Witness

31. Kaiden

This feeling is so foreign to me that I don't know if anyone else has ever actually felt this way.

I can feel my clouded mind, numb to everything but her. Her scent and her sounds and the soft, all-consuming feeling of her skin beneath my fingertips. 

I don't know when I pushed my hands up her shirt - I don't even know how long we've been kissing against this bookshelf that I'll never be able to look at the same again. All I know is her. 

And the feeling of wanting her so fucking badly that I can't think of anything else. 

Can't even breathe unless it's to take in more of her. 

She gasps into my mouth when I press harder into her - and fuck, I'm hard again already. I'm holding her chin up to get more access into her mouth, I want my tongue in every part of her body, I want to melt into one and disappear into the earth together. 

One of her legs wraps around the back of my own. I dip my hand under there, grasp onto her like I'm trying to leave bruises, and pull her up my body. I catch her with both arms and shiver when her legs squeeze my waist, wrapped around me like a wet dream. 

My head scrambles into a series of half finished dirty thoughts. 

Couch. Lie down. Hands. Touching. Underwear off.

"Kade," the nickname makes my cock jump and my heart beat out of my chest, and we're still kissing through her words because it would genuinely hurt to pull away. "K... I'm. I'm Heavy." 

"Shut up," I breathe. 

She's trying to wiggle out of my arms, but the second I move my mouth a fraction away from hers she follows it again.

"I'm-"

"No." 

I step away from the bookcase to prove my point, holding her up, kissing down to her neck as she pulls away to say (probably) more untrue things about herself. 

"You're not at all," I reassure between open mouthed kisses. My mind is so hazy I'm moreso dragging my open mouth against her skin, hot and flushed and littered with goosebumps. "Not even a little." I squeeze her as close as I possibly can. She moans as if the contact alone is enough. 

I turn around when the couch hits the back of my calves, barely separating the two of us as I lay her down beneath me. Her eyes are closed and her mouth is ajar and I'm hardly doing a single thing. I wonder if she feels like she's left the planet, too. 

She moans as I brush against her so casually, slipping my hand behind her neck to bring her lips to mine once more. I can't get enough. I want more, need more, am so beyond confused about where this has all come from within me. 

It's almost ethereal, the way her lips drag against mine, the way neither of us can pulls our mouths away. 

Her hand finds mine and our fingers intertwine. The back of my knuckles graze against her stomach before the tip of my pinky finger brushes against the waistband of the loose trousers she's wearing. 

So easy to slip my hand underneath there. 

And so easy to overthink that thought. 

She's kicking my trousers down my legs, hooking her foot into my boxes to try and pull them down further despite having my cock in her mouth not even five minutes ago. I rut against her hip and she moans. 

Such uncharted territory.

It's been... a long time. A very long time since I last had sex, and as much as I hate to admit it, nerves prick underneath my skin. Doubts pour into my head like discarded soup. I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. I don't do this. I'm known for being a workaholic; all work, all responsibility, never any play.