Silas

I didn't want to think about what had gone between us, all that had been lost.

 

When Silas pulled himself away from me, yanked me away from his lips by my hair, he drew in a sharp breath and opened his mouth.

 

I interrupted him, afraid he was going to say something else I didn't want to think about. "I don't want to fucking talk anymore," I said.

 

"Then you should shut the hell up," he said, yanking my hair harder, angling my face up toward his. But his voice was finally light, teasing. "Maybe you should find a better use for that smart ass mouth of yours."

 

He kissed me again, hard like before, and I groaned, pressing my body against his. I could feel his hardness, and I wanted him naked and inside me, the need urgent. But I pushed my hand against his chest, breaking the kiss.

 

"Maybe I should," I said. "Do you have any suggestions?"

 

Silas made a low sound in his throat, letting go of my hair. "I can think of a few things," he said.

 

Grasping the edges of his shirt, I pulled it up on the sides. He yanked it over his head, tossing it to the floor behind him. Running my hands over his chest, I let my fingers play across the expanse. I closed my eyes for a moment, recalling how he felt under my fingertips when we were seventeen, back when I used to sneak away from my parents and run off with him to hide, making love whenever we could find a place to be alone.

 

I fumbled with the button on his jeans, my movements clumsy, overcome with the anticipation of being with him. "Yeah?" I asked. "What kind of things?"

 

Silas' blue eyes were darkened with lust. He stepped away from me, and I watched as he kicked off his shoes, let his jeans drop to the floor, and slid them across the carpet. His muscles rippled with every movement, and I felt my heart race.

 

God, he is still so fucking beautiful. There was no other way of putting it. He was harder now than he had been when I loved him before, both physically and otherwise.

 

Jaded. Angry.

 

It made me want him more.

 

Reaching for the waistband of his boxers, I pulled them down, releasing his erection. "Well?" I asked. "What would you rather I did with my mouth?"

 

Silas gripped my arms, pulled me against his nakedness as he stepped out of the last stitch of clothing he wore. His forehead pressed against mine, he spoke close to my mouth. "You can get down on your knees and wrap that sweet, sassy little mouth of yours around my cock."

 

I inhaled sharply, and he kissed me, gently this time, his tongue teasing me. Running my hands over his hard chest and down his muscled abdomen, I sunk to my knees between his legs, his cock in front of me.

 

Moving my hands up his thighs, I paused, my mouth an inch away from him, and looked up. "Is this what you wanted?"

 

"Shit, Tempest," he said, his voice gravely as he threaded his hands through my hair. "You know I do. You need to stop fucking talking."

 

I laughed. "You're bossier than you used to be."

 

Silas gripped my hair, and my body responded immediately, the throbbing between my legs more insistent now. "You're mouthier than I remembered," he said.

 

"You have no idea," I said, wrapping my hand around the base of his dick and guiding it toward my mouth. I touched his tip to my tongue, tasting the saltiness of his pre-cum where it dripped from his head.

 

Silas groaned. "Fuck, Tempest."

 

"I haven't even gotten started," I said, licking the length of him before I took him in my mouth. Moving my hand up and down his cock, I began to suck him, harder as I worked.

 

He was silent, his eyes half-closed, until I cupped his balls in my hand and rubbed the sensitive area under them. Then, they fluttered open and he looked at me with hooded eyes. "You keep doing what you're doing, bright eyes, and you're going to make me come right in that sassy little mouth of yours."

 

I paused at the use of his nickname for me.

 

No one had called me that in years.

 

Suddenly overwhelmed with emotions I couldn’t explain, I pulled back from him.

 

Silas looked down at me. “Fuck, you think I didn’t remember?”

 

“I don’t know.” I thought I’d forgotten. Or I’d tried to put it out of my head, the same way I’d half-heartedly tried to forget everything else about him.

 

He pulled me to my feet and drew me against him. "I couldn’t forget,” he said, then softly hummed a few bars of the song, the words I’d memorized a long time ago, this song about seeing someone for the first time. It was playing in this coffee shop where we’d gone on our first official date - First Day of My Life. Sitting across from him, nervous in the awkward silence, I'd said I liked the words; the band was Bright Eyes, and the nickname had stuck, just between us.

 

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