An I love you kind of kiss.
I’ve never said those words before. Not romantically.
I’m still not sure exactly what it means to love someone.
I press my lips to his. I tug at his t-shirt. “Emma’s at work.”
He nods.
“We could… I want to…” My cheeks flame. I’m still not good at this dirty talk thing.
His expression shifts. The doubt in his eyes fades into something a lot more demanding. “Tell me what you want, angel.”
To be sure you’re mine. I stare back into his eyes. I know exactly what I want. Now I have to ask for it.
He stares back at me. “Well?”
“I… I want to suck you off.”
His pupils dilate. “Fuck, Kay, you know how to bury the lead.”
My cheeks flush. “I’m sorry. I just. I’ve never, and—”
“Don’t fucking apologize.” He slides his hand into my hair and pulls me into a slow, deep kiss. “I love how earnest you are.”
Love. The word does things to me. Things it didn’t do yesterday.
My confession nags at my throat.
I want to tell him.
I’m going to.
Just… after this.
I swear.
He nips at my lips. “Fuck, you have no idea what you do to me.”
“Right back at you.” I press my forehead to his nose so I won’t have to look him in the eyes. “I’ve never… will you teach me?”
He nods. “I like it rough.”
“Are you going to keep warning me?”
“Probably.” He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me off the couch with him.
Brendon nods to the window. “You want the blinds closed?”
I bite my lip. “No.” We’re blocks from the beach. People might walk by. They might see. But the thought doesn’t scare me. It makes my sex clench. It makes my pulse race.
“You want people to see you on your knees, angel?”
I swallow hard. “Yes.”
He motions come here.
I do.
His lips crash into mine. It’s a hard, hungry kiss. Need rises up from my stomach and pours from my lips to his.
Right now, I need to feel he’s mine.
He breaks our kiss to pull my t-shirt over my head. Then he’s undoing my bra and pushing the straps off my shoulders.
Desire races through my body as Brendon cups my breasts.
My eyes flutter closed as he draws circles around my nipples. His hands are strong, but they’re gentle too. Every brush of his fingers sends another wave of desire straight to my core.
“Brendon…” I grab onto his t-shirt.
“Say it again, angel.”
“Brendon…” Right now, the only thing I know is that I want him touching me.
He presses his hips against mine so I can feel his erection. Still, he keeps his focus on my chest as he toys with my nipples. His touch gets lighter and lighter until it’s so light I can barely feel it. Then it’s harder.
Harder.
Hard enough it hurts as much as it feels good.
But it feels really fucking good.
He drags his fingers over my collarbones. His eyes fix on mine.
His voice is as demanding as his gaze. “On your knees.”
My sex clenches. I want to be on my knees for him. I want him in my mouth.
I don’t know how it’s possible, but somehow, I’m even hotter.
I lower myself onto my knees.
Brendon’s hand curls into my hair. “I’m going to fuck that pretty mouth of yours.”
Yes. Hell yes. I nod.
“Unzip my jeans and take out my cock.”
I bring my hands to the waistband of his jeans and unzip. My palm presses against his boxers. That’s Brendon under that thin layer of cotton.
Desire pools in my core. I want this more than I want to get off.
I pull his jeans to his feet. Then the boxers.
And that’s Brendon, hard and ready for me.
I take a moment to soak in the sight of him. He’s thick. Long. My fingers go to the arrow-head shaped tip.
He feels good in my hand.
I lean in to brush my lips against him. At first, it’s just a taste, and fuck does he taste good. Like skin and sweat and something distinctly him.
“Open your mouth,” he commands.
I do.
He brings his other hand to my head. “Keep your hands at your sides, angel. I’m in control here. If it’s too much, tug on my wrist.”
“Yes.” I press my palms into my sides and pull my lips apart.
His holds my head in place as he shifts into my mouth. I run my tongue over his head, savoring every groan that falls off his lips.
He tastes good and that’s Brendon in my mouth.
I want him.
I want this.
His grip tightens as he thrusts deeper. My lips stretch around him. My tongue presses against the underside of his tip.
His pace stays slow, but, still, I have to relax my throat to keep from gagging.
I have to press my palms into my hips to keep from reaching out to touch him.
He looks down at me, his expression equal parts caring and ravenous. He runs his hand through my hair.