Grip Trilogy Box Set - Kennedy Ryan Page 0,144

I finally do.

“I’m sure.” I rest my chin on his flat, hard stomach, reaching up to trace the bold bones of his face, the soft lips and thick, curling lashes. “Are you sure? I’m not like other girls, Grip. You have no idea.”

He props up on one elbow to probe my eyes, palming my head and running his thumb over my brows and across my cheeks.

“Tell me what I’m in for,” he says softly, his eyes serious, really asking.

“I’m going to be unreasonably possessive.” I scatter kisses across his stomach, and the muscles clench beneath my lips. “I won’t hesitate to destroy any bitch who tries to take you away from me.”

“Okay.” His breath hitches. “What else?”

I sit up, settling my legs on either side of his magnificent naked body, the narrow waist widening to the sleek muscles of his chest, the heavier muscles of his shoulders and ink-splattered arms. I admire the contrast of my thighs against his skin so deeply bronzed.

“I will hurt anyone who tries to hurt you.” I laugh self- consciously. “If you hadn’t figured it out, I’m kind of protective of the people I care about.”

“I had noticed that, yeah.” Grip caresses my hip, his fingers splaying possessively over me. “Anything else I should know?”

I lean forward until our flesh is flush, positioning myself over him, poised to inaugurate our bodies.

“Yes.” I lean to reach my nightstand, grabbing a condom and barely fitting it over the thick, swollen head. “I like to be on top.”

I slide slowly onto him, unprepared for the stretch. Not only am I tight, but Grip is wide and long. I breathe through the initial pinch, determined to take all of him, even if my body has to accommodate him inch by slow inch.

“You okay?” His concerned eyes scan my face. I offer a wobbly grin, biting my lip.

“Why is your dick so big?”

He chuckles, sitting up to kiss along my jaw and piercing his fingers into the hair at the base of my neck.

“You’ll get used to it. It’s the one stereotype about black guys that I’m glad is true, at least in my case. I can’t speak for the rest of the brothers.”

Our laughs meet between us, and I rest my temple against his.

“Besides,” he groans when I roll my hips to sheath him completely. “You were made for me.”

Our breaths catch, our chests press together, our bodies interlock. He caresses my back and then spreads his hands across my butt in ownership. Gently at first, he takes control of the pace. I pant with his every thrust up and into me, tightening my thighs around him. A blistering hunger burns away all discomfort as my body molds to his, as if we were carved to fit, as if I truly was fashioned to take him. I swoop to kiss the chiseled line of his jaw, and he turns his head, high- jacking the kiss. Our mouths battle, each of us going deeper into the other with every parry of our tongues. The taste of him obliterates everything else. I can’t see. I can’t hear. I’m consumed, blindly grab- bing his hard body anywhere I can—his biceps, his back, his thigh. There’s so much of him and not enough time.

My frantic touches seem to shred his control. With a growl, he flips us, reversing our positions so I’m on my back, the bed cushioning my fall. He drags my leg over his hip and opens me up, grinding back in, his cadence merciless, all gentleness gone. He stares down at me, and it’s hypnotic, our eyes locked as intensely, as intimately as our bodies. I hook my ankles at his back and meet every thrust, enslaved to the pace he sets. He’s dictating my heartbeat, governing my pulse, holding my next breath cupped in his hands. I’m at his mercy, and it doesn’t frighten me. With our bodies meshed, our hearts sharing beats, there’s no room for fear. He lifts me up to pull my breast into his mouth, every tug of his lips, every delicate bite, lures me deeper under his spell.

“God, Bris.” He groans against my swollen nipples, his breath a glorious burn on the sensitive skin. “I can’t get enough of this. Baby, of you.”

I don’t want him to ever get enough, because I already know my desire for him is a bottomless well. He reaches between us to rub that cluster of nerves that combusts me in his arms. I cling to him as I