Page 59 of The Last Kind of Kiss
God, I need to feel her again, even if that calls for a punch in the face.
But Lila doesn’t drive her fist into my face. She doesn’tanswer me. All she does—which is answer enough—is marry our lips together, kissing me with a certainty that chases all that long-standing doubt away. It’s purposeful this time. She’s the pursuer, and by the way her tongue’s already locking around mine, I’d say she’s ravenously adamant too. Since her heels give her a few inches, her arms have easy access to my neck, and I reflexively pull her body up against my half-naked one.
I groan into her mouth, my dick now fully erect behind this flimsy barrier of cotton. The weight of my desire notches into her stomach, drooling pre-cum in search of that pretty, pink pussy that haunts my every waking moment, and I have to remind myself that a kiss isn’t always a preamble into sex. A kiss can just be a kiss, and maybe that’s all Lila’s ready for. I don’t want to push her. I don’t want to make her uncomfortable.
But that seems like a fucking impossibility now that I’m basically “assaulting” her with my concealed weapon.
When there’s a lapse in the kiss, she takes the opportunity to pull my bottom lip between her teeth, letting it pop back into place. All I do is stare at her dazedly, and I’m so hot that it feels like she’s fanning the internal—and infernal—brushfire swallowing every inch of me. She’s equally flushed, her eyes as large and dark as the murky, blue bottom of the Baltic Sea. A fine sheen of spit glosses her lips, glistening underneath the dull lighting and hitting me in just one of mymanyweak spots when it comes to Lila Perkins.
She slaps her palm against her forehead. “Oh, God. I can’t believe I just did that. I came in here to talk to you, not to eat your face off!”
“To be fair, we’ve never done a lot of talking when I’m half-naked.”
Lila growls at me, thrusts an accusatory finger in my chest, and pushes me back a few steps while she stomps her boot against the ground. “Oh, I’m aware. I’m well aware. Ugh, Bristol!Why—do you see what kind of position I’m in right now? We…we can’t…”
Her angry tirade doesn’t last long as distress perforates her well-worn mask, and it’s only then that I realize she’s caught in the push and pull of a tide created bymydoing. Guilt plucks at my heartstrings, overwhelming the primal want pulsing low in my abdomen.
Can’t you control yourself for once, Bristol? Can’t you see what you’re doing to her? This isn’t some flirty game anymore. You broke her—you’restillbreaking her.
But despite the warning from my subconscious, she’s like a bad habit I can’t quit. A habit that’s eventually going to kill me.
“Why not? Why can’t we?” I argue, my voice shades darker than it was before. My heart’s keyed up with a lot of emotions right now, pushing against my ribs with its newfound size, determined to burst out of my chest just to diffuse the crushing pressure.
Just tell me the truth, Lila. Please. I want to be with you.
You’re asking her to forgive you for something that’s unforgivable. You need to let her go.
I can’t! I can’t let her go. If I could, I would’ve done it a year ago!
“Because…” She trails off, withdraws her arm, and disappears to a place I can’t follow. She’s shutting me out. I’m going to lose her, which is ironic, because she’s right here in front of me.
I don’t know how much time passes. All I know is that each second is more torturous than the last. As much as rejection hurts, it pales in comparison to the pain I’m putting her through. An invisible weight burdens her brows, the corners of her lips sag into a frown, and she makes herself small around me, just like she did when I first hijacked her modeling audition and ruined everything.
“I’m sorry, Lils. I shouldn’t have done that. Fuck, I wasn’t thinking.”
Her eyes are turned downwards, and it only takes me a few seconds before I realize that she’s not looking at the ground. Something shifts in her micro expression, and the only thing left behind is a hunger forged from the darkest, most deprived parts of her.
She’s staring at my dick which—read the room, buddy—is still as hard as granite. And once her eyes slowly flit back up, she breathes out a low “Fuck it.”
Lila throws herself at me, attacking me with so much strength that I stumble backward from the force, and her hands map the expanse of my bare back while her tongue slips into my mouth. I wrap my arms around her possessively in return, charting over those God-gifted curves hiding underneath my jersey, and our mouths move in a choregraphed, sensual dance.
My tongue caresses hers as saliva builds between us, glazing her bottom lip so I can bite hard on it. And when I do, I coax a moan out of her, the sharpness of her fingernails digging into my skin in some effort to negotiate a reprieve. She’s rolling her hips over my erection, so desperate to find friction that she can’t help but whine against my lips, and this towel won’t need any outside aid in coming off if she keeps grinding into me like this.
“Are you sure?” I whisper between breaths, settling my hands on her waist—though they’re already itching to rove lower.
With a frustrated huff, she grabs one of my hands, places it on her tit, and lets me brush my thumb over the hard bud of her nipple. “Does itfeellike I’m sure?”
She’s not wearing a bra.
Dear God.
My throat rumbles with a groan, sounding about as loud as a thunderclap. “I just want to make?—”
“Bristol, either you shut up and fuck me right now, or I’ll go find someone who will,” she threatens.
You know what? Fuck that. I’m done being a gentleman. There’s no way in hell I’d ever let that happen.
“Everything off except for my jersey,” I growl, feeling my cock coat the inside of my towel with another spurt of pre-cum. I don’t help her, even though I’m dying to. I watch with avid eyes as she unbuttons her jeans, shimmies their tight-fitting form down her legs, and simultaneously kicks her boots off at the same time. I was expecting one of her signature thongs, but what she shows me instead is so much better.
