Scandalized(15)
It’s so erotic I have to look away, up to his face and the lip-biting focus he has as he shifts closer, leaning so he’s there, right there, just the tip of him in and out. He drags his gaze up my body, and it stalls at my mouth. But I need all of him, deep, as far into me as he can possibly go. With both hands I pull at his hips, but he comes into me in tiny increments, an inch forward, an inch back, teeth still tightly trapping his candy bottom lip. His brows are a portrait of focus as he moves barely deeper and then away.
He whispers a guttural “Oh, shit” the next time he shifts forward.
It is an absolute torture, and when he tilts his head up in a tiny gesture of hard-won restraint, the light catches a hint of sweat on his upper lip.
I don’t know why it’s this tiny detail that ruins me.
“Please,” I say.
He drags his attention back to my face, and then groans, closing his eyes. “I can’t look at you or I’ll lose it. I don’t want this to end.”
I laugh out a tight, hysterical sound. “I might actually lose my mind.”
His laugh is breathless, disbelieving. “I know. Me too.”
How? How is it like this? Is it because we know this is the only time, and it isn’t worth hiding? I grip that truth as tightly as I can; imagining that this is something more meaningful will only lead me to a dead end.
“I want you deep.”
Alec lowers to his elbows beside my head, sliding his kiss-swollen mouth over mine. “I know you do.”
I bite his lip, reaching for his ass to pull him deeper but he’s still set on taking his time getting started and makes me wait. Still teasing. Barely in. Barely out.
I want it so much it’s nearly painful. Dragging my eyes open, I catch him gazing heavy-lidded and desire-drunk down at me. And then his eyes fall closed as he pushes his entire body forward, going so deep into me that his chest rises over my face, his hand grappling for the top of the mattress for leverage.
I leave my body. Or maybe I am more aware than I’ve ever been that I am just a bright collection of a billion nerve endings, a mass of tissue and bones made to feel this kind of pleasure. Crying out, I work my hips up as he works deeper and deeper in, in a slow grind that quickly grows frantic, almost wild. I’m so wet, so ready for it, that I come within only a handful of these perfect thrusts, gasping for air and sanity, sending my hands up his body and into his hair.
He lets out a laugh of triumph, of disbelief, before covering my mouth with his.
I’m kissing him with everything I have, like he’s my anchor to this room and this world, and for a flash I wonder if something terrible has happened to me and this is my heaven, my salvation: in this bed with this man over me, working his body in and in and in and in.
His breaths go from jagged to rhythmic to not just breaths but grunts and then louder, harsher moans, pressed right into my temple and delivered through gritted teeth. He’s so hard, so tense all over, I think he’s close, hear his sounds change to an abrupt, almost shocked cry—
but then he pulls himself all the way out—
a sharp, unexpected loss,
“Not yet,” he gasps tightly—
deftly rolling me to my stomach and lifting my hips to enter me from behind in a single perfect slide.
I scream into a pillow at the feel of him, and he laughs breathlessly, bending to press his sweaty forehead between my shoulder blades. “Holy shit, what is this sex?” he whispers. “Holy shit, Gigi.”
I laugh, too, biting the pillow as he starts to move long and deep, giving me all of him, from the tip to the base, his thighs pressing to mine before he leaves space between us, only to return again hard and then harder and then harder, hitting a place in me that makes me want to shred the sheets with my fingers.
His breaths turn to sounds again. Groans, another disbelieving, overwhelmed laugh, and I look over my shoulder at him, finding his head thrown back, face tilted to the ceiling in an expression of total fucking bliss.
And at least for a moment, every bit of damage Spence did to my heart and self-esteem is wiped away. How can I be unworthy of trust and transparency when a man like Alec can show me this so readily, so openly?
It isn’t just that it’s sex—like he said it’s this sex; it’s unreal, whatever this is. I’m going to need a few days to come down from it. I’m going to have to work to not think about this over and over. If Alec Kim told me he wanted something I’d never done before, I would give it to him without question. He could fuck me anywhere. Does he want me to crawl? I’d do it. I want to feel his relieved exhale against the back of my neck, the dig of his fingertips in my hips. I want to be depraved for him.
He looks down, angling his head to watch his body work in and out of me, but he catches my eyes over my shoulder and smiles wickedly—knowingly—with that obscene bottom lip trapped tightly between his teeth. Alec leans forward and I twist to meet his kiss, hot and messy; he sucks at my mouth, my chin, biting and roughly tugging before he straightens behind me.
“Come here,” he whispers, sitting back on his heels and pulling me backward onto his lap. Reaching up, he gathers my hair and slides it over my shoulder, exposing my neck to his mouth. He pushes up as I grind, and our bodies are so in sync I want to scream into the Seattle night sky how good this is, how it feels to have his hands come around me, one cupping my throat and the other between my legs, patiently coaxing another orgasm free. He holds me up when I start to collapse. It’s fucking, sure, but it’s not just fucking. Alec’s mouth opens on my neck and I feel his breath start to shake, feel how quiet focus turns into desperation, and he angles me down again, moving with such solid strokes I can do nothing but marvel at the beauty of his uninhibited unraveling. Behind me, he whispers “It’s good” and “God, so good” and that he’s close again and again and then gasps my name with increasingly tight strain until he curls his hands around my hips and shoves in deep, coming with a sharp cry.