Skin Deep (Station Seventeen #1)(47)
On another muted chime, the elevator doors slid open to reveal a small alcove leading to a set of intricately carved double doors. The stark white walls were offset by the glow spilling down from regularly spaced sleek gold light fixtures that Kellan recognized as more places for cameras to hide, but being watched seemed the least of their worries since the path to the doors was being blocked by the biggest man he’d ever seen.
And between the three years he’d spent with the fire department and the seven he’d clocked in the Army, that was fucking saying something. But as daunting as the roadblock was, this had to be their wrestler guy, which meant they were on the right track. Provided they could get past him, anyway.
Marcus took point, probably in an effort to rip off the Band-Aid of getting everybody over the threshold as promised to save his skinny ass. “Hey, Rampage! How you been?”
The guy didn’t move a millimeter from his post in front of the doors leading into the penthouse as he gave Marcus a slow, flat stare. “Missed you last week, Danny Boy. Mr. DuPree’s parties starting to bore you?”
“Oh. Ah, of course not.” He stiffened, and Kellan’s gut slid south. At least the dirtbag was quick on the upswing. “Sorry I missed out,” Marcus said, his smile turning appropriately sleazy as he turned toward Moreno. “I was spending a little time with my girl Isabella, here. She and her boyfriend like to party, and they’re looking for a pretty young thing to keep them company. Thought I’d bring them along tonight. Show ’em a good time.”
Thankfully, the human boulder didn’t seem to notice Marcus’s hiccup. “Hmm.” Rampage’s beady stare slithered over Isabella, making Kellan grind his molars hard enough to test their integrity. “We don’t get a lot of chicks looking to join in. Girl on girl is pretty fucking hot.” He didn’t even bother with subtlety as his gaze lingered on Moreno’s breasts. “But she and her boyfriend aren’t on the list.”
Marcus’s eyes flared, although only for a second. “They’re cool, man. Looking for Mr. DuPree’s kind of fun, you know what I mean? Would Danny Marcus steer you wrong?” he asked with a smile, but Rampage’s bulldog status remained unchanged.
“They’re still not on the list.”
Isabella unwound her arm from Kellan’s, her hips swaying provocatively as she stepped around Marcus on her shiny black stilettos. “Okay, Rampage. It is Rampage, right?” She pulled just enough of her bottom lip between her teeth to make Kellan’s pulse spike, and Jesus, he didn’t know which he wanted more—to kiss her or kill her. “My boyfriend and I really want to play. What do we need to do to get on the list?”
Rampage’s stare stayed fixed on her mouth for a full three seconds before he answered. “Mr. DuPree has a strict no-hands rule, so unfortunately, you can’t earn your way in with me. But if you want a taste of what his parties offer, you’re still going to have to show me you want it.”
The protest burned on Kellan’s tongue, but Moreno’s catlike smile kept the guy’s attention. “What’d you have in mind?”
“You said you came to play, right?” His upper lip lifted in a filthy leer, but Moreno held steady.
Her fingers tightened ever so slightly over Kellan’s forearm as if to say easy. “Among other things.”
“Then prove it,” Rampage said, jerking his brick-end chin at Marcus. “Put your mouth on him. I’ll even let you pick your spot, but you’d better make it good.”
Kellan’s composure slammed to a complete halt. The heavy bassline of some song thumped from behind the doors, lifting the hair on the back of his neck and pulsing along with the white-hot anger in his veins.
“No.” The protest was out before he could trap it between his teeth, making Marcus flinch and Rampage take a step forward. But Isabella slipped into the hairsbreadth of testosterone-soaked space between all three of them, flattening one palm over Kellan’s chest as she turned to face Rampage.
“My boyfriend’s just a little territorial when it comes to other men, but don’t worry,” Isabella said. “If proof is what you’re after, I can show you how bad I want it.”
Before Kellan could speak or move or even think, her mouth was on his.
For a split second, he was paralyzed, too thrown by surprise to respond. But then the feel of Isabella’s lips, hungry and insistent, registered all at once, and Kellan lost all thought, answering instead with pure, raw instinct.
Cupping her chin with a single hand, he spread his fingers over one side of her face while his thumb found the other, anchoring her mouth under his. He pushed past her lips without pleasantries, coaxing her mouth open with his hand and his tongue. She opened for him readily, letting him delve deep again and again until—fuck—a moan drifted up from her chest, vibrating a path from his lips all the way to his cock.
Rather than giving in and letting him keep the lead he’d claimed, though, Isabella began to meet the brash invasion of his tongue with pressure of her own. Hot fists formed over his jacket right where his shoulders met his arms, pulling their bodies into a full-frontal connection that did nothing to slow the blind, reckless need building in Kellan’s gut.
Faster. Harder. More.
Now.
Another greedy sweep of Isabella’s tongue was all it took to break him. Crushing his chest against hers, he thrust roughly into the cradle of her hips, impulse daring him not to stop until he’d yanked her dress up and her panties down, burying his cock in the warm, wet heat of her pussy. He broke from her mouth just long enough to reach for the hem of her dress, and the sight of her through his shuttered eyes forced a moan past his lips.