Page 93 of Demo
I laughed.
“Oh, you think that’s funny,” Knox feigned insult, then jumped up and stood at the end of the sofa bed and aggressively pulled my bottoms all the way off and tossed them aside. He slid his boxers down his legs and kicked them off, and crawled back onto the bed.
He tried to settle between my legs, but I squirmed as a bent rod stuck into my shoulder, and he leaned to the side to avoid one against his shin. “Here,” he said, reaching over to grab a pillow off the floor. “Sit up a sec,” and as I did he placed it behind my head. “That better?”
“Not really,” I said as my tailbone was suddenly pushing against something metal.
“How about we just …” I said, as I slunk down so my ass was sinking in a little pothole created by a break in metal ribbing.
Bracing himself in a plank-like position, Knox let me settle in, then lowered himself and sunk his weight into me as he took my mouth in his once again. “Is this OK?” he asked between kisses, his hands roaming down over my breasts, down my sides, around my hips and ass, seeking to pull me onto his length.
I nodded and leaned up to kiss him again.
“Baby, I need to hear you say it,” he said against my lips. “Is this OK … What we’re doing?” His eyes were pleading with mine, and I knew what he was asking.
“Yes,” I said with another nod.
Relief flashed across his face as he crushed his lips back to mine, took his dick in his hand, and guided it inside me. We both let out an “ahh” at the feel of him entering me. After all our time apart, the months it had been since the last time we had sex, it felt like the universe was realigning.
Slowly, at first, Knox pulled out and pushed back in, kissing me the entire time. I hitched a leg around his hip as he ran a hand up my thigh and gripped my ass, pulling and pushing me in time with him.
My back was arching over a metal bar, and I’m pretty sure his elbow was teetering on a sharp edge, as well, but neither of us faltered. We were all breathy panting and greedy hands and rhythmic humping as we climbed to a place we knew we could find together, a place we missed, a place where we didn’t have to feel sad anymore.
“Oh God! Fuck, Lizzie,” Knox nearly choked into my neck as his pumps became erratic. “I’m close, baby. I need you to come for me.”
With that plea, my body started to coil, building until I came apart with a moan of his name against his shoulder, my teeth biting into the hard flesh to muffle the noise.
And he grunted out his own release. He collapsed onto me, his full weight pressing down on me for what felt like minutes, before he finally, slowly, pulled up and looked down at me, caressing my face with a hand and kissing me, before pulling out of me.
He reached down and grabbed my bottoms and helped slide them up my legs, and I lifted my hips so we could get them all the way up. He kissed my stomach then pulled my shirt down. Then he found his boxers and pulled them up before we both shimmied our way back up the mattress, and he laid on his left side, perched on his elbow, looking down at me as I laid on my back.
Knox cradled the side of my face in his hand and leaned his forehead against mine. He shuddered out a breath against my lips, then kissed them softly, then kissed my nose, my eyelids, my cheeks. He buried his face in my neck, slid his hand down over my shoulder and pulled my arm around him as he wound his leg through mine, intertwining us as best he could.
We didn’t say anything as we held each other and fell asleep.
Chapter 25
LYZBETH
Montyandlhavebeen sitting in silence for a while. I sit right next to him on the bench. Probably too close. I don’t know why I didn’t give him more space, but our shoulders and legs are practically touching.
With the awkward silence, you would think there was an ocean separating us.
“You mad?” I finally ask, not looking at Monty.
“Nope.”
“You sure? You’re awfully quiet.”
“Not mad. Just not really sure what to say to mark this occasion.”
“That’s fair,” I concede.
We sit a little longer, our breaths filling the silence.
“I feel like maybe this is my fault,” I begin again, still not looking at Monty.
“It’s not your fault,” is his answer.
