Page 90 of Down Knot Out
“Holden,” I gasp, his name torn from my throatas the first waves of climax begin to tingle through me. “I’m going to?—”
He sucks harder in response, tongue flicking across my clit with the perfect pressure to break me open. Electric pleasure races through every nerve ending, my back bowing as I sob his name. Wave after wave crashes through me, each pulse stronger than the last, until my entire world narrows to the point where his mouth connects with my body.
He works me through every tremor, tongue gentling as the aftershocks ripple through my frame. Only when I collapse back onto the counter, boneless and gasping, does he lift his head.
Holden rises to his feet with fluid grace, the back of his hand dragging across his mouth to catch the glistening evidence of how thoroughly he wrecked me. Lightning illuminates his face for a split second, revealing slick, swollen lips and a hunger that my climax only intensified.
Pulling me back up, his mouth finds mine before I can catch my breath, the kiss deep and demanding as he shares the flavor of strawberries, cream, and my arousal on his tongue. The combination sends fresh heat spiraling through my already sensitized body, my inner muscles clenching with renewed want despite the orgasm still pulsing through my system.
“More,” I breathe into his mouth, the word half-plea, half-demand.
My hands shake as they find his belt, fingers fumbling with the leather and metal while he continues kissing me. The buckle gives way under my desperate tugging, his button and zipper following.
He helps with urgent movements, shoving jeans and boxers down far enough to free himself. The sight of his cock, hard and flushed and already beading with pre-cum, sends another wave of heat crashing through me. He’s thick enough to stretch me, and long enough to hit places that make my toes curl.
He grips my hips, thumbs finding the dips below my hip bones as he steps closer. The broad head of his cock brushes my entrance, the contact drawing twin groans from both our throats. But instead of sliding home, he teases me with shallow strokes to gather my slick on his tip.
“Please,” I whimper, trying to shift forward to take him deeper. “Holden, please.”
His grip tightens, holding me still as he slides his length through my folds, the thick shaft dragging across my still-sensitive clit. Each stroke sends aftershocks through me, pleasure and need building until I shiver with desire.
His body trembles with the effort to hold back. “Say my name again.”
“Holden,” I gasp, the word torn from my throat as he repeats the maddening motion. “Holden, Holden, Holden?—”
His name dissolves into a cry of pure relief as he thrusts home in one powerful stroke. The sudden fullness steals my breath, my body stretching to accommodate his size. Perfect doesn’t begin to describe how he fills every empty place inside me, completing a connection that runs deeper than physical.
For a heartbeat, we remain frozen as we adjust to the sensation of being joined. His breathing comes in harsh pants that match my own, both of us caught in the connection after so much teasing.
Then he moves, and coherent thought flees.
His rhythm starts with deep strokes dragging across every sensitive spot inside me. But control was never meant to last, not with lightning splitting the sky and thunder shaking the foundations beneath us. The storm’s violence stirs a primal force in the way he moves.
His hands slide from my hips to cup my ass, fingers digging into my soft flesh as he changes the angle. The new position allows him to drive deeper, harder, each thrust sending me sliding backwardon the smooth counter surface only to be pulled forward again by his grip.
“Harder.” The ache inside me coils tighter. “Don’t hold back.”
He responds by snapping his hips forward with enough force that our flesh slaps together in a rhythm that accentuates the gasps and moans that fill the kitchen.
My heels dig into his back, using the leverage to meet each thrust with equal desperation. The friction builds heat between us until sweat beads on our skin despite the storm’s cool air seeping through window frames.
Without breaking his rhythm, he reaches for the bowl of whipped cream, fingers emerging coated in white sweetness. He spreads it along my collarbone in a diagonal line before his mouth follows, tongue hot as he licks the cream.
The combination of his tongue on my throat and his cock driving deep inside me pushes me toward another peak with frightening speed. My inner muscles begin to flutter around him, drawing a strangled groan from his throat as I clench around his length.
“That’s it.” His teeth scrape the delicate skin behind my ear. “Come for me again.”
He thrusts deep, hitting that sweet spot insideme, and a second orgasm crashes through me, stealing my breath and vision as pleasure explodes outward from where our bodies join.
“Holden!” His name tears from my throat as my thighs lock around his waist, holding him deep inside me as my body clenches around him.
My climax triggers his own, and he slams deep one final time before pressure builds, his knot locking in place. It feeds my bone-deep desire to be filled even before he spills inside me with a shaking gasp.
We remain frozen within the perfect moment, his hands braced on the counter beside my hips while his forehead rests on my shoulder. Our breathing comes in ragged synchronization, chests rising and falling together as we float in the aftermath of shared release.
His hair tickles my collarbone where sweat has made the golden-brown strands curl tighter. The vanilla cake scent of his pheromones mingles with my lilies and lilac and the musk of our joining, creating an intoxicating blend that wraps around me in pure joy. Every nerve ending still hums with satisfaction, my body languid and heavy in the best way possible.
His thumb traces my cheekbone and pushes back my sweaty hair. “Are you okay?”
