Page 19 of Knot Yours

I look away then. A large hand wraps around my throat gently, and a single finger forces my face forward again. “How. Long?”

The stern rumble to his voice leaves no room for refusal to answer. “Four years since I was last touched. No one has ever loved me.”

Austin practically growls. “That changes tonight. And don’t worry, I’ll fit.”

Austin releases my throat, replacing his fingertips with his lips. Shocked by his words, I remain silent. That changes tonight. There’s no way he means… it’s impossible. He just means…

My thoughts trail off when I realize Austin’s mouth is journeying lower. All conscious thought flits away with the first swipe of his tongue up my bare chocha. Austin spreads my legs wider, locking my thighs down with his big hands when I arch off the bed.

The decadence of his mouth on such an intimate place threatens to unravel me. I’ve never known a touch like this. The profound bliss dashes against me like a ship caught in a storm. I’m powerless beneath his touch, unable to escape the overwhelming sensations.

My hips may now be held captive, but my unrestrained half thrashes around, seeking relief or release. I don’t recognize my voice or the nonsensical begging that spills from my lips. I’m a shameless mess, riding Austin’s mouth until my whole body draws up tight.

As I near orgasm, Austin slows his movements. Each stroke of his tongue takes me just to the edge without pushing me over. And each time I get close, the coming explosion looms larger and more threatening.

Minutes later, I’m panting, begging, and can barely get enough air in my lungs. “Austin, please. I can’t take it anymore.”

Austin spears me with his tongue and latches onto my clit, where he unleashes chaos. The firestorm he ignites consumes me until my consciousness is reduced to the explosive release stealing my breath.

I’m wrecked. Utterly spent. Austin’s strokes become tender caresses as I collapse, depleted. I drag in a haggard breath and watch with half-lidded eyes as Austin rises to his knees.

He wipes his glistening mouth, reaches for a condom he collected from somewhere, and rolls it on. I want to reach up and touch him, but I’m a boneless heap. “That was the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard,” he whispers.

“Which… part? Me screaming… like a banshee?”

He shakes his head. “My name falling from your lips like a prayer.”

Austin lowers his body over mine, feathering his lips over my eyes, cheeks, and mouth. “Before we do this, I need you to be sure, Marisol. This is moving way too fast, but I don’t care. I know me, though. Once I take you, I won’t let go. You’ll be mine. If you can’t handle that, handle me, I need you to say so now.”

My eyes fall. Can I do this to him? Subject him to my twisted life? I cup his cheek and find his eyes again. Austin’s hard length strains at my entrance, and I shift my body as if I could pull him inside, even knowing this might hurt. He holds, refusing to move until I give him the words. “I wish, for your sake, that I wasn’t so selfish. I want you, Austin. I want this.”

Austin’s eyes close briefly. His body sags in relief, but only for a moment. When those beautiful eyes open again, they’re blazing and trained on my face. Still poised at my entrance, he presses the tip inside.

Accepting his size is a struggle. I whimper, and Austin pulls out. “We don’t have to be in a hurry, Olowa. I’ll wait all night for you to be ready.”

He sinks the tip back inside, a little further this time. Beads of sweat form on Austin’s brow as he moves back and forth in shallow thrusts. As I relax, he presses in deeper. My eyes scrunch closed, and Austin growls, “I want your eyes on me, Olowa.”

I open them again, instantly sobered by Austin’s possessive stare. “Ah-low-ah,” I repeat. “What does that mean?”

He shoves in another inch, grunting with restraint. “It’s the Lakota word for song. When I first saw you, I heard music.”

I roll my eyes at his corny reply. “You’re funny.”

“I’m not kidding. The old woman who ran the town feed store once told me all beauty was a song. When beauty is only on the surface, the notes and rhythm are wrong. When beauty flows from the inside, the music is good. Your music, Marisol, is a symphony.”

My heart melts at the sincerity in his eyes. Blinking away the mist in mine, I ask, “What is Lakota?”

“It’s the language spoken by the Sioux.”

My mind immediately goes to John Wayne and the Old West films my father loves watching. “Sioux as in Indians?”

Austin nods. “Montana has many indigenous tribes. I picked up a little from some of the older folk in town. It’s a beautiful language. A pure way of life.”

The unusual pillow talk successfully distracted me from the slight burn of Austin stretching me inside. Noticing my body has fully relaxed, Austin pulls all the way out, reads the hunger on my face, and leans down to whisper against my lips. “You’re going to take all of me now. Hold on.”

Austin bottoms out in a single mighty push, and the sting is breathtaking. I can’t help the pained whimper that escapes my lips. “Shh, Olowa. It’ll feel better in a minute.”

He pulls my bottom lip into his mouth, nipping slightly. Soon, I’m biting Austin back and squirming beneath him. He takes this as his signal to move.

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