Killian (On the Line #1) - Brenda Rothert Page 0,45

Good girl. You really want me to fuck you, don’t you?”

Her answer was a desperate whine that I felt against my cock. The animal in me took over and I pulled her hair back. She looked up at me, her eyes wide and glazed with lust.

“I’m gonna fuck that gorgeous mouth,” I said, tightening my hold on her hair. “Open.”

Her pink, soaking wet lips parted and I drove myself into her mouth. She whimpered and reached for my ass, squeezing her nails into my clenched cheeks.

She took every thrust, her lips clamped around my cock.

“You like me fucking your mouth?” My words were strained with the effort of holding myself back. She moaned against me. “I want to come in your mouth so bad, Sid. I want to watch you swallow it all.”

Her nails sunk into my skin. She wanted it, too. I forced myself to pull all the way out of her mouth. Her moan was desperate. She looked up at me, pleading.

I put my hands under her arms, pulled her up and turned her to face the table in the foyer. She was all business in a suit and heels. I unzipped the back of the skirt and worked it around her hips.

“Step out,” I said, reaching for my pants on the floor. I found a condom in my wallet and ripped it open. Sidney turned to me, looking for direction.

“My panties, too?”

“No. Take the jacket and shirt off, then turn around and watch in the mirror.”

She complied and I looked her over as I rolled on the condom. Long, lean legs in a pair of silky white panties and dark heels. Her white bra strap blended into her smooth, fair skin.

I put both hands on the panties and ripped them. Sidney gasped as I sank into her from behind, the panties dropping to the floor.

“Hands on the table,” I said, thrusting deep. “Don’t let go.”

I grabbed one of her shoulders and wrapped my other arm around her stomach, fucking her hard.

“You like watching while I fuck you?” I asked.

“Yes.” Her voice came out in a breathy moan.

I moved my hands to her bra strap, ripping the two sides apart. The clasp gave way and she shrugged it off. I reached for her breasts and squeezed one. She dropped her head forward and moaned with pleasure.

“God, Killian. So good.”

I grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled until she was facing the mirror.

“Watch.”

I squeezed one of her nipples between my thumb and forefinger. Her face twisted with pleasure. Seeing how much she liked it made my balls tighten, aching for release.

I hiked her knee up onto the table and reached between her legs, rubbing her swollen clit.

“Ahhh, Killian,” she cried. “I’m coming.”

I managed three more thrusts before I climaxed with her, pulling back on her shoulder so I could sink all the way in. Then I wrapped my arms around her, swelling inside with gratitude.

Nights of tough losses usually ended with me on a barstool, drinking away my frustration. But Sidney was my outlet now. Not just in a physical way, either. I wanted to talk about the game with her. I’d never imagined there would be one person who could fill so many different needs in me.

“I’ll make the pancakes,” I said, kissing her shoulder. “Go get changed into something comfortable.”

She murmured her assent. I focused on the two faces in the mirror. Both were sated and content.

When was the last time I’d felt content? I wasn’t sure I’d ever known it at this level. I wasn’t a perfect match for Sid, but hopefully the things I was able to give her—the non-material things—would continue to be enough.

I whisked the pancake batter together while Frank Sinatra sang out over the sound system. Her affinity for old music was rubbing off on me.

“You have any cinnamon?” I asked when she walked into the room, now dressed in sweats and a T-shirt, her hair tied back.

“I think so.” She went to a cabinet and opened it, rooting around. “For the pancakes?”

“Yep. My mom always made them with a shake of cinnamon.”

“A shake?” She grinned at me.

“One shake of the container. And a pat of butter between every pancake in the stack.”

Her grin faded as she handed me a small metal can of cinnamon. “I wish I had memories like that. My mom never cooked.”

I met her eyes, hoping she’d say more. She turned her back to the counter next to the stove, put her arms on it and boosted