Things We Left Behind (Knockemout, #3)

“Lucian,” she begged.

“Baby, open for me. Let me taste you.”

Her eager compliance went straight to my head and my aching dick. She relaxed her thighs, letting her knees fall open on my shoulders.

Apparently the only way I could get Sloane Walton to do what I wanted was by keeping her on the brink of orgasm.

“Don’t make me regret this,” she hissed. She had her hands over her eyes so she didn’t see the fiendish smile as I pushed my fingers inside her. Her body responded immediately, heels digging into my back, thighs tensing, smooth stomach tightening. Those perfect, full breasts hitched as her bare lips formed an enticing O.

“Relax,” I urged, crooking my fingers in her wet channel.

A soft cry escaped her, and the tension slowly began to leave her legs again.

I took the opportunity offered and dove between her legs. My tongue laved the hard bud of her clitoris as I pumped my fingers into her precious little cunt.

She’d gone rigid again, but it didn’t matter, because I had access to everything I needed. I plundered with my mouth, stroking and teasing her while I worked my fingers in and out. She was writhing beneath me, her nails digging into my biceps as I held her still.

I couldn’t get enough of her flavor. I wanted to taste her as she came. I wanted to sample the flavor of her surrender.

“Come for me,” I growled against her sex.

She let out a whimper and squirmed against my grip. “I don’t want this to be over.”

She didn’t know what she was saying. She didn’t mean it, I told myself. I’d just pushed her past the point where she could comfortably insult me while I fucked her. I’d pushed us both too far.

“What are you saying?” I demanded without slowing the rhythm of my fingers.

“Wh-what if I don’t want it to be the last time?”

Something big and bright lodged itself in my chest. “Then I’ll just keep making you come until we’re tired of it.” I didn’t know if it was a promise or a threat, but I meant it.

“Are you just saying that? Are you fucking with me right now?”

“I’m not fucking with you. I’m fucking you,” I pointed out.

Her hands fisted against the cushion. “Oh God, I can’t fight it.”

“Don’t you dare fucking fight it.” To ensure she couldn’t, I added a third finger to her tight sheath and spread the lips of her sex with my opposite hand. My tongue found her swollen clit with laser-like precision.

She screamed my name as her body tensed. My balls tightened and my cock jutted out as the pressure built to painful heights. And then she was coming, her beautiful body using my mouth and fingers to steal every ounce of pleasure she craved. She came apart on me, and I could taste the glory of her release.

I wanted her to say my name again. I wanted to hear that broken hitch in her husky voice.

But she went limp under me as if her body were melting wax.

“You okay?” I asked, hovering over her.

“Nope. Never be okay again.”

“Baby.” I gave her a little shake.

She opened one mischievous green eye and arched her eyebrow. “My turn.”

I had to give her credit for taking me by surprise. She had her hand on my erection before I realized she wasn’t about to faint.

It was so sudden I almost came in her hand.

I gripped her wrist and could feel the pulse of my own cock. “No,” I said.

“You went down on me twice now. I get to go down on you,” she insisted.

“No,” I said again.

“Why not?” Her hand tightened wickedly on my shaft.

To distract her and give myself what I needed, I turned her around and placed her on her knees on the floor in front of the couch. “Because you’re going to be too busy getting fucked,” I told her as I pushed her head and shoulders down flat on the cushion. I knelt behind her, spread her legs, and adjusted her hips until the crown of my cock was aligned with her weeping sex.

Just the barest brushes of that hot, tight little heaven that awaited me had me reaching for every iota of control.

“Please, Lucian!”

There it was. My name from her lips. Begging me to give her something only I could. I bucked forward, seating my entire shaft to the root inside her in one thrust.

Her scream was muffled by the cushion. I ran my hands up her spine, over her shoulders, and down her arms while I waited to regain control.

“Hang on tight, baby,” I warned.

I eased out and then used her hips to fuck my way back into her.

Her pussy convulsed around me when I hit that secret spot. Jesus, how could she be ready to come again? Her body was a fucking miracle. My fucking miracle.

I slid my palms up to cup the heavy weight of her tits and used them for leverage as I began to thrust.

I squeezed those full, perfect breasts as I fucked into her tight, wet pussy.

“Oh my God,” she chanted.

She was ready to come. All she needed was a little bit of pressure in exactly the right spot. I fucking loved being in charge of her pleasure. Deciding when and how. It was headier than any other achievement of my entire life.

I folded over her, adding my weight to her back and thrusting harder, deeper. I released one breast and brought that hand between her legs.

She went rigid under me. “Lucian, I—”

“Such a good girl,” I praised. “You’re so wet for my cock, aren’t you?”

“What I want is that magical dick of yours in my mouth,” she said, sounding adorably disgruntled.

I found her clit just as I gave her nipple a hard tug and buried my cock to the hilt, angling my hips up, up, up. She could do nothing but take what I was giving her, and it went to my head, my balls, my fucking heart.

“Come for me, Pix. Come on my cock so hard it hurts.”

“Yes, Lucian. Yes,” she cried brokenly.

Music to my fucking ears. And then she did exactly as I told her.

This time, when she fell apart, convulsing around my shaft, I didn’t fight the overwhelming urge to let go. I let her quivering pussy pull my release from me. I ejaculated fiercely, a scorching burst that I wished she could feel. Even as the next hot rope of come wrenched free and the next, I thought about how it would feel if there were no barriers between us.

“Lucian!” She squirmed against me, coming again, or still, as if my pleasure triggered her own.

“That’s my good girl,” I said as I emptied myself into her, imagining a life where she was mine and I was hers.





24


Grilled Cheese Peace Talks


Sloane




I’m not cuddling with you,” I murmured into Lucian’s neck. “I just can’t use my arms or legs.”

I was sprawled naked over the man’s godlike body, too many hours and orgasms beyond caring about anything except Lucian’s cock and the endless pleasure it gifted me.

He landed a stinging swat to my rear end.

“Ow.”

“My limbs still work,” he said smugly.

His limbs and the superhuman dick that was still semihard and wearing the last condom in my house.

I lifted my head and looked around. “Oh good. We made it upstairs to the bedroom finally.”

He pulled me back down, cradling me against his chest, but not before I caught a glimpse of an honest-to-God smile on the man’s beautiful face. I decided after the seven orgasms he’d delivered, I could let him have this moment.

Teenage Lucian had been affectionate, I recalled. He’d snuggled with me in this same bed, playing with my hair, stroking my arm or back. He’d submitted to all the hugs and back pats and shoulder squeezes from my parents with a rueful smile. Like he’d craved physical contact but didn’t want to let on.

My heart clenched for the boy who’d deserved so much more.

He stroked a hand through my hair, letting the strands fall against my back, and I felt my eyes go damp.

The panic was rising again.

That was what had propelled me out of my own hotel room after four orgasms and less than two hours of sleep. The realization that I was muddling the no-strings-attached present with the feelings of the past.

Neither of us was the same person we’d been back then. I couldn’t afford to let my feelings for teenage Lucian get tangled up in what was clearly just a physical thing.