Page 227 of What We Bury

“That’s it, Fury. Take what you need.”

“Knox—”

“You’re so beautiful like this. Open for me. Greedy for me.”

“I want?—”

“What do you want?”

“I want—deeper?—”

I press deeper. She cries out. I hold the rhythm she’s chasing and I let her ride my hand the way she’d ride me if she could, and somewhere in the middle of it, her thighs tighten around my wrist, her breath shortening, small high sounds at the back of her throat I’m already learning to recognize.

“That’s it, Fury. Come for me. Come on my hand.”

She does. Harder than the first time. Her whole body bows up off the bed and she clamps down on my fingers, bruisingly, and her mouth opens in a soundless cry. I watch every inch of her coming apart for me. And I think this is what I’ve been waiting for my entire adult life and I didn’t know it.

“Knox! Oh God!”

I work her through it. Slow my hand as she comes down, ease my fingers out gently when she’s too sensitive to take them anymore. Pull her into my chest and hold her while she shakes.

“I have you,” I murmur into her hair. “I have you.”

“That was—” Her voice is wrecked. “Knox. Fuck. I took three.”

“Yeah, you did. Proud of you.”

She laughs—small, breathless, slightly hysterical—and the sound goes right through me. She presses her face into my chest and breathes me in, and I run my hand up and down her back and let her come back to herself.

After a long minute, she lifts her head.

“Can I taste you now?”

“If that’s what you want. You can do anything you want with me.”

“As long as you’re not inside me.” She smirks.

“Right. You stretch good, Fury, but we’re not there yet.”

She gives me a dramatic pout as she gets onto her knees. “Okay. Got any pointers for me?”

She leans forward, still flushed, trembling slightly and hooks her fingers in my waistband, working my jeans down my hips until I spring free.

She looks at me lying back against the headboard, at the obvious situation between my legs, and her eyes go dark again—not the wide, alarmed dark from earlier, but a focused, deliberate dark. Hungry.

My cock jumps.

“First pointer,” I say, voice rough. “You don’t have to take all of me in your mouth. Not even close.”

Her gaze flicks up to mine, then back down. “That’s reassuring.”

I huff a laugh. “Use your hands. Mouth where you want. Hands do the rest.”

“Okay.” She swallows. “Okay.”

I should ask if she’s sure one more time. I know I should. But then she leans in and presses a kiss to the tip of me, softand tentative, and every coherent thought in my head fucking scatters.

“Jesus, Fury.”