shake my head. Luckily, I don’t have to answer that question.
Flattening my palms on either side of his head, I lower my mouth to his until our breath mingles, mates.
“I don’t have a condom on me,” King quietly says. “I can’t and won’t lie to you, Lennon. I’ve been with a lot of women, and a good number of them when I was fucked up on drugs. But I’ve been celibate since I’ve been in rehab. Six months. I was tested for everything in rehab and again when I got out. I’m clean. Still…” His gaze shift away from me, but not before I glimpse a hint of…something in them. Something that smacks too close to shame. “I understand if you don’t want to chance being with me raw. I get it. And shit, I wouldn’t advise it. C’mon.” He lifts his big hands to my waist. “Sit on my face and let me eat you”
“Stop it.” I gently smack at his hands. And because tearsare notstinging my eyes for him, I open my mouth over his, kissing him, swallowing the last of that sentence.
I understand if you don’t want to chance being with me raw. I get it. And shit, I wouldn’t advise it.
He basically called himself dirty. And not the good kind. I kiss him deeper, relaying what I don’t have the words, or the courage, to say aloud.
Sex, I remind myself. This is about sex. And pleasure. And forgetfulness. Don’t let this turn into something else.
“I’m on the Pill,” I murmur against his lips. “Are you okay with going inside me with no condom?”
He stares up at me, blinks, then slicks his tongue over his sensual bottom lip.
“Yeah, baby. I’m good with that,” he rasps.
I press my forehead to his as I hitch my hips high, reaching between us to wrap my fingers around his fully hard and hot cock.
“Listen to me, okay?” I whisper, notching the head at the mouth of my sex. “I'm going to use you until my body hurts and the ache stops.” I press down. Hard. And the tip slowly penetrates me, spreading me. I sink my teeth into my own bottom lip, gasping softly. Panting, I breathe one last warning. “Only this time, it'll be me who walks away.”
His blue eyes glint, but I close mine and focus on taking him inside my body.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He’d been big in my hands and my mouth, but stretching my pussy? He feels ten times larger, thicker and longer. He’s a goddamn monster. “I can’t…”
“Shh. You can take it,” King murmurs. “You’re going to take it.”
I want to rebel against that thin vein of steel running through that command, but my sex must be a submissive or something because I swear, it quivers, relaxes, allowing him in another couple of inches.
“There you go. This pussy remembers me,” he praises. Reaching down, he slides two fingers over my lewdly spread lips, rubbing them, spreading the glistening juice there down to my entrance and back up to my clit. “Mmm.” He lifts those fingers to his mouth, and his tongue curls around the digits, licking them clean. “Just as fucking good as I remember.”
Wetting his fingers again, he circles that engorged bundle of nerves at the top of my sex, and together we watch as it trembles for him, flinches from his touch. My body jerks with the jolt of pleasure that shocks me, electrical pulses rippling through me. And oooh, God, I sink farther down on his dick.
“King,” I whine. Yes, honest-to-God whine. Because it’s me begging now.
For more of his touch that edges pain and careens into pleasure. I’m at the point where pain doesn’t deter me. I welcome it. I only need to be filled with him. Branded by him. Fucking split in two by him.
Palming his shoulders, I slide a couple of inches off his cock and thrust down, pinning myself on his flesh like a butterfly on a corkboard.
“Goddamn,” he grunts, his back arching tight off the ground. “Shit. Goddamn.”
I’d curse, too, if I could speak. If I could draw air into my lungs. But my body is on fire, and I can’t move. I blink against the pain that has pushed back most of the pleasure.
Breathe. In and out. In and out.
Yeah, not working.
“Dammit, Len.” King mutters.
Then cool air brushes over my chest, followed by heat and a hard, wet suction to my nipple that zings pleasure so acute to my clit and pussy that it rips a cry from me.
Oh God. I clasp my arms around King’s head, cradling him to me so he doesn’t stop the wonderful, magical thing he’s doing to me. He tugs down the bra cup on my other breast and his clever, musician fingers toy with the beaded tip, tweaking, pinching even as his tongue and teeth suck and graze its twin. It’s almost too much, his lips, tongue and fingers. The pleasure swells, rushing in, and I’m swamped by it.
I’m mewling like that kitten he called me earlier, rocking against him, offering myself up to him. Not caring that the user has become the used.