“Gonna come, baby,” he warns, and I suction my lips tighter around him, signaling I want him to let go in my mouth. He roars out his release a minute later, spilling jets of hot, salty cum down my throat.
“Fucking hell, babe.” He lifts me by the upper arms up over his body, slamming his mouth down on mine. “I don’t want to know how you got so good at that,” he murmurs when we eventually stop kissing.
“I enjoy giving head,” I admit, shrugging while I press a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “I like blowing you.”
“I could tell, and it’s so freaking hot.” He nuzzles his chin in my hair.
I rest my head on his chest as his arm encircles my waist, keeping me pressed in close to his naked body. I swirl my finger through the intricate ink winding along his collarbone. “Does this phoenix mean something?” I ask, examining the stunning design. The wings extend down his arms and join the flames flickering across his upper back. My gaze trails the length of his arms, noting the snakes and daggers and embedded lines of poetry.
Kent remains silent, his lips pressing together, and that gesture tells me every item inked on his skin represents something personal to him.
Something he’s not willing to divulge yet.
I drop the subject because I will never force him to admit any of his truths. They should come freely because he trusts me and wants to share another piece of himself with me.
“I’m going to have my own tattoo shop one day,” I explain, resting my chin on his chest as I stare into his eyes.
“Yeah?” Interest flares behind his retinas.
I tell him about my plan. How I nearly have enough money saved so I can afford the apprenticeship and the courses.
“Is that what the art class is about?” he asks after I’ve spilled my guts.
I nod. “Primarily, but I also love drawing. Even if I didn’t aspire to be a tattoo artist, I would be doing something creative. It’s more than just a job or a passion. It’s a way of life for me.”
“I’ll have my very own personal tattoo artist.” He tweaks my nose, grinning at me. My heart rate kicks up at his words and the suggested longevity behind them. “That will be cool.”
“I’d love to ink you,” I admit.
“Then you shall,” he adds, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “We should get up. I know Keanu wants to have breakfast with us before they head home. He told me he met you in the kitchen last night.”
I nod. “He’s a nice guy. I couldn’t get over how much you look alike.” Reluctantly, I extract myself from Kent’s warm embrace, swinging my legs out the side of the bed and standing.
Kent climbs out his side, his gaze darkening as he takes in my naked body. “Fuck, you’re a sight for sore eyes, Presley baby.” He licks his lips. “I think you should sleep in my bed every night.”
I bark out a laugh, padding around the bed. “Yeah, I don’t think so.” My nose scrunches up as I stare at the wrinkled sheets. “I can only imagine how many women have been in that bed.” A shiver works its way through me.
“That seriously bothers you?” He scrubs a hand over his jaw as his brows knit together.
“I know you have a past, Kent, and I’m sure it’s one we’ll frequently run into. I can deal with that, but sleeping in the same bed where you’ve had orgies and shit…” I make a disgusted face. “Not appealing.”
“I’ll buy a new one.”
“I don’t expect you to do that. Maybe you could stay at my place sometime?”
Now it’s his turn to make a disgusted face. “And sleep in the same bed where you’ve fucked other guys?” He tweaks my nose. “Double standards, baby.”
“I’ve had two guys in my bed. How many women have been in yours?” I arch a brow, instantly clamping a hand over his mouth when his lips move to speak. “I don’t actually want you to answer that. I really don’t need to know.” I’m not a naturally jealous person, but even I have my limits.
“I know about Chris, but who was the other guy?” he asks.
“I’ll tell you after breakfast. We shouldn’t keep Selena and Keanu waiting.”
I throw on my ripped skinny jeans and my top from last night, sliding Kent’s white shirt on over it because my corset top is not breakfast appropriate, and then I follow Kent downstairs. He’s in low-hanging gray sweatpants and a sleeveless white training top that highlights his bulging biceps and the glorious ink on his arms.
When our feet land on the lower level, I lean into his side, pressing my mouth to his ear. “Your arms are the stuff dreams are made of. I could get off just staring at them.”
He slams me up against the wall, smashing his lips down on mine and devouring me like I’m breakfast. He nips at my earlobe. “Damn, babe. You can’t say shit like that and not expect me to strip you bare and fuck you into next week.”
“Ahem.” A throat clearing has us breaking apart.
“Morning.” Keanu grins, holding a mug in one hand as his other arm is wrapped around his wife. Selena is tall and willowy with long blonde hair that falls halfway down her back. She’s tucked into Keanu’s side, smiling at Kent.
“Morning,” I reply, taking a step toward Selena. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Presley.”
“Nice to meet you too.” Her expression and her voice are soft, confirming her gentle manner. “Keanu was telling me all about you.”
“Great,” Kent grumbles. “And I suppose you’ve been all over the family group chat.”
“Suck it up, bro.” Keanu thumps Kent in the upper arm. “Presley is the first woman to hold your attention. That’s big news.” His eyes twinkle as he fixes them on me. “Everyone is dying to meet you.”
Kent pulls me in front of him, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Everyone can fuck off. I’m not sharing her.”
Selena beams, and she looks truly happy for us. I already know I like her. I wasn’t sure what to expect because she’s a famous model and her tragic backstory is well known, but she seems sweet and shy and down-to-earth. I know she’s had it rough and she’s been through the wringer dealing with PTSD and other stuff as a result of being a victim of sex trafficking. She clearly has tons of inner strength to have survived such an ordeal and to fight for the life she wants. I admire her even though I don’t know her yet.
“Let’s make breakfast, and leave the girls to talk,” Keanu suggests, pecking his wife on the lips before walking toward us.
Kent squeezes my hand before releasing me from his arms. “Is there anything you don’t eat?” he asks, and I shake my head.
“I’ll eat pretty much anything.”
Keanu returns with two mugs. “Peppermint tea,” he explains, setting them down on the coffee table.
The guys walk into the kitchen while we take seats beside one another on the couch. “He’s so thoughtful,” I supply, glancing in Keanu’s direction as I grab one of the mugs.
“He really is,” Selena says. “He takes such good care of me. He’s an amazing husband.”
“I can already see that.”
“How long have you and Kent known each other?” she asks, sipping her tea.
“Only a couple weeks though it feels longer.”
She nods as if she understands. “Keanu says you manage a bar?”
We chat for a few minutes about my job, my art class, and my hopes of becoming a tattoo artist, and she tells me about her past modeling career and talks animatedly about Moonlight, the support center she is building for victims of sex abuse. I’ve read all about it and Kent has mentioned it, but hearing her talk passionately about all her plans really brings it to life for me.
“I think what you are doing is incredible,” I admit. “And you are so brave to have told your story. I am in awe of you.”
Her cheeks redden, and she shrugs casually, like it’s no biggie.
“My parents died when I was nine, and I went into the foster care system after that,” I tell her. “I saw abuse growing up, and the kind of facility you are building is really needed. I know
there are supports currently available, but it’s not enough. If I can do anything to help, volunteer or something, I would be happy to do it.”
She clasps my hand in hers. “That would be wonderful, and thank you for sharing that with me.”
“Breakfast is ready,” Kent says, and I jerk my chin up, startled to see him right in front of me. I hadn’t heard him approaching. He eyes me with a slight frown, and I wonder where his head is at.
We enjoy a relaxed breakfast with Kent’s brother and sister-in-law, and the guys definitely know how to take care of their ladies, cooking up a feast of bacon, eggs, mushrooms, and potatoes.
Kent and I clean up since Keanu and Selena need to get moving. They are supposed to drop by her mother’s house before heading back to Wellesley.
We walk them down to their car, and I hang back with Selena. We stop a few feet away from Keanu’s SUV, and I’m surprised when Selena pulls me in for a hug. She doesn’t seem like a hugger to me.
“I’m so glad to meet you, Presley. I hope I’m not speaking out of turn when I say I really hope I see you again. Kent is different with you, good different, and I hope you guys make a go of it.”
She glances over her shoulder at where the guys are talking. “Kent can come across like nothing fazes him, but it’s not true. Kent is deep and complex, and I’m not sure anyone has really uncovered the man behind the mask.” She takes hold of my hands, imploring me with her eyes. “Be patient with him. He’s a good man, and I can tell he has feelings for you.” She slips a card into my hand. “That’s my number and Keanu’s. If you ever need to call us, don’t hesitate.” She glances at the guys again. “We love Kent and want him to be happy.” She smiles at me, dropping my hands. “I think you make him happy, Presley, and I hope he makes you happy too.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Presley
I’m still mulling over her words as we wave them off and head back inside. “What was Selena saying to you?” Kent asks, opening the door for me.
“Just that she hopes we meet again,” I fudge. “I really like her. She’s such a sweetheart and so strong.”
“She is, and she loves my brother good. He was a grumpy motherfucker during the years they were apart. He’s much more pleasant to be around now.”
I laugh, though I find it hard to believe, because Keanu doesn’t seem the type.
“Are you in a rush?” Kent asks when we step back inside the apartment.
“I have nothing planned.” I had purposely kept my schedule free today, even though I hadn’t heard from Kent, in the hope our date would still go ahead.
“Could we walk and talk? I have a killer headache, and I wouldn’t mind some fresh air.”
“That sounds good, but I’m not really dressed appropriately.” I gesture at myself.
“I can give you one of my hoodies, and Selena won’t mind if you borrow some sneakers.”
A half hour later, we enter Cambridge Common, walking side by side around the park. It’s a busy spot, with plenty of walkers and joggers, and families with small kids making use of the playground.
“Tell me about Chris,” Kent says, getting straight to the point.
“I need to tell you about Clay to explain about Chris, so I’ll start at the beginning. After my parents died, I was placed in a foster home, but I only lasted a year there. I was in shock and grieving, and I didn’t speak the entire year. The foster parents couldn’t hack it, so I was placed with the Rinaldis.”
Bile collects in my mouth as I think back to a time I’d rather forget. Kent takes my hand, pulling me out of the path of a teenager on a bike. My fingers wrap around Kent’s, and I cling to his warmth as I continue telling my story, trying to stick to the facts so I don’t terrorize him or scare him off.
“That’s where I met Clay. He’d been with them for eighteen months when I arrived. He was five years older than me, and he instantly took me under his wing.” I wet my dry lips, skimming over the horrific parts of that experience. “It wasn’t a good home. Jean, the mom, was always drunk, and her husband, Jeff, was a creep.” That’s putting it mildly.
Kent’s fingers tighten against mine, and he pulls me over to one of the empty iron benches, making me sit down. “Did he…hurt you?”
“No, but only because Clay stopped him before he could touch me.” A shudder whips through me, and I squeeze my eyes shut, warding off memories I’ve long since buried.
“Is that the truth?” he whispers, and I blink my eyes, shocked to see so much fear and rage pooling in his eyes.
“I’m not lying. Jeff didn’t touch me sexually, but he was building up to it, and there were plenty of close calls, where he brushed against my arm or I swore I felt his fingers crawling up my leg, and the way he looked at me.” A nasty shiver inches up my spine. “He looked at me the way no grown man should look at a ten-year-old girl.”
Kent squeezes my hand again, and his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat.
“Anyway, when Jeff made his move, Clay was ready for him, and he protected me. Then he called the social worker, and he got Jeff arrested. Clay and I were rehoused in this bigger home in Roxbury. There were four other foster kids already living there. All boys. Chris was one of them. He was ten, same as me, and we became instant best friends. He became my whole world at thirteen when Clay aged out and he had to leave me behind.”
“When did you become more?” Kent asks, staring into my eyes. He’s giving me his full attention, listening intently.
“He kissed me at fourteen, and we became boyfriend and girlfriend around that time.”
“And they allowed that? Your foster parents?” Kent inquires.
“They didn’t seem to care.” There were plenty of nights Chris crawled into my bed, and they turned a blind eye, but I’m not admitting that to Kent. He doesn’t need to hear those kinds of details.
Kent frowns. “They don’t sound great either.”
I shrug. “Gerald and Anna were fine. They ensured I had a roof over my head, food in my belly, clothes on my back, and they were strict about school and made me sign up for all kinds of extracurricular activities. But it was never like having real parents.” I peer into his eyes. “They could never replace my mom and dad. They didn’t pretend to love me or really care about where I went or who I was with. They covered the basics, and they weren’t unkind to me.”
It’s hard to properly explain to outsiders that I feel no connection to the people I lived with because they were never true parental figures. They were more like roommates who got paid to let me live with them. Even Clay doesn’t get it, and he still gets annoyed when I refuse to tag along on visits.
“Do you see them anymore?” Kent asks, rubbing circles on the back of my wrist with his thumb. I’m not sure he’s aware he’s doing it, but it’s amazingly comforting.
“I drop by to see them every Christmas, but that’s only because Clay makes me.”
Kent frowns.
“Clay was always closer with them than I was,” I continue. “He still visits them once a month. I didn’t have a close relationship with them. I was grateful for all they did for me, but they were paid for it, and I never felt like more than a job to them, so no, I don’t keep in regular contact.”
“How long did you and Chris go out for?”
“From the time I was fourteen until I was nineteen.”
Shock splays across his face. “That’s a long time.”
“We were thrust together by our situation, and it wasn’t like a normal boyfriend-girlfriend relationship. We didn’t go out on dates or do any of the normal stuff. It’s more we were a lifeline for each other.” Air expels from my mouth. “It’s difficult to explain, but we needed each other, and we got one another through foster care after Clay was gone. After we aged out and moved in together, it all went to shit, and we broke up.” And that’s as much as I’m prepared to tell him at this juncture.
“And the other guy?”
“I met Lync when I was twenty-two when his piece-of-shit band wa
s hired to play a birthday party at Ramshackle. We dated exclusively for a year until he got a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to join Ruminate on tour.”
Kent frowns. “Should I have heard of them?”
I roll my eyes. “Duh. What rock have you been living under?”
“I’m not big into the music scene,” he says, pulling out his cell phone.
“Ruminate is signed to Torment’s record label. Please tell me you’ve heard of Torment?” They are only one of the biggest rock bands in the world.
He shoots me a caustic look. “I know Torment. I met Ryder Stone one time at a charity event I attended with my mom.”
“Well, Ryder’s younger brother Wilder plays lead guitar for Ruminate, and they’re the latest big thing. They opened for Savage Mania on their last world tour, and now they are headlining their own tour, so Lync landed on his feet.”
“Why’d you break up with him then?” His gaze flicks between me and his cell phone.
“I didn’t want to compete with groupies, and the long-distance thing didn’t appeal to me. Besides, I knew it had run its course.” Lync is a great guy, but he was never the love of my life.
Kent scowls, glaring at the photo on his screen. “It seems you have a type,” he drawls, flashing the pic at me. It’s a close-up of Lync on stage. His long dark hair is covering his face, and his head is down, his gaze focused on his fingers as they pluck the strings of his guitar in front of a massive crowd. “Should I lose my muscles, drop fifty pounds, and grow my hair longer?”
I can’t keep the smile off my face as I lean in closer, running my fingers through his messy hair. “Please don’t. I happen to like you just the way you are. Besides.” I rub my thumb across his lower lip. “Neither of my exes lasted the distance, so clearly they aren’t my type.” I press my mouth to his, kissing him quickly.
Reforming Kent: A Stand-Alone Angsty Bad Boy Romance (The Kennedy Boys Book 10) Page 11