Chapter 6 - Monroe #2
“What is this?” I ask in reference to the gargantuan ring on Kieren’s left pinky finger.
My fingertips graze over the ostentatious gold and obsidian ring that’s decorated with cryptic carvings.
In a way, it reminds me of the commemorative rings professional football players get after winning the national championship.
“Later,” he whispers against my lips. “Take me upstairs.” It’s not a question, nor does it need to be, because without hesitation, I wrap my fingers around his and bring him with me.
Quietly, he pulls his coat and shoes off as I close and lock my bedroom door.
I climb onto the bed and tuck my legs under the comforter.
He sees this and takes it as an invitation to undress further.
I clench my jaw to stop myself from gaping at his body as he strips down to only his black boxers.
Whatever training regime he’s been up to over the last several months has paid off.
I take in his defined abdomen and broad tattoo-covered chest and pray he can’t hear how fast my heart beats or see how flushed my skin is with goosebumps.
I hold my breath as he crawls to the top of the bed and tucks himself in beside me.
He slides down until he can rest his head on my lap and begins to stroke the top of my thigh.
My core heats, and I wonder if the side of his face can feel my temperature change through my paper-thin lounge pants.
I run my fingers through his dark brown hair and down the back of his neck, tracing the swirls of his new tattoos. Where to even begin?
“Kieren,” I sigh softly.
“I know,” he says. “I know.”
“Just let me hold you, Monroe. I need to hold you.”
I lean the back of my head on the wall behind me and try to keep it together. Where was this need to hold me seven months ago? I try to stave off my million questions for him, but they’re searing a hole in my heart, and it hurts. It hurts so much that I can’t help myself.
I internally settle on my first question, arguably the most significant missing piece of the puzzle. “Where did you go?”
“A few places,” he responds, gently tracing his hand down my outer thigh and around my backside. I want so badly to rip off these pants and feel his skin against mine. I want to feel that stubble along his cheeks and chin rub my inner thighs raw.
“Did you go to rehab?” I ask.
“No,” he answers, pressing himself forward as he lifts my tee.
I whimper at the feeling of his lips against my stomach. He hooks two fingers behind my waistband, tugging it down as many inches as it will give in my upright, seated position.
“Kieren,” I push, as his broad tongue licks and sucks at the soft skin below my navel. “I haven’t seen you for seven months,” I say, swallowing.
He groans, yanking me down the bed by my hips. Hitched breaths catch in my throat, but I press on despite my quickening pulse.
“What happened to you, Kieren? I need answers.”
Hungry kisses trail up my stomach as he pushes my tee over my breasts.
He repositions himself on top of me, sucking my left nipple into his mouth.
My pussy throbs in response, and I feel myself slipping.
His lips find my collarbone, the curve of my neck, my jaw, my mouth…
His hard erection presses firmly against my center, and the mere thought of him inside me, stretching me, makes my head spin with desire.
“Kieren,” I plead, wanting to hold firm, but his name comes out like a clipped moan when it leaves my lips as he makes his way back down my exposed flesh.
“I don’t have any condoms,” I whisper, succumbing to the ferocity of my own need.
He glances up at me but doesn’t answer. Obviously, he brought condoms, you idiot, I think to myself. Kieren Hunt doesn’t show up outside my window at one in the morning just to talk.
“Do we need condoms, Monroe?” he asks, pulling down my waistband to flutter kisses against my pelvis. The bite in his tone borders on accusatory as he shimmies further down the bed, fisting the sides of my pants.
“Did you let anyone else fuck this pussy while I was gone?”
I shake my head. “I haven’t been with anyone since you.”
A pleased acknowledgement rumbles in his throat. “Then we don’t need condoms.”
I sense he’s a second from pulling my pants down.
“But what about…”
“There was no fucking happening where I went, Monroe,” he says in a harsh, silencing scold as he positions himself between my legs.
I swallow my racing thoughts.
“I know you want answers,” he says, softer now, and I can feel his hot breath through the thin material. “I want to tell you. I will… tell you. But right now, you’re keeping me from my favorite meal, and I am very, very hungry.”
He rises to his knees, and even though I knew it was coming, I yelp when he yanks my bottoms down over my ass, exposing my bare pussy.
A primal growl of approval reverberates in his throat when he sees I’m not wearing panties.
Kieren slides off my pants one leg at a time, and my entire body quivers in anticipation.
He lowers himself down, spreading my thighs so wide that even under the covers, cold air kisses my center. The bridge of his nose grazes my clit, and I feel myself tumble over the edge and into the abyss of surrender when he draws in a long, extended inhale of my scent.
“Monroe.” He growls my name on an exhale like an animalistic savage who has just been set free.
“Yes?” I squeak, unsure if I’m still alive.
“Don’t scream.”