by K. I. Lynn
A resistance plea, fueling the fire raging through my veins. She’s fighting it, hurt and anger against cataclysmic lust.
I lock eyes with her and slide in. The vision before me—open mouth, fluttering and clouded eyes—is the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen.
I need more. I need to hear her.
“You’re not going to come without me again.” The slow movements at the table are gone, and my fingers become a machine, pounding into her.
She fists my shirt as her body tenses, hips moving in time with my thrusts.
“That’s it, baby. Ride my fingers.” My cock can’t take any more, and I rock into her hip. All of my muscles flip between shaking and tensing. The intensity that constantly rolls between us has complete control. My head drops forward, lips next to her ear. “Show me how you’re going to ride my cock.”
At that, my kitty purrs, her little panting breaths letting out seductive cries.
A twinge of pain grabs my attention, and I stare down at my busted-up hand. My teeth grind as anger boils. I slide another finger into her, all the way, and curl them, pulling as I press my palm into her clit.
She gasps, lust-filled eyes focusing in on me. Whatever she sees makes her shake and her hips rotate.
“You may have let that fucker take what was mine, but don’t forget . . . ” I slip out and slam back in, pulling inside again “ . . . this is mine. No matter what, your pussy belongs to me. For my cock only.”
A whimper erupts from her, hand crawling up my arm as she pulls me closer. Her fingers scratch at the base of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. I stop moving my hand, and Kira squirms against me.
“Brayden.” Her lusted-out voice calling my name makes me want to come. Now.
Our lips are so close and it’s torture to resist, but I know if I kiss her, I won’t be able to stop myself from fucking her. All of my brain is filled with her, but I want more.
“Tell me.” I pull harder. “Tell me who this belongs to, or I won’t let you come.”
She whimpers again. “Brayden.”
I need her to say it. I need her to admit it.
Getting her heart back is going to be hard, but her body is still mine, despite what she thinks.
I lift her dress up so I can see the first view of part of me inside her. Fingers moving in and out, her pussy tight around them. It’s a sight that could only get better with my cock doing the stretching.
Then it hits me. Her scent. The smell of her pussy, the same pussy I made come, thinking it was a dream.
She whimpers when I pull away, her brow furrowed. “No. Don’t stop.”
Her words send a raging torrent of lust rippling through me, my cock growing harder than ever before. I’m overcome, surrounded by everything her, my mind slipping. My hand glistens with her juices, a small pool in the palm of my hand.
Too much.
I tangle my other hand into her hair and force her to look at me.
“Tell me, Kitty, and I’ll make you come so hard it’ll feel like the first time.”
She reaches up and grabs me the same way I have ahold of her, bringing me down to her lips. Breath mingles for a second before she seals her mouth over mine, tongue immediately snaking in, coiling against my own.
Messy, harsh, needy.
Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me in closer, and I can’t stop my hips from pressing forward, my cock grinding against her clit. All thought has left my mind, my hand moving to my pants and working open my belt, trying to get my cock out.
I need inside her.
I need to come inside her.
I need to feel her hot, wet pussy around me, squeezing me.
Belt open, fly down, I fight the elastic band of my boxer-briefs over my dripping dick until it’s twitching free, the head skidding down her thigh.
Then my lips aren’t attached to hers. She’s pulled back, breathless, cheeks red. She grasps my wrist, moving my hand back to the fucking furnace between her thighs.
“Make your pussy come, asshole.”
It only takes a moment for it to click. Not a full acceptance, not the words I want to hear, but she did comply.
I drop down to my knees, sliding her legs from my waist to my shoulders as I go. Precome slides down my shaft when I flatten my tongue over her slit and lick up. A sharp gasp followed by hands on my head makes me glance up. Nothing but greed stares down at me. I keep my gaze locked on her face as I dig my tongue into her opening.
Her hips are rocking out of control, riding my face, forcing me to grab her thighs and hold them. Then I’m back to my feast, sucking and biting on her clit, drinking her down, using my tongue to pull more out. Each cue her reactions give I file away for the next time, and there will be a next time. I can’t live without this.
Everyday. I want to taste her everyday, until the world ends.
Whimpering moans make me drip more, and her loud cries almost make me explode. They echo off the walls, telling anyone who dares enter this area what’s going on.
Kira’s mouth is open wide, pupils completely blown, muscles tense. A sharp pain digs into my back from her fuck-me heels while her thighs shake. I suck on her clit again and watch my beautiful torture consume her. Face twisted in agony, a scream of pleasure, and a death grip on me as my girl shatters.
I take everything into my mouth, licking her clean as she comes down, loving the way her pussy twitches on my tongue.
Fuck every day—I want this every hour.
The painful tug on my hair is gone, her arms falling loose beside her. Legs are next, becoming dead weight on my shoulders. As I stand, they shift, sliding down my arms, but I bend my forearms to catch them. Kira is slumped on the counter, head tilted to the side with a clouded gaze stuck on nothing, still catching her breath.
Any other moment, I’d comment on how sexy she looks in her euphoria, but I’m in serious pain.
My dick is purple. I managed to keep from coming, but my cock is begging for it, threatening to cause my balls serious pain if I don’t get off. A step closer and the head grazes her clit, and she jumps like she’s been electrocuted. Her eyes gain back some focus and stare down.
I brace my arms on the edge of the counter, still holding her legs as I rock my hips, sliding against her pussy. A tremble rolls through me as my cock screams for more, to fucking slide into her wet, wanting snatch.
“Fuck, baby, I want to spread you so bad.” I lick my lips, savoring her again, then lean forward and kiss her. She either doesn’t mind tasting herself or is too blissed out to care, because she awakens, deepening it. “I’m so fucking hard, so fucking gone, I’ll come before I make it all the way in.”
It's amazing how true that has become since I first tasted her. I've never been a minute man, but once I start kissing her, touching her, my hard, constantly horny-for-her dick wants to explode. Every piece of her calls to me. This cellular connection between us compounds, blurring everything but the need to be inside her.
She stares down again, silent, watching the clear fluid weep out of the head. Reaching out, her fingers swipe the underside, causing me to curse. I almost run the gamut of four letter words as her hand wraps around my shaft. She sits up and grabs me with both hands, neither one able to make it around.
“Your cock . . . so big . . .” she trails off, stroking first up, then down, forcing a guttural groan from my lungs. “I want to see it come.”
My head is spinning, words and sounds colliding on their way out with my breath as I thrust without thought into her tiny fists. “Kira.” She’s touching me, the girl I love, the girl I’ve always wanted. Jacking me off. “Kira, baby . . . Fuck! Gonna come.”
Everything goes away for the longest second of my life, then rushes forward as the first spurt explodes, flying into the air before landing on her dress. I’m pretty sure I’m yelling or grunting with the following spasms. Each stream of pearly white jumping up and landing somewhere on her hands, wrists, and forearms.
I lose count, the number of fire offs surpassing
my norm. As they slow and my muscles relax, I lean my head on her shoulder and rest against the counter’s edge. I kiss her collarbone, the tremors tapering, and an overwhelming exhaustion creeps in when I straighten back up.
She’s still wrapped around my cock, watching it slowly deflate and my come slide down her skin and onto the floor below.
“Damn, baby, you look entranced by my dick.” I let out a chuckle. “I’ll let you play with it anytime you want. I’ll even take a video of it so you can watch it over and over.”
Her eyes snap to mine, all the playfulness gone as she lets go of me and slams her hands against my chest.
There’s no strength in me, so I fly back, crashing into the door.
“Bastard. You goddamned asshole!” She’s down from the counter and at the sink, washing me off her.
I tuck my cock back in and step forward, reaching out. She swings around, seeing the movement in the mirror, and slaps my hand away. Anger emanates off her in almost volcanic waves.
“Don’t,” she hisses.
Fuck. Fuck. I messed up. I know I did. She deserves better than to be mauled inside a restaurant bathroom.
“I’m not one of your whores, Brayden.”
Her words are a perfect echo to the thoughts in my mind.
“Kira. I’m—”
“Save it. I don’t care.” Pushing me out of the way, she rushes out of the stall and straight out of the bathroom.
Fucking shit.
I won’t even bother trying to put together the pieces of how I ended up making a mess of everything again. I love her. The sexy dress. The even sexier heels.
Austin’s had her and it kills me inside.
Enough said.
I drop my head and wonder just when am I going to learn my lesson. The promise I made to Ryan, that I’d wait until she’s eighteen, means my girl still isn’t old enough yet for what I want. And what I want definitely doesn’t involve taking her in a restaurant bathroom. Not our first time, at least.
Ryan’s going to fucking kill me if he finds out about this.
Not bothering to wash my hands, I stomp out of the bathroom. When I return to the table, Kira is busy focusing on her plate of food. I don’t know what the fuck happened with Sonia and my father while we were gone, but now they seem busy ignoring each other.
As I slide in, Kira scoots as far away from me as she can.
Beautiful. I can see how the rest of this dinner is going to go.
What should have been one of the best steaks of my life is polluted by the guilt flooding my system. I fucked everything up again because I can’t control the damn hunger and possessiveness that takes over whenever I get near her.
What’s new, right?
I resolve to myself that no matter what happens from here until Kira’s birthday—short of Austin touching her again, that is—I’ll stay away.
This time, I swear I’ll stay away.
A few days later
The ice pack is more than just cold against my skin. It’s freezing. As is to be expected. It would be nice, though, if it was actually doing anything to help the pain radiating through my face.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Ryan warns.
“I’m not even fucking looking at you!” I cry.
It’s true. He’s standing to the left of me, inside the kitchen. I’m facing straight ahead.
My left eye is currently being covered by the ice pack, so no, I’m not looking at him. Why am I pressing an ice pack to my left eye? Oh, maybe it has something to do with the fact that that fucker has gotten into the habit of hitting me lately.
“Don’t act like you didn’t deserve it,” he says in a low tone.
What the fuck? Is this asshole reading my mind now?
I’m smart enough to keep any and all comments to myself.
“I told you not to fucking go back over there.”
Again, I wisely press my lips together and remain quiet.
I hear him slam something in the kitchen, but I’m not stupid enough to turn and try to figure out what it was. No way. I have no right to fight back if he hits me, so my best option is to avoid giving him a reason to do so.
Obviously, I keep failing at the whole not giving him reasons to hit me thing. He’d barely walked through the door, returning from his trip to Florida with Dana, and dropped his bags on the floor, when I’d stopped at the entrance to the kitchen. My plan was to greet him back home and shit. I was even holding an open beer for him.
He took one look at my face . . .
And attacked.
He came at me like an eighteen-wheeler, hitting me so hard I went flying back into the fridge. The beer fell out of my hand and skidded across the kitchen floor.
He made me clean up the mess, even though I was the one with an eye rapidly swelling shut. He honestly did.
He’s becoming so evil. Then again, I’d never really given him a reason to be pissed at me before. Most of the time he’s the level-headed one.
“I can see the guilt on your face, you asshole. You promised me you wouldn’t fuck her until she’s eighteen.”
“I didn’t fuck her,” I grumble.
The fridge door slams shut. “Then God knows what else you fucking did to her, dick!”
This is what I’ve turned my best friend into, apparently. The usually calm Ryan Roth is anything but right now. Clearly, nothing I say is going to smooth things over with my best friend, so therefore, it’s best that I go back to my original plan.
Shut the fuck up and let him vent.
“I honestly should kill you right now.”
I breathe deep and stare straight ahead.
“I should break every bone in your damn body.”
Uh, no he shouldn’t, but I’ll keep that to myself as well.
“No. I should knock you out and tie you to some train tracks.”
“Austin deserves that. Not me.”
He seems to fucking materialize at the entrance to the living room—that’s how fast he just moved. His hazel eyes are large as hell. Deranged. His hair is standing up on end. He looks psychotic. Dangerous. “Shut up.” He points a finger at me. “Just shut the fuck up right now. Don’t speak. Don’t even fucking breathe, you understand me?”
Ryan looks so ready to commit murder that all I can do is nod at him and start holding my breath.
“You both deserve it. You’re both the same—”
Indignation blasts through all my efforts to understand him. “Now wait a minute!”
“What part of she’s underage do you fuckers not understand?”
I drop the ice pack and let my head fall back on the couch. I deserve this. I really do. But hearing him compare me to Austin makes me want to punch Ryan just as hard as he hit me. “I’m sorry,” I grit out. “I really am fucking sorry.”
“Save it.”
Him and his sister, man. Sometimes they seem like the same person. Especially when they’re angry. And fuck me if I don’t have both of them angry at me right now.
Ryan stomps through our apartment. It sounds like he’s heading for his room. I rack my brain, trying to remember if I ever saw him bring home any type of weapons.
Fabric hits my face.
“Just change. Put that shit on, and let’s go.”
“What?” I pull the material off my face and see that it’s my dark blue dress shirt.
He’s at the doorway again, staring at me as if he wishes I’d drop dead right here and now. “The frats are going all out. You’re coming to the party with me.”
“What? No way. My face is swollen!” He’s crazy if he thinks I’m going out like this.
“I don’t give a fuck. You’re coming with me. Get the fuck off the couch.”
“Dude, you’re not listening—”
“I need to get drunk. And I need to remind myself you’re my best friend. So let’s. Go.”
God fucking damn it.
Frat Alley is lit up, each house filled with people, music pumping with the last party of spring
break. Everyone’s inside, steering clear of the cold.
We thought about joining up, becoming pledges our freshman year. In the end, I’m glad we didn’t. I love their parties, but I also love my personal space, and there’s none of that in the frat houses. There’s also a high likelihood neither me or Ryan would have our honors standing—something we’ve worked damn hard for.
Work hard, play hard.
Picking a starting house, we walk in and as I glance around, I catch a girl on her knees giving head.
Already?
“One.”
Ryan’s gaze snaps in the direction I’m looking. “Damn it,” he mutters under his breath.
I smirk, hoping at this rate I can get him hammered and he’ll forget that he wants to kill me.
We walk through the rooms, waving at friends and other people we know as we head to the bar. Another one catches my eye, a guy sitting on the couch with a girl’s head bobbing up and down in his lap.
“Two.” Man, at this rate, we might hit a new record.
Ryan huffs and shakes his head. “Your fucking stupid game.”
“Hey, three years we’ve been playing, and you don’t think it’s so stupid when you’re winning.” And right now I wish he was. I could use the booze to take my mind off the throbbing in my face. Then again, the game demands he take a shot for each blowjob or fuck I saw first, but it doesn’t mean I can’t join him in the drinking.
Plus, if he was winning, I wouldn’t have the constant reminder of what I’m not getting taunting me. It’s been a month since the last time I had sex. My dick is begging for some loving, and not from my own hand. Though Kira’s hand on me . . . fuck, yeah, that helped ease the ache. The problem is it awakened that pulsing need only she can cure.
Pain flares in my ribs and I reach around to grab them, crying out. “Motherfucker! What the hell was that for?”
“You were thinking about the shit you did to her.”
“What?” When the fuck did he become psychic?
“Your dick’s up.”
After a quick adjustment, I reach over the bar for two cups and a bottle of rum. “And seeing two girls giving blowjobs couldn’t do that?”