His eyes narrow on mine, hands stilling.
“You came here tonight prepared for sex,” I continue. “Not with me, though.”
If I could’ve snatched those last words back, I would’ve. They revealed too much. My jealousy. Insecurity. Longing. Even though he’s in this room with me right now, and I still feel the mark of his fingers inside me, he’s not mine. I can’t forget that. And I won’t try to delude myself that sex with him means I can change that fact.
Slowly, he removes the protection from the wrapper and sheaths himself, his gaze never wavering from mine. Even when my attention momentarily flicks down to take in the wide, flared head and thick, rigid stalk, his scrutiny heats my face.
“I always carry condoms on me. It’s just smart,” he growls, shifting forward, pressing close. Closer. He palms the backs of my thighs and, in a display of strength that has me breathlessly remembering how he ruled the MMA ring, lifts me, his body and the wall holding me up. On instinct, I wrap my arms around his neck. “And these days, Eden,” he lowers his head, so I have no choice but to meet his hooded gaze. But below… Below his finger slides under my panties, jerking the drenched panel covering my sex to the side. I bite at the shocking pleasure of his touch on my bare, exposed flesh. Sink my teeth into my bottom lip as he notches the head at my entrance. Jesus. He hasn’t even penetrated me yet, and I already feel bruised, branded. “These days, my dick only gets hard for you. And I could hate you for that.”
He flexes his hips, pushing, and the tip opens me, stretches me. Just that bit of him, and nerve endings that have laid dormant for years scream to life.
“Hating you would be easier,” he murmurs against my lips.
Then shoves all the way inside me.
Oh. God.
Fire blasts through me, incinerating me. Pleasure, pain. Heat, ice. I’m burning alive and shaking with cold. Filled and empty. Sane and crazy.
I’m fucked.
Burying my face in his neck, I cry out into that sweat-dampened, wood-and-sex scented crook. The stretch, the burn. I swear I can feel every ridge, every vein of his cock. Every throb and pulse. There’s no part of my sex that isn’t stamped, marked, claimed by him. I suck in a breath. Jesus, he’s so goddamn deep in me…
“Easy, baby. Easy,” he soothes, even as he lifts me just a bit higher, lodges just a bit deeper. I shudder. I’m caught in that nebulous but vivid place between ecstasy and pain. Where one heightens and sharpens the other, but I’m not sure which one is doing the honing. “Breathe for me. Relax and breathe for me.”
It isn’t until his hand strokes down my hair over and over like I’m a skittish colt that I realize my arms are damn near strangling him and a litany of shattered, soft cries are spilling from my mouth onto his skin. Deliberately, I follow his instructions and inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. I force my body to loosen, to wait and accept.
In moments, that line between pleasure and pain becomes even more blurred, and when he grinds his hips in a circular motion, the base of his cock rubbing against my aching clit, a wave of rapture swells from the point where we’re connected.
“Oh fuck, yeah,” he mutters against my ear, rolling his pelvis again, giving my clit a tight, dirty massage. “I could come just from this. Just from this filthy little kiss on my dick.”
Cupping my thighs, he spreads me wider, then slowly pulls free, the drag of his thick stalk over my overly sensitive flesh rips a groan from my throat. Without warning, he thrusts back in, treating me to that grind at the end of it. Sparks shoot from my sex, up my spine, and manifests in tiny gold and black sparkles in my brain. He continues with those ruthless, just short-of-brutal plunges with the shy retreats and all-business strokes. All I can do is hold on for the ride. And God, is he riding me. Taking me. Molding it, reshaping it to fit only him.
A tiny kernel of trepidation and doubt burrows into the blind lust that has enshrouded my world. Because that’s what I’m afraid of—that after Knox, no one will ever be enough. What have I done?
The terrified question slips away into the ever-increasing darkness of the abyss that yawns toward me. Anxiety and thought slip over the crumbling edge, and I’m not far behind. With every drive into me, he shoves me closer and closer. Part of me fights it; I don’t want this to end. Don’t want that beautiful dick to stop granting me this razor-edged pleasure that has me twisting and dancing in time with his thrusts.
But Knox is the master of this show, and I’m just the puppet. Spreading me wider, he pistons faster, harder, fucking me until I’m no longer standing on the edge of orgasm but plummeting into it.
Everything in me contracts and narrows to the place between my thighs, then explodes like an atom bomb, the ecstasy mushrooming. I scream into his neck, my teeth clamping down on the tendon running alongside his throat. I’m out of my mind, all reason has left the building, and all that’s left is this quaking, shrieking creature that is consumed with the rapture seizing her body like contractions. It’s almost too much, yet not nearly enough. Even as the seismic ripples ebb, I’m already craving more.
I’m not aware I’m moving until my back hits the sheet-covered mattress. The material is cool against my overheated skin, and I turn my head, whimpering as I rest my cheek against it.
Impatient, demanding hands stride up my thighs, hook into my panties, and yank them down and off. That same commanding touch palms my knees and pushes my legs up and back until the front of them nearly graze my chest.
Knox leans over me, covers me, and crashes his mouth down on mine as he drives into me once more. Burrowing my fingers in his hair, I cling to him, taking the hungry thrust of his tongue as he slams into me.
This Knox I’ve unleashed is wild, undisciplined, primal. An animal cut loose from his leash. And I’m its mate, bucking my hips to greet every thrust. He wraps his arms under me, pressing me so close, I can feel his heart beat against my chest. Ripping his lips from mine, he mimics me from seconds earlier and buries his face in the crook where my neck and shoulder meet. His breath is hot and harsh on my damp skin, his hard, desperate grunts punctuating the air.
Reaching between us, he circles a fingertip over my clit, the movement not gentle, but firm, insistent. I shove one hand at his shoulder; I’m so sensitive from my orgasm, I couldn’t possibly…
“Fuck,” I gasp. Electricity snaps inside me, right behind the tiny bundle of nerves. My hips jerking, trying to evade his caress. Or maybe my body’s begging for more. Right now, swept up in this carnal storm, I don’t know. How can he… I can’t…
“Give it to me, Eden. I need it again,” he grates, the words muffled against my skin.
My body understands what my brain is unable to grasp; it obeys what my head is denying.
An orgasm slams into me, squeezing my throat so the cry there is trapped. My whole body seizes, pleasure turning me into a star that flames so bright and hot, it winks out. Above me, Knox growls. He levers off me but continues shuttling through my sex in short, fast strokes. His skin pulls taut over his sharp cheekbones, the emerald of his eyes nearly black. His mouth is pulled into a feral snarl, and with one, two, four more thrusts, his guttural groan echoes in the room as he comes.
