at my bottom lip.
“So take your pants off and let me bring you back to life.”
He groaned again when I licked the side of his neck, sucking the skin between my teeth to leave the tiniest mark. I was already working a trail down to the promise land when I was flipped over on my back, and Makoa had me pinned instead.
“I like this view even better,” I said, biting my lip and pulling his mouth down to meet mine.
Makoa chuckled, his tongue swirling with mine and shooting electric bolts straight between my thighs.
When he leaned up and put space between us, I stuck my bottom lip out in a pout.
“Trust me, I want to strip you down and break in this rug properly,” he said.
“So, let’s do it.”
I reached up for him, but he caught my hands, kissing my knuckles. “We will. But not right now.”
“Why not?” I practically whined, dragging out the words.
Makoa laughed, rolling onto the floor with me until he was on his back. He pulled me into his chest, kissing my hair as I settled in. “I took everything you said to me very seriously, Belle. And I meant what I said about you being more than just sex to me.”
“That doesn’t mean we can’t have sex at all,” I argued.
“I know. But… for now, I just want it to be about us getting to know each other.”
I sighed, deep and heavy, which earned me another chuckle before Makoa tilted my chin with his knuckles, making me look at him.
“Hey… we can still have some fun.”
There was a heat in his eyes with those words, and I smiled, running my hand down the length of his chest. “Oh yeah? What do you have in mind?”
“Mmm…” he hummed, tracing my bottom lip with his thumb. “Wanna make out and dry hump like a couple of horny teenagers?”
“Sounds like lectamia to me.”
“Well, that is half the fun of trivia,” he said, rolling me until I was pinned under him again. “You always learn something new.”
I laughed, but it was silenced when he pressed his thick erection into the center seam of my leggings, catching a line of friction that had me remembering all too well what it was like to ride his cock until I came.
“Can you get off from lectamia?” I whispered against his lips.
Makoa grinned, rolling his hips and biting my neck as another shockwave of pleasure coursed through me.
“Only one way to find out.”
Makoa
The Fourth of July came in a sweltering, clear-blue sky heat wave that brought Chicago alive like I’d never seen before.
The city that was usually all business, with suits and dresses marching back and forth on the streets, climbing in and out of cabs, swiping their subway pass and boarding the L trains, was now pulsing with a completely different kind of energy. It was the kind, Belle informed me, that came about every spring, that grew in strength every summer, and seemed to shine just as bright as a firework on the day we honored our country’s independence.
The beaches were packed, the parks bustling, boats peppering the lake everywhere you looked. Red, white, and blue swimsuits seemed to be the only acceptable attire — aside from perhaps a Cubs or Bears hat — and American flags flew proudly from every boat, every tent, every inch of the city, it seemed. Smiles were an accessory that every party wore, music blasted, people danced and drank and rejoiced over the heat and the holiday in tandem.
When Belle told me how excited she was for the Fourth, I insisted she let me charter a boat for the two of us and her friends, Gemma and Zach. Now, it was just after nine in the morning, and I was waiting at the DuSable Harbor for the three of them to join me, viewing the lively city through my polarized Ray-Bans.
And also getting my ass chewed by my best friend.
“You’ve got to tell her, man,” Colby said. “Every day closer to the season puts you more at risk for her finding out another way. And trust me when I say you don’t want that.”
“I know, I know,” I agreed, gripping the phone a little too tight to my ear as my eyes scanned the marina for Belle, Gemma, and Zach. They would be here any minute, and the last thing I needed was to be anxious the first time I hung out with Belle’s friends. “And I will. It’s not like I plan on hiding