“Breakfast be damned.”
“I can live with that.” I lift my arms and wrap them around his neck, picking up exactly where we left off. Getting hot and heavy right in the middle of the kitchen.
Ky manhandles me, taking every and all liberties with my body. Not one inch is off limits. He gropes my breasts then my ass, licks my lips then my neck, bites my collar then my thigh.
“You going to go down on me right here?” I rest back on the edge of the counter as his mouth works its way north from my knee.
“Why not? We’re the only ones here. I can take you wherever, whenever, however I want.” He brings his face to mine. “You belong to me. You said it last night.”
“Screamed it was more like it,” I mutter under my breath.
“Damn right, baby.” Ky lifts me off the stool and plops me onto the island counter. “And I plan to make you scream it again. Now spread your legs. And let me eat.”
“Kiss me first.” I appeal, utterly lovestruck.
“Snow, I plan on doing that, too.” Ky leans in, and I’m washed away by the first firm press of his mouth. Jesus, I’m powerless against him. His tongue teases its way under my loose-fitting shorts before he shifts the material over enough to lick me with no obstacles in his way.
“Oh, oh, oh,” I twitch with each hard slash of tongue, my pussy throbbing from the ambush of ecstasy.
“Fuck, that sounds so hot.” Ky spies up at me as he eats me for breakfast right on the countertop. I watch his mouth close over my clit, and the concentrated sensation forces me to drop my head back and mewl. “You look so fucking hot,” he spreads my thighs farther apart, splaying his fingers across my kindling flesh. I dig my hands into my hair and pull as Ky continues to feast, my muscles pulling tighter and tighter with every maddening ministration of his tongue.
“You’re gonna make me come,” I grab onto the back of his head with one hand and hold on tight, panting and squirming and pleading.
He moans against my pussy in a gluttonous way. “On me. You, come, all over me.” Then he stands, ripping open the fly of his jeans. Shoving them down, he grabs me chaotically and guides the head of his shaft straight to my soaking wet entrance. We both gasp as he penetrates me, his cock thick and hard and eager.
“Damn, Snow,” he grunts, circling his hips in a furious motion. The pressure and the angle are so good, so precise, the orgasm that’s hovering comes in for a crash landing.
“Ah! Ah! Ah!” I jerk upwards with each powerful plunge of his cock into my flooding heat, coming in a frantic array of passionate sounds and fervent gestures. I’m shaking all over, clawing, scraping, and scratching at Ky, gripping onto him for dear life as his cock sharpens and swells, stabbing into me like a meaty knife. He grunts animalistically when he comes, his thrusts turning lazy and fitful while his body spasms. The masculine features of his face twisted with a titanic amount of pleasure.
“Mmm,” he clutches my cheeks and kisses me sloppily, dazed from desire. Drained, he catches his breath by resting his head on my heaving chest. “See. I promised I would kiss you.”
“Kiss is not a strong enough word to describe it.” I run my fingers through his hair, sated, satisfied and feeling utterly sublime.
“Why do you still have clothes on?” He complains.
“Because you to were too distracted to take them off.”
“We need to rectify that. Now.” Just as he goes to slide off my shorts, the doorbell rings, and we both jump.
“Holy shit. Gerard just sprinted across the pond to kill you.”
“Shut it. That senior citizen couldn’t run across The Lion’s Den parking lot. Stay put.” He pops a kiss on my lips. “I’ll get rid of whomever it is.”
My very large, very hot, very intimidating boyfriend walks across the expanse of the room. He’s a dark constitution amongst all the light. Just like Gerard. And just like his father, he fits. Right here in this house, in my life.
I watch Ky, overly invested. He speaks to whomever it is for a good, long minute before he says, “Kira, we have company.”
A man I don’t recognize follows Ky through the house. He’s dressed similar to Ky, black T-shirt and jeans, and is carrying a yellow file folder. The man’s T-shirt has a logo on it, though, the same angry bomb that was on Ky’s hat with words that read “Baumer Mafia.” His hair is dark, and so are the thick-rimmed glasses on his face.
“Kira, this is Hawk,” Ky introduces us. “He’s the one who came over and looked at the alarm.”
“Oh, right.” I put my hand out. “Nice to formally meet you.” I dangle my feet on the counter top.
Hawk just nods. Not very social I take it. Or maybe he just isn’t a fan of me. He’s giving off some serious hate vibes. I pull my arm back, dissed.
“Slash, can we go someplace private and talk?” He’s all business.
“Is it about the club?”
