Rush: The Season (Austin Arrows Book 1)(68)

His mouth is warm, his lips firm yet soft, his tongue wicked as it easily glides over my bottom lip, then slips into my mouth. I tentatively stroke it with mine, sighing as I give myself over to him. The pace is slow and steady but soon intensifies. Fearing I’ll fall off the stool, I reach for him. Or that’s my excuse, anyway.

His abs contract when I slip my hand beneath his shirt. I feel warm skin over hard muscle. I give myself permission to roam, promising I’ll cut this off before it escalates out of control. Then it’s too late because I’m caught up in his kiss, in how easily he manipulates my mouth with his, in the sexy groan that rumbles in his chest when I pluck his nipples with my fingers.

“Fuck.” He says the word against my mouth as his hands slide down, lower, until he’s cupping my ass and lifting me right off the stool.

That … the whole picking-me-up thing … is so hot. Hotter than the little-girl thing. Although both are great. And now I’m mentally rambling, probably because my brain is in a frenzy, making a furious attempt to keep up with my body.

Crushing my mouth back to his, I dig my nails into his back as I wrap my legs around his waist, holding on for dear life. I try to determine the next move, where we’re going, what’s about to happen, but I find I don’t care. When Kingston’s mouth is on mine, his exquisite tongue sliding against mine, the only thing that matters is getting closer to him.

He must be just as distracted because we end up in my shower, both of us still dressed. Luckily, it’s a big shower. One without doors that allows him to easily navigate until my back is against the tiled wall.

I blindly reach down, fumbling as I twist the knob. Kingston pushes up against me as the water begins raining down. Thankfully it’s on-demand hot water or we could’ve very well put a damper on the mood. Instead, we’re both dressed, our clothes now plastered to our bodies while his tongue makes love to mine, which is quite possibly the sexiest thing I’ve ever experienced.

This guy is so full of sexy…

Kingston attempts to pull back, but I grab the back of his head, holding him to me. “Not yet,” I whisper. “Don’t stop.”

“Not stopping,” he mumbles, chuckling at my apparent neediness. “Need you naked. Now.”

My sopping-wet shirt is lifted over my head, then tossed away, a loud plop echoing against the walls. I start to work the buttons of his shirt free but quickly grow frustrated. Rather than let him help me, I grip the two halves and pull, the small discs scattering, pinging against the wall and floor.

“That was hot, right?” I ask, pulling back enough to look up at him.

He’s smiling. A sensual, devious smirk that makes my * wetter than it already was.

“So hot,” he agrees, lowering me to my feet.

Pulling his head back down to mine, I match his smile. “Where were we?”

When his lips cover mine once again, I reach between us and work the button and zipper of his jeans free, then slip my hand inside.

Oh.

My.

God.

Although I can’t see him, the fact that I can’t wrap my hand completely around his girth tells me all I need to know. The man is freaking ginormous. And here I thought they called him Mount Rushmore because he’s like a mountain guarding the goal. Perhaps, they call him that because he’s so freaking huge…

It shouldn’t surprise me, because the guy is massive everywhere else, but seriously…

Kingston hisses, his hips bucking toward me as I stroke his smooth, velvety shaft.

His dick is thick and hard and so f*cking big my * clenches, desperate for him to fill me. Only briefly do I wonder if it’ll actually fit. I remember one time, Noelle was telling me about a guy she had sex with—or tried to, anyway—and no matter how hard they tried, he wouldn’t fit. People don’t think that shit really happens, but it does.

While I stroke him with my hand, he strokes my tongue with his, working the clasp on my bra free, then practically tearing it from my arms. It disappears, assumingly off to join my shirt.

Not that I care. At the moment, my clothes are the last thing I’m thinking about.

And if I’m being completely honest, not once since Kingston started kissing me have I thought about our friendship, either.





Kingston

When I pull back for air, Ellie is staring up at me, continuing to stroke my cock in her fist. Her fingers are soft against my heated flesh, the continuous motion making me dizzy with lust. I f*cking love the way she touches me. It’s as though she’s curious yet aware of her ability to make me lose my mind.

My jeans have worked their way down my hips, but I can’t think enough to push them lower. My brain is malfunctioning, my dick making all the decisions for me. Her touch is amazing, her silky-soft fingers gliding over my shaft, stealing the air from my lungs.

It’s too much but not enough. I plant one hand on the tiled wall above Ellie’s head and tilt my head back, allowing the sensations to take over. I have to focus on breathing, in no way ready for this to be over, but I can’t help but enjoy it.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, it registers that my jeans have worked their way down to my knees—likely Ellie’s doing—but I don’t open my eyes. The way her hand firmly strokes me, teasing the head every now and then…

“Fuck,” I bark, my head snapping down when I feel the wet suction of her mouth on my dick. My fingers instantly tangle in her wet hair as I take in the sight of her mouth covering the head. She’s kneeling before me, her eyes never averting from my face as she wraps those pretty lips around my dick and sucks. I have fantasized about this a million times, but those don’t hold a candle to the real deal. “Ellie. Damn, baby. So good… Aww, f*ck.”