I kick off my shoes, dropping my keys, wallet, and pistol on the dresser before crossing the room to her. I’m not like Killer. Although I’m sure it’s nice, I don’t get off on the thought of her unconscious and pliant. This is why I climb right on top of her, still fully dressed, and cover her mouth with mine.
If she’s asleep, then it’s not a very deep one. She responds instantly, spreading her legs for me to settle between, hands fisting into my jacket.
“You smell cold,” she murmurs, dragging me closer.
“Yeah?” I pull the blanket back, shoving it down between us. “You can warm me up.”
When her eyes blink open, soft and heavy, I can tell there’s a question forming in her mind. But since the thought of talking about Nick and Lavinia would definitely make my dick soft, I distract her by plunging my tongue into her mouth.
She’s wearing nothing but a tank top and panties, so much warm, bare, soft skin laid out beneath me. I don’t even bother undressing. I get my hand between us and shove it down the front of her panties, swallowing down her moan when I find her clit.
The second I bury two fingers into her, I pause, pulling back. “Which one?” I ask. She’s slick. Someone got to her first.
She blinks up at me, chest swelling and caving with heavy breaths, but it isn’t until I raise an eyebrow, giving my fingers a pointed thrust, that comprehension sparks in her eyes. “Killian.”
I give a low chuckle, pressing a kiss to her heated cheek. “Was wondering who’d crack first. Tristian owes me a tenner.”
She rolls her eyes, saying, “Stop betting with him,” but all it takes is me ripping those panties off and settling my face between her legs to shut her up. I eat her pussy slowly, taking the time to painstakingly lick the remnants of Killer from her well-fucked hole as she bucks and gasps. There’s a subtle, metallic edge to the taste of her, like he nailed her fast and a little too hard, but if it hurts, then she doesn’t seem to mind. Story spreads her legs for me—thighs outstretched like she’s welcoming a good friend inside—and pulls my hair so hard that I forget about the throb in my shin.
I wait until I have her right at the edge, muscles taut, thighs quivering, to pull my cock from my jeans. Before she even has a chance to miss the warmth of my mouth, I’m entering her, bottoming out with one smooth thrust.
She stares up at me with those wide, gorgeous eyes, mouth agape. “Don’t tease me,” she begs, shoving at my jacket. “Not tonight.”
I fuck her as she undresses me in fits and starts, getting my jacket halfway off before winding her legs around my hips. It’s good—it draws it out, without it being my fault. She goes to peel my shirt off, but we won’t stop kissing long enough for her to get it over my head. Her heels drag against my jeans, pushing them down my thighs, but even that’s half-assed, her attention diverted by the rock of my hips into her. I take it easy. Killian probably fucked her within an inch of her life, which is hot to think about, but that’s not what she needs.
She needs me to kiss down her neck and tug down the strap of her top, baring her tits to me. She needs the way I hook her thighs over my arms, bending her in half as I fuck into her. She needs slow and gentle, and the dirty things I whisper into her ear. Our hips rise and fall, until hers take on a frenetic rhythm of their own, muscles quivering and clenching around me. She cries out, biting down on her bottom lip, squirming with release. I don’t slow, picking up my pace, cock full from the feel of her orgasm.
“Were you gonna keep his cum in you all night, baby?” I ask, watching her tits bounce as my hips fall into hers.
She clutches me to her, hand fisted in the back of my hair. “Yes.”
I nip at her jaw, panting, “Guess I’ll need to replace it.”
When I do, crushing her into the mattress as I come, it feels like a bolt of lightning that’s been gaining energy for days. In some ways, it has. I don’t know the first thing about having a girlfriend. Not the kind I’d find waiting in my bed when I got home at night, and certainly not the kind I tuck against my side afterward, sweaty and breathless and so fucking indulgent. Her thigh is soft beneath my fingers when I drag it up, across my spent erection. I think I like that, feeling her drenched pussy against my hip as she snuggles closer. It’s the nasty kind of thing Tristian or Killian might object to, despite loving the thought of their cum leaking out of her. I don’t have an issue with it. Stain my sheets, girl.
It takes her upwards of three minutes to finally speak the question I’d seen in her eyes before. For that, I feel reluctantly impressed with my skills. “How’d it go?”