Page 11 of Love Is Ale You Need

Bile shoots up my throat hearing the words Kyle and boyfriend strung together. I meet Trey’s gaze. “Ex-husband.”

He releases a slow whistle. “So, a little more baggage with that one.”

I exhale, my shoulders dropping. “You could say that. He shouldn't gnaw on my last nerve, but he does. I don’t want to think about him. Just the thought of him drives me crazy. I can’t believe I wasted so many years of my life on him.” When I reach my SUV in the far corner of the dimly lit parking lot, I whirl around to face Trey. “I don’t want him occupying any more of my thoughts.”

Trey’s large but gentle palms cover both of my cheeks. Car horns blare in the distance and slowly meld into a dull hum the moment his lips touch mine. It’s soft at first, as if he’s testing the waters. Alarm bells should be blaring in my head right now, telling me I shouldn’t be kissing him, but they’re not. In fact, a rush of euphoria flows from the tips of my toes to where my lips are touching his. It’s the highest of highs and something I haven’t experienced in a really long time. His tongue sweeps over the seam of my lips. He tastes like spice and hops. A moan rumbles in the back of my throat and he deepens the kiss.

I break away, but his palms are still on my cheeks. I need a moment to gather my thoughts. Because whatever just happened should not have happened. My body shouldn’t be tingling as much as it is from that kiss. “What was that for?” I press my fingertips to my lips, the residual heat radiates to my fingers.

He rubs the pad of this thumb against my cheek. “I wanted your thoughts to be occupied with something else. Did it work?”

Dumb question. Of course it worked. My nipples are still hard because of it. But it’s Trey. I can’t be kissing Trey. Then why can’t I stop thinking about his lips on mine? And why do I want them there again?

“Fuck it,” I mumble, more to myself than him. I’m taking this one for me. With a hand around the back of his neck, I haul his mouth to mine, crashing our lips together in a bruising kiss.

SIX

STRIPPER CONDOM

Rylee

I melt into him. He takes that as a sign to deepen the kiss and I let him. With our lips still fused together, he spins us around, slamming my back against my SUV. A moan rumbles from my throat as he grinds his growing erection into my stomach. I’m going to regret this later, but I don’t care. I need to feel something, anything else besides the utter disappointment that is my life. All I need is a few seconds, so I don’t rage call Kyle to yell at him about how much he sucks. Also, it better last longer than a few seconds or I’ll be hulking out for a completely different reason.

Like a mental rolodex, I run through everything in my backseat. Car seat. Toys. Good chance there’s a lot of fruit snack wrappers scattered between the seats. That plan is out. I’ve got to go with something else. With my palm on his hard, muscular chest, I shove him away, causing him to stumble backward. His gaze flits to mine with a mixture of shock and surprise. “Where’s your car?”

His eyebrows pinch together. “Behind us.” He nods to a black SUV parked next to mine.

“Get in the backseat.”

“Wait. What?”

“Get in the backseat. I want to work out some frustration.”

“Are you sure?”

“Are you trying to talk me out of sex right now?” My irritation grows exponentially with every passing second. After the last shitty fifteen minutes of my day, I need my thoughts consumed by something else, even if it's Trey. At this point, I won’t even be picky. I’ll take his tongue, fingers, or cock. Or maybe one of each. I don’t care. I just need it.

“Fuck no.” He shoves his hand into his front pocket, pulls out his keys, and fumbles to hit the unlock button on the key fob. After a second, the lights flash and he yanks the backdoor open.

I crawl inside over one of the bucket seats, tossing my wallet to the floor, and Trey follows close behind. As soon as the door slams closed, I pounce. Leaping over the gap between the seats, I straddle his lap as I palm his cheeks and slam my lips to his. His firm hands roam over my ribcage as his thumbs graze the underside of my breasts until he’s holding me in place as if he’s afraid I’ll leave. Right now, that’s not happening. In fact, I moan and rock my hips into him. Needing to feel him. Everywhere. His rock hard erection rubs against my pussy and I half moan, half mewl. The sensation sends a million tiny pin pricks over my entire body.

I break our kiss and frantically pull apart the buttons on his shirt. I’m surprised I don’t rip any of the threads. Once they’re all undone, the side of his dress shirt falls open and I’m met with chiseled and toned muscles. All I want to do is spend several hours running my hands up and down his chest and over every ridge and valley of his six-pack abs. But I don’t have hours. If I did, I’d talk myself out of it. Less thinking. More doing.

“A couple of housekeeping guidelines.” His hands skate up my sides, taking the hem of my shirt with them. I raise my arms and he removes my shirt, tossing it on the seat next to us. “One. This is only happening once.”

“It’s like you’re speaking my language.” He cups the outside of my black lace bra and places open mouth kisses on the swell of each breast.

My back arches and I moan from his touch. “Two. Tell no one.”

“Done.” He bites down on the soft flesh, and I grind myself against his now fully hard cock.

“Three. When was the last time you got tested?”

“Like a month ago. Everything’s negative.” He pulls down the cup on one side and sucks a nipple into his mouth. His tongue swirls around the stiff peak, and I’m on the verge of seeing stars.

“Same.” I pant. “And you haven’t gone bare with anyone since?”

“Nope. I always suit up.” He repeats the action with the other breast but this time his fingers kneed the tender flesh of the other. “Fuck this.” He mumbles against my skin. His hand slides to my back. In one swoop, the clasp of my bra releases, and the straps slide down my shoulders. He finishes removing it and tosses it to the floor somewhere next to us. “Much better.” With both hands he cups my breasts, pressing them to the center. His thumbs brush over my pebbled nipples as he places open mouth kisses on one and then the other.

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