Fuck, I couldn’t wait to taste her. I yanked the scrap of lace to the side, then stuck out my tongue and licked a wide stripe along her slit. Fuuuck. My eyes rolled back in my head. Everything else about Kylie was perfect. Why would she taste anything but delicious?
“D-don’t stop.”
Kylie pushed her bound hands against the back of my head. Without moving my face away from her pussy, because no way was I going to move from my new favorite place, I used one hand to grab her wrists and put them back over her head.
“I’ll give you more. Be patient.” She groaned, but didn't say another word. I pushed her wrists into the mattress and growled, “Stay.”
I smiled and released her arms, pleased when she didn’t try to move them. With both hands, I grabbed the thin lace straps on either side of her hips. Taking my directive to stay still to heart, Kylie didn't lift her hips to help as I removed the tiny thong. Her compliance made my dick throb. Again, she was fucking perfect.
Except for the bra trapped under her breasts, I had Kylie completely naked and exposed.
“Calisse de crisse de tabarnak d'ostie de ciboire de testament. You are so damn hot. Better than I imagined.”
She was a natural blonde, of that I had no doubt. The trimmed strip of hair above her shaved pussy was only a shade or two darker than the golden waves on her head. With a hand on her thighs, I spread her wide. The pink flesh glistened with her arousal. Normally, I prided myself on my control. With Kylie, I wasn’t sure I could remember the meaning of the word. She smashed my composure like a sledgehammer. I couldn't wait any longer.
Time for the teasing to end, more for my own sanity than hers. I dove in and ate her out like my life depended on it. Kylie gasped and again, placed her bound hands on the back of my head. I stopped and she wailed.
“No!”
“Keep your hands up,” I ordered, more force in the command than before. Kylie’s entire body shuddered. Merde, she loved it when I told her what to do. It was fucking stunning. My cock hurt so bad I actually started to hump the mattress.
Once her hands were where they belonged, I got back to work and ran the flat of my tongue up the length of her pussy. She tasted divine, sweet like honey. The knowledge that I was tainting all that sweetness made the act even hotter. I licked all around, slicking her pussy lips and flicking her clit on each pass. Kylie moaned and whimpered as she tried to break the grip I had on her hips so she could arch against my face, but I held tight.
Her quiet whimper of frustration was such a fucking turn on, I slid my tongue lower and thrust it into her pussy. That, combined with the slow circles I drew on her clit with my thumb, and minutes later, her body tensed and she screamed my name. I tongue-fucked her through her climax and watched her face. Kylie’s jaw was clenched tight and the tendons of her neck taut as I wrung every last bit of pleasure from her body. When she collapsed, limbs loose and muscles limp, I climbed to my knees and grabbed the condom I snuck out of my pocket and stashed under the pillow while Kylie undressed.
I made quick work of rolling it down my rock-hard cock. I was so wound up, I jerked at the touch of my own hand. Fuck, if I wasn’t careful, I’d blow the second I entered her tight little hole. Kylie stared up at me through hooded lids. What a fucking sight she made, hands bound, sweat at her collarbones, her entire body flushed pink with arousal. I grabbed her wrists with one hand and with the other, positioned my cock at her opening. I gave her one last questioning look, silently asking permission to proceed. When she sucked that swollen lip between her teeth and nodded, I wasted no time. In one hard thrust, I bottomed out inside her hot, wet channel.
“Saint ciboire aux deux étages, your pussy is fucking amazing,” I said through clenched teeth. The Québécois came out instinctually, as it tended to do when my mind was busy being blown apart. Eyes closed, I held perfectly still, every muscle clenched, until the urge to explode passed.
“Fuck me, Sebastien, come on.” Kylie jiggled her hips, making my balls pull tight.
Jesus fuck. Hearing my name on her lips almost tore the climax right from me.
“Bout de crisse.” I shot Kylie a glare and in my deepest, most threatening voice, said, “You don’t give the orders around here, I do. Got it?”
Her pussy clenched around my dick and I let out a strangled shout. Clearly, I had her pegged. She fucking loved being bossed around.
Kylie was going to be the death of me. I’d be lucky if I lasted three minutes. I shoved one of her legs up and hooked her calf on my shoulder. One hand wrapped around her thigh, the other clamped around her wrists—probably hard enough to leave bruises and didn’t that thought make me impossibly harder—I began to pump in and out, long, slow, agonizing strokes.
“Oh god,” she moaned. “Yessss. So good.”
Yeah, it was so good. Fucking fantastic, actually. Maybe the best I’d ever had, and I hadn’t even climaxed yet. I fucked her harder and she took everything I had to give and more. Kylie’s entire body jostled on the bed with each thrust, the smack of our skin adding to the erotic symphony of sounds. Her cries and pleading words, my grunts and groans, all it needed was…
I knew I was muttering in French, but the glazed look in Kylie’s eyes let me know she didn’t mind. In fact, it turned her on.
I released Kylie’s wrists and warned her, “Don’t move them.” Shit. Another tight, rippling pulse of her pussy fisted my cock.
With one hand, I grabbed her face and squeezed Kylie’s cheeks, hard enough to get her attention. Her eyes widened and I swear I felt her pulse around my cock as it kicked up a notch.
“I’m going to spank you. You want it?” I let go of her face and she licked her lips. Her pupils blew out and her eyes went dark. She nodded. “You don’t like to admit what you like, do you?” I raised a brow and pulled my hips back, then plowed into her pussy, hard. “Don’t like admitting what a deviant you are. Well, don’t worry.” I continued to punctuate each word with sharp jabs of my cock until I Kylie was wailing non-stop. When she neared the edge, I stopped and leaned over until my lips brushed her ear to whisper, first in French, then in English, “I’m a deviant, too. I won’t tell anyone your secret, if you don’t tell mine.”
Not waiting for, or expecting, an answer, I straightened my spine and propped the backs of her thighs against my chest and held one of her calves on either side of my head. I knew I was close to the point of no return, so I had to make it count. I pistoned into her hard and fast, drilled her sweet pussy without mercy.
I raised one hand high and held it up so Kylie could see it coming and stop me if need be. She didn’t. My palm landed on her flank with a resounding smack. I did it again, and fuck, Kylie screamed like she was dying from pleasure. Fucking screamed. Her pussy clenched so tight I was almost afraid my dick would get ripped clean off my body. I couldn’t fight the urge to blow, so I didn’t hold back. Two more shallow thrusts and I came on an ear-splitting cry, unleashing jet after jet of spunk into the condom.
Completely and utterly drained, I collapsed on top of Kylie and rolled to the side. As I lay there and caught my breath, after experiencing the best sex of my life, all I could think about was “did she like that” and “when can we do that again?”
And that was fucking scary.
6
Kylie
“Thanks for the help, Rita.” I gave my new boss a small smile. Thankfully, my advisor at Georgetown called in a few favors and scored me the ultimate in journalism internships. I got to work—okay, for free, but still awesome—as a junior researcher at CNN.
“You're welcome, Kylie.” Rita checked her platinum and diamond watch and frowned.
Rita Weissburg-Smith embodied everything I hoped to one day become. Strong, confident, and at ease in her own skin. Women in positions of power inevitably got slapped with labels like “bitch” or “emotional” or “harpy.” When it happened to Rita, she let the hatred and insults slide right off her custom-tailored Valentino suit. The woman was brilliant, talented, and didn't ca
re what anyone thought. She was amazing.
“It's late, so I'm heading out. You have a good weekend,” Rita said as she tucked a lock of her shoulder-length dark hair behind her ear and effortlessly strode across the newsroom floor in three-inch heels that probably cost more than most people spent on clothes in an entire year. I sighed with envy. Rita looked every bit the role of powerful corporate executive.
“I will,” I responded. The fib left a bad taste in my mouth. “You have a good one, too.”
Rita disappeared and the click of her heels grew fainter with each step. I turned to gather my things from the drawer of my newly assigned cubicle on the huge newsroom floor. Piper Rigsby, one of a half-dozen interns who sat in the cluster of cubicles around mine, stopped typing to peer up at me.
“You could at least try to be convincing when you say that,” Piper said.
Confused, I looked down at the pretty brunette who occupied cubical next to me. “Say what, exactly?”
Piper rolled her eyes and grinned. “If you're going to be a journalist, you need to sound confident and truthful. That…” She shook her head. “That was pathetic.”
I scrunched my forehead. “I don't know what you're talking about.”
“Exactly.” Still smiling, Piper leaned back in her chair with an annoying smug look on her face. When I didn't respond, her smile slipped. Piper stood to meet me eye to eye, her expression sympathetic. “Hey, I know we’re all journalists and everything,” she waved around at the other interns, none of whom paid us any attention. “But I'm a good listener and I don't gossip. If you ever wanted to hang out, go get a drink or whatever, I'd be up for it.”
It took me a few seconds to catch on. Wow. Piper was able to see right through my act. She knew everything I said was a front. Knew my smiles and attempts at making small talk were forced. In the weeks since I left DC, I realized the one thing I really missed was Nat. Having a best friend I could count on. Someone to talk to, spill my guts and know I would never be judged. Piper was offering to be that person.
Her background actually made her the perfect confidant, what little I knew, anyway. She graduated from Columbia and I remembered someone saying that when Piper lived in New York, she briefly dated one of the Yankees. It wasn't hard to believe. Piper was gorgeous, friendly, and perpetually happy. Easy to talk to and accepting of everyone, faults and all.
Maybe Piper was exactly what I needed. My moods had been all over the place since I spent the night—an amazing, thought consuming, life-changing night—with Sebastien St. Clair. I had been distracted and restless, like my skin shrank a size too small. Not unhappy, exactly, but not content either.
“You mean like tonight?” I shifted from one foot to the other, nervous.
Piper giggled. “Yes, like tonight. So what do you say?” She put on her coat and grabbed her bag. “Want to get out of here?”
I relaxed and gave her a small smile. Piper had a talent, an innate ability to make people comfortable, less tense. What made it special is that she didn’t do it because she wanted something. It was simply Piper being herself.
“Desperately,” I admitted.
“Come on, then.” Piper jerked her head toward the exit. “I know just the place. We can walk.”
For the first time in the seven or so days since I snuck out in the early hours of the morning and left Seb asleep in his hotel room, I laughed. The surprising part, is that it was genuine.
"So that's the gist of it.”
I could tell Piper was trying not to let the shock show, not that I blamed her. It wasn't every day a coworker you hardly knew dropped a live grenade in your lap, then left you to fumble your way through putting the pin back in. But to Piper’s credit, she remained calm and composed throughout my entire unbelievable story—Sebastien St. Clair, the bizarre gift, his proposition, and me ultimately agreeing to meet him at a hotel for sex with little to no hesitation.
Oh, believe me, I left out a ton of details. No one needed the skinny on exactly what went down in that hotel room. What Seb did to me. What I let him do. Those details would forever remain a secret between Seb and me. I still couldn’t believe I shared my darkest desires with him, out loud. Not that I had any regrets. Seb turned my fantasies into the best night of my life.
“Well… That's, umm… Wow, Kylie. Just, uh, wow.” Piper shook her head and slugged back the rest of her vodka tonic, then slammed the empty glass on the table.
I fidgeted and stared at my hands. Crap, I probably should have kept my big mouth shut. The prolonged silence that followed made me squirm until I glanced up at Piper only to find her lips pulled into a lopsided grin. She shook her head again, eyes sparkling.
“Girl, I don't know if I should high-five you for being amazingly awesome, or lecture you for being unthinkably stupid.”
Relieved she wasn’t judging me, I let out a huff. “I prefer the high-five, but I totally get why you think I'm stupid.” Piper opened her mouth, but I held up a hand. “No, I get it. I don’t know him, like, at all. Certainly not enough to meet him alone in a hotel room, especially since I didn’t tell anyone where I was.”
Piper gestured for the server and requested another round. After putting in our order, she turned to face me, giggled, and stretched her arm over the table, hand up, palm out. I stared at it until she cleared her throat.
“Seriously? You're going to leave me hanging?”
“Oh, umm. No.” I touched my palm to Piper’s in what would go down as the lamest high-five in the history of mankind. Piper laughed again and thanked our server when he deftly slid our drinks in front of us and cleared the empties. Piper lifted her full tumbler in the air and shook it, rattling the ice.
“I, for one, think this moment deserves a toast.”
I squinted. “A toast? I thought you said what I did was stupid.”
“Oh Kylie, believe me, what you did definitely fulfills the criteria for stupid.” Despite the insult, Piper’s wide grin was addictive, and I couldn't help but return it. “Just not for the reason you think.”
Huh? I tilted my head and wrinkled my brow. “I don’t get it. If it’s not the obvious, what’s the reason?”
With her free hand, Piper took hold of my wrist and raised my drink for me. “First, the toast.” She clinked our glasses and leaned close. “You’re stupid because…” Like a secret agent in an old spy film, Piper peeked to her left and right to check if anyone was listening before she continued. “If the sex was that great, you should have stayed long enough for round two.” As I picked my chin up off the floor, Piper loudly announced, “To round two! It's always twice as nice.”
If they weren’t before, our neighbors were definitely staring now. My face burned with humiliation, but I couldn’t be mad. Piper had this way of disarming people, of turning an uncomfortable situation into a lighthearted one. Instead of dying of embarrassment and wanting to crawl under the table, I laughed along with her. Once the hysterics calmed down, I clinked to my glass to hers—willingly this time—and took a long swallow.
“I’ll drink to that.”
“Cheers,” Piper proclaimed, lifting her vodka to her mouth.
We talked for hours, drinking and laughing until tears streamed from my eyes and my cheeks ached from smiling so much. Piper told me about her time in New York. What it was really like to date a famous athlete, all the way down to the dirty details and I ate up every last one.
“The scrutiny,” she said with a wistful twist of her lips. “It sucked. One thing I learned is that people can be really mean.”
My eyebrows rose. “Mean? Like how?”
Piper leveled a flat stare. “Puh-lease, Kiley. You must know what I'm talking about. Your brother plays for the freaking NHL.”
I glanced around, hoping no one heard her mention Rocco. Everyone was absorbed in conversation. Satisfied, I shook my head. "Rocco doesn't date. I mean, I know he's not celibate or anything.” The thought of my brother having sex made me shudder. “Never a serious girlfriend, though.” I sh
rugged. “The press doesn’t really write bad things about him.”
Piper nodded. “Because he's one of the smart ones. Dating is hard enough for regular people. For those in the limelight, it's a freaking nightmare.” She played with her drink, jabbing the half-melted ice cubes with the plastic stirring stick. “When I dated Brad, you know, the Yankee…” Piper’s voice hitched and her eyes glistened. “The gossip columns and papers, and even people on the street, the things they said about me…" She blinked back tears and my heart ached for her.
“They trashed you?”
“Yeah, they did.” Her voice was ragged and her cheeks flushed. A rush of sympathy welled up inside me for my friend. I reached across the table and took her hand.
“That sucks, Piper. I’m really sorry that happened.”
She looked at me, her stare serious. “I hope you never experience it.”
“I won’t,” I said a little too quickly. “I’ve been going to Rocco’s games since I was fourteen. If anyone wanted to write about me, they would have by now. New York is different. It’s like a fishbowl, all self-contained, and I’ve heard and seen how intense the fans are.” I finished my drink and cupped the empty glass between my palms. “The… thing, whatever you want to call it, that I had with Sebastien,” I waved my hand in the air to find the right words. “It was a one-off. He doesn't have my number and I don't have his. We didn't make plans to see each other again and I have no intention of doing so.” I lowered my voice. “He can’t ever know who I am. Like I said, Rocco would literally kill us both if he found out."
Elbow propped on the table, Piper rested her head on one hand and sighed. “You’re so lucky. I always wanted a protective older brother.” Her lips contorted into a puckered frown. “I’m an only child.”
“Yeah, Rocco's great. Sometimes though, he can be smothering. Way too intense, you know? I guess I just wish he would give me the space to grow up and make my own mistakes.”
The Sinner Page 11