I’d thought he would spend the night again.
I have to shake the disappointment from my head. Of course it makes sense he wouldn’t sleep over every night. He has his own place, his own bed, and neither of them comes with the creepiness of mine. Apparently.
So this is all completely normal.
“I’ve been thinking about it all day,” I confess in a whisper.
It must be the right thing to say because Kennedy cups my face and kisses me deeper. He pours all the need I’ve been feeling into the kiss, and even with my tender top lip, I don’t want this to end.
He pulls me with him as he stands. “Have you showered?”
“Before you got here. I, uh, wanted to be ready.”
His low groan sends ripples of need through me. There’s nothing I’ve ever experienced in my life like when we’retogether. It’s addictive. Kennedy makes me feel so wanted, and I’m scared to get used to the feeling in case I lose it again.
He kisses me as he backs me inside, grass turning to tile flooring underfoot until my calves bump the side of my couch, and he finally breaks the kiss.
His hands find the bottom of my shirt, and he pulls it up over my head. His goes next.
I love Kennedy’s chest. He’s muscular, all across his pecs, shoulders, and arms. His stomach is thick, but softer, and covering it all is a layer of blond hair.
I’m so fucking hard as I run my hands over his chest, thumb catching one of his nipples. A sharp inhale rushes past his teeth, and Kennedy’s darkened gaze locks on mine.
“Take off your pants.”
I don’t drop his gaze as I reach for them. I want him to see what he does to me. I want him to see that I need this.
As soon as my fly is undone, the heavy denim drops to the ground, and I kick it aside.
His focus finally dips, and he licks his lips like he’s starving for me.
I reach for his pants. They’re thick work material, but perfectly sculpted to his ass, his thighs, his cock. I’ve inspected them so many times while we work together that it’s committed to memory.
I tug his fly down, and his cock follows his zipper, spilling out like it’s eager to reach for me. He’s not wearing underwear, which only goes to show he was hoping for this as much as I was. Kennedy should know by now that this is always on the table for him.
Because I can’t help myself, I push his pants from his hips and wrap my hand around him. He’s hot and heavy in my palm, a feeling I’m convinced I’ll never get used to, and as he thrusts into my grip, his eyes flutter back.
“That feels so good.”
Pride prickles in my gut. The way I can turn him on is the biggest high, and half the time, I’m convinced I need a mirror to check it’s really me standing here.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” he says, voice hitched as he fucks my fist. “I’m going to sit on the floor and put my head back on the couch cushion. Then you’re going to face the back of the couch and lower yourself until I’m wearing your balls like a hat. Got it?”
My brain is too stuck to answer him, even if I wanted to.
He slants a grin at me. “Think that sounds good? Wait until my tongue is in your ass.”
I think I choke on air.
Kennedy pulls away from me and gets into position. My heart is racing sickeningly fast, and the thought of doing what he wants to do is making me equal parts hot and self-conscious. He’s going to see everything. I want him to see everything, but I’m also scared of him seeing everything, and it’s the strangest mix of emotions, but my dick is aching, so I don’t stop to think about it for long.
Especially when Kennedy props up one of his knees and reaches for his cock. He’s stroking himself as he watches me.
“Ziggy, just looking at you is enough to make me blow. So if you don’t want me to get myself off, you better give me something else to do with my hands.”
Oh.
Fuck.
