Chapter 30 – Kev
CHAPTER THIRTY
KEV
It was so quiet, only their breaths, only her words echoing between his ears. Words he’d never thought he’d be lucky enough to hear.
I love you. I trust you. Make love to me.
He wanted to, needed to. But he was bare. Hard and leaking and so close already that all it would take was a single thrust inside her and he’d be gone.
He needed to get a condom. He needed to get his head on straight and think clearly. But right then, sliding his erection through her soft, wet core, her head dropping back with each thrust over her clit, her lips open and begging to be kissed, clarity was no longer on the menu.
“You feel so good,” he told her, kissing her neck, her throat, her jaw. “So perfect. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.” He slid a hand down her side, over the soft swell of her breast, the dip of her waist, the rise of her hip. “I love you,” he said, hooking his fingers behind her knee, hoisting her leg over his hip, opening her up to him. “I trust you.” She was so slippery, so ready. It would be the easiest thing ever to slide inside her, to sink into her heat, to be surrounded by her .
“I need you,” she said while she tilted her hips, lining his head up with her entrance. “I need you now. Please.”
He groaned while she rocked beneath him, making him slippery too. “Baby,” he said, lucidity deteriorating, ecstasy beckoning. “I have to get a condom.”
“We don’t need one.”
Wrangling his reason back online, he met her stare.
“I don’t have any STIs,” she said, her cheeks flushed, tits flushed, everything flushed. “And I’ve got an implant.”
He’d heard people felt cold when they went into shock. So when incandescent heat flared through him, he knew it wasn’t that. But it was something. Something dangerous, cataclysmic, maybe even fatal. Could he fuck her bare? Would he survive it? Or would he thrust inside her, see that white light, step through the pearly gates, and never turn back?
“I don’t have any STIs either,” he heard himself say, even with the full knowledge that he may be using his last few breaths to say it. “I haven’t been with anyone in years. And they tested me at rehab.”
“Good.” Grinning, triumphant, she reached down for him.
“Wait.” His heart galloped beneath his ribs, especially when her fingers wrapped around his length. “Um, birth control isn’t one hundred percent, though, right?”
Stroking him, her soft grip gliding up and down his shaft, she said, “It’s pretty damn close.”
And he realized in that moment, about to make love to the woman of his dreams, that he was scared. Check that; he was terrified. “Remember when I told you I wanted kids?”
She nodded, stilling her hand until he shook his head and said, “You don’t have to stop.” With a breathy laugh, she stroked him again. “I remember. You said you wanted four.”
“Right. And I do. I mean, I would. With you. If you wanted that too. Someday.” He was stammering, fritzing out completely when she reached down and cupped him. “But what if—oh my god. Fuck , baby,” he groaned, barely able to speak, barely able to keep his eyes open as she massaged him. “What if you accidentally get pregnant,” he ground out, “and I’m not ready to be a father? Like, what if I’m really bad at it?” What if I turn out like my dad? he thought but didn’t say . “I have too much work to do still. I’m not ready.”
He saw it in her eyes, the change, the concern clearing out the haze. Pulling her hand away from him so she could slide her fingers around his neck, she said, “It’s okay,” as a furrow dove between her brows. “I understand. Let’s just get a condom. Let’s be safe.”
But at that moment, through some mystical twist of sex physics, the head of his cock slid into her, just barely. And it was the single most exquisite sensation he’d ever experienced in his brief exquisite-sensation-seeking life.
Hanging his head, he wheezed, “Christ, that feels good.”
“So good,” she said, her eyes fluttering closed.
“What if… What if I pull out?” This was a bad idea. Really bad. Or maybe it was the best idea he’d ever had. Impossible to say. “I can pull out. Right before.” He wanted to come inside her more than anything. Except for this. For the chance to feel her orgasm grip him, squeeze him. Because he wasn’t going to stop until she came again. He denied himself a lot of tempting things these days. He wouldn’t deny himself this.
“Only if you’re comfortable.” She tilted her hips. Enough that all he had to do was push and he’d be home. “I trust you. But hurry. Please , Kev.”
And that was all it took. That please stretched out on a needy moan. “Okay,” he said, his cock aching to bury itself inside her. “Okay.”
She gave him a smile. A smile that faded like a sunset, her lips parting, her expression darkening into something so sensual, damn near erotic, when he took himself in hand and pushed into her, a single slow inch before sliding back out.
While he savored every new sensation of his body joining with hers, delaying his pleasure with every slide in and back out, in and back out, she moaned, begged, pleaded for him to stop teasing her .
“I’m not trying to tease you,” he said, kissing her closed eyes, her pink lips. “I’m just not willing to rush this. I’ve waited too long, baby.” Another slow slide in and out. “I’ve spent too many nights dreaming of this.”
“I love it when you call me baby,” she said, kneading his lower back like a cat, pulling on him. Her hips rocking, tilting, trying to reach more of him.
He slid in another inch, and another, so close to bottoming out. But not quite. Then he backed out again, almost to the tip.
“Kev,” she whimpered, her fingernails digging into his skin.
Taking mercy on them both, because he’d gone nearly cross-eyed from holding himself back, he slid into her fully in one hard thrust. And when she cried out, “Yes!” When her walls closed around him, her inner muscles squeezing, pulsing, pulling him toward a promise of blackout bliss, there was that white light. There were those pearly gates. There was heaven. He’d found it at last, surrendered to it, content to spend eternity inside Davis Thompson’s perfect pussy.
And because he was in heaven, it took every bit of willpower he possessed to hold off his orgasm, to stem the pleasure trying to barrel down his spine. But willpower was a skill. And he’d been practicing for months.
She slid her other leg up the bed, hooking her ankles behind his hips, urging him even more deeply into her. When she grasped his neck and drew his lips to hers, he kissed her fiercely, their tongues tangling, her fingers diving into his hair while he fought to find a steady rhythm. With each thrust inside her, each needy moan he pulled from her throat, each roll of her hips, his control slipped, sensation wrenching it from his grasp.
He wasn’t going to make it. He needed to slow things down. He needed to breathe.
Grasping her hips, he rolled them over, refusing to break their connection. He’d thought it might be better having her on top, easier to keep a leash on his need. But with her breasts pressed against his chest, her nipples brushing over his. With her hips moving and her ass in his hands, he realized he was wrong. So, so wrong.
“Slow down, baby,” he gasped on a ragged breath. “I won’t last.”
Sitting up, she braced herself with her hands on his chest, finding a sweet, syrupy pace that made his eyelids sink. “Is this better?”
He nodded, even though it wasn’t. Not even close. But he wasn’t about to give up this view. He wasn’t about to keep himself from sitting up with her, from kissing her breasts, from swirling his tongue around her nipples, sucking on them while she held him close, while the slow grind of her hips pulled him one step closer to the edge.
“You’re so good,” she said, shuddering when he took one of her nipples between his teeth. “You fit me so perfectly. Like you were made for me.”
Reclining again, he bent his knees, giving her a place to rest, and said, “Lean back.”
In this position, it was harder for her to move, but easier for him to keep himself together. It also opened her up to him, and because she was so bare, he could see everything. Her clit was right there, so pink and swollen, so ready to be touched, caressed, teased.
While she struggled to slide up and down his shaft, he said, “It’s okay. This is all for you.” Then he drew his hands up her sides to cup her breasts, rolling her nipples between his thumbs and fingers. Leaving her alone only long enough to suck his fingers into his mouth, bringing them back wet and warm. While he circled his slick fingers over her hard, sensitive tips, pinching and flicking, she threw her head back, all her weight resting on his bent legs. Then he slid one hand down her belly, between her thighs, and hovered his thumb over her clit.
“Kev,” she moaned, rocking up to meet his touch.
“Look at you,” he said, finally pressing down on her, drawing slow circles with his thumb while his other hand continued to tease her nipple. “So fucking sexy. So gorgeous. So perfect.”
Lifting her head, watching him through half-closed eyes, she grasped his thighs, using the leverage to roll her hips .
“Fuck,” he grunted, circling his thumb faster, watching her abs contract, her chest heave, feeling her inner walls pressing in all around him. She was close. Unfortunately, so was he.
“You’re almost there,” he said. “I can feel it. I can feel you squeezing me, gripping me.”
Her thighs started to tremble, her hips jerking while he worked on her, building her orgasm. And even though it was one of the most satisfying moments of his life, pushing her like this, driving her headlong toward the inevitable cliff. It meant that he raced in that direction too. So he pulled his thumb away, denying her, telling her, “But not yet.”
He wasn’t ready. It couldn’t be over yet. He needed more.
With a frustrated whine, she said, “Don’t stop.”
Giving her a firm thrust, and then another, making her tits bounce, he brought his thumb up to her lips and said, “Make it wet for me.”
She opened her mouth, closed her lips around his thumb, and sucked, rolling her tongue over his skin, rolling her hips in time with his thrusts.
He grunted, bit down, falling prey to some deep, preternatural connection between his thumb and his cock. “That’s it.” Pulling free of her mouth with a soft pop before she sucked his soul straight out of his body, he lowered his hand again, his thumb sliding so easily over her clit now, spinning her up while he worked her closer and closer to the edge. And after enclosing himself in a steel trap of self-control, after a few rapid taps to her clit followed by firm, swirling swipes, he pushed her over.
She cried out his name—a sound he’d never forget—and leaned forward to ride him hard through her climax. And god damn it was nearly impossible not to follow her, not to let the pulsing clench of her walls drag his orgasm out of him. But he bit down, held his breath, narrowed his focus to one single directive while she shuddered and jerked and collapsed back onto his bent legs: Do Not Come .
Breathing through several thundering heartbeats, he relaxed a fraction while she went limp, pliant and panting, with her arms hanging at her sides. But before she came all the way down, before her sated expression and languid limbs destroyed him completely, he flipped her over, settled between her legs, and drove into her.
Fuck, this’ll be quick, he thought while ecstasy blurred his vision, buzzed along his spine, gathered in his tightening balls. While his hips snapped, her eyes slid open, her hands slipping down his back to cup his ass, squeezing, pulling him into her harder, faster, deeper. And he was done. He lost the fight, waved his white flag, surrendered everything. After three more thrusts, and a split second before it was too late, he yanked himself out of her.
While she watched him, her eyes wide, her mouth caught on a gasp, he fisted his cock, stroked, grunted as his orgasm barreled through him. As the first rush of his release splashed across her stomach, some earth-shattering mix of gratitude and love and hunger poured out of him with it. As she bit her lower lip, running her fingers gently up and down his thighs while he pumped his fist, while he painted his release over her sun-bronzed skin, he knew he’d never feel anything as phenomenal as this. No drug. No drink. No high would ever compare.
She stared at him silently until he was finished, completely drained, barely able to keep himself upright. Then she said, “I love you so fucking much. Kiss me.”
Carefully, he held himself above her and leaned down. He only meant for it to be a quick kiss, a brush of his lips against hers before he crawled off the bed. But when he tried to pull away, she hauled him back.
“You’re…messy,” he said between kisses. “Need to…clean you up.”
“I don’t care,” she whispered into his mouth, and his resistance flagged, fading out of existence when her tongue slid over his top lip, when she took his bottom lip between her teeth, when she reminded him “You’re messy now too. ”
It was true. He could clean them both up later. It was worth it. She was worth it.
Eventually, the kiss shifted from deep and needy to sweet and soft. And then it was only their gazes meeting, her hands cupping his face, his forehead pressed against hers, their breaths slowing.
“Let me get a washcloth,” he said, kissing her one last time before she said, “okay,” and let him go.
When he crawled off the bed, he did it slowly, staring at her, memorizing her flushed skin, her contented expression, her knees still spread wide. Then he smiled at the evidence of their shared pleasure glistening on her skin in the dim hotel room lighting.
He left the bathroom door open, and while he turned on the faucet, waiting for the water to warm up, he caught his reflection in the mirror. The man staring back at him was one he barely recognized—healthy and happy and lucky as fuck.
Leaning back to peek through the door, making sure she wasn’t watching him, he gave his reflection a high five. “This is why,” he whispered to himself. “This is why you never gave up. This is why you’ll never give up again.”
With bliss surging through his veins, he wet a washcloth and wiped himself clean, then he wet another. Stepping out of the bathroom, his smile slipped, replaced by a stunned, slack-jawed gape. He staggered back a step. Nearly fell to his knees. Nearly met his end again at the sight of Davis swirling a finger around her belly button, making a path through his release.
Meeting his stare, she brought her finger up to her lips, slid it into her mouth, and sucked it clean.
“Davis,” he said on a rushed exhale, his cock giving a firm twitch.
“You taste good,” she told him, gazing at her stomach again, a little stunned, a lot well-fucked. Then her head fell back. “I’m dizzy.”
Make that extremely well-fucked. He’d high five his reflection about that later.
Joining her on the bed, he said, “You need water. I’ll get you some in a second. ”
She nodded easily, and with that same distant, sated expression, she watched him clean her stomach, her sides. Each swipe of the warm washcloth over her skin, each flex of her muscles, each breathy moan while he made sure every one of her dips and valleys was spotless, shot blood straight to his dick.
When he returned from the bathroom again with two glasses of water in his hands, she patted the bed beside her. “Come here.”
Because beside her was the only place he ever wanted to be—and because denying her anything was impossible—he set the glasses on the nightstand and slid back into bed.
On their sides, their bodies close but not touching, they breathed, stared, smiled at each other. Then she asked, “Do you remember the first day we met?”
“Of course,” he answered. “I think about it all the time. I was talking with Madigan at the Moonlight lift like it was any normal day, and then I spotted Ashley walking up to us, bringing the most beautiful woman I had ever seen with her. I think I forgot how to speak for a second.”
“But you didn’t.” Her smile reached her eyes, making them shimmer. “You said hi to me right away. My mom hadn’t even introduced me yet, but you extended your hand and said, ‘Hi, I’m Kev. I’m one of the Little Timber goofballs.’ It made me laugh.”
“I think I fell in love with you right then.” He slid his hand over her hip. “Right when I heard your laughter.”
“I saw you before that, though.” She cupped his neck, coming willingly when he reached around her waist and tugged her close. “From my mom’s window in the lodge.” Brushing her fingers along the angle of his jaw, she said, “I thought you were so fucking hot.”
He snorted. “Sure you did.”
“It’s true. And kind of embarrassing.” She pressed her smile between her lips. “Like, I’m not proud of it. But the first thing I thought when I saw you standing in the snow with the sun shining down on you was someday I am going to have white-hot sex with that man . And my mom and grandma were standing right next to me. ”
“Oof.” He winced, laughing. “Horny in front of the fam.”
“For real.”
Pulling her even closer, so close he could hitch her top leg over his hip, which he did, he said, “Then either you’re a psychic or a mastermind, Davis. Because you definitely just had white-hot sex with this man.”
It had been a long, long time since he’d been with a woman. But he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d laughed with a woman in bed. Maybe never. It was a singular sensation, feeling her laughter everywhere their bodies touched, in all the places where his skin met hers. And in each of those places heat swelled, friction intensified, until he was hard against her. Until they weren’t laughing anymore.
Meeting his stare, she said, “Can I ask you a question?”
“Always,” he replied, dragging his fingertips up her side until he cupped her breast.
“Why do you like romance books so much?”
It was such an unexpected question, he almost asked her to repeat it. “You really want to know?”
She nodded, wiggling closer until his erection pressed into her belly.
“Well, first of all.” He ducked to guide her breast toward his lips, giving her nipple a slow, wet kiss. “I get horny too.”
Sinking her fingers into his hair, scratching her nails along his scalp, making his toes curl, she said, “And second?”
He raised his head again, resting his cheek on his pillow. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”
“I am,” she said. “It’s something about you that I don’t know. And I want to know everything.”
“Okay, just…don’t make fun of me.” When she shook her head, like she would never, he said, “I wasn’t good at reading when I was young. Because of my homelife stuff, I had a late start. And in school, reading seemed to come so easily for everyone else, while it was impossible for me. All the kids were reading chapter books, and I could barely make it through a single sentence. Which really pissed me off. So I just stopped trying. Kind of gave up on it. But when I moved in with my grandparents, my grandmother wasn’t having it. She told me I would always be at the mercy of other people if I couldn’t read. Vulnerable. So she got me some graphic novels, Holes, all the Narnia books. I still wasn’t interested. It was still ridiculously hard. But instead of making me struggle through the books on my own like my teachers did at school, she read them with me. Every night. And eventually, it worked. I really got into it. Then, one day, I finished the book I’d been reading and went into her room to grab another one. I was probably thirteen, maybe fourteen, and it was the first time I noticed that the entire bottom of her bookshelf was full of romance books.”
“Uh-oh,” Davis said with a glimmer in her eyes. “Young Kev was about to get an education.”
He laughed, remembering lying sprawled out on his belly, his eyes burning because he kept forgetting to blink. “I probably spent two hours on her floor, flipping through pages to find all the steamy scenes. And you’re right.” He waggled a brow, earning an even bigger smile. “I learned a lot that day. But eventually my grandmother got back to the house, so I snuck one of the books to my room. I read it cover to cover that night, didn’t sleep at all. The next day, I returned it and snuck another one. At first, let’s be real, I was just in it for the sex. But the more I read, the more I realized there was something about the stories that gave me hope. Lots of bad shit can happen to the characters in romance novels. People get sick. People die. People are abandoned. But I felt safe reading about that bad stuff because the ending was always happy. Like, the characters went through even worse shit than I’d been through, but everything always worked out. Everyone always got their happily ever after. I think I needed that.” He laughed at himself. “Maybe I still do. And, of course.” Grasping her ass, he yanked her into him. “They’re hot as fuck. I’ll admit, though, it is a little weird that your mom is my main supplier right now.”
Her eyes popped wide. “She’s what? ”
He tried not to crack up. “You didn’t know?”
“No, I didn’t know. I figured you ordered them. Or got them at the used bookstore or something.” She blinked, several times. “My mom?”
Tucking his favorite loose curl behind her ear, gliding his fingers along the curve of her neck, he asked, “Is this, like, a dealbreaker?”
“I don’t know.” She rocked against him. “Maybe I need to see more of the things you’ve learned before I decide.”
He licked his lips. “Is that a challenge?”
“Maybe. Wait.” Her bravado faltered when he slipped out of her arms and off the bed. “Where are you going?”
Finding his overnight bag on the chair, he pulled out the box of condoms. Turning back to face her, her hungry gaze dropping to his straining erection, he removed a strip of condoms from the box and tossed them onto the bed.
“This time,” he said, prowling back to her, “nothing is going to stop me from coming inside you.”