Grip Trilogy Box Set - Kennedy Ryan Page 0,147

thin air. She’s on her feet and walking toward the kitchen.

“Ice cream.” Over her shoulder her eyes tease and torture, but I know she needed to change the conversation. So, I let her.

The sweatshirt hits the top of her thighs, and the occasional glimpse of her ass in the white boy short underwear isn’t helping my erection. I follow her to the kitchen like she knew I would. When I swing open the kitchen door, she’s bent over, her upper body buried in the freezer, the sweatshirt hiked up to show off the firm lines of her thighs and curves of her butt.

“I know I have ice cream in here somewhere.” She shifts frozen meat and vegetables until she finds what she’s looking for. “Aha!”

She turns to face me, bumping the freezer door closed with a hip.

“Found it.” She shakes a quart of Ben & Jerry’s Cookie Dough ice cream. “This is my fave, not that I can afford it.”

I inspect the lean grace of her body, punctuated by subtle curves. There’s so much more to Bristol than her body, but it’s a really great place to start.

She hops up onto the kitchen island, swinging her legs and banging bare feet against the base.

“Want some?” She proffers a large spoon loaded with ice cream to me.

I definitely want some. I stalk over to her, insinuating myself between her knees and leaning forward, my mouth open and waiting. I can tell the moment she realizes it isn’t ice cream I really want. Her eyes go smoky and her pink tongue swipes over the fullness of her lips. She takes the large spoonful into her mouth instead. I lean into her, my palms pressed into the island surface and my arms bracketing her slim body. She brushes our noses together once, twice before opening my lips in a frozen kiss that shivers through my whole body. Her icy tongue plumbs the recesses of my mouth, brushing the back of my throat in chilly strokes. She cups my chin and holds me still to control the tempo of our tongues twisting together. When we finally pull away, harsh, frosted breaths gust the air between our lips.

She slides off the counter and maneuvers me slowly until my back is against the island. Without ever looking away, she scoops another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth and drops to her knees. She holds the ice cream in her mouth while she deftly unzips the jeans hanging low on my hips, already unbuttoned at the waist. The pants drop and collect around my ankles.

Please let this be happening.

She touches my hips under the briefs, coaxing the underwear down my legs, too. With no preliminary, she stretches her mouth to take my dick between her lips, rolling her cold tongue around the throbbing head.

“Oh, dammit, dammit, dammit, Bris.” I clench my fingers in her wild hair.

The wintry mix of her tongue taking me in rough strokes and the smooth sides of her throat clamping around my dick push me to the edge. Brows knit, eyes press closed, her blissful groan vibrates around me. She clutches my ass with one hand and takes my balls, heavy and tight, into her other hand, caressing them.

“I’m gonna come,” I rasp in case she doesn’t swallow. A lot of girls don’t. Groupies tend to swallow because they want to leave an impression. They’ll do whatever they think you want to get another night with you. I only want Bristol to do what she wants to do. She doesn’t have to perform. I’m hers already, and I want her to enjoy everything we do as much as I do.

Because I’m enjoying the fuck out of this blow job.

Never pulling back, she reaches up and finds the quart of ice cream again. She pauses only to load her mouth with another scoopful of the frigid creaminess before she possesses me again, her head bobbing at a deliberate pace between my legs. It’s apparent to me that Bristol will, like she does all things, finish what she starts, but I’ll have to watch her swallow me down to the last drop some other time. I want to be inside her again. Now.

With gentle fingers, I tug on her chin until her mouth drops open. She looks up at me from her spot on the floor. I reach down under her arms and raise her off her knees.

“Rain check.” I hoist her onto the kitchen island and yank the underwear down her legs. I