Page 76 of False Start

He held me to him as he feasted, running his tongue up and down before he sucked my clit with just the right pressure to make me tremble and grip the headboard tighter.

“Play with those pretty tits, baby,” he rasped against my clit, and then he was sucking it again, making me writhe and buck against him. “Come on my tongue and let me hear you say my name again.”

“God,” I cried. I ripped my camisole overhead, rolling both nipples between my fingers as soon as they were free. I gave in to my urge to move against him, my climax mounting as I rode his face.

I’d been worked up all day, and the overwhelming sensation ofKyle Fucking Robbinstouching me, licking me, tasting me… it was already enough to drive me over the edge.

And he read me like a book, picking up on all the ways I moved against him until he found the perfect rhythm, the perfect pressure.

When he slid that thick finger inside me again, curling it in time with his tongue against my clit, I became ravenous.

I arched and bucked like a wild bull, palming my breasts as all my awareness fell to where I was fucking his face and his hand. Kyle didn’t slow, didn’t stop, didn’t pull away. He opened his mouth and flattened his tongue, one finger working inside me while his other hand grabbed my ass and showed me how to rock against him.

“Oh, God. Oh,fuck,” I cried, and then I took over, rocking against his tongue as he fucked me with that finger and coaxed my orgasm to the surface. “Kyle,” I breathed. “Yes,God, yes, yes,yes.”

He moaned, and the vibration of it was the last little piece to send me spiraling.

The universe sparked behind my eyes, bursts of light invading my vision as the most intense pleasure washed over me like a tidal wave. All the blood in my body rushed to where his tongue worked mercilessly against me, and I bucked wilder, not wanting it to end. His name left my lips over and over again, breathy at first, and then in a scream. I felt him grin against my core the louder I got, but I couldn’t find it in me to be even the least bit ashamed.

I rode out every last drop of that climax, shaking with the pent-up energy of hundreds of orgasms I’d tried to give myself in the last year but couldn’t quite reach. It dragged on for what felt like hours, and by the time the final wave left me, I was so weak I collapsed.

Kyle caught my weight, helping me roll off him until I was sprawled out in the sheets on my back, my chest heaving, sweat slicking my skin.

“That was the hottest fucking thing I have ever seen,” he said, and then he was kissing me like he wanted to soak up every little moan I’d just given him.

I tasted myself on him, and that was enough to make me fire up again.

As my orgasm receded, reality slowly washed back in, making my heart beat unsteady in my chest as Kyle slowed his kisses. They went from feverous to tender, from needy to soft and sweet. He took his time, kissing along my jaw and down my neck before he’d claim my mouth again.

I willed my mind to still, begged myself not to overthink anything.

It was just a little fun.

It was just a harmless hookup between two consenting adults.

It didn’t have to mean anything.

But when he wrapped me in his arms, spooning me and nuzzling into the back of my neck with a content sigh, my chest seized.

It didn’t matter how I tried to downplay it. The truth was impossible to ignore.

This changed everything.

Kyle

I fell asleep curled around Madelyn, and when I woke the next morning, the first thing I did was reach for her.

All I found was an empty bed.

I creaked one eye open and then the next, squinting a bit at the soft light streaming in through the hotel window. The blackout curtain still covered most of it, but there was about a six-inch slit letting in the morning rays.

That strip of light cast a light pink glow on where Madelyn sat at the desk.

Half of her copper hair was piled in a clip on top of her head, and the other half was a ratty mess curling around her ears and neck. She had slipped back into the silk nightgown she’d had on last night before I’d stripped her. One foot was on the floor, the other was perched on the edge of the chair, and she balanced her chin on her knee as she wrote in a notebook.

I stilled.

She was writing.