Free Of the Knowledge of Good and Evil by Micah Persell Page B

“Don’t you dare stop,” she growled at him.
    He frowned, his lust-fogged mind not understanding her request. “Please tell me I didn’t hurt you,” he said, grasping her head with both hands, his fingers tunneling through her hair, feeling for a bump in case he’d hit her head against the cabinet doors behind her.
    Her head lolled back with his touch, and she moaned.
    Jericho’s fingers stilled, and her eyes opened to meet his. Her pupils were completely dilated. Her brows drew together as she gazed at him, and she licked her bottom lip, leaving it glossy. “If you don’t kiss me again,” she said, “ I’m going to hurt you .”
    Jericho drew back, sure he’d misunderstood. But after a couple of seconds of staring at her mouth, he didn’t care if he’d misunderstood or not. He moved in to close the distance between them again, and she met him more than halfway.
    He tried to be gentle this time, he really did, but as soon as their lips touched, he lost himself again, seeming to snap. Their teeth clashed together, and he crowded into her further.
    She was all frenzied movement in his arms, and he had a hard time keeping hold of her. Her hands roved from his back to his neck and into his hair until finally trailing down his back and clutching his ass.
    His body jerked at the contact, and she used the movement to pull him closer to her, placing his erection directly in the cleft of her thighs. They both broke the kiss to suck in a startled breath.
    Her eyes were devoid of their anger now, but in its place was pure wickedness. She rolled her hips, stroking him where he throbbed, and he fell forward, resting his forehead on the cabinet beside her head with a thunk.
    He distantly realized he was thrusting against her, but he couldn’t stop himself. Instead, he gathered her in closer, lifting with his hands beneath her ass again and moving her entire body with his frantic movements.
    She gasped into his ear with each thrust, her breaths growing louder. “Touch me,” she panted.
    Jericho was touching her, so he didn’t slow down for a few more frantic thrusts, until he realized that she would only ask if she wanted him to touch her differently . That brought things to a screeching halt.
    He stilled and pulled back slightly. They were both breathing heavily, their breaths fanning across each other’s faces. “Touch you?” he asked warily.
    She nodded frantically, not sensing his change in mood as she wriggled against him to continue the movement.
    Jericho closed his eyes. Touch me. He didn’t know how. He’d been so young and busy climbing rank when he’d first Impulse-paired. Emily had been his first. And his last. And their short time together, little more than a few days, had afforded him little on-the-job training.
    Dahlia finally noticed his reticence. Her head tilted to the side; her frantic breathing slowing slightly.
    “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “This was a bad idea. Let’s stick with our first plan. We can just … take care of ourselves.”
    “Hell no, we won’t do that,” she snorted. “You started this, you’re going to finish it.” And with that, she grabbed his right hand and placed it directly between her thighs.
    Jericho groaned. She was hot . The heat from her center nearly scorched his hand through the fabric of her pants, but rather than pulling away, he melded his hand to the curve of her mound and leaned forward again, closing his eyes and breathing in the waft of her scent.
    Oh, God, he was so screwed.
    • • •
    Dahlia was smack-dab in the middle of the most exciting sexual experience of her life, and now he was throwing on the brakes?
    Loco , she thought. There was no way she was letting him off the hook. From the second he’d picked her up and charged across the kitchen with her, Dahlia had been on the edge of the most powerful orgasm she had yet to experience.
    Jericho, Mr. Play-by-the-Rules-and-Follow-Orders, was the most aggressive, out-of-control man she’d ever