Grip Trilogy Box Set - Kennedy Ryan Page 0,364

the fat nipples.

“You can taste. It’s just us, Grip.”

She caresses her breasts in hypnotic circles, and I’m mesmerized by how the nipples peak and harden. I grip her back, my fingers meeting on her spine, and I pull her breasts to my face. They’re slightly damp when I pull one into my mouth and suck so hard that she draws a sharp breath above me, but I don’t stop. I find a rhythm, my mouth and tongue and teeth cooperating to get what I want. When a few drops of her milk hit my tongue, it drives us both into a frenzy.

“That is so fucking hot,” she gasps, scrambling to get my briefs down and off before she scoots as close as possible on my lap, the smooth skin of her thighs dragging over the rougher skin of mine.

She holds my cock in her hand, fisting it tight, pushing up and down, her thumb caressing the head.

“Don’t play with it, babe,” I say abruptly. “Take it.”

I need to feel her tight and wet and hot around me. Beyond the horniness—which let the record show, is at an all-time high—I need that connection. The one we’ve forged through years, through pain, through unimagined highs and heart-crushing lows. So much in our lives is changing, but this never does. This scorching slide of her flesh on mine, of her taking me in so tightly, is a sweet chokehold on my cock that makes me hiss. I would know this pussy in the dark. I could be blind and half-dead, and you couldn’t fool me with another woman. Just this one. This fit. This perfect friction. The grooves of our souls fit as tightly as our bodies do.

Her forehead drops to mine, panting breaths misting my lips while she rides me, her arms hooked behind my neck. The pace grows more frantic as I thrust up aggressively, meeting her pussy halfway. I grab her ass cheeks, spreading them and taking over the rhythm so I can slam her body down onto mine over and over, deliberately. We’re grunting, rutting animals mindlessly taking our pleasure by force. Our guttural sounds bounce off the walls. Bristol’s head tips back and then down, tears sliding over her cheeks and onto her bouncing breasts. I lean forward, lapping at the mixture of her milk and her tears before sucking her nipple hard. Biting her breast hard.

“Grip!” Bristol comes like a rocket, flattening her hand against my chest for support.

The sound of her coming undone, the contraction of her body squeezing every ounce of pleasure from me, sends me over the edge. I swallow my shout, having just enough presence of mind not to wake the kids. It doesn’t matter if I own Bristol’s pussy. This woman owns my heart. She’s got my mind, my will, my soul, my emotions—all of it on lock. Happily trapped in the palm of her hand.

She’s still trembling against me when I pick her up and lay her against the pillows. Now that we fucked the edge off, there is room for other things. Like exhaustion. She’s already half asleep.

“Love you,” she murmurs, turning onto her side and tucking her pillow between her head and her shoulder.

I was exhausted, but now I’m wound up, unable to sleep. Mind-blowing sex opens the floodgates. Everything pours into my mind at once. Possible fixes for the song that wasn’t working tonight in the studio. The memory of my kids up the hall, snug and secure in their beds, and almost too beautiful for words. The sounds of Bristol coming, her whispers fueled by pleasure.

The shadows under her eyes.

As much as it feels like the planet shakes when we make love . . . that the very foundations of the earth shift, tectonic plates sliding to make a whole new world, it isn’t. Those dark circles under her eyes remind me that the things I was concerned about before we made love still need to be addressed.

First light filters in through tiny cracks where the drapes aren’t completely drawn tight. I hook a leg over Bristol’s hip and an arm around her waist, possessively anchoring her back to my front.

Tomorrow.

I’ll ask about the shadows under her eyes and work and the kids, and the question I asked her once before and have to ask her again.

Did she mean it when she said she would follow me anywhere?

* * *

BRISTOL - Chapter Two

I don’t think my boobs will ever be the same.

Seriously. Why are they so big?