Page 39 of Theta

As I carry her the few steps to the front door, against which I pin her with my hips, she clutches at my face with both hands and tips my head back and kisses my throat, my jaw, my chin, and then when I have her pinned to the door, she seizes my mouth with hers and gasps breathlessly as I squeeze the plump tautness of her backside.

"Story," I whisper, "my god."

"What? What'd I do?"

"Tortured me with this fucking incredible ass for fucking years," I growl. "That's what."

Her nose nuzzles the side of my neck. "Wasn't trying to torture you."

"I know. You just can't help having the world's most perfect ass."

She cackles, an abrupt burst of sarcastic laughter. "Okay, Killy. You need to get your eyes checked. The thing is—"

"A fucking delight," I cut in, setting her on her feet. "Glorious. Marvelous. Hypnotic. A work of art."

She laughs again, breathlessly this time, and possibly a little choked up. "Okay, Killy."

"You believe me?"

"I believe you believe it, and that's what counts."

"You're self-conscious about it?"

She captures my hands in hers and nuzzles her cheeks into my palms, and then guides my hands downward. “Not important. I just want your hands all over me."

"Funny, because I actually want my hands all over you, too.”

“So then why am I still wearing pants?" she breathes.

"An excellent question." I find the bitter ends of her drawstring and tug free the knot; immediately, the scrub bottoms sag loose and droop low on her hips—her ass is too plump to allow the bottoms to fall all the way off, however, and just hang there at her hips.

I lean into her, forehead to forehead. "Much as I need you naked, this is still not a situation I feel comfortable going there."

"Are you seriously cock-blocking yourself again right now, Killian Harris?" Story whispers.

"Not…entirely." I take her mouth with mine and slide my tongue against hers, and dig my hands under the elastic and cotton to grasp the fullness and firmness and silky hot softness of her ass again, and I groan into her mouth. "Fucking hell, Story."

She whimpers again, and the sound rockets straight to my dick, sending a throbbing rush of blood southward, engorging me instantly.

"Oh," she breathes, rocking her hips against mine. "Oh my. Did I do that?"

"You know you did."

"Who, little ol' me?" Her mouth curves on mine in a sultry smile I feel rather than see. "I would like to remind you, however, that I do, in fact, possess other body parts than a butt."

“You do?"

"I do. I feel like you should see if you can find them."

The playfulness is fucking killing me. Sex has always seemed…serious, somehow. Intense, or hurried, or drunk, or high, or wild. It's never been…silly, playful, and fun like this.

I'm addicted.

I grin, nip at her lower lip, and then pull away a bit so I can look down at her. "What if I'm not done enjoying your butt?"

She shrugs. "Who am I to tell you what to do with my body?"

A cackle bursts out of me. "When you put it like that…" I squeeze once more, groaning at the feel of her ass in my hands, something I've quite literally fantasized about since I first discovered masturbation.