Idol (VIP, #1)(52)

“I’m going to lose my mind when I fit myself in here,” he murmurs in a dark voice. He doesn’t touch any other part of me as he slowly f*cks me with his finger. It only serves to draw all attention to the act. Another finger slips in, and he spreads them wide as he pumps. “You like that?”

I can’t answer, only writhe and stare at the absorbed expression on his face. As if he feels my gaze, his eyes flick up. They gleam black in the dim interior. “Okay, baby doll,” he tells me, “I’ll make it better.”

His free hand rips at the button of his jeans. And then his cock springs free. I haven’t forgotten how big it is, but seeing it now, engorged and hugely erect, has my insides clenching in anticipation. Killian must feel my reaction because he makes a hungry sound and pushes another finger inside me.

I’m stretched wide, filled up. But I know his cock will feel like more.

He slips out of me and pulls a condom from his pocket. “Play with that clit while I do this.”

My shaking fingers obey, sliding through my slickness. I want to be filled up so badly, my hips push restlessly against the seat as he rolls on the condom.

Killian’s big palm rests on my hips, his fingers spread wide to hold on to me, his hot-coffee gaze rapt. “Now that’s a pretty sight. Hold yourself open for me, baby.”

I do as he asks. He makes a sound, low and guttural, almost a whimper but more needy, and all the muscles along his abs visibly clench. His free hand goes to his cock, giving it an idle stroke.

“Hell, I’m gonna have to get another taste of that.” His breath is a warm sigh before his lips gently press to my swollen sex. It sends a jolt of heat through me. And when he hums his approvals against my *, I keen.

“Killian…” My hand cups the back of his head. I don’t know if I want to push him away or shove him closer. He’s slowly killing me, the way he peppers soft, lingering kisses between my legs, as if he’s kissing my mouth. His tongue is lazy yet greedy, finding every hidden space and sensitive swell.

“Killian, please. Now.” I tug his ear and he laughs—the f*cker—sending more heat skittering between my thighs.

After a little goodbye flick to my clit with his tongue, he rises and takes a seat next to me. “Come here.” His hands find my hips and he lifts me to straddle him.

Slouched back, he appears almost relaxed: rock and roll royalty lounging in his limo. But I don’t miss the tension tightening the corners of his eyes, or the way his hand trembles slightly as he brushes a lock of hair back from my face. Between us, his cock lays like a steel bar against his defined abdomen. I want to wrap my hand around its girth and squeeze. I want to sink onto it and forget my name.

The man is so beautiful, his bold features stark, his eyes bright. My hands run over his smooth skin, hard muscles flexing at my touch. I trace a small, tight nipple, loving the way his nostrils flare in response.

Killian’s rough fingertips trace my brow. “I want you so f*cking much. Feels like I’ve always wanted you.” He pulls me close, kisses my mouth. “It’s taking all I have not to just plow into you, f*ck the ever-loving hell out of you.”

Our breaths hitch in unison, and I kiss him again, sucking his full lower lip. He groans a little, his hands bracketing my jaw. “We’re taking it slow,” he insists, and I half wonder if he’s talking to me or to himself. “Slow. I don’t want to hurt you.”

The whole time he talks, he slowly rocks his hips, sliding his dick back and forth between my legs. He’s so wide, my sex parts around him.

My breasts press against his chest as I lean forward and rise up on my knees. “Come into me, Killian.”

“Fuck,” he whispers, swallowing hard. His eyes hold mine as he reaches between us and guides the wide crown of his cock to my opening. I don’t close my eyes, don’t breathe, as I slowly sink down. The first breach pinches. I hold there as Killian pants, his fingers pressing into my jaw as if he’s struggling to keep still.

The car goes over a bump, and he thrusts up into me. My breath hitches, my inner walls stretching and grasping. “Holy hell,” I gasp.

“Babe.” He kisses me, gently working his hips, easing his way farther in. All the time kissing me, like I’m his drug.

And I feel drunk on him, my senses swimming, my head heavy, and my body hot with pleasure. All I can think is that Killian is in me. He’s part of me now. I feel him in the taut pull of my hips, deep in my body where the head of his cock pushes against some spot that lights me up.

I move with him now, meeting him thrust for thrust, our lips barely brushing, tongues almost idly touching. I take his air, and he takes mine.

“So good.” He shivers, surging into me. “You feel so damn good. More. Give me more.”

I grip his shoulders, bite his upper lip, lick it. Lust has made me feral.

His hands slide to my butt, gripping me there, and the tip of his finger toys with the entrance to my ass.

It’s all too much. My forehead rests against his as I pant and ride him, claimed, owned. He has me.

My orgasm is a long roll, picking up speed and rushing over me with such force that I can only cling to him, cry out, and move against him in a messy, desperate way. I lose sight of everything but that feeling.

And then his arms are locked around me, crushing me to his chest as he thrusts into me hard, fast, frantic. I love the sounds of his cries, the way he groans like he’s dying and somehow waking up all at once.