Mad Boys (Blue Ivy Prep, #2)(108)

“Everything,” she admitted, then she pressed forward and her lips were on mine. The ferociousness of the kiss caught me by surprise, but it was like dumping kerosene on a fire and all the pent-up frustration, worry, and even aggravation burst into flames.

I devoured her mouth as she fisted my shirt so tight it pulled against my shoulders. Her skin was so fucking soft and smooth under my hands. When she shifted to straddle my lap, I groaned at the pressure of her on my very erect cock.

“Siren,” I whispered in between sharp biting scrapes of her teeth over my lower lip and the sweet taste of her thrusting against my tongue. The salt of her tears lingered, but they, too, seemed to evaporate under the warmth of the kiss. The pressure of her breasts against my shirt beckoned. “Siren…”

“I want this,” she said, lifting her head to stare at me, and I stared back. Her pupils were blown, her face flushed and still blotchy from her tears.

“Kaitlin,” I cautioned. “I’m still…”

“What? My TA? My RA? My fucking stepbrother?” She swallowed hard and the tears shimmered in her eyes again. “I don’t need any of those, and in two days—how did you put it? You’ll be nothing. Outside of this school? We’ll be nothing.”

The verbal slap landed. Did I fucking deserve it? Probably. Still, my stomach dropped at the reminder. No.

The third one still applied. Even if it didn't? We would damn well still be something.

"Look at me, Ramsey,” she said, straightening, and the pressure that put on my cock was exquisite torture. “Look at me and tell me you see a sister.”

I swept my gaze over her, from her damp hair to her tear-stained face to the tattoos decorating her arms and shoulders. There were more hidden along her abdomen and one on the curve of her breast. So many tattoos I wanted to map with my fingers and my tongue.

The pretty pale pink of her stiffened nipples beckoned to me, and there was a hint of blonde hair near her pussy that made me want to spread her out and explore every inch of her.

“No,” I admitted. “I just see you, Siren.”

“Do you want me?” The naked vulnerability in that question delivered the final blow.

Did I want her?

Fuck, all I’d wanted for two years was her. No matter how much I tried to persuade myself otherwise… “Yes,” I told her as I pushed up from the floor and carried her up with me. “I want you, Siren.”

“Then make me forget,” she pleaded. “Just make me forget everything.”

No. What I should tell her was no. Call a counselor, find her friend, call her fucking agent if I had to—find someone who could help her. That was what I should do.

Did I do it?

Fuck, no.

I carried her into the bedroom and closed the door to the bathroom. The room had a single low lamp on, and it was suddenly far cozier and more intimate than the too-brightly lit bathroom.

“Are you sure?” I asked, because right now, I was imagining doing everything I could to make her scream before I sank into that sweet pussy. The line I shouldn’t cross had been erased a long time ago.

“Yes,” she insisted, dragging me downward until our mouths fused. I palmed one of her breasts and she gasped as I teased the nipple, twisting and pulling, then kissed away from her mouth as I set her on the bed.

Rising, I stripped off my shirt and then shoved down my sweats. My cock was already bouncing against my belly, heavy and hard. Pretending I didn’t have a hard-on around her was something I’d gotten good at. Imagining fisting that blue hair as I fucked her had been my spank bank material for months.

Even when I couldn’t admit it to myself.

Dropping a hand on either side of her, I kissed her gently. “Birth control?”

“Pill,” she told me, spreading her fingers over my chest. “And I’m healthy.”

“So am I.”

But I still hesitated and she nipped at my jaw. The sadness in her eyes was still there, but so was the fight. “I’d say trust me,” she whispered. “But we don’t do that well.”

No. “I have condoms.”

“If you want to use one,” she muttered, then bit down on my pec. The sharpness of her teeth was going to leave a mark, and it made my cock jump. “Ramsey—I just want to feel you.”

“The pill?” I verified. She already had one kid; we didn’t need to make another.

“Yes,” she muttered, straining upward to capture my lips. She kissed me like she needed me to breathe. Maybe she did. I massaged her breasts, then slid my hands down to her hips, then to her thighs, and finally to her pussy.

It was slick and damp, and I eased a finger into her. Her fierce little muscles clamped down on me as she gasped into my mouth. There was no finesse as we kissed and she writhed against me. She wanted friction and for me to move.

I wanted to give her time to change her mind. When she wrapped her hand around my cock, my good intentions went up in flames.

“Like that,” I told her. “Squeeze a little tighter.” Then I was thrusting against her palm as I slid two fingers between my lips to wet them before reaching down to massage her clit. She bucked wildly as I increased the pressure.

The urge to come was right there, but I fought it as I dueled tongues with her, then traced wet kisses to her chest. Sucking her nipple against my teeth, I pinched her clit then rolled it with the heel of my hand. She came in an explosive rush of wetness and the little scream was so gratifying.