Worship (On My Knees Duet Book 1)

by Ella James

  I crack my window, suck back a big breath of night-cool air. Mid September on the east coast, there’s a bite to it.

  This is very stupid. Even as I think it, I ignore it. Since March, I’ve been distracted and dissatisfied. Tonight, I’ll get it out of me. So I can move on. It’s…necessity. Like scratching an itch.

  Still, I can’t deny the quick throb of my heart, the rush of my blood as I pass Baltimore and fly toward Aberdeen. I stop for gas in Childs, bouncing on my heels as I wait for the tank to fill. When I get back in, I have a text from Vance.

  Trenton, baby. You all good?

  I draw a breath and push it out and select “share location” from my iPhone to his. A minute later, he replies.

  K cool, I’ll be waiting. It’s not near the rentals, but I brought a ski mask for u just in case

  I shake my head, smiling despite myself.

  Kidding. Brought a hoodie

  I close my eyes. Be safe, I text back, before pulling onto the road.

  Sometimes I think of Dad—the way he went out for that milkshake and he didn’t come back.

  Please make sure he’s safe. Please help me.

  I wait for fear and guilt to twist in my chest. Instead, I feel the weight of vacancy. I turn on the radio and pull into the left lane.

  Carneys Point pops up in what feels like twelve years and no time at all—with it, a mile marker for Atsion Lake. I decide to slow down for the last hour. The last thing I need is to get pulled over.

  “Where ya going, sir?”

  Thick woods cloak the highway, swaying so the tall trees feel a little sentient. There’s tail lights out in front of me and some cars headed south, but mostly, the freeway’s dark and lonely. I check the clock on my rented Infiniti and find it’s 10:05 PM.

  Lights and buildings start to spring up around exits, and I realize…this is Philly’s outskirts. I feel like an actor in a movie. Once again, I search myself for guilt or unease, but I can’t find either. The truth is, I’m desperate to see him again. He’s been living in my head since I let him off my yacht with no more than a clap on the back. The truth is, I feel no fear. I feel nothing but desire, and I’m tired of tamping it down.

  Around the Medford exit, things start feeling rural. Fields fan out between tufts of forest. The moon has pushed out from behind the clouds, splashing rich, white light over the car’s hood.

  I can feel my pulse thrum in my ears and eyes. My chest feels heavy, like I’ve swallowed something leaden. I inhale through my nose, exhale slowly through my mouth, and focus on the road.

  I think of muscle-corded legs, his solid chest. I try to conjure memories of his arm over my back…my finger trailing over his thigh.

  Just one night, I tell myself. I’m twenty-nine-years-old, and I—

  I clamp my molars on my cheek and press down hard enough to sting.

  It.

  Will.

  Just.

  Be.

  One.

  Night.

  Headlights hit my windshield. An unknown car flies by, and darkness pools around me. Everything is tinged gray by the moon glowing behind the clouds.

  He calls as I see the lake—a massive sheet of ink.

  “Hello?”

  He’s silent for a beat. Then, quietly, “Hey.”

  I try to speak, but I can’t seem to find my voice.

  “You’re close,” he offers.

  I nod, turning the wheel with the road.

  “That’s good.” His voice is husky. “You’re gonna turn right up there, and just keep coming down.” I do as he says, and there’s silence. The new road is thinner, with cracked asphalt and a cow-pen fence running along each side. “You’re seeing light poles and some power lines and not much else?”

  “Just trees.”

  “That’s good. You’re almost here. You’ll see a taller fence on your right, then a dirt spot on the roadside. Keep on coming. In about five hundred yards, you’ll see a mailbox that’s sort of leaning just a little bit. Turn onto the dirt road right after that. You’ll pass a small pond, and then the house.”

  He stays on the line as I spot the mailbox and hang a right. My tires bounce over leaves and limbs and underbrush. Moonlight streams in through the forest canopy, still thick as summer gives way to fall. It flashes off the little pond that’s over on my right, casting the woods in a soft glow.

  My foot rests heavy on the pedal. The road curves slightly right.

  “There you are.” I hear the smile in his voice. Then the line goes dead.

  Four

  Vance

  He parks his car—a sleek, dark thing—under the tree where an old tire swing used to hang. For the longest second, I’m rooted to the wood-plank porch. Then I’m moving down the stairs. I’m watching for his door to open. Then it does.

  He steps out—a tall, wide shadow framed by woods that have gone quiet around us. I move toward him. He strides toward me. Leaves crunch under our shoes until we’re face to face beside the car’s bumper.

  I get a glimpse of solemn eyes and parted lips. Then he’s close enough so I can get an arm around his shoulders.

  “Hey, man.” I pull him in close. Fuck, he feels good. I hug tighter, and I feel his ribcage expand. Another quick breath, and his head tucks down beside mine.

  “Hey…” I squeeze his back as my heart pounds—like I’ve never touched another a person. Dammit, but he smells amazing.

  He draws back first. I look him up and down, grinning as I rub my hard-on. “Luke Mc-fucking-Dowell.”

  His lips twitch, and he steps so that we’re chest to chest. He bows his head and rubs his stubble-covered jaw over my forehead. “Mr. Rayne.” With his cheek pressed against my hair, his arm rests on my upper back. His mouth brushes my temple. “Nice to see you.” Fuck me, but his voice is rough and low.

  I don’t know who grabs whose hand. We stride toward the house with our hands clasped, though. His is warm and tight around mine. As we move up the stairs together, time seems to lurch forward. The night spins around me, and I feel like I’m in a fever dream.

  I push open the front door…stand there in the doorway.

  “My grandparents used to live here,” I say, not quite meeting his eyes. “There’s a neighbor over that way,” I nod to the right, “but I don’t think she has a TV.”

  Our eyes catch, and his mouth curves.

  Fuck me, but my stomach bottoms out as we move inside.

  He looks the place over—the brown shag carpet in the family room, the burnt-orange cabinets in the small, adjoining kitchen—before his gaze settles on me. He smirks, brows drawn in question. “Is that you?”

  I follow his gaze to the wall of school portraits tacked over the lumpy couch on the far wall. The largest shows me in sixth grade, sporting a buzz cut and braces.

  “Fuck off, McDowell.”

  His brows arch, and he turns fully to me. His lips are parted slightly, his eyes lit up. “What did you say?”

  I laugh, loud and low. Motherfucker grabs me by the collar. “What a dirty mouth you have, Rayne. I think it needs a…better influence.” He licks the corner of my mouth, then kisses me so soft and full, my body does this bucking thing—sort of a shudder.

  His soft kisses quickly grow hard. I open for his tongue, and his hand wraps around my nape, holding me to him. We kiss till we can’t breathe and have to wrench our mouths apart, and I’m so hard I’m aching. Then I’m rubbing my cock against his.

  His hands grip shoulders and his mouth moves toward mine, like he’s going to kiss me again. Instead, he shoves me back against the house’s front door. He plants his palms against the cool wood so his arms are boxing me in.

  “Mr. Rayne.” The words are rough and heavy. He leans so our lips are close enough to meld, and then his hand moves down my arm, fingers coming behind mine so he can press my palm to his erection. He smiles cruelly. “What a tease.”

  I grin, remembering the thirst vids I shared on Instagram, hoping he’d enjoy them. He kisses the smil
e off my mouth, then leans back, just out of my lips’ reach. He lowers his head, pressing his cheek against mine as his hands rove down my chest…over my hips…over my rock-hard boner. I’m so fucking ready for him, tenting my jeans.

  He lets out a rough groan as his hands unbutton them and tug my zipper down. My cock springs up.

  “Ever-ready…”

  He gives me a stroke that makes my knees weak. Then his mouth takes mine again. His tongue is hot and surging, making me swell in his stroking hand. His free hand grips my hair, holding my mouth to his as he kisses me so thoroughly, it’s like a mouth fuck.

  His hand squeezes my tip.

  “That’s right,” he murmurs. “Let’s see how long you can stay standing up.”

  One hand cups my balls while the other finds my nipple through my shirt, squeezing hard enough to make me puff a breath into the heat of his mouth. I can feel his chest move as he chuckles.

  Smug fuck. I grab his big dick as his tongue slow-strokes mine—hot and firm and…invading. The sensation flushes through my chest and settles heavy in my cock and balls.

  Shit, I’m ready. His traces the rim of my head, strokes my shaft—and then, as if he hears my thoughts, he drags his fingertips over my sac and shifts my balls aside. His thumb brushes the spot behind them.

  “This time…” His tongue thrusts past mine, making his point more than words could.

  I moan as his thumb does something so good. My legs start to tremble, and I lean against the door. The way his fingers prod— The hand that’s jerking my cock…

  My next groan is muffled by his mouth. My dick feels tighter, harder—like it does before I come. My balls are weighted balloons. I squeeze his bicep, wrench my lips away from his so I can moan as he rubs circles over that spot, making cum ooze out my head.

  “That’s right…” His fingertips rub the spot behind my balls again, sending lightning flashing down my legs.

  “Ohhh FUCK…”

  Soon.

  He moves his hand. He grips the base of my cock, and with his other works my head until I’m panting harder, slumping down the door.

  “Oh shit…”

  He drops down to his knees and starts to blow me. I can feel a tremor move through my abs. I’m gonna come, and it’ll be so—

  His thick finger presses into me with no warning, and I let out a ragged groan. I pre-gamed, so I’m lubed and ready, but I can’t stop moaning.

  His mouth wraps lightly around my head as his thick finger pushes deeper. The two in tandem—

  I grunt as my legs start to shake bad. He pushes another finger in and curls the fingers.

  “Fuck…”

  He drags them out and presses back in, hitting that electric spot so hard, I see stars, and then he’s lapping at my cock because I’m leaking. I grunt as his fingers push and slide. It’s out then in…slow out and harder in. My whole body quakes.

  “I’m gonna come.”

  He moves his mouth off my cock and licks up my shaft. I’m shaking, moaning like an animal. I yell as his tongue pushes at my slit. Then he pulls his fingers out and moves his mouth off me. “You like that?”

  Jesus God, his fucking voice. I’m gonna come no matter what he does next.

  Then he’s in again…and there’s another finger. My legs give way. I slide down the door, which brings him deeper…makes me fuller. My belly knots so hard, I feel ill—even as a tidal wave of pleasure breaks somewhere behind my cock and throbs out through the rest of me.

  He’s at that spot again, and the feeling is un-fucking-real. His free hand squeezes my cock.

  “Got you now,” he murmurs. “Spread your legs, Vanny.”

  I do as he orders, and oh fuck… “I’m close.” He does something with my balls. There’s something cold on my hole.

  “Just relax.”

  Another finger pushes in. I’m groaning, grunting, shouting as he moves full-throttle in me. I hear his voice, husky and low, but I can’t track the words. Oh God. Then his mouth is back around my dick, and I’m slumped on my side now, groaning as I try to move the right way. I hear him panting as his finger strokes inside me.

  “How does that feel?”

  His fingers leave me all at once, and then he stuffs them back in. I let out a howl. My body’s pulsing.

  “You are close.” He gives a calculated prod, and warm cum spills down my aching-hard cock.

  I lift my hips as chills sweep my skin. Through one cracked eyelid, I see my cock bob, long and angry purple. My legs tremble as cum gushes.

  “You’re okay…”

  I’m breathing hard and writhing as he laps at my cock.

  “Luke.”

  He probes deeper, and I’m nothing but the thing around his fingers—those thick probing, stuffing fingers. A guttural moan spills from my tight throat as he sucks my cock so good, I feel my balls draw up for liftoff.

  “Mmhmm?”

  I groan. He draws his fingers out.

  “No!”

  He stuffs them back in…but moves his mouth off my cock.

  “Suck me off.”

  He does…something in me. I’m shaking as I can feel it swelling through me, coming like a freight train. All my muscles quiver. Tears spill down my cheeks, and I throb thicker, hotter, harder as he says, “You’re going to come now.”

  He sucks my tip into his mouth and presses his fingers so deep inside me, my knees draw up. Then he grazes that spot again, and the whole world bursts forth.

  Five

  Vance

  “Hey…” His hand strokes into my hair, pushing locks up off my forehead. His low voice is near my ear as he whispers, “You okay?”

  Holy shit. I’ve been annihilated. I can’t even lift my eyelids…much less move my fuzzed-out, ten-ton body. He must know, because I hear him run the sink, and then he’s by me again, lying his hand lightly over my knee. He drapes a warm, damp cloth over my cock, looking into my eyes as he drags it down my shaft…spreads it over my sac. His hand shifts my balls aside, and I groan as something cold is tucked behind them.

  “Fuck.” It’s just a croak. When I wrench my eyelids open, I find him up on his knees with his arms over his chest, looking like the cat that ate the canary.

  I can’t help a hoarse laugh. “Good influence, my ass.”

  He grins. “I’d say that’s exactly what went down.”

  For a second, he’s just smiling—and it’s this big, indulgent smile that makes me feel all good and shit. He moves in closer, seriousness scoring his features as his hand strokes lightly along my thigh.

  I shut my eyes at his touch. “Feels…so good.” I let out a long, slow breath. Almost never felt this good before. Like…total bliss. Then it hits me, and my eyes flip open.

  “You.” All of that, what he just did for me, and I didn’t even—

  His mouth twists into a funny little smile. He knee-walks closer to me, scooping up the hand that I’ve got resting on my abs and pulling it to his pants. To his damp pants.

  “Holy shit.” I laugh, and his lips press together, revealing his dimples. For a second, he looks at the floor. Then his eyes swing up to mine. They’re slightly wide.

  His mouth curves in a twist that’s part amused and part incredulous. “You do that,” he says.

  His palm ghosts lightly over my cock. It’s twitching to attention again, fired up by the knowledge that what he did to me made him cream his pants.

  “You make me want to do things I would never do. That’s why I’m here—to work you out of me.”

  Whatever warmth I felt from him cools in that moment. He holds a hand out. I clasp it, and he pulls me to my feet. With his heavy arm draped over my back, he says, “Let’s go to a bedroom.”

  He keeps his gaze off mine as we move past the living room and down a small hall. The first door on the left leads to my old room. I step in first, watching his face as he takes in the décor. Fucking Power Rangers everything—mostly the Red Ranger.

  Grandmom did it all the summer after fifth grade,
when I came here for June and July. That May, Mom and I had encountered my sperm donor at a bagel place in Brooklyn, and he wouldn’t even look my way. I think I said something like “I hate him, and I hate Brooklyn,” and Mom had me on a bus to Jersey for a summer of pond fishing and some calculated talks with Grandpop.

  I’m prepared to offer up that story. Small talk’s part of this stuff, and…I don’t know—I guess I sort of want to talk to him. Now that his secret identity has been revealed, there’s so much I’d like to say and hear. But he gives the room just one blink before fixing his gaze on the queen-sized bed.

  “Lie down and get comfortable.” He says it like an edict.

  Then he disappears.

  Okay. Let him be the broody fucker I remember from the boat. I like broody. I like him. I don’t know why, and I don’t really care why, either.

  I stretch out on my back, stroking myself till I’m hard as steel again for him. My dick’s not a quitter—never has been—but for him, it seems ready even when the rest of me is spent.

  He’s gone for more than a minute; just as I’m wondering if he could have left, he strides back into the room. His gaze locks onto me as he walks to the bed. He joins me on the mattress in one agile motion.

  God, he’s fucking unreal gorgeous—all smooth skin and heavy muscle. I feel the tug of desire settle low down in my belly as his chiseled torso moves between my legs. His eyes find mine for a long second. His angel’s face seems slightly pensive, but mostly unreadable to me. I watch as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a packet of lube. With his eyes on his hands, he rips it open, smearing some on his fingers.

  “What did you say on the yacht, Vance? Remind me…what did you want?” He looks up, and at that moment, slides a finger into me.

  It’s so unexpected…but it goes in easy from how slicked up I am. I have to swallow back a groan to dirty talk him. With my heavy-lidded eyes locked on his, I say, “I want you…right there.”

  His eyes shut for a second. Then he adds another finger…drags both out. He takes my cock into his mouth and licks and sucks me as his fingers fuck with my hole…till my hips are twisting and I’m bending my legs, panting from the need to get off.