Page 58 of Pick Me
Every single way Knox touched me was the very best way. I was hard and aching for him. Maintaining my patience while his fingers began slipping inside me was impossible.
So I began low-key begging.
“’S good. M’ fine. Go ahead. Mmhm.”
“Too tight,” he said before nipping at the tender skin of my neck. “Let me do this.”
I was on the verge of snapping at him to get on with it when his finger brushed against my gland and lit me up like Dale Jennings’s New Year’s waterside fireworks display.
“Ohfuckingfuck,” I squeaked. “Fuck. Again.”
His fingers were magic-makers. They moved in and out of me, stretching and rubbing all the right places until I finally grabbed his arm in a tight grip and barked. “Fuck me, Sunday.”
Knox bit his lip against a smile and hurried to slide the condom on. When he finally slid into my body, I let out a long, loud groan. “Fucking finally. Oh God.”
He was thick enough to stretch me even more than his fingers had, and I loved every minute of feeling filled up with Knox’s dick. My fingers tightened on his shoulders as if I was scared he’d leave before finishing.
“Y’okay, baby?”
I opened my eyes wider to focus on him. Knox’s forehead was wrinkled with concern, and tendons stood out in his neck from holding himself back.
He was so damned sweet. Always looking out for others… forme.
I bit my lip and nodded.
And then he began thrusting in and out of me, slowly at first and then faster as I returned to shameless begging. The tip of my dick leaked into my happy trail, leaving sticky lines every time he hit my gland and made my cock jump.
We were a sweaty, panting, humping mess, and I realized I was probably going to pass out when I came. Sex with Knox was too good, the kind of encounter that would inevitably ruin me for other hookups in the future.
Damn Knox Sunday for fucking me better than anyone else ever could. All I’d wanted was a good dicking, not this kind of crazy-ass bar-raising sex.
That’s what I got for fucking a high achiever.
“Knox,” I whimpered when I felt like I couldn’t take it anymore. I was on the knife’s edge of my release, and my brain was buzzy.
His mouth found mine again in an aggressive, possessive kiss while his hand reached for my cock to stroke it. It was all I needed to let go.
The deep jangle shot down my spine and into my balls, arching my entire body as my release took over. The sound of Knox’s shout filled the space around us as he thrust a few final times into me.
The warm fluid of my release landed on my chest and stomach, and he slowed his strokes to finish me off. I relaxed into a languid puddle, barely noticing the sheets that had come partway undone from the corners of the bed and the condom wrapper that had gotten stuck to the back of my shoulder.
But I wasn’t too far gone to notice Knox’s intense gaze on me. It was part shock and part confusion, as if he was suddenly seeing something strange and unexpected.
Or maybe I had it all wrong and it was something more depressing.
Like regret.
I refused to consider it right then. Nothing was going to burst my damned orgasm bubble while I still lay in the glorious afterglow of the best release ever.
As long as Knox would allow it—and, quite frankly, even if he didn’t—I was going to snuggle the shit out of him and sleep plastered against him like the rogue condom wrapper on my shoulder.
Because that was some epic shit, and I was going to enjoy every minute of it until the grumpy bastard kicked me out of his bed.
Chapter Ten
Knox
I’d given up on the concept of a good night’s sleep as it applied to me long before the panic attacks had ever started. I’d thought I’d made my peace with it. I told myself I enjoyed waking up in time to watch the moonlight shine in my bedroom window back in the city or to get a jump start on the barn chores at the orchard. When I got a five-hour rest, I considered it a little bit of a miracle.
