Page 29 of Below the Shadow of the City

“Sigrid,” he flips his head back up and turns to me. “I’m kidding, unless, of course, you’re going to let me eat you out tonight.” His boyish nervous voice has slipped back in, the strains of cute squeaky awkwardness cut through his deep tones.

It takes a moment for me to process his proposition, still antsy from his insinuation that he could very well kill and eat me if he wanted to. Which until now I didn’t realize is something I find incredibly hot. He’s so much larger than me or anyone I’ve met, he could overpower me in an instant, but instead of being some vicious carnivorous creature we’re cracking jokes on his couch.

That’s the exact moment my dams burst open. All the pent up tension and stiffness I’d held up in a tight, neatly packaged ball exploded into girlish, raucous laughter. I can’t ignore the persistent desire in my core any longer. Even as I try to think of things to tamp it out, the flame reignites, somehow stronger than before.

“Fucking finally,” I exclaim, maybe a little too enthusiastically. His eyes crinkle as similar laughter erupts from his throat, when his head tilts back all I want to do is burrow my face into the column of fur between his chin and shoulder. I realize, I actually can. The wall has been broken down enough for us to take the leap here.

I try to subtly unbutton the first few buttons on my flannel without him noticing, but my fingers are shaking and maneuvering far less gracefully than I’d like them to be.

Maddox scoots closer. “Need assistance with that?”

My cheeks burn, they’re practically the same color as the half empty glass of rosé sitting on the coffee table. “Yes, please,” I answer.

His fingers breach the empty space between us and nimbly unfasten each of the plastic buttons. His motions are dangerously slow, he’s treading carefully. My shirt falls open, framing my torso in red and black plaid to reveal a black lacy bra that I definitely wore with the teeniest hope of him seeing it.

A devious smile spreads across his face. Maddox holds his hands a few inches above my bare skin, and looks back up at me for confirmation that he can touch.

“For fuck’s sake, yes.” I rasp.

Two rough palms wrap around my waist, and he pulls me closer to him, his knee is postured between my legs. I’m abuzz, internally I feel like I’m practically vibrating like the little pink device sitting in my nightstand.

A quick gentle pull and our lips meet for the second time tonight. The sweetness of the wine is all over his mouth, and I inhale each alcohol-laced breath. Our second kiss is far easier than the first, our mouths know how to interact with one another. Any difference in biology has been completely cast aside, this strange mouth of his is somehow meant to be pressed against mine. I bite at his lower lip and run my tongue over one of his fangs. A flat, wide tongue pushes into my mouth, entangling itself with mine in a small wrestling match. There’s power behind each of his movements, but a clear restraint. He knows how strong he is and what he could do to me if he doesn’t hold back. Our size difference is all the more obvious as our bodies press together. His knee grinds deeper between my legs, the pressure hits perfectly. I grind deeper onto him, each rub is a flint sparking deep inside my core. Every jut of my hips and grasp of his hands on my skin is intoxicatingly perfect.

My hands move down his waist towards his belt and I feverishly try to undo the clasp. He quickly places his hand over mine. “Not yet,” he growls into my ear. “We’re going to savor this.”

We continue to make out like we’re both at our first college party, and every exploratory hand that slides beneath the lace of my bra, every bit of hot breath that he exhales, and every grind of myself against his leg makes me want it more and more.

My jeans are soaked through already, and I feel the slickness build between my legs. It’s been so long since being in the presence of someone else has made me feel like this. I hardly remember what it’s even like to be filled with a lust that’s practically insatiable.

“Do you remember what you said to me, that first time on the phone?” He asks as he dots kisses up and down my neck. I don’t, and for a moment I feel guilty that I don’t.

He doesn’t wait for an answer. “You said it might kill you if you don’t get the real thing soon.” Another exhale and his hand is sliding up my waist, slowly, longingly. That phone call feels like a lifetime ago, but this morning feels like a lifetime ago. I have to remind myself that the same voice that made me fall apart in my own bed laying next to my vibrator is here with me, right now.

My past sentiment holds true. Even tonight, the waiting has been torturous. “I need to make up for lost time,” he breathes into me. “I need to fuck you like it’s the only chance I have.”

I nod. “Please.” knowing this very well would be the only chance I could allow us to have. He stands and pulls me up with him.

He stoops low to continue kissing me. He has close to two feet on me in height. He’s bound to be large everywhere. A thought that is both intoxicating and unsettling.

I’d anticipated this outcome, I wanted us to be doing this right here, right now. The reality of our present circumstance forces me to take pause.

I haven’t had sex since January, and that was with Perrie. We had our routine together, I can’t remember what anyone else feels like. I don’t remember precisely how to pleasure someone with a penis. What if this all backfires and goes horribly? “Wait,” I bark. He stops immediately and raises his hands up, there’s a look of panic on his face, his brows nearly reach the base of his horns.

“We don’t have to do this,” he says calmly, “if it’s not what you want⁠—”

“No,” I slap my palm to my forehead. “I do, I just, I haven’t been with a cis man in years, and I haven’t been with anyone at all since January. I’m not on the pill, I’m not waxed, I⁠—”

“You really think I care if you’re waxed or not?” He says it with a completely straight face but I spit out a laugh. “I have condoms and I’m completely negative for everything,” he continues.

I blink at him a few times and stare like a deer in the headlights, he’s checked all the boxes, of course he has.

“I’m going to take things slow here,” he assures me. “I don’t want to hurt you, or for you to not enjoy this as much as I know I’m going to. Your pleasure is a priority of mine, Sigrid.”

“Carry on, then.” I answer. He slides his hands onto my ass and lifts me. It’s effortless for him, like I’m a bag of flour. It is, unfortunately, incredibly hot.

As I’m draped over his shoulder I playfully slap his ass and he lets out a snort of a laugh.

He tracks to his bedroom and and flips me over onto the bed. He’s above me now, and firmly holding me in place with little effort. He sucks in a deep breath, wild eyes roving over my body as I lay splayed on his bed. What is he thinking right now?