Chapter 77 Kristen
He didn’t pull away. I expected him to. I thought maybe he’d shove me back and walk out or tell me I was out of my mind for what I’d done under that table. But he didn’t. He kissed me.
The second his mouth pressed to mine, I felt everything in me break and reform. There was no hesitation in him now. His lips opened over mine, his tongue sliding against mine with a hunger that stole every word I might have said. I clung to his shoulders, trying not to shake. My knees still felt like jelly from earlier, my thighs weak and slick and unsteady.
He kissed like someone who wanted to own the air between us. I couldn’t breathe without it being his. I didn’t want to.
His hands moved down my back, strong and steady, each pass deliberate, like he was marking the path. His fingers splayed just above the curve of my ass and pulled me flush against him, and I felt the full shape of his cock still thick and hard under the fabric of his pants. I gasped into his mouth, but I didn’t stop.
He started walking me backward.
I let him.
Every step made my breath catch, and every inch he took made something deeper in me give way. My thighs bumped the edge of the table. He didn’t stop. He just kissed me harder and lifted me onto the polished surface like I weighed nothing.
The wood was cold beneath me, but I barely registered it. His mouth was warm. His body pressed between my legs, heat radiating from him in waves. I wanted to cry and bite and beg and stay completely silent all at once.
His lips brushed against mine, breath mixing with mine, voice low enough that it buzzed against my tongue.
“Don’t move. I want to see all of you.”
I couldn’t speak. I just nodded.
He stepped back a little, just enough to get space, and slid his hands beneath the hem of my hoodie. I lifted my arms without thinking. My skin tingled where his fingers brushed. He pulled the hoodie over my head and tossed it somewhere behind him, then went for my shirt next. His hands didn’t rush. He wasn’t tearing at me. He peeled layers away like he was unwrapping something precious.
When my shirt cleared my head and dropped beside the hoodie, I felt the air hit my skin and froze.
His eyes roamed over me. Not greedily. Not cruelly. But completely.
I felt small and huge at the same time. My arms moved to cover my chest out of instinct. He touched my wrist gently and pulled it down.
Then he kissed me again.
Softer. Slower. Like he was easing me into my own body.
His mouth traveled from my lips to my jaw, then down the line of my neck. When he reached the base of my throat, I let out a sound I hadn’t meant to make. He worked the clasp of my bra like he’d done it a hundred times before, then let it slip down my arms.
I wanted to hide.
He wouldn’t let me.
He bent down and kissed my chest, then the curve of one breast, then lower, brushing the underside with his lips before sucking my nipple into his mouth.
I gasped so hard my vision blurred.
His tongue flicked softly, then circled, then flicked again. I tried to keep still, but my back arched without permission. He groaned softly against me like he liked the way I moved.
I wasn’t thinking anymore.
I let him guide me back onto my elbows. The wood under me was cool, grounding. He kissed down my stomach, hands sliding to the waistband of my leggings. He paused and looked up at me.
“Lift.”
I did.
He pulled my pants down in slow movements, dragging my underwear with them. I felt the fabric slip down my thighs, my knees, my ankles. I heard it hit the floor.
Then he looked at me again.
I couldn’t breathe.
“This is what you’ve been wanting, isn’t it?”
I should have answered.
But then he knelt between my legs, and everything in my body lit up at once.
His mouth touched me like he knew exactly how long I’d been waiting. His tongue ran flat over me, slow and steady, and my hands flew back to grip the edge of the table.
The first full suck on my clit made my hips jerk.
He pressed my thighs open and held me still.
The sensation was so sharp, so thick, I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t even moan properly. My throat made broken, desperate sounds while his mouth worked me open. He licked and sucked, switched angles, teased and flicked and circled until I didn’t know where I was.
I clutched at his hair.
He murmured into my skin, low filth wrapped in velvet.
“You taste like fucking sin.”
That nearly sent me over the edge by itself.
I tried to hold back, I really did, but he slid two fingers into me at the same time he sucked down and I came so hard I lost control of my body. My legs locked around his shoulders. My hips bucked. My voice cracked on a moan I couldn’t stop. I spilled onto his mouth and hands and he kept going, drawing it out until I was twitching and raw and gasping.
When he finally stood up, I could barely see him. My vision was hot and watery and buzzing at the edges. My chest rose and fell like I’d run a mile.
I reached for him.
I had to give him something back. I needed to.
My hands found his waistband. I fumbled with the button, the zipper, shoved down his jeans, then his briefs. His cock sprang free and I stared for a second.
He was thick. Heavy. Flushed dark at the tip, already leaking. I didn’t hesitate.
I took him into my mouth.
His breath hitched instantly. His hands went back to the table behind me, bracing. I set a rhythm, slow and deep, letting him slide across my tongue, feeling every vein, every twitch.
He tasted like sweat and skin and something I wanted more of.
I worked him the way he’d done me. I listened to every groan, every soft curse, every stutter in his breath. I licked under the head. I hollowed my cheeks. I swallowed him down again and again.
“Is this what you’ve been thinking about for weeks?” he said, his voice ragged. “You like my cock that much?”
I moaned around him.
His hips stuttered forward. He was close. I could feel it.
He stopped me.
His hands tugged me upward. I barely had time to breathe before he flipped me back onto the table, grabbed my thighs, and pushed into me with one hard thrust.
I screamed.
He filled me in one perfect, devastating motion.
There was no pause.
He started moving, deep and slow, his breath warm against my cheek. His hips rolled into mine, stretching me, dragging against every spot that made my head spin. I clawed at his back, wrapped my legs around him, held him inside me.
“You needed this,” he grunted. “Someone to shut you up. Someone to fuck you right.”
I was shaking.
He adjusted his angle and hit something inside me that made me cry out. Again. Then again. My body couldn’t keep up. He fucked me like he was trying to wipe everything else away. I wanted him to.
He kissed me while he fucked me. Our mouths never left each other long. Every thrust rocked me. Every groan made me wetter.
He was everywhere.
The table creaked beneath us.
His hand slid up my side, then gripped my throat—not tight, just enough to hold me there while he slammed into me. I came again before I could stop it. This time I screamed his name and begged for more.
He lost control.
His rhythm got rough. Faster. His voice broke.
“Keep clenching. Fuck. Kristen. Don’t stop.”
I didn’t.
He groaned into my neck and came inside me, body jerking, cock pulsing hard. I could feel the heat of it, the rawness. His arms locked around me, holding me so tight it hurt.
We didn’t speak.
We stayed tangled, breath mingled, sweat cooling between us. His weight kept me grounded. I stared at the ceiling.
His cock softened inside me. I didn’t want him to move.
The room ticked with the sound of the clock.
I turned my head and looked at him.
“Think it’s time you start to tell me the truth yet?”
He didn’t answer.
He stared at the ceiling, his chest still rising and falling. He looked like someone who had finally broken.
After a moment, he exhaled through his nose, slow and long.
“I think so.”
I didn’t smile.
I just watched him.
Waiting.