Kat
We barely talkon the drive back, and then Silas pushes me against the door as soon as he closes it. It’s pure relief, a balm for the buzzing ache that’s taken over my skin. His mouth is hot against mine and the door is cool against my back, the heat of the day still leaking from our clothes. Our tongues slide together and I swear I can still smell the river on Silas: dirt and rock and the heavy green tang of leaves in August, peppery and blunt.
I thread my fingers through his hair and pull him against me like I can devour him, like if I try hard enough I can sate myself with his mouth on mine and he’s just as desperate, kissing me with teeth and tongue like he can press me through the door.
Silas is hard as fuck against my hip, and someone gasps. Groans. There’s a surprised, throaty noise and I think that one’s me but I could be wrong, because now his teeth are running along my jaw and it’s hard to keep track of things.
“You taste like salt,” he says, mouth working its way down my neck, my head thrown back against the door.
“Sweat, I think,” because my mind is dissolving and I can only think of the truth. He nips again, harder, and I gasp. “Sorry.”
“Mmm.” A long lick, slow gentle pressure. Someone makes that noise again: me, maybe. “Don’t be. I like it.”
I get a leg around his hips and his big hand wraps around my thigh, my other thigh, lifts them both until I’m against the door, again, like I was last night but this time I hook my feet together behind his back and drag him in with a slow, hard grind.
This time the noise is his, and it makes me dig my fingers into his shoulder.
I don’t feel better, not exactly; still feel tangled and fucked up over this morning, over this weekend, over all my decisions of the last year, but the way Silas’s muscles flex under my hands helps me forget. Silas feels like a wall I can hurl myself against. He feels like the rocky shore where a wave breaks and falls back, like I can do my worst and he’ll laugh and tell me to really try. He feels like he could take the wrenching heartbreak and aimless anxiety and twist it into pleasure.
I want to take my bad year out on him. I want to see what he looks like spread out on his sheets, that come hither look in his deep blue eyes. I want to plunder their depths. I want to know what he sounds like when he begs. I want to know what it feels like to have him above me, over me, seeing what I can take.
I make another noise at that last thought and he shoves me harder against the door, grinds himself against me so hard it almost hurts so I pull his shirt over his head and dig my short nails into his back until he hisses.
“Fuck, Kat,” I think he says but he’s grabbing at my hair, pulling my head back, his teeth on the sensitive skin of my neck until I whimper. My tank top comes off and he pulls my bra straps down over my shoulders, chasing them with his mouth. I haul him in harder with my legs, grind my hips against the unmistakable hardness of his cock until I don’t remember how I ever had doubts about his desire.
Silas groans and bites my shoulder so hard I gasp, sparks of pain shivering from his mouth over my skin as I bite my lip and hope he leaves a mark. He lets go, licks the spot, kisses it. Runs one hand over my nipple, bra still on, and when it hardens at the contact he rolls it between his fingers and I swear into his mouth.
When he pulls back, he’s breathing hard. Lips red and swollen, his cheeks flushed, his hair wild. Those deep blue eyes are hazy with lust, and he looks at me, nipple still between his fingers. He doesn’t break eye contact as he pushes my shirt and bra down, the air hitting the nipple, as he dances his fingertips over it and I watch him through half-closed eyes, breathing hard.
“God, look at you,” he murmurs, and I don’t have a response because he’s got my nipple between two fingers, the pad of his thumb sliding over it, and I can barely breathe, let alone think. All I can do is put a hand on his face, brush my thumb over his lips as my brain blinks and flickers like the lights during a thunderstorm.
All at once he heaves me up, higher against the wall, every muscle in his body flexing and straining at once. I make a high-pitched breathy noise and my hands go around his biceps like they’re magnets, and fuck, muscles like that should be illegal but then his lips are around my nipple, tongue sliding over the flat surface, and all I do is make another noise.
I swear Silas laughs with my nipple between his teeth, then puts me down, practically boneless against the door.
“C’mon,” he says, and gives me one more hard, deep kiss before we’re stumbling to his bedroom, kissing and shoving and stumbling. I lose my shirt to the living room, my bra to the stairs, my shorts somewhere outside his bedroom. My panties fall right inside the threshold and then we’re both naked, the door slamming as I push Silas against it and sink my teeth into the muscles over his collarbone.
He groans, digs his fingers into my back. I do it again, harder; I lick it, kiss it better. I fit my tongue to the divot in his throat and he’s also salty, also somehow tastes like river and forest and summer. I learn his muscles with my hands: the hard peaks of his nipples, the soft chest hair, the ridge of the scar on his ribs, the way I can dig my fingers into him.
God, this man could be art. I pull his head down to mine again, kiss him like I need it to breathe as I wrap my hand around his cock and this time he moans right into my mouth, full-throated and loud enough to make my teeth buzz.
“That,” I say, the word lost to the kiss. “Yes. That.” There’s a trail of wetness down the underside of his cock, and I run the pad of my thumb from root to tip, swipe it across the head as he makes another noise.
Then I pull away and suck my thumb into my mouth without thinking, lick the salty tang off. His eyes are wide and his lips are swollen and parted, his cheeks pink, his hair wild. He looked half-debauched and the only thing I want, the only thought in my mind, is that I want him all the way there.
I slide to my knees before I can think any more, grab the hard muscles of his thighs in my hands, and lick another drop from the head of his cock and listen to the way he groans like I’ve broken him. He’s hot and heavy in my mouth and I go slow, using my tongue on the head and the underside of his cock before finally taking him in my mouth, one hand anchoring the base.
“Christ,” he hisses, and one hand slides into my hair and stays there. Not controlling, just touching, as I work my mouth up and down his shaft, listening to his breathing hitch and the noises he makes, coming from somewhere deep in his chest. When I look up, he’s looking down at me like he’s in a daze and I run my tongue right over his slit, just for good measure, and he swears, his thigh muscles trembling.
“Fuck, Kat,” he rasps. “I’m gonna—”
And that’s my cue to let him go with one last, long lick. His hips jerk and he tilts his head against the door, swearing, so I kiss him on the hip and then suck the soft skin there while he pants for breath.
“Up,” he growls, after a minute, and then he’s kissing me again and pushing me back toward his nicely made bed, sending us both sprawling onto it as he covers his body with mine and this time we both groan.
Silas is taller than me and wider than me, and he pushes me down onto the bed without even trying. He pushes my legs apart with his knees, mouth desperate on mine. When I try to wrap my legs around his hips he bites my lower lip and growls, one arm anchored next to my head, the other hand like iron around my thigh, pushing it down, his tongue still in my mouth.
I whimper. It’s a pleading, desperate noise, and I rock my hips as hard as I can but he’s holding me down, cock sliding a wet trail along my thigh. I have to practically bite my tongue off so I don’t beg him to fuck me, but he dips his head to my other nipple and sucks it into his mouth, hard.