He growls against my lips when I let the tip of his cock press against my wet entrance and I get my first taste of real sensual power. He wants me. Maybe even needs me.
Angling my hips just the right way, I lower myself down onto him and he inhales sharply, pulling me down hard on him, his cock plunging deep. A small cry sounds in my throat but again, the sensation of pain and want is intoxicating for me, intensifying when he whispers my name and shudders, losing himself in me completely just as I am with him.
I really can give him everything.
And that’s all I’ve ever wanted and wished for.
25
Tor
My love,
We promised each other forever.
If you think I’ve let you go, you’re wrong.
You’re mine. I’m yours.
Forever.
Tor
Nothing can fuck your shit up faster than the girl you’ve got your cock buried in getting a text message from her father telling her she should come home because it’s after midnight.
I wanted to keep her with me in my bed all night and ask her to not go home. I wanted her tell her father that she was spending the night at Chloe’s house and she’d be home tomorrow.
And then I remembered that once I was the guy who enforced her curfew. Told her to never lie to her father about anything. I almost laughed at the insane irony of it, only it wasn’t funny. It was terrifyingly confusing.
Fuck me.
Day one of having Kenzi was nothing short of a dream and I’m not going to let these bumps in the road ruin the happiness we’re feeling. We knew it would be hard. We knew it would be difficult. We knew there would be lies.
Is she worth it? Yes.
So I drove her home in my truck and when she went inside she told Asher that she had been at my place playing with the dog and then we watched a movie and lost track of the time. And when she sent me a text an hour later, when I was back home alone in my bed that still smelled of her perfume and I was missing her like crazy, she told me her father said her she could have stayed here. Because she was with me.
Safe.
Was she safe? Of course. But Asher wouldn’t think so if he knew I had just spent hours dragging my tongue over every curve of her delicious body, pummeling away her virginity with nine inches of his best friend, and fingering her into orgasmic bliss while telling her I’m going to love her for eternity.
Now I’m standing outside my sister’s apartment door, wondering if I’m at the wrong address. This is an upscale mill apartment in Manchester, probably getting at least twelve hundred per month in rent. How is my little sister affording something like this? I have no idea how much a hair and makeup artist can make, but apparently it’s a lot.
Shrugging, I ring the bell, hoping she’s awake, and home. After a few seconds her door opens, and she’s standing there with her hair up in a messy ponytail wearing a short, black silk robe.
“Toren!” She says with obvious surprise. “I didn’t know you were coming over. Come in.”
I saunter into her apartment and gaze around at the stark white walls, chic modern decor and furnishings like glass table tops and funky vases. Everything is white, black, and red. I feel like I just walked into an abstract painting.
“You live here?” I ask, not hiding my disbelief. I was expecting a cute little studio with cheap throw rugs, colorful throw pillows, hand me down furniture, and clothes thrown around like when she lived at mom’s house.
“Um, yes, why?”
“Alone? Or do you have a roommate?”
“Alone. You know I hate people.”
“Hm. It’s just so…neat. And expensive. Is this couch real leather?” I run my hand across the soft black cushion. Yes. It’s leather.
She curls her lip at me and turns to walk into the small kitchen with granite counter tops and stainless steel appliances. “You want some coffee? I literally just crawled out of bed.”
I follow her and sit at her kitchen table, grabbing a thick white envelope laying in the middle of the table next to a vase of red silk flowers. It’s stuffed with cash. A lot of cash.
“You rob a bank?” I query, thumbing through all the bills.
“No,” she replies from the noisy latte maker, not turning around.
I frown at the envelope. “Dealing drugs? Stripping, maybe?”
She turns and snatches the envelope from me and shoves it in a drawer before she goes back to making our coffees. “No, Tor. It’s just tips from work.”
“Nice. Maybe I need to switch jobs.”
“Ha ha,” she jokes, handing me a cup and sitting gracefully in the chair across from me. “So what brings you here?”
“I wanted to check in on my little sister, but it looks like you’re doing well.” My gut tells me something is very off here. I doubt I could afford to live in this place, so how is she swinging this?