No Limits

by Knox, Elizabeth

  “Why? Because of your dad?” I shivered at his mention. Even for her, I couldn’t escape him.

  “Sometimes, I think that the only reason I chose science was because of him…” She stared off into the park that was slowly emptying as we got closer to dinner-time. “Not because of obligation, nothing like that. I don’t know… sometimes, I just wonder if I chose it so that there would be something more between us.”

  I could barely process my own life and I felt like the worst sort of friend for being entirely unable to come up with any response to her confession.

  “Sorry,” she gushed, squeezing my fingers. “I didn’t mean to lay that on you. I dunno, I guess I just meant that whatever you want, truly, you will find a way to make happen. I don’t necessarily believe that a few days extension on this internship is such a huge obstacle, but if that’s how you feel, just know that if it’s meant to happen, it will happen. Like any of these equations.” Her hand gestured over the open textbook in my lap. “If you have a product in mind, once you put the two reactants together, there is nothing that can stop them from forming what you want. Maybe it takes time. Maybe it generates a lot of heat. Maybe it takes a catalyst. Either way, I know you are going to get what you want, Lil, I really do.”

  This time, the smile I gave her was genuine. She had absolutely no idea what she was talking about and yet, she’d still managed to say exactly the right thing.

  I did have a product in mind.

  Us.

  We’d already been put into the same space, there was no escaping the reaction now.

  He could fight it all he wanted. He could throw all sorts of heat and friction in my way. But there was no reversing us.

  So, why be a coward when I could be the catalyst?

  Chapter Seven

  Lilith

  I felt guilty even though it hadn’t been my idea.

  Troy invited me over for a girl’s night after our discussion earlier in the week. Pizza and a movie and a few glasses of sparkling cranberry juice mixed with a little bit of vodka from her dad’s liquor cabinet. I would have said yes even if it hadn’t meant an opportunity to see Damien before Monday. At this point, I had no idea what Monday would even entail. I hadn’t heard anything and Troy’s texts to him had gone from non-descript to unanswered.

  Still, I felt guilty as I sank into their plush leather sectional in the basement, like I was using my best friend for the opportunity to get close to her dad. Off and on I’d been able to momentarily forget that this was Damien’s house, too. He wasn’t home, of course, but every slight noise - the creak of the floor as Troy went to make us another round of our mostly cranberry concoctions, the brush of a branch against the side of the house… anything, really, set my body on alert that it was Damien walking through the door.

  Both deciding that we needed something long and completely engrossing to take our minds off of the stresses of senior year (and sexual frustration), we’d decided on a Harry Potter marathon, with the silent pact that we’d both likely be asleep on the couch by the fourth film at most.

  In reality, with the addition of the minimal alcohol that we were both unused to having, it was only a few minutes into number three before Troy was curled up on the loveseat and I could see her eyes were shut. It was pretty late - at least midnight if I timed through the movie series properly. My mind, on the other hand, wouldn’t let me rest, jumping in unequal increments between what was flashing on the screen and the equation in front of me - the one that involved both Troy’s advice and her father.

  I jumped as a shiver ran through my body. I didn’t remember feeling cold, but maybe that was why I was having trouble drifting off.

  Feeling both defiant and needy, I decided to go get the blanket from Damien’s room. I was sure he knew I was staying over and that’s why he was avoiding his own home - maybe for the entire night altogether. Childishly, I felt like if I couldn’t have him, I would at least take this. And when he came home and realized it was gone - when he brought it back - he would have to put it on his bed knowing it had slept around me.

  I trudged up the wooden stairs, feeling the few degrees change in temperature on the last couple of steps before I walked onto the main floor and turned the corner, heading for the main staircase.

  I still listened for any sign that he was coming home even though I knew it was beyond hope. Now, my best bet was to wake up in the morning and catch him on that end of the sleepover. I climbed quietly up the staircase. For some reason, I still felt like I needed to be quiet - like there were people sleeping upstairs. Sure, Troy was sleeping in the basement, but it would take a real-life wizard to wake her at this point; when that girl was out, she was out.

  Groaning into the silence, I slunk in defeat down the hall, not even bothering to turn a light of. Without stopping to rethink my decision, I threw open the bedroom door and tripped to a stop.

  Thank God, I hadn’t turned on the light.

  A dark, oblong form lay shadowed in the bed, the gentle rise and fall telling me that it wasn’t just a pile of pillows.

  He was home.

  Questions bombarded me like strobe lights, momentarily incapacitating me - when had he gotten here? How had we not heard him? How long had he been in bed? Was he awake? Did he know I was here?

  And then… What was I going to do?

  There were a lot of things that I wondered, but the answer to that wasn’t one of them.

  Catalyst.

  Be the catalyst.

  Like it was Christmas morning and, even though it was wrapped, I still knew what the biggest present was - the one and only thing I wanted - I slowly walked around the side of the bed, confirming that he was definitely sound asleep.

  He lay facing the center of the bed and seeing the bold lines of his beautiful face so peaceful, I knew that I had to touch him. My hands pressed gently into the cool, Egyptian cotton sheets; my senses such a strange combination of dulled yet heightened that I noticed certain things - like the sheets - with almost a sixth sense while other things, like the door I’d left wide open, completely slipped my mind.

  Carefully, one knee and then the other climbed onto the bed, the foam mattress dipping slightly under my weight. At least there were no springs to squeak. I moved closer until I was looking down on him, how the harsh ridge of his nose fell onto the full curve of his upper lip. It was the stupidest thing, yet felt like the most natural, to be completely in awe of something so small.

  My breath caught as he groaned and began to move. As much as I wanted him awake, I wanted a few more minutes to be near him when he wasn’t focused on pushing me away.

  The air rushed from my lungs in a wave of relief when all he did was roll to lay on his back, the sheet sliding down his chest and tightening over his waist in the process.

  Just one kiss.

  Maybe he’d think it was a dream. Maybe he’d wake and send me away. But at least I’d get to take more than a blanket with me.

  I slid one hand underneath the side of his pillow, holding my hair back with the other as I lowered my lips to his. The moment they touched, I think my whole body, along with my eyes, wept with relief. I needed him. I didn’t know how to explain it. Whatever the reason was, I’m sure most would think it wasn’t good enough. Still… I. Just. Needed. Him.

  At the first brush, he didn’t wake, only shifted slightly.

  I could say it was the hint of alcohol gracing my system, but really it the intoxication of lust that made me greedy - that made me push harder. I angled my mouth against his, letting my tongue slip out to run along the seam of his lips, begging for them to open and give me a taste.

  And they did, releasing a growl at the very same moment.

  It was over. He was waking up.

  Desperately, I threw my tongue into his mouth, eagerly tasting and licking anything I could touch.

  But he didn’t wake.

  Long, firm fingers replaced mine as they threaded through my hair, holding my mouth prisoner to his. I was no longer t
he one greedy or taking, I was the one being taken. Now I knew the first time he’d kissed me, he’d held back. This was uninhibited. The kind of kiss that only happens in your dreams because that’s the only place that it can happen, especially for the two of us.

  Little cries escaped me as he bit down into various parts of my flesh, marking me as his. He yanked me on top of him. His erection that had been outlined by the sheet now wedged against my stomach from what felt like my pubic bone to my sternum.

  His growl into my mouth was ravenous. Like he’d been starved of touch since... well... forever. Meanwhile, I was fighting to keep up. They don’t tell you about this kind of kiss in sex ed. They don’t make riddles or talk about this kind of kiss. Heck, they don’t even whisper about this kind of kiss in the halls. They don’t because most won’t ever know this kind of kiss - the one that takes the center of your being away from your heart and plants it squarely between someone else’s lips.

  I moaned as he sucked on my lower lip until the point of pain, my hips bucking against his in response. “Lilith.” Even as he growled my name, I knew he still thought I was a dream. And I was ok with that.

  I gasped in air - not realizing how badly I needed it as he kissed and sucked down my neck. I glanced down just as his hands yanked on my tank top until my tits popped out over the top.

  Greedily, he palmed them - weighed and measured them, recorded their size and shape just by touch. And with each squeeze, my hips rolled harder against him, finding a rhythm that created a storm inside my body. Even brush of his thumbs over my budded nipples sent more desire gushing from my sex. The friction of grinding on him was magnified by the way the drenched fabric of my panties and shorts slid against my core.

  “God, these tits...” he rasped, his dream daze staring as they swelled through his grasp. “Just one taste. Just one and then I won’t touch them... won’t think about them again...”

  I whimpered as he reasoned with his dream self. Lord knew I’d never be the one to stop him at one taste. I couldn’t even wait for him; my elbows relaxed to drop the hardened peak to his mouth that greedily clamped over it.

  I yelped, trying to process the sensation. The pull of his mouth was magnetic, drawing my raw need right to the surface. At the same time, there was a line - a trail - that went straight down to my center, setting of sparks...flares... along the way.

  Maybe this was a dream for me too. Things... feelings like this couldn’t be real.

  One and then the other, he licked and tugged and with a frantic desperate bite, he rolled me to the side to rest partially on top of me. Covering me. Consuming me.

  I arched my back, begging for more of his mouth, but Damien’s attention was elsewhere. Kissing up my sternum to my collarbone, his hand skated over my stomach, heading where all of this chaos was centered.

  Fingers delved beneath my shorts, searching... the first brush of him over my clit had me seeing stars - stars that crashed and burned to Earth as his body froze like he’d been shot.

  And he had.

  By reality.

  His head rose from my neck to stare down at me, confusion morphing into anger.

  “What the fuck do you think you are doing?” He said angrily as his hand moved out of my shorts to painfully grip my hip. “Tell me right fucking now, Lilith.”

  Damien

  I was in hell even though it looked, felt, and tasted a lot like heaven.

  Either that or I was in heaven and determined to make it a hell.

  I wasn’t going to come home tonight. But after so many days resisting her, I needed to crash in my own bed. Lately, I always dreamt of her and woke up either hard or wet. This time though, the shot of vodka I’d taken right when I got home was making my dreams much more vivid than usual - and that’s why I indulged.

  She felt so real with my tongue inside her mouth. Those perfect tits that I hadn’t touched or tasted were in front of me looking better than I hypothesized. And how they felt... so full and soft...

  I didn’t care if I’d have to wash my sheets again so that Troy wouldn’t know what a mess I’d made fantasizing about her friend, I was going to fuck this dream to its fullest.

  I played and sucked on them until I knew that if I didn’t make it inside my dream angel, I would never know what it felt like - even if I was just imagining it.

  Her skin felt so real, so hot and flushed under my mouth. And when my fingers dipped into her virgin cunt, I expected her to be wet, but the level of soaked that she was...

  Well, it was to fucking unreal to be anything but real.

  And that’s when I had to admit what most of my body had known from the second her little velvet tongue traced across my lips. She wasn’t a dream. Lilith was in my room. In my bed. And ready to be fucked.

  “Answer me,” I said harshly.

  “I-I came for a blanket but then I saw you sleeping,” she stammered. It took everything I had to hear her words and not focus on the how swollen I’d made her lips - and how hard that made my cock.

  “I told you. We can’t do this. You’re a child. I can’t... I shouldn’t touch you like this.” I fought for sanity that I didn’t possess.

  “I’m not a child,” she bristled, and the look of her half naked, but still angry, made my balls tighten. “And I don’t need to prove it to you, you proved it to yourself. You kissed me. You touched me. The real you doesn’t feel guilty about it, Damien. The real you knows that I’m old enough to know what I want and I’m here to take it.”

  “You can only take what I give you. And I won’t give you this,” I growled.

  “Why?” Her eyes flared. Those beautiful tits rising and falling in irritation. “What is so wrong with us? With this?”

  “You’re too young to know what you want and if you were older, you’d know better than to want me,” I ground out, hating the way her eyes began to glisten.

  “And you’re too young to believe that being married to your work is all you deserve. If you were older and wiser, you’d know better than to think you can turn off your emotions forever; you’d know that just because you might be hard to love doesn’t mean you aren’t worth loving.”

  Fuck.

  I was perfectly and precisely fucked.

  Telling her she was a child was just one more excuse in the catalog that by now had its own classification system as to why I didn’t deserve to have people in my life who cared about me. There was just something wrong with me; I just wasn’t born with empathetic DNA. The best I could do was sit alone in the lab for the rest of my life helping people from a distance because I couldn’t figure out how to care for them up close.

  Until Lilith.

  I was still shit at it, but she called me on my shit. Not only that, but in those big, honey eyes, I believed that I could be better. Mary, God-fucking-bless her, had stayed longer than she should have. She put up with me when she shouldn’t have, but she hadn’t known how to help me be better. Lilith didn’t give me the option.

  “Do you know what you’re asking me to do?” I said, my voice strained because even though my mind could travel a million places and work through a million equations about this situation, my body only knew one reaction:

  Me + Her —> Heaven.

  My dick strained towards her cunt that I knew was wet and waiting. I licked my lips because my tongue wanted back on her tits. Fuck, I’d never been this insane with need before. I’d never not had even my desire organized and quantified down to the last molecule.

  “I want you, Damien,” she whispered, not realizing just how fucking ripe and delectable she looked beneath me. “I want to be with you. How I feel when I’m with you is the only thing in life that I can’t find an explanation for and I want that. Not everything in life should be ordered and organized.”

  I could feel sweat run down my body. Restraint testing not just my physical boundaries but my mental ones.

  “Have you had sex before?” I rasped even as my fingers yanked her bottoms down roughly until she could kick them
off.

  “N-no,” she stammered. Her moan gripping right around dick as my fingers spread her plump pink folds.

  Fuck, she was so wet.

  I pushed one finger inside her tight heat clenching. And tight. So fucking tight. It wasn’t even my cock inside her and I was already seeing stars. Her legs fell open for me and I watched her body come alive underneath my fingers.

  Reaching into my nightstand, I grabbed a condom from the drawer that I prayed wasn’t expired and winced as I rolled it down my length.

  Even through that layer, the entrance to her tight little slit breathed fire against the tip of my dick. I stared down between us, my one hand filled with her tit, as my cock looked like it was being placed somewhere it had no business being. I pushed inside her slowly - not because I had that much control, but because she was so fucking tight I could barely move.

  Good god, how was she so tight? I grunted with each inch forward.

  “I can’t. Fuck,” I swore, my cock throbbing angrily at me. “You’re too tight. I can’t. I’m not a monster.”

  “No, Damien, you’re a man,” she said, gripping the back of my neck. “And I want you to take me.”

  My fingers gripped her face. “I haven’t had sex in a long time, Lilith.” My words soothed over her skin even as it prickled in anticipation. “And your cunt is too fucking tight for me to be able to go slow and treat you how I should.”

  “Stop!” I froze at the one word that would kill everything. “I told you, Damien,” she panted beneath me, “this isn’t an equation that you have to do in order. I’m not some fragile compound that you have to treat exactly right, or I won’t work anymore. I’m a woman. I can handle pain. I know how this works. And right now, I just need you to fuck me.”

  It didn’t seem right - those dirty words coming from the angel in my bed.