Even in wet, drafty Woodvale. Even with the wind howling outside. Even though my fingers and toes have been permanently frigid for years.
Right now, I feel Kit’s inferno. I’m burning up.
Crawling my hand up Kit’s chest, I brush the tips of my fingers over his lips again. How many times have I longed to do this? In the couple of weeks I’ve known him, I’ve been dying to feel the firm softness of his mouth. Kit leans toward me, resting his forehead against mine.
“Once we do this, there’s no going back,” he rasps, closing his eyes. “We’re about to cross a line.”
I let out a low chuckle, wrapping my fingers around the back of his neck as I inhale the scent of his skin. “Kit,” I say, shaking my head. “We’ve already crossed it.”
Kit’s eyes darken as his hand slides over my hip. His fingers sink into the soft flesh there and a low groan slips through my lips. Without warning, he grabs me and pulls me over him so I’m straddling him on the couch. I rest my forearms on his shoulders, loving the way my pulse hammers for him.
As he slides his hands over my ass, feeling my curves beneath his palms, lust skates across my skin, chasing his touch. His fingers dig into my ass, pushing my body down against his crotch.
And I feel it.
For the second time, I feel his steel-hard cock in his pants, throbbing against his zipper as if it’s trying to reach me. Rolling my hips against it, I close my eyes and enjoy the feeling of his need.
I want it. Him. Sex. I want to grip his cock in my hand and feel the velvety skin beneath my fingers. I want to taste his seed and watch lust overtake him. I want to crack myself open and give everything to him.
It feels like I’m discovering sex for the first time all over again. When Kit slips his hands under my shirt and sweeps them over the skin on my back, desire throbs deep in my core. It pulses, clenching and unclenching deep inside me as my body reacts to his touch.
We’re speaking to each other on a primal level. A carnal language. His hardness pressing against me. My body rolling, grinding, pressing over his.
When Kit slides my shirt off over my head and drops his hands to my breasts, I lean back and watch his gaze darken. Through hooded eyes, Kit trails his hands down the straps of my bra and runs his fingers over the edge of the cups. His thumbs slide over the band, teasing the underside of my breasts before dropping down lower. Gently, almost reverently, Kit slides his hands down to my navel.
“When I saw you at the airport with this jewel sparkling on your stomach, my cock got harder than it’s been in years,” he says. His voice is low. Growly. His thumbs tease my belly button, brushing the edges of my piercing. His palms are warm, pressing into my stomach and sending tendrils of heat and desire piercing lower.
I lean back, resting my arms on his knees behind me. In this position, with my legs straddling his lap and my body leaning back, my stomach is pulled taut and my breasts sit high. Kit groans, running his hands back up to slip the straps of my bra off my shoulders.
I bite my lip, watching him.
Lust swells inside me, but I don’t want to ruin this moment. Need crashes into me and my whole body starts to tremble. I grip Kit’s knees harder, grinding my center against his.
When Kit runs his hand down my stomach again, sliding his fingers down the waistband of my sweats, I wonder if my wetness will soak through. The dirty part of me wants it to. I want him to see how wet he makes me.
His hands feel incredible. I never want him to stop touching me. I want him to look at me exactly as he is—like I’m the most beautiful creation he’s ever seen. I want to feel his hands sliding over my skin as electricity jumps to follow his touch. I want to feel the heat building in my core and the wetness building between my legs.
I want to enjoy this.
It’s not a chore. It’s not something I’m doing to keep him satisfied. I want Kit. Desperately. Primally. Ferally.
As if he can sense my need, Kit wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me into him, sliding a palm over my cheek and tangling his fingers into my hair. Curling his hand into a fist, he pulls my hair tight and holds my head back. I gasp, pain needling into my skull as my whole body tenses.
Then, I feel his tongue. Warm. Wet. Dragging up my neck as he groans at the taste of me.
We haven’t even kissed. We’re doing everything backward, but I don’t care. My hips are moving of their own accord, rocking against his hard cock as too many layers of clothing separate us.
“Serena,” Kit groans, inhaling my skin. He kisses my neck, my earlobe, my shoulder, then sinks his teeth into the soft flesh at the base of my neck. I gasp, closing my eyes as my fingers cling to his shoulders.
He’s marking me. Branding me. Owning me.
His hands splay on my back, pulling me closer. The power coiled in his strong, broad body doesn’t scare me. It doesn’t intimidate me.
It excites me.
Deep, throbbing eagerness, welling up from some source that lay dormant for a long time. Delicious delirium sparks through my body, breathing new life into my soul. The husk of me that Angelo carved out and tossed aside starts to fill up with life and feeling and warmth.
Kit pulls my face close to his, cupping my cheek as he exhales. “You’re perfect, Serena.”
“I’m not. No one’s perfect.”
“You’re perfectly imperfect, then.”
I smile, touching my nose to his. My heart is expanding in my chest as Kit’s heat sinks down to my marrow. When he sweeps his hand over my cheek and brushes his lips over mine, I shiver.
I’ve been waiting for this moment. Needing to feel his lips. Craving his touch.
Now that it’s here, my body is wound so tight I don’t know what will happen when he really kisses me. Pulling away, Kit stares into my eyes. We look at each other, our bodies thumping and clenching and burning for each other, and I know this moment means something.
Then, his hand slides to the nape of my neck and he finally pulls me in for a kiss. Kit’s mouth crushes against mine and I part my lips to taste him. Feel him. Inhale him.
With a groan, he slides his tongue into my mouth and tastes me, his cock throbbing against my center as his arms wrap around me. I fuse myself to him, pressing my body against his as my arms wrap around his neck and my mouth devours him.
It’s hungry, this kiss. Ravenous. We’ve both been starved for too long, and it’s the first taste of something good. When he nips my bottom lip with his teeth, growling, my insides melt and burn for him. When his hand slides down my back and slips under my sweatpants to grab my ass, I know this is the beginning of something big.
Or maybe it’s the end of me. The old me. The part of me that’s been broken and split apart. Empty and cold. It’s time for me to say goodbye to the person I used to be, because there’s new life being breathed into the old shell.
Kit pulls me closer, lashing his tongue against mine as he deepens our kiss. He holds me close, both hands sliding down my bare ass and squeezing it, spreading my cheeks, pushing me against his hard cock.
I pant, clinging to his body. I’m adrift, lost in my own pleasure, and Kit’s my only lifeline. When his hands slide further, brushing the gusset of my thong with the tips of his fingers, I shiver.
The last of the cold inside me is chased away. Roaring, needy heat overwhelms me, pulsing at Kit’s every touch. Nothing but the barest brush over my underwear, and I’m already too far gone to care.
Kit growls against my lips. “You’re wet. Soaked through.” His fingers probe my panties again, the soft friction sending another thrill shivering down to my toes.
“Your fault,” I say, kissing his jaw, his neck, his shoulder. I scrape my teeth over his skin, marking him just as he did to me. We belong to each other now. There’s no hiding it. No denying it.
My lips run up his neck again, tasting every bit of exposed skin until I find his mouth. It tastes like heaven. Like fire and spice. His body bucks underneath me as a soft moan escapes my lips.
&nbs
p; Everything about him is so deliciously male. The way he grips me. The way he spreads my ass apart and grinds his core against mine. The way his chest rumbles as he growls, desire ripping through the two of us with abandon. Every hard line of corded muscle coiled and waiting and mine.
My hands slide down his arms, feeling the hard curve of his shoulders, biceps, and back up again. I claw at his shirt, stopping our kiss long enough to tear it off. It lands on top of my own shirt on the floor. His hands move to my bra, which he unclasps expertly, and I try not to think about how much practice he’s had.
Me, on the other hand?
It’s been months. Years since I’ve felt like this. Since I’ve wanted this.
When my bra lands on the floor, Kit puts his hand in the center of my chest and pushes me back to stare at me. His gaze sweeps over my bare breasts as my nipples furl into tight peaks in the cool air. His fingers splay over the center of my chest, holding me still as he stares.
I’m not used to this. I didn’t think I’d like being exposed like this. Being stared at.
But deep, throbbing need grows between my legs and I begin to rock my hips again. We’re still wearing pants, but oh, I crave him. I need him. The hard cock hidden beneath layers of clothing is too far away, and I want it inside me.
While one hand holds me in place, Kit moves his other hand from my hip to my waist, sending sparks firing across my skin. He sweeps his hand toward my chest, brushing his thumb beneath the swell of my breast. My breath catches, needing more of his touch. With darkening eyes, his hand moves higher, cupping my breast and teasing over my pebbled nipple. My breath trembles.
“Kit,” I whisper, my voice barely a low rasp. My eyes are closed.
The hand holding me in place tightens, palm pressing between my clavicles, holding me still. “Don’t move,” he commands, gruff.
So, I stay still. Straddling him, breasts exposed, with his hand pressing against my chest, fingers just barely brushing the base of my neck. Kit’s other hand teases my breast for a moment, then slides lower. He doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t slow. His fingers slip right under my sweatpants and down the front of my underwear.
When he feels the silken, wet folds between my legs, we both groan. His grip on my neck tightens and releases, as if he’s doing everything he can to control himself.
“Serena,” he whispers, running his fingers between my thighs. I’m so wet and swollen with need that all I can do is whimper. His thick, strong fingers circle my opening and slide up to my clit, brushing the sensitive bundle of nerves as I quiver and gasp on top of him.
I open my eyes to see Kit watching me, eyes dangerously dark and low. He’s barely touching me, and I’m ready to come apart.
“I want you to come,” he says. His fingers slide back and forth between my legs, the friction making my head spin.
I nod. His hand on my chest feels warm, and I know he can feel my pulse hammering against it. He doesn’t move it, as if he enjoys feeling the effect he has. I know he wants me to stay just as I am. Half-naked. Exposed. Under his control.
“I want to watch your face while you come with my fingers inside you.” His voice is low, and his hand sweeps down and back through my need.
Desire swirls around us like a thick fog. I can’t think straight. I can’t speak. I reach for his shoulders, leaning against him for support while his hands both hold me in place and deliver hot pleasure between my legs.
Then, Kit shifts his hand and slips a finger inside. My body clenches around it, and he growls. Growls. Animalistic and low, the sound sends tremors through me. I buck my hips toward him, wanting more.
And Kit listens. He slips a second finger inside me, then a third. I whimper, opening my eyes as my fingernails grip his shoulders.
“You okay?” he asks, a flash of concern in his eyes. “Too much?”
“No.” All I can manage is a low grunt. I grind my hips on his fingers, and Kit’s face relaxes. His eyes search mine, looking for any hint of pain in my face. When he sees only pleasure, a wicked smile tugs his lips.
“Bad girl,” he says. The heel of his hand moves a fraction of an inch to provide pressure against my sensitive clit, and I gasp, my hips bucking against the touch. Kit holds me in place as he fucks me with his fingers, his tongue sliding out to lick his lips. “Grind on my hand, girl,” he says. “Make yourself come.”
I know we’ve crossed a million lines. We’ve gone too far to turn back. We’ve smashed through the barriers that separated us, and we’ll have to deal with the consequences later.
But that’s later.
Right now? When I inhale, I taste lust. Desire makes my eyelids hang low, and my body acts of its own accord. Pure instinct.
My hips rock, fast and needy, as his fingers drive in and out of me. My breasts feel heavy, exposed, and so completely his.
Kit’s fingers sink inside me, curling in a way that sucks the breath out of me, his palm pressing against my bud. He grunts, his hips bucking toward me as I grind on his hand.
“Come on my hand,” he says, driving his fingers in and out of me as his palm rubs me harder.
It’s messy. It’s dirty. The noises I’m making would be embarrassing if they weren’t so fucking hot. I have no choice right now. I have to do what he says. The pressure in the pit of my stomach is building so intensely that my body is moving in a way I didn’t even know it could. Hips grinding against his hand, fingers digging into his shoulders, breath ragged.
Heat wraps in my core, winding tighter and tighter in a slow build. Kit grunts, feeling the shift in me. The need. The jerky, almost out-of-control movement of my hips.
“That’s it,” he says, letting out a sigh. My pulse thunders through my neck and he starts to shift the hand on my chest, but my hand flies to stop him.
“Serena,” he whispers, tightening his hold on me. “That’s so fucking hot.”
I would never have wanted this before. I wouldn’t have wanted to be held here, made to come on his hand as he watched. But there’s more to this than just sex. Kit wants me to enjoy this. His pleasure comes from my pleasure. My orgasm is important to him.
As my fingers wrap around his forearms, my nails digging into his flesh, Kit knows I’m close. His hand sinks deeper inside me as his palm presses against my clit, my center grinding against his touch as the pressure becomes too much.
I explode. I mean it in the most literal sense of the word. My body is out of control. My walls clench and unclench around his thick fingers, as if I’m trying to milk every last bit of pleasure from him. I grind against his palm, needing more pressure from him as heat shatters my body, expanding from my core outward.
But that’s not what makes me gasp. Wetness gushes out of me, soaking my panties, my sweats, Kit’s hand—everything. My body trembles, bucks, contracts, and I ride my orgasm, crying out.
Kit feels it too. His eyes widen with mine, holding my gaze, wonder-filled and surprised as he feels the physical evidence of my orgasm.
“What…” I frown, panting, still shivering and bucking against his touch. Jolts of pleasure pierce through me, skating across my skin and burrowing deep into my core.
When I regain control over my body, I glance down to see the mess I’ve made. Kit slides his hand from my panties, my wetness glistening over it. The light gray fabric of my sweats is soaked through, a huge dark patch the evidence of my orgasm. My whole face goes red as I stare at the mess, vaguely confused and definitely embarrassed.
“Holy fucking shit,” Kit says, leaning his head back as his chest heaves. “Do you squirt like that every time?” Trembling, he reaches to unfasten his jeans.
“Squirt?” I repeat, my chest thundering as I try to make sense of what just happened. I shift back, resting on Kit’s thighs as he pulls his cock out of his pants, not even bothering to push his pants and underwear down.
My eyes widen as I watch him grip his thick, long cock. My mouth waters. Wow. He pumps it hard, his eyes hanging low. His fingers grip his shaft, moving in sho
rt, hard jerks.
“This isn’t going to take long,” he says, grinning. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever done.”
“It was?” I ask, my embarrassment ebbing as I see the look of pure pleasure on his face. My eyes drop back to his hand, enthralled by the way he pumps his cock harder and faster than I’d ever dare.
“Serena,” he says, letting out a hard huff. His eyes hang low, lingering on mine before dropping down to my breasts, and then down to the mess I made in my pants.
Kit grunts, his lips falling open as I feel his legs tense beneath me. I watch as Kit’s white seed spurts from him, landing in long, dribbling lines across his abdomen. He grunts, coming on himself as his eyes stay glued to the wet fabric around my crotch.
As I watch him orgasm, another wave of heat washes through me, less intense than before but enough to make my insides clench. My nipples pebble as I watch him, and I feel the urge to taste his seed.
I resist, too embarrassed to act on my filthy thoughts. Instead, I just watch as Kit’s chest heaves, his orgasm dripping down every ridge of muscle on his hard body. He loosens his grip on his cock, his body relaxing against the sofa.
With a sigh, he shakes his head. “You’re going to be the death of me.” His hand slides up over my thigh, running along my waist and teasing the jewel hooked into my belly button. My core clenches gently at his touch, excitement running through me as I watch Kit’s expression.
He looks happy. Sated. Totally enthralled by my pleasure—a fact that excites me more than I can say. He came because of my orgasm. Because of the mess I made. We stay motionless for a few more seconds and my gaze drifts down to the remnants of his seed splashed across his stomach.
I did that. Not directly, but it was because of me. He enjoyed making me come. Liked seeing the wetness gush out of me. Didn’t even touch himself until I’d been satisfied.
I let out a sigh, shaking my head. “I’ve never done that before,” I say, not even sure what I’m referring to. Being held with one hand as I grinded on the other? Had three thick fingers inside me and liked it? Squirted?
Don't Need You: A Brother's Best Friend Romance (We Shouldn't Book 3) Page 12