Chapter 21 Willy Rub
Willy Rub
If given the choice, a life with Kian and Isaish came first.
By a long shot.
Still, I couldn’t ignore the chocolate shop posted for sale.
It was well within my budget. The owners planned to retire before the Christmas rush which didn’t leave me a lot of time to make up my mind.
I sat on the edge of my bed in my towel and studied the impressive financials they sent that morning.
I could make it work, in fact, it was more lucrative than Cocoa Loco.
But two and a half hours away ruled out a commute, and there was no way Kian would move away from Aaron.
And I’d never ask him to.
I didn’t want to be two and a half hours away from him. Hell, the way I felt about him and Isaiah? There was no choice.
Add the fact Jakey had gotten back in touch with me? The framed photo of him with his guitar, the one I’d moved to the mantle, gave me hope for the future every time I passed through my living room.
Still, with my fingers poised above the keys ready to turn them down, I paused.
Was it fair to place my happiness in someone else’s hands? God knows it wasn’t smart.
If I gave up my dream, would I grow to resent my decision?
Three sharp knocks delivered from the ceiling saved me from pondering further.
“Kian’s on his way up!” Anita yelled.
I snapped the laptop closed before yanking on shorts and a t-shirt. Pulling my hair back into a ponytail, I reached my door just as he knocked and swung it open.
Grinning, he swept inside. “Show me this room we’re fixing up.”
Three hours, two coats of paint, one trip to the hardware store, another to the lumber yard, and we finished it.
Charcoal gray with newly built-in oak shelving along one wall, it looked nothing like the functional white box we started with.
Tagging the bag of garbage, I dragged it out into the hallway as Kian hammered the lids back down on the cans of leftover paint before carrying those out as well.
A quick sweep with the broom, and it was ready.
Other than the over-stuffed closet.
“There,” Kian declared, standing with his hands on his hips as he looked around the room then swung his gaze to me. “What do you think?”
The room looked great, but Kian was something else.
I couldn’t tear my attention away from his worn jeans, work boots, and the tool belt slung low on his hips. His white, paint-speckled T-shirt stretched across his wide chest but hung loose around his lean waist.
And, my God, those arms. They looked good but felt so much better locked around me.
I wanted to lick the salty sweat off his tanned throat.
When I made it back to his face, his smug smirk made it clear he knew how he affected me.
Tossing my phone onto the coffee table, I cocked an eyebrow and headed his way.
Straightening, eyes heating, he stood tall and waited.
Toe-to-toe, I tipped my chin back and placed my hand on his chest. Slowly dragging it down over his pectorals, making sure to graze his nipple on my way past, I danced my fingers over his abs and dipped down to cup the rapidly growing bulge in his pants.
“What do I think? I think you just earned yourself a willy-rub.”
Laughing, he released his toolbelt with one hand and held my gaze as he slowly lowered it to the floor. But instead of standing back up, he dropped his chin, tucked his shoulder into my belly, and lifted me up.
Clinging to his shirt, his tight ass tempting me to bite it, I laughed and squealed, “Kian! What are you doing?”
Trotting down the short hallway, he tossed me on my bed. Peeling his t-shirt off, he crawled over top of me and caged me in between his thighs and his elbows.
Smiling, I wrapped my arms around his neck.
Brushing my hair back from my face, pure, sweet affection warming his gaze, he asked, “You want to know what I think?”
He enchanted me.
He had right from the beginning.
I wanted to pour myself out for him, but everything I gave, he multiplied and returned to me. I’d never met anyone like him.
Knew I never would again.
He was it for me.
I sucked in a happy breath. “What?”
Dropping his mouth to my neck, he murmured, “I think I earned a whole lot more than a willy rub.”
My hips jerked underneath him. “Oh, yeah? What if it’s my pussy doing the rubbing?”
He grinned down at me, his hands gentle in my hair. “I can get behind that.”
I cocked my head to the side. “The idea or me?”
Pressing his lips to mine, he smiled. “Both.”
I threw back my head and laughed.
He took the opportunity to duck his head and lick a trail down my throat.
I hummed. “Kian.”
His mouth moved to the other side of my throat and worked its way back up. “Yes, Bridget. Whatever you need, whatever you want, it’s yes.”
Eyes flying open, I stared up at him and began to squirm. “If I had the strength, I’d have you on your back,” I confessed.
He dropped his forehead to mine. “Anything but that,” he amended.
Sitting back, he worked my shorts and panties down my legs before going for my t-shirt and making short work of my bra.
“This first time, I’m going to take you the way I need to.
You can tease the fuck out of me for the rest of our lives. Fair?”
“It’s a good deal,” I breathed, stretching out beneath him.
He chuckled. “Thought you’d see it my way. You never know, you might just like hanging out on my pillow every now and then,” he murmured just as his teeth closed on my naked shoulder.
I arched back, gasping.
“So sweet,” he murmured, his mouth trailing soft kisses down between my breasts sheltered beneath his calloused hands. Licking across my abdomen, he praised, “So soft. So responsive.”
His tongue dipped into the valley of my waist before tracing a line over the steep curve of my hip. Spreading my thigh wide, he pressed a wet, sucking kiss to the crease of my thigh before whispering over my quivering flesh to the crease at the other side.
“Kian.” His name escaped my lips in a soft grunt.
“Your skin is so soft,” he whispered against the gentle swell of my tummy before working his way back up to my breast.
He pulled my nipple inside his mouth and hummed like it was the sweetest candy. Then, bracing his hand at my head, he hovered over me.
His free hand cupped my mons, his wrist flexing to fuck his fingers deep inside me, every stroke lighting up my core, my clit, my labia, there was no part of my center he wasn’t touching.
Clutching his wide shoulders, I spread my thighs wide.
“Utterly wanton,” he breathed. “Gorgeous.”
Slitting my eyes open, I watched him watch me, his eyes hot, jaw tight, gaze intent.
“You going to come for me, Bridget?”
I nodded, feeling it coming, then he tore his hand away as I protested.
“Not like that you’re not,” he murmured. Kneeling between my thighs, he reached behind his head and yanked his shirt off before pushing his jeans down and rolling a condom over his length.
Then, fitting his lean hips between my thighs, he pressed my knee back, and slowly pressed inside me.
His fingers did little to prepare me. It had been so long since I’d taken a man, my body arched at the invasion. “Kian!”
“Take me, Bridget,” he urged, his hips flexing infinitesimally, driving inside me inch by beautifully thick inch.
I blew out a breath, tilted my hips, and rocked against him until my body gave and permitted him entry.
“Fuck,” he groaned, stilling as he bottomed out inside me.
“Yeah,” I answered shakily. “That.”
Pushing up, he dropped his hand between us and feathered his thumb across my clit.
My pussy clenched.
His eyes closed as he dropped his chin to his chest with a low moan before doing it again.
“Oh my,” I breathed. “I’m close.”
He nodded tightly, his thumb gently circling as he rocked his hips.
My neck arched back as my pussy began to flutter around him.
“No, Bridget.” His hand stilled. “Look at me when you come, baby,” he panted, his body trembling.
I nodded, forcing my heavy lids open to meet this gaze.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” he praised, his thumb sweeping around my weeping bud. “I won’t stop this time, let go.”
“Please,” I begged.
“Anything,” he promised. “Everything.”
I tried to keep my eyes open but failed, my head pressing back into the pillow as flames licked me from the inside, sending waves of fiery pleasure over every inch of my body.
He grunted, pulling his hand away from my clit and dropping to his elbows.
With his hands in my hair and his face hovering over mine, he drove inside me, relentlessly hitting that sweet spot deep inside, filling me utterly and completely, prolonging my orgasm and reducing me to a panting, quivering, stuttering mess.
I cried out his name as it all became too much and his hips jerked once, twice, three times, as he spilled inside me, a low rumble reverberating from his chest.
He stilled for a moment then dipped and took my mouth with an unexpected hunger that left me breathless.
Over and over again he stroked my tongue with his, delving inside, slanting his sweet mouth across mine.
Finally, sated, his kiss gentled, his pretty lips dropping gentle kisses on my swollen mouth.
“Bridget.” His chest inflated deeply then he closed his eyes, touched his forehead to mine, and sighed. “Bridget.”
My name.
His prayer.