Chapter 17 Kya #2
“Let go,” he growls. “I want you to come on my tongue. Right now.”
I break with a scream, orgasm ripping through me like wildfire. My thighs tremble, hips jerking, and he holds me down, his tongue relentless.
He shifts his grip, sliding one thick finger inside me, then another. He curls them perfectly, hitting that sweet, devastating spot.
“Lee, oh god—please—”
“You gonna come again?” he pants, mouth wet and glistening with my arousal. “Gonna soak my fingers this time?”
I nod frantically, clutching his hair like a lifeline.
“Then do it. Be a good girl and come all over me.”
My second orgasm is even worse—white-hot and body-shaking, clenching around his fingers while he presses kisses to the inside of my thighs.
A phone alarm blares, cutting through my afterglow. I jerk, crunching up to stare down at him as he pulls it out, swiping to turn off the beeping.
“What’s that?”
He stands slowly, licking his fingers.
Then he undoes his belt.
And holy. Shit.
His cock springs free—thick, flushed, gorgeous. It curves just slightly toward his belly, a prominent vein running up the shaft, the head shiny with precum. I lick my lips without thinking.
“That was midnight. Congratulations, Kya. You won.”
His words register but I no longer care. His cock is far too distracting, and I am far too desperate to care. I want him in me. Now.
“I’m going to fuck you,” he says, tone guttural. “So deep you’ll feel me every time you move tomorrow.”
He lines himself up, the head of his cock pressing hot and heavy against my entrance.
“You ready?” he asks. “You sure?”
“Please,” I whisper. “I want to feel all of you.”
He rolls a condom on then pushes in. I gasp as the stretch begins—my body yielding, molding around him inch by aching inch. It’s too much and not enough, pressure building, nerves firing, pleasure and pain tangled into something deliciously unbearable.
“Jesus,” he groans, jaw locked tight, sweat beading at his temples. “You’re so fucking tight. I can feel your pussy gripping every inch of me.”
My breath stutters, head falling back, and he doesn’t stop until he’s fully seated—hips flush with mine, the heavy weight of him pressing deep and perfect.
We stay there, locked together, panting. The fullness is dizzying. Intimate. Devastating.
“You feel like fucking heaven,” he whispers, forehead pressed to mine. “Like you were made for me.”
Then he pulls back—just a fraction—and slams in hard.
I scream.
Again.
Again.
His hips snap forward with a savage rhythm, each thrust hitting deeper, harder, sending wet, obscene sounds echoing through the room. The slap of skin against skin, our broken moans. It’s raw, primal, feral.
He grabs my thigh, throws my leg over his shoulder, and the angle—fuck—it’s everything. His cock hits that devastating spot inside me with ruthless precision.
“Oh god—Lee—right there—right there—”
“Yeah?” His voice is wrecked, breathless. “You like getting fucked on this bar like my personal fucktoy?”
“Yes,” I gasp, wild. “Yes, I’m yours—I’m fucking yours—”
He drives in harder, deeper. “Say it again.”
“I’m yours, Lee,” I cry. “Yours. Yours. Yours.”
He growls, grabs my jaw, and forces my gaze up to meet his. His eyes are wild, dark with possession and something deeper—reverence. Like he can’t believe he gets to have me like this.
“Look at me when you come,” he commands. “I want to watch you fall apart.”
His thrusts become erratic, deeper and sharper, every stroke pushing me closer to the edge.
“I can’t—Lee—please—”
“Yes, you fucking can.” His thumb finds my clit and circles. “Come for me. Now.”
And I shatter.
The orgasm tears through me like a tidal wave—full-body, toe-curling, so violent I scream. My muscles clamp around him, wet and pulsing, and he fucks me through every second of it like a man possessed.
My vision blurs. My ears ring. I’m wrecked, completely and utterly.
That’s all it takes.
“Fuck—fuck, Kya—” Lee snarls, pulling out at the last second. He tears the condom off then pumps his cock once. Hot, thick ropes of cum spill across my belly and thighs as he curses, muscles tensed, back arched like a bowstring snapped taut.
We collapse into each other, chests heaving, bodies trembling. The air around us is hot and thick, heavy with sex and sweat and everything we didn’t say but just proved with skin.
He presses a kiss to my temple, his hand still stroking up and down my side like he’s grounding us both.
“You still with me?” he murmurs against my damp skin.
“Barely,” I croak. My voice is raw, shredded. I don’t even know if I’m still blinking evenly.
He chuckles, low and filthy and full of sin. “Good.”
He leans up, eyes glittering.
“Because round two?” he says, brushing his fingers between my thighs, gathering the mess and slick still clinging to me. “That’s going to be with your legs over my shoulders, your hands tied behind your back, and my cock buried so deep you’ll taste me.”
I shudder. “Please?”
Lee leans over me, eyes dark, lips parted. He looks wrecked, but not done. Not even close.
His gaze drops to the mess he’s made on me. He drags his thumb through it, slow and reverent, smearing it across my skin.
“You look so fucking good like this,” he murmurs, thumb tracing lazy circles over my hip. “You ready to head home for round two?”
I whimper, spent but still aching for more. I’m not sure I can make it without another round first.
Something in my gaze must have shown that ’cause he pauses. “You want more now?”
I nod.
“Then c’mere,” he says roughly. He shifts back and gestures to the floor between his legs.
I know exactly what he wants.
And I want it too.
I slide down from the bar, knees hitting the cool wood. He’s thick, glistening, already twitching with the promise of round two.
I lean forward and lick a slow stripe from the base to the tip of his cock.
He hisses, hips jerking.
“Fuck, Kya—”
“I’m just getting started,” I whisper, wrapping my lips around the head and sucking him into my mouth.
His hand tangles in my hair instantly, grip firm but careful. I suck slow and deep, using my tongue to trace along the underside, teasing that sensitive spot just beneath the crown.
He groans, low, primal. His thighs flex under my hands as I bob my head, taking more each time, letting spit drip and coat him, making it messy and filthy and oh so satisfying.
“You’re gonna make me come again if you keep that up,” he grits out.
I pull off with a pop and look up at him through my lashes.
“That’s kind of the point.”
He lets out a strangled sound—half laugh, half fuck me—then grabs me under the arms and lifts me like I weigh nothing.
“Pool table,” he growls. “Now.”
He carries me across the room, both of us still slick and panting, and sets me on the cool felt top. I lie back, legs spreading as he steps between them.
But this time… there’s no frantic edge.
He leans down, brushes our foreheads together. His hands cradle my face.
“You’re incredible.”
He kisses me, slow and deep and tender. Then he slides another condom on and presses against me.
The stretch makes me arch, makes me keen into his mouth. It’s so much, so full, it blurs the line between pain and pleasure. He doesn’t slam into me, he sinks, inch by thick, deliberate inch, until he’s buried to the hilt, our bodies locked tight.
He stays there, letting me feel the heavy weight of him pulsing inside me, cock stretching me wide and filling every part of me. I feel it in my chest. My bones. My soul.
His hips roll into mine with a rhythm that feels designed to destroy me—long, dragging strokes that hit every sensitive nerve inside me. Every thrust is a grind, the thick head of his cock brushing my G-spot just right, the base dragging against my clit as he presses into me again and again.
The table creaks beneath us, the slick sound of him moving inside me filling the air along with our ragged moans and whispered curses.
He threads his fingers through mine, pinning our joined hands beside my head.
“Eyes on me,” he whispers, voice strained. “I want you right here with me.”
I look at him. And I see it. Not just lust. Not just want.
Need. Raw, heart-wrecking, soul-deep need.
“I love you,” I gasp, the words slipping out on a wave of emotion I can’t stop or soften. “I love you.”
He freezes, cock buried deep, his eyes wide and stunned. My heart stutters in my chest.
Then he cups my face, kisses me like he’s starving for it, like the words unlocked something feral and fragile in him all at once.
“I love you too,” he whispers against my lips. “So fucking much it scares me.”
He starts to move again, harder, deeper, with purpose. But it’s not just fucking now. Every thrust is a claim. Every roll of his hips is a vow. His cock glides in and out of me, thick and hot and devastating, dragging slick from my cunt with every retreat, making my whole body tremble.
He presses a hand between us, fingers finding my clit. He rubs slow, tight circles as he moves inside me, and the pressure builds fast. It’s too much. Too perfect.
“I’m close,” I choke. “I’m—oh god, Lee—”
“That’s it,” he pants. “Come for me. Come on my cock while I’m inside you.”
I break.
My orgasm slams into me—white-hot, blinding. I scream his name as I clamp around him, pussy pulsing wildly, squeezing him so tight he growls, hips stuttering.
He follows me over the edge with a roar, burying himself deep and spilling inside me in thick, hot pulses.
He collapses onto me, and we stay like that for a long time, wrapped around each other, breathing hard and trying to process what just happened.
“Holy shit,” I finally manage.
“Yeah,” he agrees, pressing a soft kiss to my temple. “Holy shit.”
“I won,” I repeat, grinning.
“You won.” He kisses me again, soft and sweet.
“Best bet I ever made,” I agree.
He laughs. “I’ll drink to that.”
I close my eyes, savoring this moment. “Good thing Hawk’s not installing those cameras until tomorrow.”
“Is it? I wouldn’t mind a replay.”
Laughing, I kick him playfully with my foot.
“Ready to go home?”
As he helps me down from the bar and we gather our scattered clothes, I can’t help but smile. He’s right—coming back to Stoneheart, buying Devil’s, falling in love with Lee Armstrong—it’s all been the best gamble of my life.