Chapter Seventeen
Kingston
I kiss her because I want to. Because I have to. She’s a fever, a need, and she’s there.
This thing between us burns hotter than the sun, and continuously shoving it on some kind of backburner doesn’t work.
Sadie tastes divine.
Her mouth opens beneath mine and I slide down into her. She’s hot and wet and willing and I pull her to me as she wraps around me.
The need doesn’t dissipate, it grows and there are too many clothes.
The kiss morphs into carnal hunger and we’re at each other, pulling and touching until clothes go flying. I need her. Any way I can get her. I’m hard. Harder than I’ve ever been in my life and I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone as much as Sadie.
She’s in her bra, a lacy black number that clings to those soft, sweet mounds and I push my hand in her short hair, grasping, pulling her into me for a hungry kiss, one she takes and runs with.
Her hands slide over me, to my belt and she sits up, breaking the kiss and she looks at me, eyes molten rivers, and the look she gives shoots down to my gut, and my cock throbs. She’s at the fly of my trousers and I help her. We’re both in each other’s way, consumed with the need for the other.
I pull at her jeans and she gets up and peels them off and then she’s on me, hot and lithe, her mouth seeking mine. I need her. It’s like air itself, that need. A beat and throb of such power I’m helpless to do anything but free myself to her hot hand, and she wraps about my thickness, my length, and begins to give me a hand job and she’s lucky I don’t come then and there.
She straddles me, her lace-clad pussy hovering above where she’s working me and I want every part of her exposed. I want to explore her mouth again, her breasts, but fuck, I really want that hot little cunt.
I slide my hand down, fingers curling, down between her thighs, pushing up both sides of her, moving along the soft, wet heat of her outer lips and she hisses out air, pushing her hips, her pussy to my fingers.
Obliging her wordless request, we look at each other as I slip a finger, then two, beneath the lacy edge of her panties and then up into her.
Sadie cries out, biting her lip and she half closes her eyes, riding my fingers, grinding down into me and she shatters, coming hard and fast, the clench of her muscles on my fingers pushing me right to the edge.
I pull out my fingers and sweep the fabric to the side, and with my other hand, I pull hers away from me and then I pull her down and I push up, right into that hot, tight center of her.
“Oh, fuck, yes…” She moans the words and her hands come to my shoulders as she begins to ride me in earnest. I let her, because those fucking breasts are right there, and I want my mouth on them. I rip the fabric away, not caring if I actually ruin it—I’ll buy her more. I’ll buy her a fucking store full if I can ruin them all while she wears them.
Her breasts are gorgeous. Soft and round, the nipples a dark pink and I suck one into my mouth, biting down as it forms a peak on my tongue and she cries out, fingers digging into my nape.
“More.”
I give her more. I want to fuck myself into her, so deep that no one else would ever dare touch her for fear of retribution. And then I lift my head and pull her down, and I take her mouth and I kiss her hard and deep and we fuck like that.
I need…I need more. I take hold of her and start working her on me and she’s with me, moving hard, making little sounds that fuel me. She’s the hottest thing I’ve seen, I’ve felt, and I need to mark her, claim her. It’s a reflexive thing, wanting that. Primal, and I bite her neck, suckling.
Sadie comes again, her convulsions setting me off, pushing me right into release and the orgasm that rips through me is a wild, feral thing, and my vision goes black as the sweet burst of intense pleasure floods me to the point I don’t know if I can survive it.
But finally, when the world comes to right, we stay there, her on me, slumped against me and… And I want to say that won’t happen again, but I can’t because I’m already thinking of fucking her again.
I’m trying to find the words to say. Me, a man who commands a company with a cool few billion, can’t find words.
How can one woman do that to me? A woman I don’t like?
I like her.
I like her a lot.
Sadie gets off me and starts to dress, but I take her arm. “Where’s the bathroom?”
“You know where it is.” I pull her back to me and she tumbles down into my arms and I turn so we’re lying on the sofa together, a tangle of limbs. “You’ve been through my entire place and we both know it.”
“Kingston…”
“You want me to let you go? I will.” Those words are harder to say than they have any right to be. Because I don’t want to let her go.
She sighs, her breath warm against me and I shiver. We’re both half-dressed, ridiculously disheveled, and I don’t want to let her go. I want to do it all over again. “What did we just do?”
I should laugh, but I don’t. I can’t. “I have no fucking idea, Sadie.”
“That was a bad idea.”
“The worst.”
“I don’t even like you, Kingston.”
This time I slide her hair away from her face and smile. “I thought the same thing. About you. But then I realized that’s a lie. And you’re lying, too.”
“Are you trying to tell me you’re in love?”
“No. I don’t believe in love. I like you and you like me.”
“I liked that.”
“Yeah.” I close my eyes a moment and the thump-thump of her heart is oddly soothing. “That’s putting it mildly.”
“I don’t regret it,” she says, trailing her fingers down my shirt she ruined. “A one time only deal—”
“This isn’t one time only. One night.”
“One night.”
We stare at each other and that beat is still in the air, that awareness and my cock stirs. Sadie shifts, very deliberately, against me.
“You play dangerously,” I say to her.
She smiles. “I know.” Then her smile fades. “We’d never last.”
She’s right there. We’re not for each other, even though that might have been the best sex in my life. “Sadie, I…” I stop, unsure what it is I want to say. “I want to say that came from nowhere, or we were drunk, but it’s not true. It’s been brewing. And I’m sober.”
“You and I don’t work. We’re too alike. We’re too different. We…this is just weird.”
Suddenly, I laugh and kiss her. It’s a slow, lazy kiss, one that doesn’t need to go anywhere, one that’s warm and inviting and full of gentle waves of pleasure. It could go places, if we wanted it to. If one of us was to shift or turn it up a notch. But she doesn’t do that and I lose myself in the sweetness of her mouth. The heat. The beauty of it. When I lift my head, I don’t want to laugh anymore.
Because everything she said is why it would never work, even if by some weird turn of events we wanted it to. “Why are we talking about it?”
“Because I like to analyze, and so do you.”
“This sofa is too fucking small,” I say, getting up and stripping down.
Sadie watches, eyes bright with hunger. I reach out, take her hand and draw her to her feet and start stripping her, too.
“I can do that myself.” But she doesn’t try to stop me.
I glance up at her as I kneel down, pulling her panties off, the final article of clothing. The definite article, if you will. She’s waxed bare, like she’s been waiting for me. It’s an incredibly erotic sight, her so exposed. And she’s damp from our sex, her lips swollen, the skin a little reddened from that ride straight to heaven.
Before I can think about it, I take hold of her hips and put my mouth there, sliding my tongue down over her clit, and she rewards me with a sharp intake of breath, her body quivering.
“Part your thighs, Sadie.”
She does.
I keep going. Sliding low, tracing my tongue along her slit, slipping into her, tasting the two of us, and the musk that’s her.
Sadie groans low. I tongue fuck her, down and up, always coming to her clit to tease, a steady beat of movements until she’s panting. Until she’s wetter than before. Until she’s pushing into my face. Her fingers are grasping at me and she’s chanting yes.
I stop, and rise. Her face is flushed and she’s shooting pure murder at me.
I drop a kiss on her mouth. “I think we should take this somewhere more comfortable.”
And because I want to, because I can, I pick her up and she wraps about me and I take her to my bedroom.
“Asshole,” she says.
In my room I drop her on the king bed and she looks good on the sea of navy and gray, splayed, open, inviting me in. She rises on her elbows, parting her legs wider for me and giving me that look that both dares me and tells me to go fuck myself, that look I know, that look which gets me hot.
Only this time, it’s saying fuck you and fuck me and I’m very much into the latter when that invite comes from Sadie Hess.
I go down, making my way up her sweet body, kissing and tasting, nipping her inner thighs, just above her clit, deliberately missing all those delicious parts that make her shake apart because I really am an asshole and I want to tease her into a mindless state, one where she can’t think, only feel.
Up I go, sucking a spot on her hip, biting her stomach, kissing her breasts, her throat, her shoulder, and then I take her mouth as I push into her.
This time we take it slow, a measured fuck that’s erotic, a test in patience, one we both lose as that urgency comes over me. Her, too, from the way she moans and pulls at me, how she pushes up to meet each thrust, how her hands bite at me, like she’s trying to get me further into her, and I want that.
It’s no longer a game. It’s a wordless merge, one of wild storms and high seas of need and pleasure that hovers, drawing me in. She’s tight, so tight. And hot. Her slickness takes me each time I pound into her and her sharp little gasps of air a symphony just for me.
I want to lose myself in her, so far I come out the other side, born and free of her.
And as she shatters around me, dragging me into that release, I don’t think I am.
Not at all.