by Laura Lee
Kingston reads my mind before I can make a move, so it’s only a matter of seconds before rough hands are grabbing me, shoving me through the doorway. He slams the door shut behind him, locking us in a powder room. Damn it, why am I always getting stuck in bathrooms alone with this guy?
He unclenches his jaw before speaking. “You trying to get my attention, Jazz?”
I shake my head, willing my heart to calm its frantic beats. “What? No. Why would you think that?”
He crowds me against the counter and lifts a brow in challenge. “No? What did you not understand about the fact that you are mine? The way you were grinding up against my best friend says otherwise.” His eyes darken. “You want us to share? Is that it?”
My fear is shifting into anger. Or arousal. Nope, let’s go with anger.
“No, I do not want you to share!” Hopefully that sounded a lot more convincing than it did in my head. “But for the record, what I do with my body is none of your business. Who I allow to touch me is none of your business! I am not yours!”
He grips the back of my neck, squeezing until I wince. “I don’t fucking think so.”
Kingston leans down until I’m forced to bend backward over the sink and slams his mouth against mine. I press my lips firmly together, denying his kiss, but then he bites my lower lip so hard, the metallic taste of blood seeps into my mouth when I gasp. Kingston wraps my ponytail around his fist, yanking my head back farther as his tongue pushes in. All pretenses of not wanting this leaves my body in a rush when the tip of his tongue glides against mine.
I slide my hands under his t-shirt, wrapping my arms around his torso. I pull Kingston into me, scratching my nails down his back. The faucet is digging into my spine and my damn lip is stinging. I desperately want him to feel the pain like I do. There’s a tornado of conflicting emotions within me that should scare the shit out of me, but it doesn’t. Instead, my body purrs in excitement, recognizing the same chaos within him. Our damaged souls call out to each other like a siren, solidifying this fucked up connection we seem to have.
I moan into his mouth when Kingston kicks my legs apart and grinds his hard-on into me. Every inch of my body is touching his as we drink each other in. He and I have some pretty significant problems with one another, but that doesn’t stop me from doing this. Kingston Davenport’s touch seems to be the only thing that can make me not hurt so much, and I’m sick and tired of hurting so damn much.
He rips his mouth away when I stroke his dick through his jeans. “You owe me an apology. Getting on your knees and putting that sexy mouth on my dick is a great way to start.”
“That’s never going to happen.” My laugh turns into a groan when Kingston plucks my hardened nipple. “The apology part.”
He gives me a salacious grin. “But the blowjob part is on the table?”
If I wasn’t already so flushed, I would be now. I bite my lip, debating my answer. Does the thought of working Kingston over with my mouth, knowing that I’m the one bringing him pleasure turn me on? Sure. But I don’t like the thought of giving in to him so easily. Evidently, I’m taking too long to answer because he speaks up again.
“Fine. I’ll go first—flip over. I want you to watch what I do to you in the mirror.”
It takes me a second to catch up when he stands upright. Once the meaning of his words sinks in, I turn onto my stomach, resting it on the counter. Kingston turns my head until I’m facing a full-length mirror propped in the corner. It’s one of those heavy old-fashioned ones that stands on its own.
“What are you—”
Kingston unbuttons my jeans. “Just shut the fuck up and watch.”
I bristle at his rudeness, but when he slides my pants and underwear to my knees and crouches down to give me one long lick, I’m no longer offended. He wastes no time diving in, devouring me like I’m his last meal. I watch our reflection as Kingston sits on his knees, eating me from behind. He inserts one finger and then another, pumping in and out as he continues his assault on my clit. My moans are followed by his groans as he licks and sucks with just the right amount of pressure.
My legs are trapped by my clothing, so I don’t have much room to move, even though I’m dying to. I kick off my left shoe and start clumsily pushing my pants down. Kingston gets the hint and yanks them the rest of the way until one leg is free. He switches positions, now slouching on the floor with his neck craned back. He removes his fingers from my pussy and wraps both arms around my thighs, pulling me down. I widen my stance, straddling his face, gripping the countertop for support.
“You taste so fucking good,” he murmurs. “Better than I imagined.”
I don’t have time to wonder how many times he’s fantasized about this because once he wraps his lips around my clit and sucks, an orgasm barrels down my spine, shocking the hell out of me with its intensity. I’ve been trying to keep quiet this entire time, not wanting to alert anyone to what we’re doing, but as I come, I scream Kingston’s name.
With a nibble on my inner thigh, Kingston rises from the floor and locks eyes with me through the mirror. We’re both flushed and a little sweaty. His dark blond hair is a complete disaster from all the face sitting, and his lips are shiny from my arousal. Someone’s been banging on the door for who knows how long, complaining about a line building, so there’s no way Kingston and I are walking out of this room without notice. With our disheveled state—and you know, the screaming orgasm—there’s also no way they won’t know what we were doing in here.
He presses his erection into me, holding my gaze. “We’re not done here. We’re not even close to done. I want you to think about that—and how hard you just came—the next time you want to lie to yourself, telling yourself you don’t belong to me.” Kingston tugs my ponytail aside and places a soft kiss right behind my ear. I can smell myself on him and for some sick reason, I’m even more turned on. “You’re fucking mine, Jazz. You can fight it all you want, but that doesn’t make it any less true.”
I glare at his amused smirk as I quickly redress. He waits for me to finish, hand poised on the doorknob. The giant bulge in his pants is pretty hard to ignore, no pun intended. I hate that part of me feels guilty for leaving him high and dry yet again. I really despise the fact that an even bigger part feels deprived because I don’t know what it feels like to have him inside of me.
I nod to it. “Are you going to at least try hiding that monster in your pants?”
“Not at all.”
He turns the handle and opens the door. As he’s stepping into the hallway, he adds, “By the way... that surprise I mentioned earlier. Be ready Sunday morning at ten. We have Belle for the day.”
My jaw drops in shock as I watch him walk away without another word. I step out of the room to chase after him, but I freeze when I see the line of people hugging the wall outside of the bathroom. My face reddens as a girl shoves me out of the way, muttering something about almost peeing her pants while I was getting off. As I do my walk of shame down the hallway, most are smiling or chuckling at my expense. When I get to the end of the line, I see Peyton and Whitney scowling. What the hell are they doing here anyway? I had assumed Reed would keep them away after they cornered me at school.
“Slut,” Peyton mutters as I pass.
I stop and turn to her. “Excuse me?”
She props a hand on her hip. “You heard me, slut. Don’t act so self-righteous. Not when you’re all over Bentley one minute and then fucking Kingston in the bathroom the next.”
I refuse to let her get to me. I smile before leaning in and stage-whispering my next comment.
“Careful, Peyton. You’re looking a little green and it’s not really your color.”
Her lips thin, but I don’t wait around to hear anything else. When I get to the end of the hall, Bentley’s standing there, having witnessed the interaction. He narrows his brown eyes in Peyton and Whitney’s direction before turning them back to me.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine.�
�� I jerk my head over my shoulder. “I don’t think they are though. Someone should probably escort them out before a tantrum ensues.”
Bentley laughs. “You leave that to me, baby girl. Ains was just looking for you. You go catch up with her while I take out the trash.”
As I head back to where I last saw Ainsley, I have a chilling thought. It wasn’t that long ago when Kingston was referring to me as trash and now he’s practically stamping his brand on my ass like a caveman.
I’m not sure which one is worse.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
KINGSTON
“Son, come in. Close the door behind you.”
I walk into my dad’s corporate office Monday after school. He’s the CEO of Davenport Boating, a yacht manufacturing company he took over from my grandfather. As far as he knows, I plan on double majoring in business and law so I can take the reins when he retires. Considering the man is fifty-nine, I’d think that’s scheduled to happen sometime in the next decade. What he doesn’t know, is if I can pull this off, his golden years will be spent in a six-by-eight cell.
My father has his hands in several different businesses and not all of them legal. Running a Fortune 500 pays well but greedy fucker that he is, he can never procure enough wealth. I’m fairly certain money is the only reason he married my mother, who was the sole heir to a luxury hotel chain. God knows they were nothing alike. She was significantly younger than him yet somehow, he charmed her into bed and convinced her to marry him when she became pregnant with twins. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if he knocked her up on purpose.
When she died, the only thing my dad inherited was a small savings account and a few vacation properties. My maternal grandfather had insisted she had an iron-clad prenup, equally dividing the bulk of her estate to any children she gave birth to. My father challenged the will, trying to find a loophole, but there were none. The only reason I know any of this is because my grandfather told me shortly before he died two years ago. He hated my father—never trusted him and rightfully so. Preston Davenport is one shady motherfucker.
I haven’t brought any of this information to Ainsley’s attention yet. As far as she’s concerned, our dad is cold, absent, and a habitual womanizer, but she has no idea what evils he’s truly capable of. I know one day it will come to light, but I’m choosing to protect her naivety for the time being.
I shut the door and take a seat in front of his desk. “You wanted to see me? This couldn’t wait until you got home?”
He shakes his head. “I’m heading straight to the airport after this. I just needed to drop in and check on a few things before I left town.”
“Where are you going now?”
“Miami. The annual yacht show doesn’t begin until Friday, but there’re industry professional events throughout the week. I figured it was a good time to spy on the competition.”
I have no doubt he’s heading to Miami. I do, however, highly doubt the reason behind this trip has anything to do with boats.
I nod. “Why am I here, Dad?”
The LA skyline is behind his back as he steeples his fingers. “I wanted to see how your little project with Jasmine Callahan is going.”
“I have it handled.”
He raises a salt-n-pepper brow. “You sure about that? I hear she’s causing problems with her stepsister.”
I clench my jaw. “Peyton is the one causing problems and I have that handled as well.”
“You know...” My father twirls a pen between his fingers. “I have no problem with you sampling the merchandise, so to speak, but I hope you know better than to get emotionally involved with this girl.”
“Who said I was emotionally involved?”
His greenish-brown eyes, identical to my own, assess me carefully. “I have my sources.”
I scoff. “Well, your sources are wrong. I don’t get emotionally involved. The only thing I want from a woman is her pussy.”
A genuine smile lights up his over-Botoxed face. “Don’t forget about their mouths or asses. Hell, even their tits, although the Callahan girl doesn’t exactly have those assets.”
I grit my teeth. I happen to love Jasmine’s tits. Yeah, they’re small, but they’re perky and they fit her tiny frame. It’s actually nice being with someone natural for a change. Shit, I’m pretty sure my sister and Jazz are the only girls at Windsor who didn’t get a set of double-Ds for their sixteenth birthdays.
I bite back what I really want to say and instead, tell him what he wants to hear. “She doesn’t need ‘em. With her tight pussy, round ass, and plump lips, my dick has plenty of places to go. If I ever wanted to fuck a pair of big tits, I have plenty on standby.”
My father releases a boisterous laugh. “That’s my boy! You’re right—she doesn’t need the tits. I wouldn’t mind taming that girl one bit just the way she is. Maybe you can throw her my way when you’re done with her?”
I resist the urge to launch myself across this desk and punch the asshole. The sad thing is, this man has no clue how fucked up this conversation is between a man and his eighteen-year-old son.
I scrub a hand over my face, my tolerance wearing thin. “Is that all?”
He nods. “For now. Although, I feel I should remind you what’s at stake here. You do well with this, Charles and I will introduce you to a world you could only dream of. Countless beautiful women, eager to please, and riches at your disposal. He and I aren’t getting any younger, you know. We could use someone like you on our team.”
I force myself to look bored with this conversation. “What team?”
He gives me a smarmy smile. “All in due time, son. All in due time.”
A KNOCK SOUNDS AT THE door of my pool house. I check the time on my phone, surprised the pizza delivery guy is here already. When I open the door, my face falls. I was expecting a large pepperoni and olive. Instead, I get a tall, over enhanced blonde.
I block her entrance when she tries crossing the threshold. “What do you want, Vanessa?”
My father’s wife trails her French-manicured nail down my chest. “Your father’s gone.”
I remove her hand when she goes for my belt. “So?”
Vanessa pushes her shoulders back, which causes her tits to jut forward. She’s wearing a sheer, light pink nightie with no panties. It’s pretty obvious why she’s here right now, but I enjoy making her squirm.
“So...” She goes for my belt again and this time, I take a step back, causing her to pout. “I thought we could have a little fun. I miss you, baby.”
I scoff. “Save the pet names for your sugar daddy. I’m not interested.”
Vanessa scrunches her nose. “What do you mean you’re not interested?”
Contrary to popular belief, I’m not one to stick my dick into any willing pussy. Shit, I didn’t even do more than kiss Ariana at that party. I told her to moan for me so Jazz would make assumptions and she didn’t even question it before putting on a porn-worthy show.
“Kingston? Did you hear me?”
My eyes leisurely roam Vanessa’s body. My dad’s wives get younger and younger with each marriage. Vanessa’s twenty-two and practically lives in our home gym, so her body is fit and firm in all the right places. She’s the only woman I’ve fucked since Peyton, although I allow Peyton to believe otherwise. When Vanessa heard that Peyton and I had broken up, she came over to tell me how sorry she was, by swallowing my cock.
The woman is hot and she fucks like a pro, but if I’m being honest, the only reason I even took her up on her offer was to screw over my dad. Vanessa’s nothing but a trophy to him—that’s common knowledge—but Preston Davenport expects monogamy from his wives, despite the fact that he never lives up to it on his end. His ego is far too fragile to have a woman cheat on him, which is why he’s on his fourth marriage.
The delivery guy walks up behind Vanessa, eyes wide when he sees she’s practically naked. I pull a fifty out of my pocket and hand it to him in exchange for the pizza.
“Thanks, man.” H
is eyes are still on my stepmother.
I nod to the pizza guy, but I’m speaking to Vanessa. “If you want to shove someone’s cock down your throat so bad, I’m sure this guy would be more than willing.”
“Uh...” said guy stammers. “Yeah... sure. You want me to whip it out right here?”
Vanessa looks over her shoulder before turning back to me. “Is that what gets you off, Kingston? You want to watch me blow someone else?”
I set the pizza box down and lean against the doorjamb. “Oh yeah. It would turn me right the fuck on. Maybe if you do a good enough job, we can see how sexy you look being spit-roasted.”
She smiles and immediately drops to her knees in front of the delivery guy. My tone couldn’t have possibly been more sarcastic, but Vanessa Davenport isn’t exactly the brightest crayon in the box.
The delivery guy hastily undoes his pants, pushing them down to his knees and Vanessa wastes no time hoovering his dick into her mouth.
He groans. “Jesus, this is my favorite porn fantasy come true.”
I laugh as I start to close the door, but Vanessa releases him with a pop and says, “Where are you going? I thought you wanted to watch.”
“Nah.” I shake my head. “My pizza’s getting cold. Besides, if you’ve seen one whore suck a cock, you’ve seen them all.” The poor guy’s boner is just hanging in the breeze, so I decide to do him a solid. “But... if my new friend here tells me you got him off real good, I might let you blow me next.”
I wait until she sucks his dick back into her mouth before closing the door and turning the lock. I have zero intention of letting that dumb bitch ever touch my cock again, but at least the delivery guy will get to bust a nut. And if someone happens to leave a flash drive with the footage from my security feed on my father’s desk, so be it. Call it my good deed for the year.