Chapter 21
Chapter
Twenty-One
Smith kissed her lazily, not wanting to rush, even though it was killing him to go slow. Unlike Kenna, he hadn’t had the luxury of coming and he was so turned on, a stiff fucking breeze could make him come right now.
Her hand slid down his chest toward his painfully throbbing cock, and before he had a chance to react, that confident, capable, talented hand, which had saved so many lives, fisted him. Then stroked him, imitating his own lazy strokes of earlier.
He groaned against her mouth and helplessly pumped into that tightly clenched hand, his precum adding enough slickness to make her hand feel like hot velvet around his sensitive shaft.
He lifted his mouth slightly, until there was only a hairsbreadth between their lips.
“You’re making it very difficult for me to go slow, Kenna,” he muttered.
“I don’t need slow right now, Smith.” Her hand tightened around him to the point of pain and he jerked, dangerously close to coming.
“Fuck,” he groaned and she smiled. He was too close to see it, but he felt the movement against his lips.
“Yes, that’s exactly what I want.”
“You’re going to kill me,” he groaned.
“Not before we come, I hope,” she retorted saucily.
He laughed again, the sound a little helpless.
“You’re going to have to let go then, you little minx.”
She spluttered with laughter, her hand loosening.
“Seriously? Have you been bingeing regency romance shows ag—aah!” Her sharp cry of pleasure rang out when Smith lined himself up and without warning, thrust his hard shaft home.
He groaned as that velvety, tight-to-the-point-of-pain sheath closed around him.
“Jesus, you feel so good,” he whispered.
Kenna didn’t respond, simply stared up at him. Her pupils were blown and her lush lips parted. He couldn’t tell if she was breathing or not as he dragged himself out almost all the way to the tip before slamming home again.
The hard thrust of his cock was met with a breathless, “Uh!” from Kenna. It was the first sound she made since he’d slid into her.
Her head fell back, exposing the beautiful line of her throat to him. The temptation was too great and he pressed a kiss into the scented cove below her jaw before slowly drawing his length out of her grasping passage, until only the tip remained inside.
He hovered for a moment, his cockhead ringed by her tight entrance, and then pounded his way back. The sound of his flesh slapping against hers was almost as fucking hot as the feel of her tightness constricting around him.
“Uh!” That soft, involuntary grunt was like a fucking flame to fuel. It drove him absolutely wild and made him desperate to hear it again.
And again.
And a-fucking-gain.
Kenna had been a mostly quiet lover. A few pleas here and there, but her orgasms were always silent. And in the past, blissful, satisfied sighs and soft moans had been the loudest she would get.
But this? Fuck, it wasn’t exactly a scream. It wasn’t a word. It wasn’t anything but a quiet, helpless moan emerging in a broken thready voice.
But it was…
So.
Fucking.
Hot.
His hard thrusts quickened and Kenna, still with that dazed look on her face, inwardly focused on her building pleasure, grunted in time with every single one of them.
“Uh…uh…uh! Uhuh! UH!”
He varied his rhythm.
Slow. Fast. Slow. Fast. Fast. And with every single thrust, he got what he wanted.
That beautiful, involuntary keening sound of pleasure.
She drew her knees up to his hips and he hooked a hand behind each one, spreading her wider, lifting her higher as he continued to fuck her hard and fast.
So focused was Smith on the music he was making between his body and her voice that he barely noticed when his balls tightened and that warning snap of electricity gathered at the base of his spine.
All he saw, all he heard, all he felt was Kenna.
And all he wanted was to see her unravel again.
He knew she was close. Her soft, helpless little cries were getting louder, sharper and her pussy was contracting almost uncontrollably around his hardness.
It was the viselike squeezing around his cock that finally made him recognize how very close he was to falling over the edge.
He was only a thrust or two away. It surprised him, how stealthily it had crept up on him. He couldn’t come yet, Kenna was close, but not as close as he was.
In desperation, he shifted her long, toned left leg over his shoulder and leaned into her. Changing the angle of his hard thrusts, finding and hitting her spot more accurately, with his blunt cockhead.
Her noises morphed into a wail and when he moved a hand to her pussy to tweak the knot of her clit between his knuckles, she finally came apart at the seams.
She screamed his name, and it sounded so fucking beautiful. He could get used to it.
He latched on to the fading note of her cry, and used it to follow her home, coming with a violence and intensity that he hadn’t felt in—hell, hadn’t felt in ever.
He and Kenna were lost in uncharted waters right now.
And Smith, who was still pulsing thick hot cum into her tight crevice, was perfectly happy to be on this voyage into the unknown with her.
Smith eventually slumped over Kenny, still wedged between her spread thighs, his cock still gently throbbing inside of her. His face was turned toward the kitchen and his head lay on her chest between her breasts.
He grew heavier and heavier on top of her as somnolence crept over them both, but Kenny found that she didn’t mind the weight of him.
“Crushing you.” His broad shoulders shifted slightly, even though he made zero real effort to move off her.
Kenny smiled and looped her arms around his sweaty back, holding him in place.
“I’m okay for now.”
“Think we ruined the new couch,” he said, his voice so slurred with sleep now that the words were barely decipherable.
“Since I’m the one lying in the wet spot, I’m well aware of that fact,” she said, her own voice weighted down by exhaustion. A light snore told her that he probably hadn’t heard her reply.
She lay there for a long while, running her hands through his sweat-dampened hair as she listened to the storm still raging outside.
She wasn’t sure what all this meant and she wasn’t about to make assumptions again. They would talk about it, and even if they decided that this was just a onetime thing, Kenny would not regret a single moment of it.
But if this was to be the end for them, it felt like a really good note on which to finish.
She hoped it wasn’t. She didn’t want to lose him. To lose this. Not when it felt that they were finally starting to really understand each other.
She loved Smith.
That wasn’t a revelation to her. It didn’t come as a shock, or with any kind of panic and fear.
It just was.
It had been there all along. It had been in her willingness to keep a child made with him.
In her decision to marry him, despite her many reservations.
It had been lurking in her fear to let him close.
As well as in her choice to follow him here.
And then to stay despite his hostility, just to be near to him for a little while longer.
Kenny had loved Smith, but she hadn’t known how to love him. And when he had left her, she hadn’t known how to lose him either.
So here she was.
In limbo.
With the man she loved. The man who—despite what had just happened between them—had once wanted her out of his life so badly, he’d freely admitted to wanting to “inflict the maximum amount of damage” just to get rid of her.
He had said many, many hateful and hurtful things the night before he’d left her, but the words that had struck the hardest? The words that kept replaying at three times the volume in her head?
Liking you is hard, Kenna. And loving you? Fucking impossible.
Those words had played on her deepest, darkest insecurities. The insidious belief that she wasn’t worthy of love. Not really. Her dying mother hadn’t wanted her around. Her brothers had all left her to grow up alone. Her father had barely known she existed. And they were hard-wired to love her.
So how could she expect someone like Smith to love her?
His weight was becoming unbearable and Kenny shifted slightly, trying to get out from under him. He made a soft sound of protest in his sleep and moved partially to the side, taking most of his weight with him. Still asleep, he threw a possessive arm and leg over her, effectively caging her.
Kenny reminded herself there would be plenty of time to think about all of this later. For now, she had this perfect moment. With this perfect man.
And she wasn’t going to waste it by wallowing.
She turned away from him and snuggled back against his front, the little spoon to his big one. His arms tightened around her and he burrowed his nose into her hair. She thought she heard him whisper her name but couldn’t be sure. It could just as easily have been a sigh.
She nestled down onto the hard bicep beneath her head. And, warmer and safer than she had felt in too long to quantify, Kenny closed her eyes and slept.
Smith awoke to a familiar armful of woman. They were both still stark naked on the sofa. He was curved against her slender back and plump arse. Perfectly spooned against her.
His greedy bastard of a cock was throbbing insistently between them, but he ignored it for now.
God, she smelled great. The scent of her unbound hair, which was spilling over his arm and tickling his face, was everywhere. He’d always loved the scent of her shampoo.
Honey and almond.
The sweet-on-sweet notes had, at first, seemed incongruous for an austere woman like Kenna. But he’d soon discovered that she had hidden depths. An elusive sweetness he’d only ever caught hints of.