Page 20 of Pushing Styxx
“Perfect,” he whispers, tossing my underwear somewhere behind him. “Every inch of you is perfect.”
I’m about to protest, to tell him how not perfect I am, but his mouth shifts to my inner thigh, and coherent thought becomes impossible. He trails kisses up my leg, getting closer and closer to where I’m throbbing for him.
When his tongue flicks against my pussy, I cry out, my back arching off the bed involuntarily. The sensation is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. His hands grip my thighs,spreading me wider as he devours me like a man starved. I can’t think, can’t breathe—can only feel as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over me.
“Oh God,” I gasp, my fingers tightening in his hair. “Styxx . . .”
He hums against me, the vibration sends shockwaves through my entire body. I’ve never been this vulnerable with anyone before, never allowed myself to be. But with Styxx, it feels right. It feels like coming home.
His tongue circles my most sensitive spot, and I feel myself climbing higher and higher toward something I’ve never truly experienced before. Not like this. Not with this intensity.
“Let go for me, Hope,” he growls against my flesh, and his words are my undoing.
I shatter completely, my body convulsing as the orgasm tears through me with an intensity I’ve never known before. Stars explode behind my eyelids, and I cry out his name, unable to hold anything back as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over me. My thighs tremble against his shoulders, but he doesn’t let up, drawing out every last tremor until I’m whimpering.
When he finally pulls away, I’m a boneless heap on his bed, breathing hard, my skin flushed and damp with sweat. Styxx crawls back up my body, his eyes dark and hungry. I notice he’s still fully dressed while I’m completely naked, and something about that makes me feel vulnerable and powerful at the same time.
“That was . . .” I trail off, unable to find words to describe the intensity of what I just experienced.
“Just the beginning,” Styxx promises, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through me.
I reach up, my fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. “You’re wearing too many clothes,” I whisper, suddenly emboldened by desire.
He chuckles, a deep sound that warms me from the inside out. “Impatient, are we?”
“Yes,” I admit without shame. “I want to see you. To touch you.”
My body still hums with pleasure, but I want more. I want all of him.
Styxx sits back on his heels, pulling his shirt over his head in one fluid motion. My breath catches at the sight of him. His chest is broad and muscled. The rest of the tattoo I’ve seen on his arm connects at the bottom of his neck and toward his chest. I wonder how far back it goes. The rest of him is just as remarkable as the ink branding his skin. The chiseled chest of his makes me want to trace every inch of him with my tongue and fingers.
Scars mark his skin in various places, telling stories of a hard life I’m suddenly desperate to hear. His biceps flex as he tosses his shirt aside, and I can’t help but reach out to touch him, running my fingers over the defined muscles of his abdomen.
“Like what you see?” he asks, a confident smirk playing on his lips.
“Very much,” I admit, not bothering to hide my appreciation. I trace a particularly jagged scar that runs along his ribs. “What happened here?”
“I’ll tell you about them someday, but right now isn’t the time,” he says, catching my hand and pressing a kiss to my palm.
He stands up to remove his jeans and boxers, and I swallow hard at the sight of him fully naked. My experience with men has been limited, but even I know that Styxx is impressively endowed. My eyes widen at his size, and I can’t help the nervous flutter in my stomach.
“See something you like?” he asks, his voice deeper now, rougher with desire.
I nod, suddenly feeling shy despite everything we’ve already done. “I’ve never . . . I mean, it’s been a while.”
Styxx returns to the bed, hovering over me, his weight supported on his forearms. “We’ll go slow,” he promises, brushing his lips against mine. “I’ll never hurt you, Hope. Not ever.”
I believe him. God help me, but I do. Something about this man makes me trust him in ways I’ve never trusted anyone before.
When he kisses me again, I taste myself on his tongue, and it’s surprisingly erotic. His thick cock presses against my thigh, hot and insistent. I reach between us, wrapping my fingers around his girth, the tips of my fingers not touching.
He groans as I stroke him, his eyes closing briefly before snapping open to look at me with such intensity I nearly come undone all over again.
“Christ, Hope,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “Keep that up, and I’ll come on your beautiful body this first round.”
I feel a surge of boldness at his words. The power I have over him in this moment is intoxicating, something I’ve never experienced before. I tighten my grip slightly, continuing my slow strokes.
“Maybe I want that,” I whisper, surprising myself with my own brazenness.
