Grip Trilogy Box Set - Kennedy Ryan Page 0,363

sleep. Guilt reaches every part of me . . . except my dick, which obstinately remains erect, undaunted and unsoftened by guilt.

“What I need to do,” she says, eyes locked with mine while her hand latches on to the pole poking through my briefs, “is take care of my husband.”

I haul air through my nostrils and expel it harshly through my mouth at her touch. I train my eyes above tit level because, if I look any lower, I’ll be all over her, all up in her, ramming from behind, from the side, from any angle I can get it.

Don’t look down. Don’t look down.

I mentally repeat the mantra like I’m walking a tightrope.

“I’m all right, babe.” I lie through gritted teeth. “Really. Get some sleep.”

Disappointment flashes across her pretty features, quickly followed by determination. She leans back on one elbow and spreads her legs, slipping a hand between them.

“You go on to sleep, Grip,” she says, dropping her head back and moaning. “I’m just gonna come at least once before I turn in.”

Motherfucker.

Literally.

Without acknowledging her dirty trick, I grab behind her knees and drag her to the edge of the bed. Her husky laugh floats around us in the dimly lit room.

“Changed your mind?” Her eyelids fall to half-mast over smoky gray eyes.

“You changed it for me,” I reply, tipping one side of my mouth. “Touching my pussy.”

“Your pussy?” A lift of her brows challenges my possessiveness.

I shrug and drop to my knees, putting my face on level with the pussy in question.

“You be the judge,” I say before lowering my head, widening her thighs with a press of my hands, then spreading her lips with my fingers and burying my tongue in her wetness.

We both groan.

There is nothing like this pussy. I run my nose along the slick slit before swiping my tongue through her juices.

“Oh, good Lord,” Bristol breathes, rolling her hips into my greedy mouth. “Fuck, yes, Grip. Don’t stop.”

To quote GRiZMATiK . . . as we proceed.

Two fingers plunge inside, and I suck on her clit. She bucks against my face and loops her long legs over my shoulders, digging her heels into my back. I tug until her ass hangs just off the bed and she’s supported by the grip I have on her thighs. I devour her, table manners discarded. Grunting, slurping. She comes once, and I want seconds.

“Grip, stop!” She gasps. “I can’t take . . . please.”

“Whose pussy is it, Bris?” I ask, biting one plump lip and then the other.

Silence. Stubborn woman makes this so much damn fun.

I apply my mouth with more enthusiasm, and then run my thumb through the wetness before plunging it into her ass to the knuckle.

“Ahhhhhh! Shit!”

Her scream pierces the quiet. With my thumb working her ass like a job, I reach up to cover her mouth.

“Whose pussy, Bris?” I demand, my tongue darting into one hole and my thumb fucking the other.

“Y-yours,” she mumbles under my hand, the word breath-starved and choppy. “It’s your pussy.”

I plunge my thumb in deeper until my palm touches her ass, and she bucks wildly, her hand gripping the back of my neck and holding me in place while she thrusts against my lips. Once the tremors racking her body die to twitches and her moans settle into tiny whimpers, I carefully lift her, taking her place on the edge of the bed and turning her to spread her thighs over mine. She snuggles into my neck, the scent of her skin and shampoo mingling with the sweet muskiness covering my face and coating her thighs.

“Holy shit,” she says, her deep-throated chuckle rumbling into the curve of my neck and shoulder. “I can’t think straight. Did you suck my brain out when you were down there?”

“Focus. I think you mentioned something about taking care of your husband.” It’s my turn to lean back on one elbow. I gesture to the briefs I’m still wearing and the obviously eager erection straining to get out and in.

“It’s all coming back to me.” She shoots me a mischievous glance from under long, curly lashes.

“If it ‘comes’ any louder, you’ll wake the neighbors and the kids,” I warn her, my grin smug. “And the way I feel right now, Martin will just have to cry until Daddy’s done.”

“Ah, speaking of Martin,” she says, her smile and the look in her eyes devolving into something baser.

My dick gets even harder. She grins. She knows. She leans up and cups her breasts, her thumbs stroking