The Stage (Phoenix Rising #1) (35 page)

He circles, and presses, and then flicks his finger on just the right place. It’s been so long. I want to open more, to take him in. I’m ready to beg.

“Say it.”

“Please,” and angle my hips to give him the most access.

“This is what you need,” as he removes his fingers, takes his length and runs it along my swollen flesh. He presses and rubs himself against me until I’m crying out.

“Yes! I need it.”

“You want me. Say it.”

“I need you, Kole.”

“You’re so wet,” he says. “You feel too good.” The blood is rushing to my head as he’s pressing my back down. He moves himself to my entrance and I brace my knees against the mattress. I want to press back into him. I can’t take it anymore: the wait, the anticipation, all these months—all we’ve shared. I need to feel him inside me, to make it real. His fingers are rubbing me, frantic now, and he’s just barely pressing himself against my opening.

“Kole!” I beg and he slams himself into me so hard I scream out. “Yes!” It hurts, but it eases some of the ache. I try to take him in deeper but he stays still.

“You’re so small, baby. I—”

I grind into him like a cat in heat and he cries out. I press my hands into the bed and try to find some relief.

“Wait for me. Hold still,” he demands.

“I’m sorry,” I moan, pressing into him and grind, my arms stretch out to their fullest. I have no control over myself anymore.

“We’re going to take this slow,” he rasps, trying to control his voice.

“No,” I beg and grind into him once more.

He moves his hand under me and in between my breasts. Slowly, methodically, he pumps himself into me once. I cry out some guttural sound I’ve never made before and he pulls out again. He moans from deep in his throat and lifts me carefully, pressing into me from a new agonizing angle. Slowly, he moves out and then in again, deeper. Faster now, he’s inside me, filling me with each movement. Finally, my back presses into his chest. He’s holding my hips, trying to keep them still. He’s rooting into me now, so much it aches.

I moan, but I can’t stop my own frantic movements. He holds me steady. “You’re going to have to trust me,” he says. His voice sounds tightly wound as I’m grinding myself into him. Mine, wet and swollen, against his—unbearably hard and pulsing inside me.

“I’m going to take care of you, Mia. I promise.” I let out a breath, finally letting go. Let him take charge, and he finds a perfect rhythm. It’s slow, deep, rooted. I can feel every movement like a love song. He kisses my neck. His fingers are rubbing me like a serenade. His lips move up behind my ear and nip my earlobe.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers to me. His voice is raw, honest. “Like you were made for me,” he says, as he circles his hips and palms my breast—pinching my nipple, nipping the back of my neck. “It’s like a fire in my chest,” he says—blessing me with his words of love. He moans in my ear, letting me know how I affect him.

Every movement proves he owns me. I’m completely under his control. With every thrust of his hips, I trust him more, and more, and more. He knows what I can handle, what my body needs. What my spirit needs to let go and take him in, all the way. Again. Again. More. Until there is no him and me. There’s only us.

It springs up from deep within me. Up and out like an explosion, catching me off guard. My movements become frantic as I try to hold back. It feels stronger than any other time before. “Tell me. I want to hear you say it,” he says.

“I’m. Coming.” My voice like a full-blown fire.

“Who’s making you come, Mia?”

“You. Only you.”

“You’re so soft inside. But you’re squeezing me. Fuck.” And just when I think it’s over, I start to shake and writhe beneath him. He’s so deep it aches. I scream without noise—keeping the sound inside my throat. My back arches and he wraps both arms around me, pulling almost all the way out before thrashing himself inside me again, and again. He’s yelling incoherent things. Sex words. “You’re milking me,” he grunts. I’m shaking and shivering. One wave after another and then hot spurts inside me. “Mia!” he cries. “Mia?” he whispers.

I close my eyes, as he lets go and collapse, resting my head on the bed. “I held you while you came,” he pants in my ear. I’m still shaking and feel him pulsing inside me like a heartbeat. “So fucking beautiful.” He fingers my nipple, and moves my hair off of my face. He’s still inside me. We move so we’re lying on our sides. Behind me, he’s circling his hips in little frantic rings, and gently easing in and out of me. Every move he makes causes my body to tremor again. He senses every movement I make and helps to keep it going until we’re both spent and our trembling has subsided.

“You were made for me.” He runs his finger up my arm, causing more yearning than he could ever extinguish in our lifetimes. His whispered oath reaches inside me and ties me to him. It’s like a rope from my soul to his, one that will never, ever, be broken. Tears form in my eyes; one falls down my face and onto his arm.

“Mmmmm,” is all I can muster.

I roll over and face him. I’m hot, sticky. My eyes are burning with emotions for this man. His chest is scented with me and him mixed together. He moves my hair off my wet forehead and tilts my chin, taking my mouth, and circles his tongue around mine, gently giving as much pleasure as he can. His hand moves down, just as some of him starts to trickle down my thigh.

He takes it, the evidence of our love making, and rubs in into me like an aphrodisiac, pushing himself back inside of me. Just as I thought I was too tired to keep my eyes open, he flips me to my back and kneels between my legs. He splays his hand on his thighs the way he’d done in the car. The movement makes me crazy. And now his length is rising up like a monument between his hips.

This is the first time I’ve seen him. Now I understand why he’d made me turn around and face the headboard. I might have been too intimidated by his size to go through with it. It all makes sense—he was making sure I wouldn’t be afraid of him.

“You like when I do this?” he asks, splaying his fingers out on his thighs and rubbing his skin slightly. I nod. “It makes you want to touch me,” he decides, grabbing my palms and wrapping them both around his substantial width and length. “This is what you’ve been wanting to do to me, Mia,” he says, his voice needy and awakening. “I need you again, with my cum inside you.” His eyes dilate, igniting a yearning need inside me again.

My eyes shoot open. It’s so primal like we’re animals, like there’s no world out there—just him and me. I’m nodding yes, and pumping him with both fists. He’s so hot, he’s nearly burning the insides of my hands.

He pulls away from my touch and stares down at me. I’m wiggling in anticipation as he moves over me, his arms on either side of my face—just like I’d imagined our first time would be.

“Look in my eyes, Mia. Don’t even blink too long or I’ll go fucking crazy. Don’t deny me this.”

His voice is scary, needy. I nod and keep my eyes glued to his. “What does my cum feel like inside you?” he asks, as he rubs his head against my wetness, still sore from what we’ve just done, but aching for him to fill me again. My mouth is open to make words, but only incoherent sounds are escaping. “Tell me!” he demands.

“Hot. It was so fucking hot.”

He pushes himself just inside my opening. “Oh! I feel it,” he groans like an animal. “Wrap your legs around me. Now!” and, as I do, he scoops me up in his arms, like he can’t get close enough to me. Like he needs to be everywhere around me, and me him. As he looks deep into my wounded part, until I’m hurting and raw, he slams himself all the way inside me. I can’t even catch my breath.

This time is different. He’s not slow. He’s not gentle. He’s grunting and biting me, his arms squeezing me tight. His movements are not timed or rhythmic. His whole body is shaking as he pumps into me. I love it. I’m feeling something with him that no one ever has. Kolton at his most real, stripped down, prime.

The sounds he’s making, my sounds. The scent of us, like sex, and sweat, and need.

I can’t even move. He’s pinned me down with all of him. I’m completely under his control. All I can do is hold onto his arms for dear life.

He’s pressing his hips into the center of me, and I realize I’m screaming words that don’t even make sense. I’m scratching his back because I can’t help it.

“You’re mine,” he says. “Mine.” He pumps his hips. “Mine.” And bites my neck, pull my lips into his hot mouth. I feel myself clamping down on him and then the shaking starts again.

“Don’t close your fucking eyes!”

I obey. He stares through me as the sensation bubbles up from deep inside me. Then it’s like a flash of pain and pleasure. I’m coming so hard around him I can’t even think. He picks my legs up and angles me so he can use my weight to get himself deeper. He’s moving slow, pressing into me, so deep. Then faster, in control. He stiffens up as his face contorts and he bites his lip.

He spurts his heat inside me again, his face scrunched up in the agony of pleasure. I’m still shaking as he pumps his hips twice more. Full and deep, causing me to shake again and again. Then he stills completely, rooting himself all the way inside me.

“Look at me,” he croons.

I feel everything all at once. His heartbeat against my breast, his breath against my face. The shivers from deep within my body as I clench my insides around his pulsing heat. Our breaths are loud. He’s shaking, too. We are quivering like we’re cold, but we’re not. Anything but.

The tears come, because they can’t help themselves. They sting their way down my face as he kisses my lips. “I can still feel you coming,” he says, his voice raspy. “You’re not done.”

“I’m done,” I say, because I don’t think I can take another one this strong again.

“This one will be different,” he says soothingly as he gradually lies down on the bed and pulls me to my side, careful to keep himself inside me, and wraps my leg around his hips. He pulses again, and I convulse.

“Yes,” he says. “Like this.” He circles his hips slowly and takes his tongue to my ear, moving it in the same movement he’s doing down below. It’s my undoing. I didn’t even know an orgasm could feel like this. It’s not frantic like the one just before. It’s a deep, cosmic, metaphysical joining. It’s like music, or love. My back arches, and my ears go silent. I feel like I am floating, like I’ve left my body; like I am open and free.

Like I am no longer the saint.

Like he is no longer the sinner.

Like we are love—personified.

The “L” word

T
he steam surrounds us as he pulls my knees up under his arms, pressing my back against the tile. He takes me to places I’ve never been, emotionally and physically. I didn’t know it could feel this way. His mouth slow, deep, just like the way his hips circle as he thrusts inside me. I feel somewhat like a butterfly with my wings pressed out, pinned in place. I let out a breathy moan.

“I love the sounds you make,” he says, pulsing inside me again. “You’re so loud. You like this? Hmm?”

And when he talks to me like this, it springs up from deep within, making me arch my back and meet his thrusts. “Yes!” I exclaim, breathing heavily with sounds of pleasure on my tongue.

“Yes, that’s good,” he says. “Mmmm.” He speeds up. Faster, then slow. He circles his hips. Again and again until my eyes are rolling backward and I squeeze his arms, tensing up all around him. “You’re so beautiful.”

He thrusts twice more. Slow and deep before he stops and he tenses up, releasing himself inside me again.

I grind out a breathy appreciation as I feel his warmth inside me like a salve. He’s breathing heavy in my ear. My legs are starting to hurt but he doesn’t let me go. Instead he turns my face to his.

“Feel me inside you.” His voice edgy.

“Kole,” I try, because he seems panicked, like he’s going to lose me any moment. Like I’ll just disappear.

“This is mine,” he says, his voice hitching. He pulses, making me nod my head. “Tell me.”

“Yours.”

“I’m still going to be inside you. Me,” he says as he almost angrily separates his body from mine and sets my legs down onto the hot tiles. His green eyes, with the red fleck, stare into mine with this primal need to claim. It’s like he’s marked his territory with his scent. “For days. Weeks. I’m still there. Do you understand?”

“Kolton. I know about sex-ed and how long semen stays inside a woman’s body.” His jaw tenses and he pushes his hand through his wet hair. He closes his eyes, leans into the shower’s stream, and rinses off. I feel bad for saying it like that. It just seemed over the top for him to remind me that I’m his. But, then again, what promise have I given him?

I reach out and put my hand around the curve of his hip. When he opens his eyes, he looks angry, but like he’s masking vulnerability with it, because his eyes soften as I come closer and put my feet right next to his.

I take the soap and rub some of it into my hands, run them along his shoulders. “This isn’t the end, right?” I ask.

“Not if it doesn’t have to be.” I run my hands down over his chest, his tattoo, onto his tight abs.