Page 25 of Slick & Spooky

Knox must feel it too. His fingers vanish and then, all at once, he’s there. There’s no warning, no tension. Only a deep, slow press and a welcoming as I open to accommodate, moaning as he sinks all the way in. His cock fills me completely, the thick base flush against my ass, and I breathe through it, pliable and perfect for him.

He stills for a moment, buried to the hilt, like he’s claiming space he’s always belonged in.

I squeeze my eyes shut and the world explodes behind my lids. White-hot stars bursting in the black. Galaxies colliding as I experience every snap of his hips against me.

Every nerve in my body sings. The pressure, the heat, the dizzying fullness. It’s too much, too much, not enough. My lungs forget how to work. I’m gasping, panting, open-mouthed and desperate as sensation after sensation steamrolls through me. My skin feels too tight, too thin like if he moves even an inch, I’ll come apart at the seams.

I’m not just feeling him. I amfeeling.

Raw, exposed, swallowed whole by it.

Every flicker of pain blooms into pleasure, every breath is a fight to stay conscious, every second is a riot in my blood.

His rhythm picks up. The slap of skin on skin fills the room, each thrust rocking me forward on the bed until my arms tremble from the effort of holding myself up.

This man iseverywhere. Inside me, against me, beneath my skin, crawling through my bloodstream, and then his hands are at my mouth again. Fingers slipping past my lips, two from each hand, creating a makeshift gag as he uses the leverage to haul me back onto him with brutal precision. I cry out around them, the noise muffled, raw, guttural.

I’m drooling, face flushed and stretched wide, mouth full, hole fuller. His name is a prayer I can’t say with his fingers in my mouth, so I say it with my body instead, meeting him thrust for thrust, begging for more with every movement.

And he gives it.

All of it.

Skin and sweat and fury and need, crashing into each other again and again, until I’m nothing but sensation and sound and I’ve forgotten how to be anything but his.

This isn’t just sex. It’s surrender. With every brutal thrust, he tears away the lies he built around wanting me. It’s in the way his rhythm falters every time I moan his name. The way he looks at me like he’d carve my name into his own skin to prove I got there first. It’s the press of his fingers against my mouth like I might knock the restraint out of him if he doesn’t anchor himself somewhere.

Because Knox Everett, for all his dominance, for all his control, is showing me something real.

That’s the thing I never got. The thing I told myself I didn’t need. That wanting it made me weak. That getting someone like him to let me in meant playing small. Meant never pushing too hard or needing too much.

If he thought I was some obsessed little brat getting off on riling him up, God help him now. Because now that he’s let me in, I’m never leaving.

“I’m close,” Knox gasps, voice gone ragged.

The selfish part of me wants to drag it out, but the pace he sets makes that impossible. My whole body’s hungry for it, desperate to feel him let go. I rock back harder, greedier, every movement a silent plea.

Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.

His breath stutters. “Yeah… you want it, don’t you?”

I nod, only able to emit deep, throaty moans.

“You want to take it? Let me finish in you?”

Another needy noise escapes me. He growls.

“My little cum dump needs to leave here with me dripping down his thighs?” His voice is filth and fire and ownership, and I swear I come apart just from the sound of it.

He lets out a roar and slams into me one final time, buried to the hilt and hips locked as his entire body seizes. I feel every pulse as he empties himself deep. The warmth spreads until it overflows leaking past the point of connection, sliding along my skin down my balls.

He pulls out slow, savoring the moment and I swear I can feel the loss of him in my teeth. The sudden emptiness is humiliating and perfect, and then I feel the wet spill of everything he left inside me, sliding free in a slow, obscene trail that stains the sheets beneath us.

“Look at this cunt,” he mutters, gripping my ass with both hands. “Stretched open and gaping. Just for me.”

I whimper into the mattress. Wrecked and wanting more. I don’t need to look to know exactly what he’s seeing and what I gave him. He smacks one cheek lightly, reverent almost, and I flinch from the sting even as I arch back into it.

“Still twitching,” he says. “Can’t get enough, can you?”