Page 55 of When Sinners Fear
“Oh God,” she murmurs.
“Go down, Peyton.” She drops slowly, looking up at me through long, dripping lashes. My own hand moves, keeping hers clamped down so she understands how I like it. “Now put your mouth on the end; keep stroking.” She leans into me, mouth quivering a little until she tries licking at it gently. Instant pulses of pleasure shoot up my spine, and I groan again as she gets a little braver. “Yeah. Just like that. You’re not gonna hurt it, Peyton. Suck deep. I want it as far as you can take it.”
She shuffles forward and runs her other hand to the back of my thigh. It doesn't take long before she starts getting the idea, and I’m letting go of my dick to let her get on with it. She inches more of me inside her, twisting her mouth to get a better purchase on me.
My head tips back, hands bracing the wall over her. “You’re a sweet fucking girl.” I groan again and shove a little into her, letting her know I want more. “Such a good girl. Fuck.” She's eating me now, sucking and lapping, drawing me in and out of her like a pro. Her hand trails my leg, fingers gripping on like she’s not letting me get away from her, so I fuck a little harder. She shunts backwards until her back’s against the wall, and before long, I’m close to giving her everything I’ve got.
I look down at her under me, watching the way my dick slides in and out of her stretched-wide mouth. I’m mesmerised by that, just like I was last night when she was on top of me. I grunt and strain my fingers on the wall to keep them off her, because I’m damn sure she doesn't need that kind of handling despite my want for it. “You’re gonna swallow, Peyton. All of it. You understand?” I grunt again, shifting my hips as she looks up at me under her lashes. “You’re gonna swallow it all and then get up here and kiss me.” She nods around my dick, still pulling her lips back and forth. “Faster.” She speeds up and I start fucking her mouth rather than playing with it. She gags a few times but stays there like a good girl and deals with it. Takes everything in me to keep this as sweet as I can manage, and with her sucking and licking, I’m coming before I know what's happening. My ass tenses, my balls ache like fuck, and she’s moaning as I death grip the wall.
Watching every second of her swallowing ends up with me hauling her up and kissing the living hell out of her. I can taste myself on her, though, and my fingers bite into her back harder than they should. She whimpers instantly, and that draws me straight back to the cage and her screams.
My hands lift off her immediately, and I hover one at the back of her neck, eyes staring into hers. She looks surprised, terrified even, as she shakes. I should calm her down again, apologise even. That’s a fucking lie, though. I don’t apologise for taking what I want, and I sure as hell don't apologise for the way I like to fuck.
Frowning, and with no more words of praise spoken, I leave the shower to go get dressed. I’m too screwed by my own reactions around her to stay anymore. Work is what I need. The usual bullshit. Less care. More strategy and clarity.
I choose a suit for the first time and listen to her in the shower still, wondering what she might be thinking about that encounter. I shouldn’t care. I do.
Swiping my keys from the sideboard, I head for the main door. It isn’t until I get to it that I realise I haven’t told her I’m going. I stand, facing the door, and scowl at the thought of telling her anything. I don’t do this kinda crap. I live in the moments I’ve planned, and I never explain myself to anyone short of Abel when I have to.
I look along the corridor towards the stairs and my own suite. She’s still up there, possibly crying because of my actions in that shower. She shouldn’t be. She’s the only woman that’s ever been in my shower, let alone my bed. Which, while fucking confusing, has all been fulfilling in some way. She was the first thing I saw – the first thing I felt beside me. Her hand was on my chest, covering a burn, and one leg was draped over mine. I listened to her breathe calmly beside me, all the time thinking of the time we’d spent the night before. No thought about how best to hurt her for a show so she’d survive it. Clean sheets and soft furnishings. We were one, entwined – lips, tongues, fingers.
And she smelt so damn good. Still does.
“Fuck.”
I turn and head back towards her, dumping my keys again.
She’s sitting on the bed when I get there, her knees tucked up to her chest and a towel wrapped around her. I don't enter the room. Instead, I wait in the doorway.
“I’m going out.”
“Okay,” she whispers.
“You can stay, or I’ll take you home.” The latter of those options makes me fucking crazy for reasons unknown, which proves there's no sensible capacity for internal debate. “Choose. I don’t have time to hang around.”
“When will you be back?”
“Late. Eight at the earliest.”
She looks at the bed and around the room, like all this is uncomfortable for her. She’s right, it is. For both of us, actually. That shower wasn’t, though, and last night wasn’t either. It was natural and full of unquantifiable perfection.
“Do you want me to go?” she asks. My eyes narrow instantly at the question, pressure building given the subject of constant fucking confusion in my head. “Yes, of course you do,” she says, swinging her legs out of the bed.
“I don’t want you to go anywhere unless you want to.”
“You don’t?”
“No.”
“Okay. I’ll stay then.” I nod and turn in the doorway, ready to get on with my day. “It's safe here, right?”
“Yes. No one can get in but family.”
“Knox?” I stop and turn back again. “You’re sure you want me to stay?”
Sure? I’m not sure about a goddamned thing, lately. Still, a smile broadens on my face at her nerves, which is far more like the old version of me. “I’ll see you later. Don’t open the door to anyone unless I call the home line. And let that go to voicemail so you know it's me telling you to pick up.”
She puts her legs back under the sheets and smiles in response, lighting up the fucking gloom of my space. “Okay.”