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"Who are you to make that decision for me?"
"Someone who doesn’t want to see you unhappy."
"Ha-ha!" I pretend to laugh, then firm my lips. "I’ve had enough of this stupid conversation. I want to leave now."
"It’s late."
"I can take a cab home."
"Nope." He releases me to sit up on his knees, and I miss the feel of his body.
Not that he was leaning his body fully against me. He made sure to keep most of his weight off of me— I wish I could have felt the full heaviness of him on me. His chest against mine, his cock inside me, his breath hot on my lips. A-n-d, seriously, I need to get my head examined. How can I want to sleep with him, when he’s got some stupid notion into his head about not having sex with me? Then, he unfastens first one button on his cuff, then the other, before he moves to undo the first two on his placket.
"What are you doing?"
In reply, he reaches behind him and, in that one-handed gesture that hot guys seem to have perfected without trying, he yanks off his shirt and flings it aside. The moonlight streaming in lends an ivory sheen to his skin.H-o-l-y mother of god, this guy is ripped.Like acres upon acres of undulating, sculpted muscles that form an eight-pack. No, I swear it’s an eight-pack. I didn’t think those existed, but faced with evidence to the contrary, I have to admit defeat. And what a delicious defeat it is. I take in the glorious expanse of his chest marked with scars that tell of the life he’s led. The flesh is pinched in a couple of places, and I’m sure they are marks from bullets. He faced them and survived, and thank god for that, for this man is too vital to not be here and alive and on his knees in front of me. And then there’s the tattoo that runs up one side of his torso:
He who blinks, dies.
I reach out to trace the heavy script, and his muscles twitch. He’s so tough, the planes of his body unforgiving, and macho, and so male. It makes me want to lick up his body, then rub my pussy all over him and mark him as mine.Mine. Mine. Mine.Oh, shoot, I need to stop with this line of thinking. I drag my fingers down the demarcation between his pecs, down to where the shallow groove on either side of his abdomen runs from his hipbone to his groin. My pussy instantly moistens; so does my mouth.Am I drooling? Would you blame me if I were?
"You looking at my cum gutters?"
"Excuse me?" I withdraw my hand. "Did you say—"
"Cum? I did." His lips twitch in that almost smile that makes me want to find a way to coax a full smile from him. "Does that shock you?’"
"Of course not." I’ve heard that particular three-letter word mentioned in my Dramione fanfiction but somehow, hearing it drawled in a British accent, and from a man who looks as hot as Sir, it’s a whole different ball game.And I’d like to play a game with his balls, too.I flush.I can't believe I thought that. Oh, god, what’s wrong with me?"Please, I need to leave."
"You need to sleep." He rolls onto the mattress next to me, pulls the cover over us, then turns me away and spoons me.
Hespoonsme. And every part of my body relaxes. The heat from him forms an additional security blanket that pins me to the mattress. Thethud-thud-thudof his heart at my back is soothing. My own heart beats in tandem. Our breathing synchronizes. A drugged sensation begins to seep into my limbs.
"It’s called an Adonis belt," his voice rumbles over me.
"Hmm?" I yawn.
"The cum gutters were meant to get a reaction from you." I hear the humor in his voice. "You can take a man out of the military, but you can’t remove his flair for speaking filth.”
"You can speak filth to me anytime, Sir." His dick twitches against the curve of my behind. Oops, guess, I shouldn’t have said that, but also, his body definitely has a visceral reaction when I call him, Sir. My lips curve, I yawn again and my eyes flutter down.
* * *
A wet, swiping sensation between my legs sends a pulse of heat up my spine. I part my thighs and push up my hips, inviting the intrusion. The lapping continues between my pussy lips, then around my clit, and my heart rate accelerates. I dig my fingers into his hair, then arch my back, chasing that feeling of his tongue stabbing into my pussy, of him curling his tongue inside me and touching the melting walls of my channel. My entire body jolts. I throw one ankle, then the other, around his neck and push my thighs into either side of his face. If this were real life, I’d worry about suffocating him. Good thing this is only a dream. I can be myself and enjoy this deliciously greedy feeling as he eats me out like his favorite desert. As he squeezes my ass-cheeks and holds me up at the right angle to serve his pleasure. As he licks me from my forbidden rosette to my clit. As he swipes his tongue in long sweeps between my pussy lips and brings tears of pleasure to my eyes. I open my mouth and allow myself to cry out. I open myself up to him, but it’s okay. It’s all a dream. So, I can enjoy this decadent sensation of him consuming me, of him dragging his stubbled chin up that most delicate part of me and making me scream. Of the orgasm that sweeps up from my toes, up my quaking thighs, to coil deep inside me, a whirlpool of desire spiraling me and higher… And he withdraws his tongue, pulls back, and the orgasm pauses. It hovers there on the edge, showing me the light in the distance. Then, it recedes… back… further back. What I thought was a dream has become a nightmare. "No, no, no!" My pussy clenches down on the emptiness. "Come back, please."
"Shh." He crawls up my body and presses his lips to mine. I taste myself on him. I taste him. And the combination is so heady, so right, soeverything, a tear squeezes out from between my closed eyelids. Then, I’m being pulled onto his chest, the sound of a steady thump-thump relaxing me. He throws his arm about my waist. With the other, he draws his fingers down my hair, the gesture soothing. The ball of emotion in my throat fades, and warmth once more cocoons me.
Sometime later, I wake up, alone in his bed.
28
Knight
"So, you and Penny, huh?" Adam shoots me a sideways glance. We’ve finished our ten-mile run and slowed down to a walk to cool down. I didn’t want to leave her this morning. In fact, I confess, after the taste of her in the middle of the night when I woke up and feasted on her—when she opened herself up and allowed me to truly taste her, when her barriers were lowered enough for her to open her thighs and her heart and cry out when she was on the verge of coming without reservation—made me realize how much she held back otherwise.
Sure, I’m a bastard for taking what she gave so freely when she was sleeping and unaware of what I was doing to her. But she enjoyed it. And she curled up like a baby on my chest after that and went right back to sleep. She didn’t move when I slid out from under her and placed her head on the pillow. I made sure to cover her up before leaving. And then, my steps had been slow.
I stopped in the doorway to glance at her over my shoulder. The need to go back to her and hold her in my arms, burying my face in the curve of her neck and my cock in her sure-to-be-wet pussy, is what made me turn around and leave. I cannot get addicted to her. I broke one of my rules by insisting she stay overnight. There's no way I could have let her leave last night. Not after tasting her sweetness, feeling her flesh give under my fingers, seeing the marks I left on the inside of her thighs when I dragged my whiskers across as I ate her out.
