Broken Knight (All Saints High, #2)(63)

“Not so fast.” I held up a hand. She stopped at the threshold, turning around to me.

“Your tit—” I pointed at her nightgown-covered chest. “—and I have a date. Now, I have no actual preference for which tit you’re giving me, but I drank two teas and that broth that tasted like sewer water. I think that qualifies for something.”

“For what?” She crossed her arms across her chest, raising an eyebrow.

“Sucking your nipple.”

“Dream on.”

“Dreams are just our reality on hold, Moonshine.”

Hesitating, she peeked into the hallway, then closed the door behind her, locking it for good measure. I crooked a finger in her direction, coaxing her to come closer to the edge of the bed, where I sat. She took measured, careful steps, stopping about a foot from me. I could hear her heart beating. Or maybe it was mine.

Silently, she slipped off the straps of her nightgown, letting it slide down her thighs. Her body was glorious. Curvy everywhere, with a flat stomach and wide hips. I leaned forward and reached for her, hooking my arm around her lower back and jerking her to me. Her abs were in my face. I looked up at her. She was breathing fast and heavy.

“How far can I take this?” I murmured into her navel, my tongue playing peekaboo and darting into it for a delicious stroke. Her throat bobbed.

Beat.

Beat.

Beat.

“Well, you won,” she finally groused.

Fuck yes, I did.

Tentatively, I pressed my hot, pierced tongue over her hipbone, slowly dragging it up her stomach. She shivered and tried to pull back, but my hands slid from her lower back to her ass, cupping it to keep her pressed against my face.

When I reached her breasts, I traced the outline of her right tit with my tongue before pressing my piercing to her nipple and playing with it, sucking and tugging with my teeth.

“Ah,” she shuddered against my face, and I hungrily swirled my tongue around her puckered nipple, again and again, until her thighs shook and clenched.

“Knight,” my name fell off her lips like a broken prayer.

She yanked my hair. I was still sick, my head still pounding like a drum, but I could be in the middle of open-heart surgery and still suck her nipples like it was my job.

Her sweet cunt taunted me, and I moved to tease her other nipple, sucking on it hard and slow, building pressure, wondering if I could get away with more. She was moaning, raking her fingers over my hair and back, when I started rubbing her ass cheek with my thumb, back and forth, casually moving my hand to the front. It took me a few minutes to gather up the courage to dip my hand between her thighs and press it against her panty-covered pussy. Even though I still worked her nipples, I held my breath, knowing she was going to shoo me away in a second.

Only…she didn’t.

Her thighs opened up for me in silent approval, and I fell backward to the bed, taking her with me. I kissed her everywhere but her mouth—not because I didn’t want to devour her, but because I was sick. I still had my hand between her legs possessively, even though I didn’t exactly do anything about it yet. I just didn’t want to retreat. It was a parking space in downtown LA. I’d worked hard for this spot.

Moonshine was on top of me, tilting her head to the side and letting me kiss her neck, shoulders, and tits, when I figured out the best way to get my fingers in her cunt would be to flip us over. So I did. Now I was on top. I shoved my big palm into her small panties, dipped one finger into her pussy, and it was so wet and warm, I wanted to die inside it.

“You’re dripping,” I breathed. It almost sounded like a cry.

She bucked her hips toward my hand, and I started fingering her, my dick pulsating against my briefs with every kiss and thrust.

I had Luna Rexroth in my bed. Well, technically, her bed. My fingers inside her pussy. Hot and sticky. Naked, save for the panties, which I nudged aside. The unlikely scene barely even registered, even before she did the unthinkable.

She put her hand on my dick through my briefs, curling her fingers around it.

“Please don’t do that,” I groaned into her neck, rubbing her clit with my thumb faster and faster. I was pretty darn proud of myself for finding the clit right from the get-go, seeing as how I’d never fingered a chick. I felt the little nub, and went to town on it. All the shit I knew about sex, I’d learned from porn, so I knew the clit was the end game, and that torturing her with fingering was stage one in chain-orgasms-landia. I did it all by the book. I was a good student, but I had no experience to think of, because I’d been waiting for her.

Only she hadn’t waited for me.

Nope. Your brain’s not gonna go there right now, asshole.

“Why not? Am I doing it wrong?” she half-moaned, half-pleaded.

A lot of football groupies begged for my cock, but it always sounded needy and annoying. It felt like a song coming from Luna’s mouth. Not a shitty song. Not something by Katy Perry. A classic. Dare I say it? An Elvis Costello song.

“Everything you do is perfect, Moonshine, but I don’t wanna come in my briefs .”

“Why not? Is it bad?”

I shook my head, sucking on her nipple. We were so inexperienced. So clueless. This. This was what I wanted. To figure it all out together. And even though I had the notion that coming in my pants was not the studliest trick in the book, I couldn’t hold back.