Page 53 of When Sinners Fear
“Don’t look, Peyton. You’ve seen them all before. Eyes up here.” He points to his eyes, and I stare up at him, happy to be pulled away from the edge of my own thoughts.
Despite everything we’ve done together, this feels new and uncharted, and I like it. His stare is as focussed as ever and sends a blanket of shivers over my skin. Instead of rush and pain, he’s slower but still insistent with his movements and touch. His lips on my collarbone, his fingers around my ribs. Softer, quieter than before despite his fervour.
I’m not quivering or nervous but filled with anticipation – this is what the first time should have been, and this is what I’ll re-write that memory with.
He stops his trail of attention and sits up, first yanking the belt free from his jeans before standing to shove them down, taking his underwear with him. He’s already hard, his penis jutting out toward me. A little gasp escapes my throat as I take in the vision, but then I look down at me, and rush to push my jeans off.
He leans over to the nightstand and pulls a packet of condoms out, rolling one over his engorged tip.
I bite my lip and think about what’s still in the drawer in my room. My eyes close and I turn my head to the side.
“No. Don’t do that. You wanted this – you pushed me – so you’re staying here with me. You feel everything I give to you. Here. In this room, nowhere else. Understand?”
I nod, and he lies down next to me and guides his hand to the apex of my thighs. With expert ease, he slips inside of me and curls his fingers. I hiss at first, trying to get past the sharp pain that comes with the intrusion, but then he smooths a spot that makes me want to beg him never to stop. It didn’t feel like that before, and I feel a rush out of my control, like my body’s taking over.
“Here with me.” He uses his fingers to punctuate his command. “Tell me again, Peyton. Are you here with me?”
“Yes! God, yes.”
There’s no pain. There’s no tension or discomfort. It’s hot and makes my body want to act – spreading my legs, arching my back.
“Good. I don’t want you holding back. I want to savour you this time.”
He pulls his finger out and spreads my legs further before positioning himself between my legs. His hand holds the base of his shaft and pushes inside of me hard. It takes my breath away, and I wait, anxious for the sting or bolt of pain to come, but there’s none.
“Good girl.” He pulls my hips toward him, and my legs wrap around his waist as he pulls back before driving back in. Over and over, he pushes in and out, building speed and depth. The buzzing sensation in the shadows, held at bay by the cruel circumstances and treatment, is free to fly now, and it does.
His movements grow more insistent and purposeful, drawing back before surging forward, and every time, the friction warms and heats my body and has me desperate for more. “You feel so fucking good,” he urges, groaning again. “So tight.” My lips whisper words I’m not sure I’m cognisant of in reply, but the grunt from Knox tells me that maybe he heard. The pressure in his fingers increases on my ass, and my body relaxes, only wanting more of his attention.
Little gasps and pleads escape me in time to his movements.
“Are you going to come for me?” His words are deep and thick with need.
I know the concept, but nobody has ever made me orgasm, but I can feel the pull in my body, the climb and build.
“Yes, yes…” I answer, not sure but frantic to please him. But just as I can feel some kind of tension spread through my limbs, he stops.
My eyes fly open, and I look up at him, confused and forlorn at the same time. His smile is wicked and full of intent, which reduces the panic now rising from my stomach.
He pulls out, leans down, and ravages my mouth with his lips, stealing my breath and wiping my mind of any thought other than him before rolling me over to my front and grabbing my hips. I’ve been in this position before, back there when we weren’t like this, and a part of me fights against it. I can’t see him – I can’t get lost in him. He could be… “Knox, no… I need to see you. I need to know it’s you,” I startle, panic-stricken.
“Shhh,” he calms, running his hand around my torso and pulling me against his body. “I’ve got you.” His lips run over my shoulder and up my neck, but as he presses into me again, it doesn’t feel right. It’s not right.
“No. Not like this.” I pull away as best I can.
Before I know what’s happened, his hands pull me, we twist, roll, and somehow he’s beneath me, and I’m straddling him.
“Show me how much you want me, Peyton.” He stares at me, and that connection, that tie between us sparks to life again, making my stomach ache and my body throb.
I rise up on my knees, and he holds the base of his cock as I position myself and slide down over it. His chest rises, and I see the tension in his jaw as I make sure he’s in as deep as I can take him. I can stay present this way – watching him and keeping us in his room and in his bed.
The throbbing intensifies as I pause for a second, but my body wants to move – my hips want to rock, so I start undulating back and forth slowly, learning what makes me feel good. Before long, I’m rocking faster, more urgent and frantic with my moves. My heart is beating, and my chest is heaving for air I’m desperate for. The out-of-control feeling is back; I’m impatient and needy for whatever I'm working towards.
“Fuck… keep going, Peyton.” His hands anchor my hips to him as I tilt forward and hold his shoulders. He guides forcefully, angling me as I pull him back against me and search for more friction.
“Yes… Knox, oh, God… I feel like I’m going to explode.”
“That’s it, baby. That’s what you want. Don’t stop. Fuck!”