The Walls of Jericho

Covetous

Drake trails a series of open-mouthed biting kisses along the side of my neck, nosing the collar of my t-shirt aside so he can continue along my shoulder. Against my body, he’s gone hard really fast, and like all the rest of him, he’s got excellent reasons to be proud. 

Knowing that kissing and touching me did that to him sends a hot flush and a cascading wave of deep desire into my feminine core and when his mouth returns to mine, greedily taking possession without the slightest regard for my resistance, something inside me snaps and I kiss him back with just as much savagery.

The edge of the countertop is cold and cuts into my back, but I don’t care. Drake’s love bites along my neck are short-circuiting my brain.

I run my hands over his muscular chest, blindly exploring, and press against him, gasping into his ear when his strong fingers vigorously pinch the tips of my breasts. He gives a moaning snarl in response, his hands shifting immediately under my arms and he lifts me onto the counter, depositing me there roughly. 

“Take this off before I tear it off of you,” he demands, fumbling awkwardly with removing my t-shirt himself. Before I can, he shoves it up towards my neck so he can get to my breasts.

I bite back a scream when his tongue makes contact with the tip he’d been tenderizing, arching to him as he teases it. He sucks the whole thing into his searing mouth, pulling hard on the sensitized tip of the other with his thumb and forefinger, and my fingers lace around the back of his head, clinging to the fiery heat of him like ivy.

The edge of the granite counter keeps him from grinding against me, which is good because my recalcitrant body is all for it even though my brain keeps reminding me that this is the tiebreaker game of the Bad Idea World Series, and I don’t trust that Drake hasn’t already stacked the odds in his favor. 

Just when my intelligence is beginning to re-exert control, he moves the burning heat of his mouth to the other aching crest and the hand that had been there plunges hot and fast down the front of my yoga pants before I even know he’s thinking it.

Drake lets loose a hoarse curse as my mutinous body reveals me. His seeking fingers glide easily through the betraying wetness, his eyes locking with mine as he revels in every aroused moan and shudder he tears out of me with his carnal explorations.

My hands grasp his forearm, intent on stopping this, and as if by magic he withdraws his hand. Only it’s not for the reason I think it is.

Instead, he sucks his fingers into his mouth as I clutch the edge of the countertop for support and pant.  Cursing around his fingers, he loops his other arm around my waist and transplants me from the counter to the kitchen island, lying me back. “God, I can’t get enough of you.”

“Drake—mmph!”

He covers my mouth with his, his tongue ravaging and I can taste myself on his lips. When I push against his chest, he pins my wrists above my head with one giant hand. His other roams freely, making a rapid beeline for command central inside my yoga pants.

I'm doomed.

“Come for me,” he demands against my mouth, his fingers rubbing exquisite pleasure out of me. “I want it. I want it all.”

Then, just like that, I’m over the edge, arching my back with my climax. It’s not quite what I expect it to be, but then again, he drew it out of me so fast that—

A sudden, slicing bliss zips along my nerves, lighting them up as the explosive second wave of my climax roars up and claims me. Drake’s fingers haven’t stopped whatever deliciousness it is they’re doing in the silky slickness between my thighs, and clearly he doesn't intend to now either. When he drives the tension up a third time, sending it crashing over me again, there’s nothing left but a trembling, panting wreck left lying limp and senseless on the cold granite countertop of his kitchen island. 

“Mmmm, so good,” he murmurs huskily, his ravenous mouth gentling against my swollen lips. The hand holding my wrists releases and he’s on the move again, mouthing down my neck, pausing at my breasts for a few seconds before trailing over my stomach.

He brushes the scruff of his jaw against my mound through my yoga pants, leaving his head there as he rounds the corner of the island so he’s approaching my body from head on instead of from the side. I gasp at the bitter cold of the granite beneath me as he drags me towards him by the thighs. He loops first one, then the other of my knees over his muscular shoulders, then spreads my legs and licks the space between them over my clothes.

“I would give you love, Jericho,” he murmurs, exhaling a searing breath through my yoga pants that sets my body flaming with desire. “Grant every pleasure of your dreams.”

His tongue rasps over the fabric again, the heat of it penetrating all the way to my skin and my already ragged breaths get increasingly more ragged. He closes his open mouth entirely over the hypersensitive space and I shiver feeling his tongue fluttering against me.

“I’ll fill your days and nights to overflowing, then give you more than you can take.” His hot breath scorches through my clothes again. “Only ask. I promise you, whatever you wish is yours.”

My body feels like it’s on fire with the heat he’s stoked inside me and my thoughts careen crazily around inside my head. “I don’t know—. I’ve never—,” I stutter.

“Tell me that you want me,” he demands impatiently. Or maybe it's in fear that I might be change my mind. His mouth descends upon me again, his lips and tongue working at me, driving me to another peak, even through my clothes.

With one hand, I grip the side of the countertop for something solid to cling to and the other strokes the top of his head between my thighs. Panting hard, I moan repeatedly, drawing closer to another mind-erasing climax.

“Shall I stop then?” Before I can answer, he does stop, leaving me crippled at the edge of my frustrated orgasm. “Shall I?” 

An agonized whimper is all I can manage, but, at last, he’s made the fatal mistake that lets me take back control and rein in my unrepentant body.

The burgeoning guilt in my head over what I’ve done with Drake mushrooms into a pyrocumulus column of remorse and self-loathing. There’s no more repressing the reality of what I’ve allowed to happen, no more ignoring it while my senses run roughshod over my self-control. Tears trickle from the corners of my eyes and I choke back my soft sobs to whisper, “You have to stop.”

Releasing my legs, Drake shoves his hands beneath me, supporting my back and neck like a baby as he lifts me into a sitting position and cuddles me to his chest tightly. “Oh God,” he groans. “What was I thinking? Jericho, I'm so sorry. I thought—. When you—. This is all my fault.”

"It's not." I shake my head against his chest, realizing only now he has a scent I hadn't noticed any time before. It's like a crackling fire, deep and rich, the warm smoke with undertones of sweetness wrapping around me like a blanket. Unusual and inviting. "I did," I admit. "But it can't ever happen again, Drake. I can't do this. I'm not free to do this. The only thing I can be is a friend."

I push myself off his chest. "Can you do that?"

There's no mistaking the war raging inside his head. It's clearly visible through his golden-orange eyes. "If that's all I can have, then it's better than nothing at all."