Finding Kyle(51)

He brings a palm down in between my legs, cups me intimately for a moment as he again leans to the side.

I’m confused when he says, “Watch.”

Kyle dips his fingers inside me briefly before dragging them upward to reveal my clit. He pulls back on the tiny hood covering it, and I’m enthralled by how swollen and needy it looks.

Then I’m absolutely stunned when I see that Kyle has one of my paintbrushes in his other hand. He must have nabbed it off my supply shelf, but it’s one that has luxuriously soft bristles.

I suck in my breath and watch as Kyle takes the brush and swirls the bristles along the inside of one thigh. I jerk because it tickles and laugh nervously.

But my laugh dies down when he slowly drags the brush in between my legs, and ever so gently swipes it right up my center. My hips fly upward. Kyle’s arm holds me tighter as he uses his other hand to hold me open.

“Watch, Jane,” he murmurs, his voice thick with wonder and lust.

And I watch as he uses the damp bristles to circle around my clit, and the sensation is indescribable. My entire body starts to tremble as I watch him getting me off with my paintbrush. He carefully dips the tip inside of me just marginally… enough to get it wet, and then he makes light strokes against my clit, over and over again.

My body trembles harder and my hands turn into claws that I sink into his thighs.

The strokes are so feather light, and he’s purposely going slowly to draw this out, whereas I only want to come and come and come.

“God, this is sexy as fuck,” Kyle mutters in my ear as he twirls the brush around my clit, going a little faster. My entire body goes tight. “We need to try this while I’m fucking you.”

And just like that, I explode.

I groan out my release as he continues to swirl the brush around me, whispering words of praise and encouragement, and when I don’t have any more to give, he tosses the brush to the floor and merely places his large palm over my crotch to gently squeeze me possessively.

“Kyle,” I murmur in repletion, still dizzy from that climax.

“Get up,” Kyle commands me gently, his hands going to my hips to push me up from the stool. The minute my legs straighten, he’s turning me to face him. My hands go out to his shoulders for balance, and I watch as he quickly unfastens the fly on his jeans. He lifts his hips a little, pulling them down just enough to free himself. I watch with wide eyes because that part of him is just as beautiful as the rest, marveling at how quickly he gets a condom out and rolls it on.

I give a tiny gasp of surprise as Kyle’s hands go back to my hips and he jerks me forward. He looks up at me with fevered eyes and admits something I think shames him by the tone of his voice. “I can’t get enough of you.”

Before I can even respond, he surges out of the chair and spins me toward the nearest wall, right beside my desk. He pushes me right up against it, my breasts flattening and my heart racing with his forcefulness.

Kyle’s mouth comes to the side of my neck and he bites me gently before giving me a soft lick. His hands pull my hips backward and I feel his body bend, then he’s pushing inside of me.

Straight inside, one long, fluid stroke.

“Ooohhh,” I moan as I turn my head and place my heated cheek against the cool wall.

Kyle grunts in pleasure before he pulls out and thrusts back in hard. My body jars against the wall as he starts a steady rhythm, and I realize… this is new as well. So many things that Kyle is showing me that in my totally boring previous sex life had seemed like pretty good stuff.

But now… now that I know this…

I think I might be ruined for anyone else after Kyle leaves.





CHAPTER 22




Kyle


I pull a small cooler from the back of my truck, keeping half an eye on Jane as she spreads out a navy-blue blanket on the grass. She’d suggested a drive over to Acadia again. When I picked her up, she surprised me by coming out of her house with a picnic basket. She announced as she jumped in the truck that we’d have to stop for some drinks, and so we graced a rundown-looking mini mart before we hit the ferry and purchased a cheap Styrofoam cooler, a small bag of ice, and a six-pack of Coke.

Here I am, a man in hiding, having spent the past several years selling my soul to the devil, getting ready to sit down with the sweetest, sexiest woman I’ve ever known to have a motherfucking picnic.

I feel like I’m in the Twilight Zone.

It’s felt like that for the past two weeks since Jane and I have been regularly seeing each other. And by seeing each other, I mean there’s been a whole lot of orgasms dished out, intermixed with what you could call “dates,” I guess. That included going on a double date to dinner with Miranda and some dude she’s banging, but it’s totally not serious. It also included a trip to the county fair where Jane screamed and dug her nails in my leg during every ride, except for the Ferris wheel, where we made out like teenagers at the top. We then gorged ourselves on corn dogs, cotton candy, and elephant ears until my stomach hurt so bad I didn’t think I’d be able to fuck her that night.

I did, however, persevere.

Jane also convinced me to go to dinner at her parents’ house one night. This was something I internally balked at, as I genuinely liked Jane’s mom, Meredith, and didn’t want to string her along by letting her think this was something lasting with her daughter. I had a hard time sitting at a woman’s table, eating her food and knowing I was probably going to hurt her daughter in the long run.