Grip Trilogy Box Set - Kennedy Ryan Page 0,142

asshole in your bed. He’s rearview, just like Qwest and anyone else I’ve ever been with.”

She nods, and her eyes lock with mine as she kisses my finger. I trace around her lips, tugging them open, touching her tongue, her teeth, the lining of her jaw. It’s painful how badly I want this warm, wet mouth around my cock. I take her hand and lead her into the shower, gently setting her against the tiles to kiss her. Her arms climb over my shoulders and clench behind my neck. She’s pressing against me, her breasts straining against my chest. She’s wet and slippery, and I could lift her legs around me and take her right now, but I have no plans to rush.

Instead, I turn her to face the wall, reach for her shampoo, and slowly work the lather into her tangled hair. Her head falls back, and she sighs as my fingers massage her scalp. I pull the showerhead off the wall, rinsing out the shampoo and repeating the process with her conditioner. Still with my front to her back, I soap up my hands and run them over her firm thighs, tight waist, under her arms, and over the slender bones of her shoulders. I squeeze her breasts, rubbing my thumbs over the distended nipples until she cries out. Languidly, my hand journeys between her breasts and over her hipbone to palm her, my middle finger sliding into her slit and over the bud of flesh tucked inside.

“Grip.”

My name on her lips when she’s on the verge of coming hums through my blood. Knowing it’s me doing this to her. Hoping that no other man ever has the privilege of touching her this way again, it’s almost more than I can stand. I trap her clit between two fingers, rubbing up and down between the lips. My other hand roams over her ass, and I slip a finger between the firm cheeks. She stiffens, unsure of what I’m about to do. I sip at the water flowing in rivulets over her satiny skin. My teeth nip at the curve of her neck, at the elegant slope of her shoulder.

I match the rhythm I set in her pussy with the rhythm between her cheeks, caressing that puckered hole with each stroke, gathering her wetness and then slowly inserting my finger.

“Oh, God.” Her face crumples as she pushes against my finger, urging me deeper in. “You have to . . . I’m going to . . .”

Her words twine with the steam, hotter than the steam. She slaps one hand against the wall, her head tipping back on a silent scream. Her knees buckle, and I catch her under her arms, seating her on the small bench tucked into the corner of the shower. Her head lolls back, eyes heavy-lidded, mouth slack, breasts heaving. She looks undone, but I’m far from done with her. I go down on my knees between her thighs.

“Spread your legs for me, Bris.”

It’s part plea, part command. Either way, she complies, her long legs yawning open for me. I swallow deeply at the sight of the thick, slick lips, pink and wet. Her clit is swollen from her orgasm. I have to resist the temptation to take it in my mouth and suck until she comes again.

“Hold your lips open.” I can barely get the words out. My teeth slam together and my jaw clenches painfully as she obeys, opening herself with her fingers, her hungry eyes watching and waiting.

I set the showerhead to massage and let the warm water flow between her legs. She jerks, her eyes going wide and her mouth gaping on a sharp cry.

“That’s it, baby.” I roll the showerhead up and down and over her, watching her eyes squeeze closed and her face collapse when she loses the fight to maintain control. I twist the setting to vibrate and press it into her. Leaning forward, I capture one piqued nipple between my lips, rolling my tongue over it, drawing it deeply into my mouth.

“Grip, oh God. Please.”

Her fingers tremble holding the lips open. Her head thrashes against the tiles. All the while her hips gyrate into the spray desperately, her rhythm uneven and broken with her desire. I need to taste that desperation. I drop the showerhead to the floor, not bothering to turn it off before I bend at the waist and pull her clit into my mouth.

“Bristol,” I groan against the plump flesh. “You taste . . .