Page 26 of On His Knees
Obeying, I push off the wall, and he drops a soft gentle kiss onto my mouth, a kiss so tender and sweet, it takes me by surprise. Why would he kiss me like that? I have no idea why, but I have no time to think about that, because he’s turning me around to face the shelf. His big hand grips the back of my neck, and he bends me over the long, wide ledge. I slide my hands along it and grip the rough back edge of the wooden board to hang on.
“I want you like this,” he says, and runs his hands down my spine, until he reaches my backside. He squeezes slightly, his thick cock hitting my soaked inner thighs. He backs away for a second, and I go completely still, listen to the rustle of clothes. A moment later, the sound of foil being ripped fills the quiet.
Please hurry...
Restless, I wiggle my hips, but stop when he grips them. One foot goes between mine, gives a little nudge to widen them. I spread my legs, never more open to anyone than I am in this moment. My body is on fire, and if he doesn’t enter me soon, I might shatter to a million little pieces.
His cock centers on my opening—finally—and in one hard thrust, he’s inside me, fucking me with an urgency that makes our sex that much dirtier, darker—intense.
“You feel so good,” he murmurs, and leans forward to press a kiss to the back of my neck.
“So good,” I repeat, as his voice seeps under my skin and into my brain, until I hear and feel nothing but him. My God, this man is in my head, and in my body, doing such incredible things to me, I’m not sure whether I want to cry or laugh.
His body smacks mine, driving me harder against the shelves. Each hard thrust destroys me a little more, and before I know it my arousal peaks, and I’m coming all around his cock.
“Oh Jesus, Summer. I feel you.”
He thrusts once, twice, then stills inside me. I hold my breath, my muscles squeezing around him as he climaxes.
“Tate,” I murmur.
“You feel me. You feel me coming inside you?”
“Yes,” I cry out, wishing we had no barriers so I could have all his cum inside me. He falls over me, presses hot kisses to my neck, his breathing fast and labored. Then he’s laughing, the sound doing crazy things to me again.
I chuckle with him, even though I’m not sure why or what we’re laughing at. Maybe it was just the intensity of the moment that’s messing with us both. He stands, lifts me and turns me around to face him.
“Summer,” he murmurs, and cups my chin, the gesture so sweet and tender, my pulse beats triple time. His finger sweeps my jawline, and his mouth is back on mine, kissing me softly this time. “That was—”
“Fun,” I say between his kisses.
“Yeah,” he whispers. “Are you okay?”
“I’m not sure I’d use the word okay,” I say, and we both begin to laugh again. He rests his forehead against mine.
“I might have been a little rough.” He puts one hand between my legs and strokes me gently, as if to ease the sting his cock left behind.
“And I might have loved it.”
His laugh dies down as footsteps walk by the closet again. “That was insane,” he says, his breaths slowly returning to normal. “We need to get you dressed.” He holds me to him. “Will you be okay if I let you go?”
I hold the shelving unit, and appreciate his concern. “I’ll be okay,” I say.
“I need to find something to clean you up. Is it okay if I flick the light on?”
“It’s okay,” I whisper.
The light flicks on and we both wince. “Damn,” he says, as he turns to me. “Summer,” he says again, and steps into me, to drop a soft, barely there kiss on my lips. The contradiction of wild Tate and tender Tate messes with my brain...and my heart. I pinch my eyes shut, and try to clear both.
I just seduced the man out of his pants in the storage room. This is simply sex, Summer. Don’t ever forget that. There was a time in the past I thought a boy wanted something more, and that turned out to be disastrous.
He backs up, searches the shelves until he finds some napkins. He softens them by rubbing them through his fingers, and slides his hand between my thighs. He wipes me clean, tosses the paper into the trash and reaches for my jeans and panties.
“Lift,” he says, tapping my leg.
“I can dress myself,” I murmur.
He grins up at me, and my heart flutters. “I know, but I tore them off you, so I’m putting them back on.” He drags my panties to my hips, and then follows with my jeans.