Killian #4
But we still can’t bring ourselves to care.
Jhene cries out as my cock brushes her most sensitive spot. She increases her motions, fucking herself and chasing her orgasm.
I bury my face in her beautiful tits. The soft mounds rub against my face the harder she rides me, and I take a nipple into my mouth.
Another scream leaves Jhene as I suck away and she sinks nails into my shoulders. The passion between us only grows the closer we are to coming.
I start thrusting up into her, and she clenches down on me. The booth creaks as if it’s about to come apart. We’re about break the damn thing.
We pant and gasp for air and then we’re coming together. My cock slides deep inside her silky hot pussy one final time, and our orgasms wash us out.
Jhene’s trembling in my lap, right down to her thighs. I’m hot as a furnace, vision doubling as a string of cuss words leave me.
It’s a rush of chemicals that takes us over. The same hot electricity that ran through me times ten.
“Fuck that was amazing,” I pant. I pull her into a kiss, stroking my tongue into her mouth. “Never would’ve guessed that was what you had in mind when you said privacy, stray.”
She smirks as she draws back and nudges her glasses up her nose. “I’m full of surprises.”
I laugh, the sound hoarse from all the moans and ragged breathing. I thumb her cheek and then reach for her T-shirt on the floor of the booth.
“More like trouble. Get dressed. Before we get carried away again.”
We spend the next couple minutes tidying ourselves up as best as we can. Trying to look somewhat presentable.
When we finally stumble out of the booth, disheveled and flushed and probably looking guilty as hell, we give up altogether. Laughter bursts out of us as we return to the boardwalk.
“Did we really just do that?” she asks, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
“You mean did you really just drag me into that booth and have your way with me?”
She nudges me in the side. “You happily complied, Killer! Don’t even pretend otherwise!”
My arm slides around her, keeping her pinned at my side. “You’re a bad influence, Jhene Prince.”
“The worst,” she says, rolling her eyes.
We walk off down the boardwalk with our dirty little secret only making the afternoon brighter.
We don’t make it back to the studio ’til well after dark. We’re both exhausted but content.
My legs are sore from wandering the park all day instead of training at Malone’s, and my stomach’s full of junk food I’ll regret next time I take a shit.
Jhene’s curls are a tangled cloud she’s vowed to tackle tomorrow when she has more energy, and she’s got mustard from our hotdogs stained on her T-shirt.
We’re both a mess yet we exchange smirks as we kick off our shoes, relieved to be home.
Funny how the day started like shit, with my trip to Ma’s backfiring. The last thing I expected was to wind up spending the day enjoying myself with Jhene at Coney Island.
All because of her.
Jhene peels off her T-shirt and stretches her arms above her head with a groan. “I call dibs on the shower.”
“Go ahead. I’ve got eight voice mails from Malone to listen to. Probably bitching me out.”
She laughs, already padding toward the bathroom. Along the way she pauses only slightly to strip off her jeans next, tossing them on top of the laundry basket full of dirty clothes. She walks the rest of the way in only her bra and panties, disappearing into the bathroom.
…how fucking far we’ve come that she strips down so easily now.
That in itself is satisfying. It tells me we’ve built a real foundation of trust.
I drop onto the end of the bed. I’m rubbing the tension out of my neck when the pair of jeans slides off the uneven pyramid of clothes in the laundry basket and thumps onto the floor.
Nothing out of the ordinary. Just a sign we really need to do laundry.
Then I notice what’s slid out of the back pocket.
A flip phone.
My eyes narrow staring at it. Jhene doesn’t have a phone. She’s always made it clear she has only a few belongings to her name, none of which included a phone.
…so where the fuck did this come from?
In all the time we’ve been together, I’ve never once seen her with it. She’s never texted anyone or taken a call.
My mind goes back to this afternoon after we’d played some of the carnival games. I had heard a buzzing noise I couldn’t place before Jhene promptly… provided a very good distraction.
I pick the phone up off the floor and flip it open as the shower starts in the next room. Some would say it’s wrong of me to snoop, and normally, I’m not the kind of asshole who does.
But Jhene keeping a phone from me begs the question: What does she have to hide? Why would she keep this, of all things, a secret when I thought we were upfront with each other?
Just who the hell has she been communicating with? Where did she even get the phone if, on a good day, she can’t afford a coffee from the diner around the corner?
I don’t have answers to any of those questions. But as I flip the phone open and bring up the very active call logs and message inbox, I’m going to get them.