Idol (VIP, #1)(33)

My tongue dips into his little belly button and he groans, his body stretching taut. But when I move lower, his head jerks up. “Libs, wait—”

He shuts up as I come face to face with his cock. And gape like a frightened fish.

“Uh…” I say. And then I remember a joke I once heard in college. About Killian. One of the girls at a party had called him Don’t Kill-Me-an. Because, as she had laughingly explained, groupies claimed his dick was so thick and long that a girl was in danger of being split in two. I don’t want to think about Killian and other women. At all. But the evidence is staring me right in the face.

He lifts up on his elbows, which does lovely things to his abs. He’s panting faintly, his chest gleaming in the evening light. “Yeah, about that.”

I hold up a shaking hand to silence him. “Just…let me get acquainted.”

Because his dick? It’s big enough to need its own name. Maybe its own address. Sure, I’ve seen it before, but he was hanging limp and cursed with a severe case of whisky dick at the time. Now it’s hard as iron and thrusting upward as if begging to be stroked.

I oblige the beast, gently running my hand over its silky, hot length, and it twitches, nudging against me. He has a beautiful dick, tawny colored, well-shaped, and straight, the tip wide and smooth. Beautiful. And on steroids or something. Because it’s just…

I wrap my fingers around it, and my sex clenches. I can imagine this meaty girth pushing its way into me. It’d be rude work, filled with raw grunts and deep groans. I clench again, giving him a squeeze. So very firm.

“We’ll go slow,” he rasps, almost desperate as I slowly trace the wide, round crown of his cock.

“Yeah, we will,” I mutter.

“And you don’t have to— Oh, f*ck, that’s good,” he groans as I lean over him and suck on the fat tip. It fills my entire mouth, the crown fitting into the curved roof. And I groan too, because it is so good sucking on him. Better than anything has a right to be.

Killian mutters rough curses, makes pained, pleading noises as I work him, sucking and stroking—because there is no way to take all of him in. I’m so turned on, I can’t be still. Just the sight of him, his strong arms stretched overhead, hands wrapped around my wrought iron headboard, his abs bunching, his hips rocking, sends heat rushing through me. I suck him deep, lick around the weeping head.

His dark brows knit, his lips parting as he whispers my name again and again. His thick thigh slides between mine and pushes hard against my aching sex. I groan against his cock.

We come together, Killian filling my mouth, me riding his thigh with shameless abandon. I stay with him until he softens against my tongue. He’s panting hard when I release him and rest my head against his firm stomach.

His hand smooths over my hair. “I’m dead,” he whispers, then hauls me up, wrapping me in his arms. His lips find mine. “You’ve killed me.”

I stroke his damp temple. “Good. Then I can have my way with you all night. And you won’t be able to protest.”

“Do your worst. I’ll just lie here and take it.”

We might not have the damn condoms, but he keeps me well satisfied for hours, until I fall into a dreamless sleep, Killian’s strong body pressed against me. Even as I fall, I want to hold on, stay awake. Because being this happy cannot be real. It can’t last. Can it?





Chapter Ten





Killian



The pillow beneath my head is…f*cking fantastic. I mean, it really is. Like a squishy cloud or something…

I’ve been here before. In this bed. On this pillow. I fully wake in a rush of memories. Kissing Libby. Touching Libby. Libby making me fall apart and then putting me back together.

Her head is resting on a pillow next to me; her gray-green eyes meet mine.

And my chest floods with warmth. “Hi.”

Her voice is soft and slightly rough. “Hi.”

We’re wrapped up in each other. I hadn’t noticed before now. It feels natural, where I’m supposed to be. I touch her cheek and thread my fingers into her hair to pull her closer. I kiss her softly, and she opens to me on a sigh. It would be so easy to roll over her, part her legs, and sink it.

If I had a condom.

“Would I look like a total dog,” I ask against her lips, “if I left you here and went to get condoms?”

I feel her smile. “Well, it’s Sunday so—”

“Don’t,” I growl, nipping her lip. “Don’t f*cking say they’re closed on Sundays.”

She sighs, kissing me back. “Not saying it won’t make it any less true.”

“Mother. Fuck.” I lean back a little. She’s smiling at me, her golden brown hair falling into her eyes. I ease a strand behind her ear. “Fuck that, I’m driving off the island.”

“I’ll wait right here.”

But I don’t go. I kiss her some more, run my hands over her curves because she’s soft and warm. And mine.

“What’s it like?” she murmurs between kisses.

“Being with you?” I nuzzle her neck. “Fucking perfect.”

Her chest vibrates with a chuckle. “No. Being on stage. Performing in front of all those people.”

Resting my head in my hand, I look down at her. A lot of people have asked the same thing. I’ve never really cared. But with Libby, a lick of excitement runs down my spine. Because I can see her up there under the hot lights, her voice owning the air. It would be beautiful. “The Animal is like nothing else on Earth.”