Page 41 of The Last Kind of Kiss
Prove to him that you’re over him, Lila. Prove to him that he doesn’t have a hold on you anymore.
Nauseating butterflies squirm in my belly, and the slick lubricating my pussy goes from a shallow wave pool to a full-onwaterpark. “One kiss,” I agree quietly, trying my best to calm my galloping pulse.
Bristol doesn’t say anything before he pulls me forcefully into his body, hungrily slants his mouth over mine, and clamps his hands down on my curves with need strong enough to bruise. I squeak in surprise, but the noise is swallowed up by his diligent lips and meticulous tongue, both of which exact the perfect amount of pressure to compound the fiery knot in my lower belly.
It’s not a fleeting kiss at all. It’s a kiss in which we both explore each other’s mouths, in which our hands desperately grab at any body part available, in which we surrender to our animalistic cravings. My heart composes a hymn just for him, and for the first time in months, I feel…alive.
He palms the back of my head, angles his lips so he can unlock deeper access, and attacks me with an urgency that’s never existed before—and one that I don’t entirely despise. We’re so close that I can feel his cock poking me in the stomach, and I bet he can feel my pert nipples brushing against his chest.
I’ll never admit this to him for as long as I live, but the chocolate isn’tsolelyresponsible for my body’s response.
My nails bite into his bare back—hard enough to leave crescent marks—and if I don’t pull away soon, sharing a kiss will be the least of my worries. So, despite my body’s incessant cries for a shortcut to third base, I force myself to sever our connection, panting for air and licking Bristol’s saliva off my no-longer-glossed lips.
He whimpers—yes,whimpers—and the most pitiful expression occupies his face, infusing my insides with guilt. “One more, angel.Please.”
14
BELOW DECK
BRISTOL
Ilied. One kiss from Lila willneverbe enough.
The second our lips reacquainted themselves with one another, every one of my senses underwent a whiteout like that of a merciless snowstorm in the middle of winter. The chocolate’s effects have graduated from tension pinpricks to miniature explosions, and I can feel my balls draw up in preparation for a relief that will never come—not as long as Lila has anything to say about it.
I forgot how incredible it felt to be kissed by her. Nothing exists except forher. Not the trauma from my past, not Summit, not anything. This is gonna sound over-the-top cheesy, but her lips give me a reason to fall back in love with life. All the baggage weighing me down mysteriously vanishes, and Lila balms the scars on my heart with the tiniest spillover of love. I can’t compare this sensation to anything. Nothing in the world—not even a rare, naturally-occurring phenomenon—could equate to the emotion eroding at my rough-hewn edges. I breathe cleanly for the first time I have all month, welcoming much-needed air into my rotten lungs.
But once I get the addictive taste of revitalization, Lilablankets me in darkness again, and the atmosphere falls to an outpouring of thick, charcoal-grey smog. My stomach does a flip of hope, egging on the lovesick way my heart flutters like a baby bird’s wings.
“One more, angel.Please,” I beg, lips still foolishly puckered, every cell in my body craving a hit to keep me afloat for the next few minutes. I can still taste the notes of chocolate that leapt off her tongue and invaded my taste buds, and her lip gloss is smeared all over my lower face.
If I wasn’t so Lila-drunk—yes, I’m coining this term—I’d make some witty remark about how flustered she looks right now. Her fingers come up to touch her lips in betrayal, and her pupils are completely dilated, pushing aside the rings of blue in her eyes. Not to mention that those pointed beads of her nipples are flashing at me like some X-rated high beams.
A frown unfurls on her face, followed by a laborious hitch of her chest that only succeeds in spewing out a few shallow breaths. “Bristol…”
Everything inside me is ringing alarm bells, and the little amount of blood still in my head makes a quick break south of the equator, forcing my libido into toe-curling action. I have no right to say what I’m about to say, but I abandoned my dignity a long time ago. I may be a man, but any man with half a brain would know that his place is on his knees, worshipping his woman.
“Fuck. I can’t stand this fake dating shit. I can’t stand being your friend.” I pause, choking on the words that bitter my throat. “Jesus, we’re not evenfriendsat this point. I can’t stand…I can’t stand meaningnothingto you.”
I know I just broke rule number two. I don’t know what I expect her to say; I barely thought before speaking myself. But judging by the wobble of her lower lip, I’m expecting a repeat of the conversations we had prior. However, like everything Liladoes, she fully knocks me on my ass and steals the breath from my lungs.
She grabs me by the shoulders, manhandles me onto my back, and crawls on top of me within the span of a head-spinning second.
“Stop talking. For once in your life,” she growls, her long, toned legs straddling my hips, both of her hands pinning my wrists to the mattress.
I stare at her in shock—and partly fear—and adjust my hips so my cock’s directly underneath her cunt, demanding entry into the wet paradise between her thighs. This is seriously sick and twisted. Here I am trying to tell her how much she means to me while my dick’s simultaneously grinding against her pussy. I’m trying to be a gentleman, I really am. But, my God, do I need to fuck her. I need her to use me and do whatever the fuck she wants to me.
While she’s suspended on top of me, touching every exposed part of my body with a coyness that literally makes me want to swallow my own tongue, my belly bottoms out and a horde of hormones pelt me like bullets from a semiautomatic. I don’t grab her waist like I normally would—not that Icouldif I wanted to. Considering the position she has me pinned in right now, she’s in control.
“Maybe you wouldn’t lie so much if your tongue had something more productive to do,” she purrs, taking her glittery, almond-shaped nail and tracing it across my inner arm.
I try my best not to twitch. “Not lying.”
“Don’t think I asked for your opinion.”
Not only am I playing with fire, but I’m juggling it in front of an audience. “You finally gonna shut me up, Lils?”
When her nail reaches my collarbone, she grabs me by the chin, caging it with her claws. “You finally gonna be a good boy and behave?” she challenges, and I shouldn’t have underestimatedthe lengths she’d go to torture me, because she still manages to roll her cunt right over my rock-hard erection.
