Chapter Sixteen
Ava
I had my hand wrapped around Channing’s bulge and his lips brushing across mine while his tongue pressed through. He wasn’t a gentle person, but he was tentative. He moved fast, and caught every detail, like the tips of my teeth and my palette. Then he set his hand on my thigh, and I felt myself tensing up.
“Let’s go.” I pulled away and started to get out.
He pulled me back down and crashed our lips together, then opened his door and got out of the car. Our bodies naturally came together. Somehow, we found our way to the courtyard gate, and into the elevator up to my apartment.
Mostly I walked backward while he led me through. I couldn’t focus on where I was going, just the way his lips moved down my neck when the elevator door opened. “Come on.” I pulled away and walked back down the hall towards my apartment.
I could feel him stalking me, like a lion about to tear into a zebra’s leg. He was on me the second we reached the door. He slammed his body into mine and rose his knee up between my legs while his lips moved down, leaving a wet trail across my neck, then behind my ear.
Something was moving inside me. The soft, fluttering jolt in my stomach had changed into a ripple that flowed down my face, over my chest, and into my gut where it settled. Every touch was another ripple, another raindrop in the storm.
I reached into my pocket to pull out my keys. I needed a breath, so I pulled away and turned back so that I could open the door. That was a mistake. He pressed his crotch up against my butt and ran his shaft down my crack.
The weight of his body threw me inside when I opened the door. He caught me and wrapped his arms around my waist while he dug his teeth into the spot behind my ear. His lips were wild, pulling at the skin, twisting, sending warmth down my body.
I made my way towards the bedroom while he nibbled at me and pressed himself up against me. He whipped me around when we walked in. Then he threw me onto the bed and lowered himself on top of me. His hands moved down my sides, and his lips over my neck, while he fingered the hem of my shirt.
Fire met ice. His lips were warm against the cold air, and soft when he pulled up on my shirt and moved down so he could focus on my stomach. As he pulled my shirt higher, and the air moved its way in, I felt a chill forming, driven by the mounting pressure between my legs.
His cock was rubbing up against my calf. I could feel the outline of the head through the denim. He lifted my shirt over my head and threw it aside, while he pushed his finger under my bra. He met my eyes, then looked back down, bringing my attention to my cup. His finger grazed the nipple, and I gasped. It was like cold fire. It burned so sweet—I couldn’t take it, especially with his arm reaching around my back to unhook my bra.
His wicked grin did nothing to make things easier. It was terrifying, predatory. The act became something more than just a connection between two people. When he ripped off my bra, we became animals.
He dove in with a growl and tore at my nipple with his teeth. “Ah,” I gasped.
His deep laugh seemed to roll through me. His lips poured in, cupping one nipple while he moved his finger over the other areola. The seething, relentless touch was luring me into a frenzy, while his cock moved further and further up my leg.
He was devouring me, taking me in, pulling my nipple through his lips and back again. Every movement was another jolt, and another drop of rain in the growing storm that was pulsing through me. The pressure between my legs was starting to become unmanageable, and he wasn’t stopping.
Instead, he met my eyes and bit down on my nipple. “A-ah,” I shuddered, and he pulled off.
“You like that?” His fingers traveled down my stomach.
“Dear God, yes.”
“Yeah?” He slid his hand into my pants and swept his finger over my lips. It was like having an open wire pulled over the skin. Tiny strands of electricity tore through my body. Blood was pulsing, coursing into me.
He pressed his finger in deeper, and a wave poured out, drenching my panties.
“Wait,” I said.
He still had his hand down my pants. He pulled them out and asked, “It’s okay?” He met my eyes. “I’ll be gentle.” He leaned over and kissed me, pressing his tongue deeper. Then he reached up and cupped my breast, not too hard. Just gently enough that I barely noticed it when he unbuttoned my jeans.
I felt the cold move in, and he pulled his body down, taking my pants and panties with him. It was a slow, careful gesture, and just like he said, he was gentle when he got onto his knees and pulled me forward, resting his head between my legs.
“It’s okay.” He looked at me again.
“But I’ve never…o-o-oh,” I sighed.
He dove his head in, and his breath poured in between my legs. The heat brought with it a ripple, and his tongue—like a violinist’s bow, tracing up my lips, then over my clit. I gasped, and he grabbed my hand.
He was flicking his thumb over the tip now, back and forth, pulling me into the rhythm, while his finger moved up my calf, then onto my thigh. His tongue swept over the opening, and he let go of my hand.
One hand was tracing down my side; the other was moving closer to the spot between my legs. His tongue pressed in deeper, and I felt the moisture building up inside me. Another swipe of his tongue along the back of my clit, and my head pulled back.
I was struggling to keep the moisture from pouring out, but his hands were getting closer. One was moving down my thigh. The other was resting between my legs. He pinched my clit, and I cried out. Moisture was building up. I wasn’t sure if I could hold it, especially with him pressing my clit between his thumb and forefinger. It was a scorching brand, roaring up my body, bringing with it a tight, shrill shudder.
His finger was outstretched, and I could see it moving closer to my opening. I could see a hint of anticipation in the way he looked at me, as to warn me of what was coming. I wanted to pull away. I knew that it would hurt when he put his finger inside me. I wasn’t ignorant to the reality of what I was facing. It wouldn’t be easy, which was why it infuriated me so much when he pulled me open and rested his finger on my opening.
“Just get it over with,” I said.
“No.” He kept his finger there without adding any pressure at all. Then he dove his head in between my lips and circled my opening with his tongue. He tapped his finger over it, up and down, again and again, while his tongue moved closer and closer. It swept over my clit, and I sighed.
He was still tapping his finger on my opening. I could feel myself throbbing, like I was grasping at him. I needed to feel him, not just his finger. That wasn’t enough, but it would be a thousand times more satisfying than this demented tease.
He kept tapping and moving his tongue closer and closer. I could feel the tip swipe my opening, and a trickle of moisture shoved its way out. Another flick of his tongue, and another drop. My legs were trembling. If he didn’t stop, I was going to erupt, and this would all be over.
His tongue pressed through, and I jolted. It tingled and burned, a shocking effect that nearly crashed through the tenuous hold I had on myself. He laughed, and his breath flew in, like fire and sharp mint. His tongue pressed in a little deeper while his finger flitted up and down, over the tip of my clit.
Something was sliding through me now, making its way to the surface. He pressed his tongue through just a little deeper, and a shock tore through me. It spread out, over my arms, my legs, into the tips of my fingers.
He was pressing in deeper and deeper, but he could only go so far. My clit was on fire, pulsing and throbbing. The moisture, his tongue, and the heat all combined, sending a shock tearing up my body when he pressed his finger in. It wasn’t far, just up to the first knuckle, but it was enough to rejoice over.
It was big, and my body was tight. I wasn’t even sure that I could take it, but he was slow. He pulled his finger out, and swept his tongue over my opening, circling it, then diving in to acclimate me further.
He didn’t press in all the way. He knew that would be too much. Instead, he anticipated my needs and pressed his finger in just enough for me to feel it. Then he pulled it back and focused with his tongue. He went back and forth like this, each time teasing the moisture out of me. I could feel it pooling up under my hips.
He couldn’t seem to move fast enough. Every time he pressed through, I wanted more. I wanted him to feel me up and press deep into that spot where no man had ever gone. There would be nothing sweeter, but my body had to be ready.
I felt like I could trust him. He knew how to move, where to push, and when to pull out, but that didn’t mean he could stop the pain. It was going to hurt. It always hurt, and nothing he did could change that. I knew it was coming. I felt myself start to tense up, but he was easing his finger in further, and the muscles were beginning to release.
I was beginning to realize that there was no getting ready for this. I was going to have to go through the full initiation, and I was going to feel it. He could ease his finger through all he wanted, but he was just making it worse.
The pressure was maddening. It was moisture pressing out from between my legs, and the fire from his breath pouring in, fueling the storm, and the torrent that was building up inside me. He was pressing his finger deep now. I had to bite my bottom lip and hold onto the covers for support.
It wasn’t enough. I felt like I was falling into him, taking him in then reaching out for more. He wasn’t on a schedule. He was going to make sure that I knew that I was appreciated and that he didn’t want me to get hurt.
I’d cry out, and he’d make reassuring noises. He’d pull out when he saw the strain on my face, and he always distracted me with his finger circling my clit. Pleasure and pain combined into a mix so tantalizing, I started to forget where I was.
All that existed was his tongue, his lips, and fingers, this wild creature tearing through my body. He dove his finger in deep, and I jolted up. “Oh, shit.”
He laughed and stood up, then pressed me down on the bed. He was standing over me, unbuttoning his sky blue shirt. He looked like a wolf, stripping off his sheepskin disguise. He seemed so benign and gentle with his clothes on, almost insignificant, but as he peeled back the cloth layering, his muscles came into view.
He was an athlete, with arms almost as thick as my waist, and shoulders that engulfed me when he fell on top of me. His vanilla scent flowed in, and the heat from his body radiated out, creating a bubble of warmth that surrounded us as his lips pressed against mine.
I couldn’t believe that he was so close, or how amazing it felt to have his bare chest press against mine. His hips slammed in, and I could feel the head of his cock resting on my opening. He pulled it away, and the denim scraped against my clit.
The space between us closing. There was just that denim barrier, and the scent of sex flowing between us. He was careful with his lips. He took things slow, pressed the tip of his tongue in, swiping it over my top lip as he did. Then he pulled it back and started over, this time a little farther in than the time before.
That was how he did things. He always gave me a taste, but he never gave me enough. It was meant to help my body acclimate to his, but all it did was leave me wanting more. He was pulling his cock back and forth over my lips now.
I felt his hands trace down my side. Then he stood up and met my eyes. His thumb was tracing up his shaft. Then his cock jumped in his pants, and I gasped.
He laughed. “That’s so fucking sexy.”
“Yeah?” I slipped my finger up my opening, then over my clit.
He nodded, then slid his hand down his stomach, over the ridges, to his belt. He slid it off and threw it aside, never once looking away while he fingered his zipper. “You want this?”
I nodded. He ripped his pants down, then fell on me. He slammed his cock through, and my head shot back. Something exploded. The air went cold, and a ball of fire erupted through me, scorching skin, muscle, and bone.
There was no preparing for the surge rolling through me, or the way his lips pressed into mine the second his cock hit my spot. He rested it there, then pulled out to dive it in again.
Every thrust was like the fulfillment of a dream. My desperate, maddening desire had transformed into a sense of nervous anticipation. He was pulling me closer and closer.
He hit my spot and clinched my clit. The combined shock drove my head back against the bed. He slammed in as deep as he could go, and thrust himself in, faster and faster. He’d completely lost control.
There was no taking it, no relief, just that thick cock pounding into me, and his lips leading me through the moment, guiding my breath. His cock was ruthless, but his mouth was gentle.
The smell of sex and the wet band of sweat rolling down his chest mixed with the sound of him straining to get through. His kisses were becoming more frantic, and his face was bright red. I could feel our skin melding together, and his balls slapping my taint.
His breath was a constant flow, poured down my chest, resting on my nipples and my stomach. I could feel his cock sliding through, pressing against my skin, and prints on his fingers when he slid them over my clit, around the tip, now pressed between his finger and his dick.
I felt like I was falling. I’d taken a plunge out of an airplane, and I was hovering above the ground at that moment before gravity took hold of me, and suddenly I was falling. His cock was pouring in, pulling out. so fast I couldn’t keep track.
There was no ground beneath me, no end to the pool that had built up inside me. With every thrust, his cock pressed deep and deeper, slamming against the barriers holding the moisture in. When that dam broke, my body would get swept up in the current. I could feel my skin starting to ripple, and the energy gathering between us.
He pulled his face back, and his eyes caught the light. His lip was curled up over his canine, and he slammed in with a snarl. The moisture erupted out, not in sprinkles, easily swallowed by the dust, or a trickling fountain, flowing steadily. This was a waterfall, like cold water. It covered my bare skin, my stomach, my thighs, my neck and chest, entering the soft, vulnerable places where it rested, like a warm, amber glow that stuck even after he pulled out of me.
He collapsed naked on the bed next to me and snatched a pillow to prop up his head so he could look at me. My hands were moving up his side before I noticed, and he was pulling closer to kiss me. It was a long, satisfying kiss, a reaffirmation of everything that’d happened before.
“I wanted that to be special,” he said softly. I could sense the same amber glow inside him. He was just laying back with his blue eyes rested on mine. “Was it special?”
“It was.”
“Good.” He swept his lips across mine. “You deserve to have this mean something.”
I laid on my back and stared up at the ceiling. “Normally, I’d be so embarrassed to be lying around naked like this.”
“Don’t be.” He kissed my cheek. “You’re beautiful.”
“I’ve always wanted to be the ugly bookish one, so people didn’t notice me.”
“That’d be sexy, with geek glasses and one of those short gray skirts.” He growled and tore into my neck. I rolled over to get him off me, and he wrapped his arms around my neck to pull me closer. I rested my head on his chest while he wrapped his arm around my waist to pull the rest of my body in, until we were curled up together, listening to each other’s breath.
He laid there like that, stroking my hair, with his chest rising and falling. Then he tilted my chin, looked into my eyes, and kissed me. “I have to go back to the dorms,” he said.
“Are you okay to drive?” I asked.
“Yeah, I should be fine. I don’t mean to leave like this. I hope you know that.”
“I do.” I hugged him before he got up to pull on his pants, and pull on his shirt. Then he sat down on the bed and ducked down to give me a kiss.
“Is it okay if I come see you after tutoring tomorrow?”
“That’d be nice.”
“Good.” He kissed me again, this time longer, then pulled away so he could leave. When he did, I collapsed on the bed, grabbed a pillow, and imagined that he was there with me. I had no idea that my body was even capable of doing the things he made it do. It was no wonder the kids all got so caught up in sex. I couldn’t let that happen. There’d be no expectation, no crazy crush, just this one night, and maybe more.