37. Memphis

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

memphis

I tried not to end up in this place.

I really did.

I’d picked all the nail polish off of every fingernail. When that was done, I’d chewed each nail down to the skin.

I wanted him again. In a way that I simply could not make my brain understand. Something absolutely impossible to ignore was happening between my legs. Pulsing, aching, throbbing, soaking. I couldn’t even call it the adrenaline rush of having something new. I couldn’t break it down to the logic of my body just craving that release of endorphins, because my own fingers could technically do the same thing.

But my own fingers just did not feel like the things that he’d done.

It really wasn’t the newness that I wanted to feel again.

Though I could imagine that the first time with any new partner would be part of the excitement. It was the pure fucking exhilaration which came from Utah’s stability that had me craving him again. He calmed every fire that had ever tortured me, and somehow ignited a brand new one. It was an absurdity that felt like it was a contradiction at a baseline level. And I still hadn’t been able to talk myself out of it.

He was so sure of himself. Every move he made, every sound and every word that came from his mouth had been so intentional. His confidence and the absolute unwavering certainty that he was going to be exactly what I needed and what I wanted were somehow addictive qualities.

That left me with the simple question of whether I was supposed to knock on his door, or just walk right in. I heard the water running when he showered as soon as he’d gone upstairs earlier. It’d been a few hours since then; a few hours that I spent chewing on my fingernails, telling myself that I wasn’t coming up here. He was probably asleep by now and common courtesy probably suggested knocking. He would think I was an absolute fool to come creeping around here in the middle of the night just for sex again.

But it hadn’t felt like just sex.

It felt like I needed to feel it again to have a better chance at analyzing what it might mean.

His door wasn’t locked, so I bypassed the social convention of knocking.

If he didn’t want to be bothered in the middle of the night, he’d obviously had the opportunity to lock his door.

His room was mostly dark, and I could just barely see that he was on his stomach with his face turned away from where I was beside his bed. He didn’t move at all until I had my knees up on the bed beside him and started to slip myself under the blanket. He raised up on his elbows to turn toward me, but he paused to stare at me for a few seconds. I took that opportunity to drag my fingers from the base of his neck, through the deep crease in the middle of his chest, and all the way down to the already very solid erection that somehow made my mouth start salivating.

“Okay, so I can most definitely feel that. This is really happening,” he said and moved with the speed of light to place his body on top of mine. I shifted just as quickly to get my legs apart so he could position himself between them. He moved his hips just once to slide the entire length of his dick across my clit and I tried to suck in all the air in that room at the same time that he groaned in response to it. Then he chuckled and stopped moving completely to hang his head.

“Are you sore? Because I don’t know if I can be as gentle as I was earlier, Memphis.”

I wasn’t sure how I could respond to that without sounding like a crazy person.

Because yes, to being sore but great, abandon all restraint somehow didn’t sound like the kind of thing normal Memphis would say.

“Angel?”

“Umm.”

He raised himself off my body entirely in an instant.

“No, no. Wait,” I said, wrapping both arms around his neck to keep him from going any further. “I just — don’t really know how to answer that. That wasn’t hesitation over whether or not I want this.”

He chuckled and lowered his mouth to mine to kiss me. He rolled his hips against me about the same time that his tongue pushed my lips apart, and some weird as shit noise somewhere between a moan and a gasp came right out of me.

Everything about me was embarrassing.

How this man had ever decided that I was something he wanted to put his dick in was a subject that I probably needed to explore.

Definitely not this very moment.

But soon.

When I felt him smile against my mouth, I realized I’d gotten caught in my thoughts again rather than actively taking part in what was happening.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. “I don’t know why I can’t focus on anything when you do that.”

Jesus.

Why did I keep speaking? Why was I making it worse?

Why was he smirking?

He rolled his hips another time and I arched my back until the metal through my nipples was biting into my own skin from how hard I was pressing myself against him.

“Yeah,” I said. “ That . When you do that .”

“It’s cute,” he said and kissed down my jaw to my neck.

Cute.

This didn’t feel cute.

This felt like a volcano had replaced my brain and was about to reign fiery hell through my entire body to make sure I was never in control of it again.

I couldn’t fucking begin to guess what he was doing with his tongue along my collar bone, but I was certain that I’d already left a puddle right in the middle of his bed because of it.

Since when was anything about a collar bone erogenous?

“Colt,” I gasped out when I felt his teeth. At some point, I’d latched both hands into his hair because I’d also tightened my grip on the strands.

“Yes, angel?”

“That thing you wanted to do with your mouth earlier tonight.”

“Mhm?”

“Is there any chance you might still want to do that?”

He chuckled and raised his head just enough to look back to my face.

“I don’t think you could even begin to imagine the kinds of sketchy shit I’d be willing to do just for the chance to taste you, Memphis.”

His hand trailed from my breast all the way up my neck, stopping just under my jaw while he leaned down to kiss me. He held my bottom lip between his teeth for just a second when he pulled away. Then his thumb swept across my lips while he stared at me for a second longer.

“Just tell me if you need me to stop,” he whispered before he disappeared again.

He stopped at both nipples and spent a few minutes trying to kill me with his tongue. The sucking, the flicking, the teeth. I was grinding my hips against his body to see if I could find friction anywhere, just imagining that he was about to do the same things to my clit. I heard him chuckle another time before his hand landed on my hip to hold me still.

“Look at you. Suddenly so needy,” he whispered.

“I didn’t come in here for you to patronize me. I came in here for you to fuck me.”

The strangled noise that came out of him made me smile. He shifted right back up my body to lay his forehead against mine.

“Keep acting like a brat, sugar, and one of these days I’ll fuck you like one.”

That did outrageous things inside me.

I read smut.

I knew what that meant.

But what did it mean to him?

Why did I suddenly want so badly to find out?

He kissed my forehead before he disappeared again. A perfectly silent reminder that, regardless of what he said, he really wasn’t going to hurt me. A perfectly silent reminder that this man was doing dangerous things beneath the surface of who I thought I was.

He stopped to chuckle at and then kiss the revolver that was attached to my belly button, and his lips never left my skin between there and my clit. I closed my eyes in an instant at the sensation of his tongue flattening against me, and I felt my entire body tense in response. I hadn’t realized both my hands clamped down on the sheets, attempting to see if I could dig my fingernails through the mattress underneath, until I felt Utah’s hand on top of one of mine. He forced his fingers under mine so I was holding his hand rather than the sheets, and it dawned on me that he was reminding me again that it was just him.

This wasn’t a faceless shadow from any nightmare or a monster from a past moment. I opened my eyes and forced myself to take a giant breath. That was met with an absurd wave of pleasure from whatever Utah’s tongue was doing to my clit.

Not even a full second later, I was shamelessly grinding my entire pelvis against his face; trying desperately to make sure he didn’t stop or change the pace or do anything other than exactly what he was doing that very moment. How anyone could make their tongue move that way was astounding. How he was approaching orgasm territory that quickly shouldn’t have been possible. I even wondered for a second if I should’ve been embarrassed by how easy it was for him to do this.

Then I forced myself to stop trying to understand it. Every moment that I spent trying to analyze what was happening was a moment that I missed letting myself just feel him attempt to suck my soul out through my clit. I was the only person ruining this for myself. And he was pushing a finger into me about the time that I’d come to that realization. Then adding a second finger before I could stop to think about the first, and I didn’t seem to have any control over my own body when my legs started shaking. He took his hand from mine, and I felt it on my inner thigh almost immediately. He was trying to force my legs back apart because I was about to crush his head between them for the duration of that orgasm.

He chuckled once he’d freed his own face, and he crawled right back up on top of me.

“What’s the verdict, Mr. Sketchy-Shit-Just-For-A-Taste?”

“What?” he asked and laughed.

“What do I taste like?”

He didn’t answer me right away. Instead, he reached down between us to get the head of his dick into me.

His hips started to move in little pulses while he spoke. “An addiction. You taste like my addiction, Memphis. Like I’d sell my fucking soul a million more times for the next taste.”

I gasped when he pushed himself all the way inside me with what felt like more power than he’d used at any point the last time we did this.