25

Knox

I’m raging hard and desperate to bury myself inside Parker, my cock still trapped in my pants, but she’s shaking and quivering and if she’s not crying, she’s close. I want to fix this and I don’t know how. Thousands of romance novels, and I’m fucking helpless to give this woman what she needs.

And the fact that I want to says something.

This isn’t about being her date to her reunion or her buffering my reputation. It’s not about showing her how good sex can be. It’s something deep in my chest, something more profound than physical sensation and more terrifying than death.

I can’t squeeze her any tighter, I can’t take back tonight, and I wouldn’t even if I could. “Parker?” I say into her hair again.

She squirms, and I immediately let go.

Not because I want to, but because this is foreign territory, and she’s in charge.

“That was… Wow.” Her voice is shaky. “I didn’t know it could be so good.”

I pull back just far enough to study her face. Pink cheeks, swollen, well-kissed lips, those adorable freckles, and wide, shiny eyes blended with awe and vulnerability.

“It should always be that good. Or better.”

Her gaze lowers to my mouth. “It hasn’t been good for you yet.”

“Oh, fuck, yes, it has.”

She scrapes her fingers down my back, my lightning rod pulses against her soft curves, and her lips twitch upward. “You’re a good friend, Knox.”

Friend.

That’s always been my favorite word. Friend. Fuck buddy. Casual lover.

It’s a fucking awful word.

She shoves me back on the bed. We’re diagonal, legs dangling crooked, and when she leans up, I get a gorgeous view of her perfect breasts and peachy-rose nipples. I need to leave. Get a grip. Breathe.

Instead, I brush a thumb over one tip. Because she’s here. And I’m here. And I need to touch her like I need to breathe.

She shivers and bats my hand away. “My turn. You keep your hands to yourself.”

“Can’t help myself. You’re irresistible.”

“Don’t make me pull out my secret ninja moves.”

I picture her sneaking out of nowhere in a skimpy black ninja costume to give me a stealth hand job, and my joystick’s straining so hard against my jeans I’m probably going to be bruised tomorrow.

But she does me one better.

She straddles me, pushes my hands back against the bed, and licks my nipple.

I arch up into her. “Holy fuck, Parker.”

“Ohmygod, I’m sorry, I—”

“Do it again.”

She blinks at me once, then twice.

“I’ll tell you if I want you to stop.” I’m not going to fucking tell her to stop anything.

She lowers her head again, her braids coming undone but still dangling and tickling my chest, and she licks my nipple again. Her fingers trace my ribs, just the right touch to ignite my nerve endings, and I take advantage of having my hands free to grip her hips and press her down hard on my aching cock. I’m so hard I can feel my balls aching in the pit of my gut.

“Oh,” she whispers. “That’s really impressive.”

Just when I thought I couldn’t possibly get any harder.

Her fingers dance a trail down my abs, swirling and dipping, and she follows them with her tongue. She slides off my hips—fuck me, I need to feel her now—and she makes quick work of popping my button. As soon as she slides down the zipper, my cock springs almost free.

Fucking boxer briefs.

She traces the outline of my dick through the thin cotton.

“Christ, Parker,” I gasp.

But she’s not done. Oh, no.

The devious wench bends down and presses a kiss to my cock.

I jerk so hard I almost come in my shorts.

“Wow,” she whispers. “I mean, I saw your loincloth, but how did this fit in it?” She peels the fabric back, cool air hits my shaft, it springs up tall and proud and begs her to touch.

God bless her, she does.

She grips me at the base and strokes her fist up, igniting every single nerve ending in my body and a few cosmic nerve endings I didn’t know I had. I thrust into her grip, helpless to stop myself. I need to stop her. I need to stop her before I lose all control and blow my load. “Parker—”

She dips her head and swirls her tongue around my tip, and oh fuck fuck FUCK, I’m gonna come.

I grip her wrist. “You,” I rasp. “In you now.”

She licks me again—holy fuck, that tongue, sliding up the ridge under my cock to the tip and making me jerk hard against her mouth—and tilts a coy smile at me. “I just got started.”

“Parker, I fucking need to be in you now, or this is gonna be all over in two seconds.”

She eyes me. Then my dick. “Can I blow you later?”

“Fuck, yes.”

“Okay.”

Before I can move, she shimmies up my body, spreads her legs, and slides her pussy over my cock. She’s wet and hot and tight, so fucking tight, squeezing around me from the tip down, and— “Condom,” I gasp.

“Don’t—wanna—let—go,” she moans as she sinks all the way down, taking me fully in to her slick heat, and fuck me, I don’t want to let go either.

“Parker—”

With a groan, she lifts her hips. I twist to grab my wallet, my rocket brushes her pussy, and she groans again. “Hurry.”

I do my best, and she helps, the two of us tangling together to grab the protection, tear the packet, and roll it down me. Her fingers are nimble and quick and jerky, and finally, finally, I’m kissing her and pushing her onto her back and sliding home.

She moans into my mouth and jerks her hips against mine. I thrust into her hot, tight little channel, her inner walls squeezing and gripping me, and roll my pelvis against her clit. I don’t want the fucking condom. I want to feel her, skin on skin, her heat, her wetness, her silk. I want to leave a part of me inside her. I want to know that she’s mine, that she’ll always be mine, that no one else will ever touch her again.

That she’ll never be unhappy again.

Never be unsatisfied again.

She pumps her hips up into mine. “Oh, god, Knox, I’m coming, I’m coming!”

She clenches around my cock, hard and fast, while she tips her head back and screams my name. I drive into her, slide my hand between our bodies to flick her clit, and she pulses harder around me. My vision shatters, my heart swells, and I explode from somewhere deep, deep inside me, the orgasm rocking me to my core. Her sweet pussy spasms and grips me until I’ve come so hard I can’t remember my name. Or my home planet, anything but Parker Elliott and her cries and her fingers in my hair and that explosive release that I can feel all the way from my numb fingertips to my curled toes.

I collapse on top of her. “Holy fuck, Parker,” I pant.

“Ohmygod.” She’s still twitching around me, aftershocks that shoot my sensitive nerve endings into hyperdrive.

There’s no fucking way I can get it up again.

I’m not Superman.

But my cock has other ideas, and it’s already getting hard.

I blame Parker.

She’s too fucking sexy for her own good. I want her. I need her. Now. Tonight. Tomorrow. Under me. Over me. Doggie style. In the shower. Everything.

She’s still breathing heavy, her hands curling into my hair as she wraps her arms around me. “I thought it was a myth.”

I press a kiss to her collarbone, pull almost all the way out, and slide back in. “Myth this, kitten.”

She tips her head back and laughs, squeezing my dick with her core. She thrusts her hips against mine, and I go light-headed.

“And I thought my fantasies were pretty damn good,” she whispers.

“Fantasies?”

She goes utterly still.

I lift my head and catch the wide-eyed, whoops blush creeping over her cheeks. I give my over-sensitive cock another thrust into her too-tight pussy, and we both gasp.

“Tell me about your fantasies,” I say.

“I didn’t know it was you.”

I’m getting hard as granite here. “You touched yourself and thought about me?”

She doesn’t answer. Instead, she grips my hair and plants a hard, wet, desperate kiss on my mouth, and we set out to see just how many myths and fantasies we can bust tonight.