The Worst Kind of Promise (Riverside Reapers Book 2)

KIT

Dinner was excruciating, and not because Fulton’s story of how he found out peanuts grew in the ground was twenty minutes too long. More due to the fact that I was fighting a boner the entire time Faye was eye-fucking me from across the table. Okay, maybe not eye-fucking me. Maybe just looking at me, but that’s plenty enough to get me hard.

Things are finally good between us. Better than good. They’re amazing, and I think I always knew that I was never going to be able to stay away from her. I’ve even noticed that she’s retired her amethyst necklace.

I wish I’d had more time to talk to her at lunch today. I still feel so shitty for what I did to her.

So, instead of working through my feelings like a sane person, I went on a thirty-minute run at night, in the dark, with nothing but my depression playlist on full blast in my ears. Like I told Faye, I’m going to work to earn back her trust. I’ll do whatever I have to. And if I’ve learned anything from romantic comedies, I have to really show her I’m putting in the effort.

Maybe a hot air balloon ride? Or a discreet picnic in the park? I’d fill her—my—room up with roses, but that would definitely be a stupid move if one of the guys were to walk in. I don’t want to hide this. I don’t want to hide her. I want the whole world to know she’s mine. Hiding Faye Hollings is like trying to black out the sun. She’s this burning ball of brightness that lights up every single room she walks into. To hide her away would be a disservice.

But I’m going to have to suck it up because she’s right. The alternative is destroying the friendship Hayes and I have. And I’m not ready to lose either of them.

The guys are usually in their rooms by eleven, and I know for a fact that Hayes is spending the night at Aeris’, so if I’m sneaky enough, I’ll just dip in to see Faye for a bit. Nothing suspicious going on there, right? I mean, she is staying in my room. And I’ll need to grab a fresh pair of clothes because, despite it being night, it’s still seventy degrees outside.

As I trudge up the stairs, I can hear Gage and Fulton cackling about something from down the hall, but aside from that, the house is eerily quiet. Bristol must’ve called it a night, and Casen’s probably doing a deep-clean of his bedroom, or he and Josie are fucking. Just, like, silently.

Shit. Now I’m thinking about sex. Granted, it is a thing I think about a lot, but I wouldn’t mind thinking about something like politics.

I pause in front of my door, fist raised to knock, and that’s when I hear a buzzing noise from behind the partition. It sounds like an electric razor. Is Faye shaving her legs right now?

I knock once. Nothing. I knock again. Still nothing, but that hum is persistent as it leaks through the flimsy wood separating us. If she is shaving, she’s probably doing it in the bathroom. I’ll just wait for her to finish up.

Look, I’ve seen a lot of things in my life. As a hockey player, I’ve seen everything—bottom teeth going all the way through someone’s lower lip, a locker room full of flaccid penises, a couple practically fucking in the front row at one of our games. But I never, ever expected to see what greets me behind the door.

There, on my bed, is Faye in one of her tiny nightshirts, pleasuring herself with a goddamn vibrator. Her feet are planted on the bed, her knees bent, giving me a direct view of the small bullet lodged in her glistening cunt.

I…I think I just went brain dead.

Her head is thrown back against the pillow, the line of her throat shiny with sweat, her pert nipples poking through the front of her shirt. The sweetest moan flows out of those carnation-pink lips, ones that I wish were wrapped around the base of my erection.

I know I should say something. I know I should look away. But I can’t do either of those things. I’m so incredibly turned on right now that I can’t generate any thoughts. My dick hardens further behind my running shorts, jutting out in front of me, and I feel warmth spool low in my stomach. My mouth puckers from sudden dryness, so much so that when I go to speak, the words grate against my esophagus.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I exclaim a lot less calmly than I imagined doing so in my head.

Faye’s eyes snap open, and the moment she realizes she’s been caught, she screams and flings her vibrator to the ground. Her legs slam shut fast. I usually have the opposite effect on women.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she shoots back, scrambling to hide her legs underneath the comforter.

I was watching you. Obviously.

Reining in my overeager tongue, I try to ignore the fact that Faye’s bare pussy is currently touching my sheets. I know it’s been a week since we had sex, but every day has been complete torture. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the way I stuffed her full of my fingers and cock, the punishing grip her cunt had on me when she came, the way I painted her face in cum—the fucking fact that she wanted me to.

“I was coming to get a change of clothes.” I gesture to the gross ring of sweat around my neckline.

She smacks her lips together, pulling the covers up to her chin, like I haven’t already seen everything before. “Okay, yeah. That makes sense.”

Her vibrator is still buzzing against the carpet, so I reach down to turn it off, biting back a groan of wanton desire when my fingers make contact with the sheen of natural lubricant coating the bullet. And it takes my whole willpower not to smell my fingers.

Her stare never leaves me, never softens, narrowed in perusal and framed by long lashes that flare at the ends. There’s an intensity in her eyes that tantalizes me—lighter fluid to the match that I’ve unwisely lit myself—and I can’t tell if it’s an aftereffect of her sex high or if it’s because of me.

“Now you get to answer my question.” To distract myself, I divest myself of my shirt, forcing my feet over to the dresser. Now that I’m no longer facing her, relief sprouts in my chest, but it’s not enough to stave the shiver running down my spine.

“I was just…relieving some tension,” she breathes.

My fingers seek a newly washed shirt, but I don’t pull it out of the drawer. “And?”

“And?”

I feel my Adam’s apple roll down my firm jugular, a low growl emitting from my lips. “Did it work?”

Screw the shirt. I push the drawer closed and turn toward her, keeping my back flush against the cold surface of the dresser, hoping that it’ll be enough to ground me. The closeness, her cum on my fingers, the little noises she made—it’s all a double whammy to my senses, threatening to buckle my knees.

She blushes and rolls her lips inward. “No.”

“Good. Maybe that’ll teach you not to fuck with things that aren’t yours,” I snap, my tone rife with acrid bitterness.

“Excuse me?”

The muscles in my back knit, aggravating the fiery stretch in my chest. “Did I stutter?”

Faye scoots herself all the way to the edge of the bed, looking like she’s about to pitch forward, but I step into her space with two strides, forcing her butt back down on the mattress. There’s a defiant glitter in her eyes, her mouth drawn into a little pout, her perky breasts puffed out in a mirage of confidence. I cage her chin with my fingers, encouraging her to look up at me.

“I own your pussy, Faye. I’m the only one that gets to make you come. No incompetent vibrator, not your fingers, nothing. Do you understand?”

Instead of the unbending compliance I was expecting, her stare perforates me, challenges me, practically makes me fall to my knees. “Oh, Kit. If you’re jealous, just say so,” she drawls, and then she skirts her tongue along her lower lip, inches from my hands.

My self-control is as thin as a thread, and Faye just keeps tugging. “Jealous of three inches? Princess, you know I have a lot more than that.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

That’s it. If she’s not going to shut her smart mouth, I’ll shut it for her.

My hand moves from her chin to the hair spilling down her shoulder, and I wrap it around my fist, pulling harshly until she bares the length of her throat to me. “You’re a fucking brat,” I snarl, bringing her close enough that she can feel my breath on her face, so close I could easily spit into her mouth and make her swallow.

Her jaw twitches, but her gaze never yields. “What are you going to do, Kit? Are you going to spank me?” There’s a taunting lilt to her voice, like she doesn’t think I will, or she’s using some kind of reverse psychology on me because that’s exactly what she wants. And even though I’d love nothing more than to tease her and make her beg for it, I can’t wait that long. I need to be inside her—fingers, tongue, cock, it doesn’t matter.

I let her hair go as her head rears back from the force, and wordlessly, I go over to lock the door, allowing myself a modicum of relief that nobody will be able to walk in on what’s about to transpire. My enlarged cock is close to combusting, so painfully erect that my balls ache. I can feel the slick pre-cum on the inside of my shorts, and even though the fabric is breathable, it’s somehow suffocating at the same time.

“Spread your legs,” I demand, drooling at the neat triangle of hair above her wet vagina.

I know she wants to resist me—I can see it on her face. But just like me, Faye is only human, and she’s never going to give up a chance to be pleasured.

She does as I say—albeit tentatively—and the calluses on my palms scratch the smooth flesh of her thighs, tiny ministrations that already have her squirming for more. Without wasting any more time, I latch my lips to hers, and there’s no preamble before my tongue explores the inside of her mouth, tasting the mint from her toothpaste. And then when I grow tired of the gentle teases and strokes, my tongue devours hers, our spit conjoining together.

When I pull away, I push both her knees to one side, moving my hands from her legs to the curve of her ass, squeezing her bare cheeks.

She groans, and I cover her mouth with one of my hands.

“If we’re going to do this, you have to keep that pretty mouth shut,” I whisper. “Even though I love those little noises you make.”

She involuntarily makes some kind of whiny noise that’s a cross between a moan and a mewl.

“Fuck, just like that.” I send a titillating slap to her ass, feeling the skin recoil under my fingers, and she rattles off a bunch of breaths that never fully form words. I can’t see her backside, but I know I spanked her hard enough to leave her red and sore.

I whip my attention back to the intoxicating nectar between her legs, and a shot of ice-cold need jets through me. Painstakingly, I spread her thighs apart, breaking my own rule as a throaty rumble sounds deep in my chest.

“Look at you, Princess. Dripping wet for me, and I haven’t even fucked you with my tongue yet,” I say, languishing kisses all over the inside of her legs, clamping my fingernails into her skin to hold her in place. Faye’s back arches when my teeth lock around a sensitive spot, sucking, bruising, driving her closer to the edge.

“Kit…”

“What do you want to come on? My fingers or my tongue? You have to show me what a good girl you are if you want my cock.” Just thinking of giving her my cock has my lower stomach cramping, fiery emblems of heat consuming me from head to toe.

“Tongue. I need your tongue. Now,” she orders, thighs quivering, hands clawing helplessly at my shoulders.

“There she is. There’s my greedy girl.” I kneel down at the height of her pussy, inhaling her scent, ogling the glorious sight of her cunt, already imagining how sweet she’s going to taste—like honey dripping directly from the comb. “You want my tongue? You’re gonna fucking get it. And I’m going to eat you out until you squirt all over my face, got it?”

She nods, wrapping her legs around my shoulders and thrusting her vagina into my face. My tongue instantly delves into her heat, slipping past her slick folds, slurping up the first dregs of her arousal like I haven’t had a decent drink in months. I employ a swirling motion, dragging and flicking it over her swollen nub, and her hips buck up from the bed as she swallows a moan. Obscene noises fill the empty space between us, saliva and liquid desire merging in sticky smacks that echo off the walls.

I pull back partially, laving at her puffy lips with brief laps, attending to the overworked bundle of nerves. Endorphins fire inside me, my dick jerking behind my shorts in time to the noises stuck in her throat—noises I so desperately wish I could hear. She slithers her hand through my hair and pulls roughly, squirming for me to spear back inside her and satiate the throb I’ve created.

I nip at the hood of her clit, testing her patience, seeing how long she’ll survive until she’s begging me to venture my tongue deeper, to reach every crevice, to make her come so hard that all she sees are stars.

“If you’re going to eat me out, at least do it right,” she hisses, dragging her nails against my scalp.

I immediately draw back, raise my head, and glare at her with hungry, slitted eyes, licking her cum off my lips. “I know you didn’t just say that to me when my mouth was on your cunt.”

She contemplates, and even though she has plenty of time to rethink her next words, she decides to wage a war anyways. “At this rate, I’ll come faster with the goddamn vibrator.”

“You really want to have a go at that?” I growl, my frustration—and arousal—rising to unprecedented levels, so overbearing that I’m seconds away from flipping her onto her back and teasing her hole. I want her thrashing beneath me, muffling her screams into my shoulder, her eyes watering from pure pleasure. I don’t condone ever making a girl cry. Unless she’s crying while you give her the best orgasm of her life.

“You’re a slut for my tongue. Look at you, making a mess all over my face. You seriously think you could get off better with a fucking vibrator? I’ve felt the way you’ve milked my cock, Princess, and I know for a fact that you’ll be calling for me the second you’re ‘satisfied.’”

Before she can say anything, I mold my mouth back to her cunt, sweeping my tongue against her fluttering walls, carefully circling her G-spot but not touching it entirely. A moan I’m assuming she tried to silence rends the air, and my eyes shoot up to notice the sweat waterfalling down her forehead, the strain of her tits as she heaves through breaths. She looks like a goddess right now—the stunning flush of her skin, the way the soft swell of her belly retracts, her face screwed up in permanent rapture.

“I’m—oh, God. Kit…”

“You don’t get to come. Not until I say you do.”

My jaw’s starting to ache, but I’m going to give Faye Hollings an orgasm so incredible she’ll never want to use a vibrator ever again. She’s got my neck in some kind of leglock, and her whole body is starting to shake, those tears that I’ve been waiting for springing to her eyes. I’m about to come myself just from watching her get there.

She whimpers—fucking whimpers—and I feel her clit start to squeeze my tongue.

“Faye,” I reprimand against her cunt, but instead of the apology I was expecting, there’s a knock on the door.

I freeze. She freezes. We both freeze—in a compromising position, nonetheless. The goose bumps on my flesh remind me how very naked we both are.

The voice of the mystery intruder cleaves through our dome of privacy. “Faye? It’s Hayes.”