Grip Trilogy Box Set - Kennedy Ryan Page 0,253

beg to be filled.

“Grip.” My voice emerges on a need-broken whisper. “What are you—”

With his lips, he answers the question I didn’t get to voice, licking the champagne from my shoulders and flattening his tongue between my breasts, soaking up every drop in greedy swipes. His hands clamp around my hips and he sinks to his knees, his mouth venturing across the flat surface of my stomach like a sojourner, lost and searching. His tongue delves into my belly button then he nibbles the skin at my hips and above my pubic bone, the bristle on his chin abrading even as he withholds his mouth from me. Over and over, he kisses closer and closer, but never spreads me, never tastes me in the deeper places. The champagne boils between my legs as my body heats.

“Grip, please.” His lips, torture and promise, keep relief and release at bay.

“What, baby?” His heated whisper lands on me, but he won’t give me what my body is weeping for. He runs his nose over the slit dividing me, and with a deep inhale, draws in my scent. From his knees on the floor at my feet, he lifts his eyes, burning a trail of possession over my limbs. “Tell me what you want, Bris.”

I swallow the words, holding out as long as I can in a sensual battle of wills I won’t win.

He feathers kisses over my hips, runs his wide palms over my legs, kneading the muscles of my thighs, sliding his finger between the cheeks of my butt.

“Grip, you know,” I whisper. “Just do it.”

“I wanna hear.” The measured control of his words is at odds with the rampage of his eyes. “Tell me what you want.”

“My pussy.” Tears adorn the corners of my eyes, the need is so strong. “Eat my pussy.”

“Fuck yes,” he growls, his fingers separating me and his tongue unleashed to spear inside. He pulls my leg over his shoulder, opening me up, and bites my clit, a double-edged sword of pleasure and pain slicing through me.

“Oh . . . oh, God.” I dig my nails into his shoulders—it’s the only way I can stay upright.

He takes his time, sucking the lips, biting me, licking and slurping until the champagne is gone and he’s binging only on my juices, moaning at the juncture of my body. He springs to standing, grabbing me by my nape, pulling me into a kiss fierce enough, ferocious enough that my teeth cut into my lips. He’s feeding me the taste of my body, rich and tangy on his lips. It’s carnal and addictive. I grab his neck, too, sucking on his tongue and biting his lips until the metallic sting of our mingled blood christens the kiss.

With a growl, he lifts me up, and I lock my legs at the cleft of his ass. He walks us to the padded bench in the middle of the green- house, sinking down and fitting my thighs over his in a loose straddle.

“I’m gonna let you be on top the first time we fuck in our new house,” he rasps, setting the words on fire in my ears.

“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice desperate with the need to vise the length of him with my body.

“But if you don’t ride me hard enough, I’m flipping you over and tearing that ass up. Got it?”

“That sounds fair.” I nod frantically, no breath left for banter. I’m just ready to impale myself on him.

With one quick motion, I rise up, knees on either side of his thighs, and scramble onto him like his dick might get away from me, like he’s the last train and I might miss my ride. Every time, it feels like he’s too much, the blunt intrusion of his cock, but then my body remembers I was made for him. I allow myself one second to feel the pinch and then roll my hips once, slowly, letting him feel me again, the undulation of my body a promise. Each time he goes deeper, crossing any barriers my body, my heart would erect—only there’s no barrier, nothing between us. I grip his knee behind me for leverage to grind deeper, roll harder. My breasts bounce in his face and he bobs his head, his mouth open and seeking until he has one in his mouth. He suckles me hard, zipping electricity from my chest to my core. It’s a direct line, and with every thrust, every stroke, my heart contracts.

“I missed you so