Make Me Fall: Bayshore #2 Read online

  I wet my bottom lip as I switch from her left breast to the right one, humming low as I do so. Honestly, I could spend an hour here, laving attention over her perfect tits. I squeeze her ass cheeks, jerking her forward on top of my cock. She gasps, her palms finding the flat expanse of my chest.

  Her eyes pop open, and her gaze finds mine, guilt written there.

  She jerks once, and then twice, before a long, shuddery moan escapes her.

  “Ohh, my God,” she finally says, and then clamps a hand over her mouth.

  I watch with wide eyes, unsure what just happened. “What, Kins?”

  Her throat bobs, and then she shakes her head.

  My chest is heaving as I assess her naked torso, then the pink cotton shorts hiding the part I am most desperate to know. I run my hand up the seam of her thighs, and she shivers visibly.

  “I—”

  It dawns on me. Her flushed cheeks. The sudden stop.

  A grin overtakes my face.

  I am the cockiest, happiest man in the world. “You came already, didn’t you?”

  Chapter 13

  KINSLEY

  Coming early was not included in the Fantasy Fuckfest timeline.

  No, I had plans of proving my womanhood to him. To showing him how long and hard and then slow I would need it.

  But the man insisted on licking my nipples like some sort of hyper-attentive sex god. Of course, he doesn’t know that’s my weak spot. Except he does now. Still, achieving orgasm in something like thirty seconds is embarrassing. He probably thinks I’m a virgin. Maybe I am a virgin and don’t know it.

  “You were just…the biting…”

  His shit-eating grin is equal parts sexy and cocky, and the way his gaze washes over my naked torso makes me want to never move, not in a million years. I will live perched on top of Connor in this bedroom in Bayshore until my bones turn to dust.

  The front of his hair is mussed and slightly wavy, lending his early morning look a touch of boyishness, but the intensity in his blue eyes betrays how much of a man he is. His big hands push over the dip in my waist. He’s touched every inch of my exposed skin, his hands roaming like topography tools scanning my terrain.

  And God, I never want him to stop.

  “You should make a map,” I blurt, and then I realize how little sense that makes.

  “Of what? Your body?”

  My cheeks flush, but not from embarrassment. “Yeah.”

  He dips his head down to my breasts again, taking each nipple in turn. I moan, my head tipping back.

  “It’s hard not to touch every inch of you,” he says, which nearly makes me come again on the spot. “I’ll be able to draw a map of your body from memory by the time I’m done with you.”

  Connor grips me by the hips and jerks me forward at the same time he thrusts upward, making his point long and stiff right between my legs. I whimper, my nipples straining at attention. I want his lips back on them. I arch my back, and his hooded gaze finds mine.

  “Mmm.” He takes one nipple between his plump lips and flicks his tongue back and forth over the tip. He’s already serviced my weak spot more in ten minutes than my ex did in a full year. Another wave of pleasure shudders through me, and I cry out, digging my fingernails into the tanned ridge of his shoulder.

  His skin rubs hot and electric and against mine. His big arms encircle my waist, bringing our bodies flush together. The sight of my breasts mashed against his perfect chest might haunt me for the rest of my life. I wish I could take a picture, but I don’t want to interrupt the moment. And also, that might be weird. I shouldn’t be a tourist in my own hot sex.

  Because I’m about to do it with Connor Daly.

  “I want to take these off,” Connor whispers into my ear, his voice pure grit and sex. He’s tugging at the waistband of my shorts. Another orgasm threatens at the edge of my composure, but I talk it down. Not now. I should at least wait for penetration this time.

  But Connor slides his fingers beneath my shorts, up along my inner thigh, until his thumb is grazing the damp crotch of my panties. I whimper again, desire sliding hot and sticky through my limbs.

  “Can I?” He nuzzles my neck, urging a response. His fingers press up along the edge of my panties, grazing my swollen lips. I tense, all the words inside me freezing in my throat.

  A breath slides out of me while his fingers start a slow, teasing dance around my clit. He doesn’t touch me, just grazes his fingertips in a torturous circle. The tension is as divine as it is intolerable. My muscles are steel while he takes his sweet time not touching me where I need it most.

  “Come on,” I urge finally, rocking my hips.

  Connor slips his fingers beneath my panties, his thumb and forefinger finding the stiff peak of my clit. He rolls it, softly, slowly, until my entire body tightens and my second orgasm rockets through me.

  My thighs clamp around him, and when the storm clears, I realize I’ve left crescent moon indents in his biceps.

  “Number two,” he says simply, and then coaxes a kiss out of me. “This is almost too easy.”

  I laugh weakly. Yeah. If it was so easy for him, why was it never like this with anyone else? Maybe it’s the Heartthrob Quotient. The fact that my loins have been quivering for this man for years on end.

  While I’m pondering this, Connor flips me back down onto the bed. I giggle, my arms going around his neck. My limbs are already lazy Jell-O, and we haven’t even gotten to the good stuff. Although all of this is good. No, it’s great. It’s the fucking best.

  Connor reaches for something on the nightstand, exposing rippling muscles down his side. He opens the drawer and fishes something out. His abs tighten as he comes back to the bed, and it’s then that I finally realize what’s about to happen.

  He has a condom wrapper in his hand.

  “Did you bring that?” I ask, my voice sounding small and distant.

  “I asked Mav for one,” Connor admits with a dimpled grin. He steps onto the floor for a moment, pushing his boxer briefs down. His eyes are on mine as his cock springs free from his underwear. A shiver rushes down my spine, and I get the sensation that he’s gobbling this up, my naked reaction to his own nakedness.

  My mouth rounds. His cock is rigid, straight and framed by tightly trimmed, dark hair. Now I see why people use the eggplant emoji. That vegetable might be the closest comparison, if one was forced to stay within the food pyramid. It curves ever so slightly upward, and as he climbs back onto the bed, his cock bobbing like the poster child for a virile twenty-something, excitement shudders through me.

  Connor Daly is about to fuck me.

  He makes quick work of my pajama shorts, pulling them down with restrained urgency. He tosses them across the room, then assesses my purple granny panties with a smile. He fists himself as he looks at me, which makes me squirm. I instinctively cover my boobs with my hands. I don’t know why. He’s probably looking things over and second guessing his choice.

  “Everything up to snuff?” I ask, while dying internally at my choice of words. What am I even saying?

  “Yeah.” He wets his bottom lip, his gaze stuck on my lower belly. Then he reaches for my hands and puts them back at my sides. His lips find the point where my hip bone juts out, smoothing kisses above the panty line. His kisses stall once he kisses my mons through the cotton. His heated blue gaze finds mine.

  “Just wondering if I should go for number three with my lips or my cock.”

  I pinch my eyes shut, groaning. “That is so fucking hot.”

  “What is?”

  “What you just said.” I throw my arm over my face, wriggling my hips. Because I can’t watch. The tension of waiting—to come again, to be filled by him, to have his heat covering me once more—is too delicious to bear. I need him. “You pick.”

  He tugs my panties down a moment later, and I move in time to see his head disappear between my legs. He pushes my thighs wide open, veins bulging at the tops of his hands. His tongue finds me, crushed velvet
against my swollen clit. I cry out but try to bite back the scream that wants to escape. My ass goes rock hard as he slurps and suckles at me, all his attention going to the one place that I never dreamed his lips would venture.

  And lord, it doesn’t take long. His tongue prods me, and then he flattens it over my clit. Back and forth, oh-so-slowly until the heat inside me becomes pressurized and I explode. My thighs quake as the third orgasm rips through me, hotter and faster than the last ones.

  “Mmm.” He nuzzles my clit with his nose, then passes his tongue over my dripping womanhood. I cannot believe he did that—willingly tasted my juices—but I’m too shaky to speak. While I’m a helpless mess on the bed, he slips a finger inside me, which prompts a moan from both of us. Like he’s enjoying this even half as much as I am.

  Which is impossible, because he hasn’t gotten off yet.

  “You are,” he says, “so delicious.”

  He says this with two fingers buried inside me. I rock against him, urging something. Anything. He presses a kiss against my pulsing clit, and then he sits back. His cock has grown somehow, like before it was just hard, and now it’s petrified.

  I definitely shouldn’t say that out loud.

  If there’s anything less sexy than comparing a man’s glorious cock to something petrified, I don’t want to hear it.

  “Come here, sexy,” he murmurs as he adjusts his position on the bed. He can’t be talking about me. But I let him pull me up, and he urges me onto his lap. I collapse on top of him, his cock pressed against my folds. The naked steel of him against my most intimate area, with nothing between us, is a type of closeness I hadn’t counted on this morning. But lord, this feels nice. Not just because we’re in a carnal act designed to provide pleasure. It feels nice because I missed this type of closeness. Even though my ex was toxic, he showed me what it was like to share your most intimate parts with someone.

  I haven’t done this sort of thing with many men. But with Connor, it feels right. Heat pours off him as he rolls the condom onto his dick. I watch quietly—reverently, almost—as he does, and then he looks up at me, reaching for my braid. He tugs the hair tie off and makes quick work of my braid, until it’s all undone and flowing over my shoulders. A smile tugs at his lips.

  “I’ll go slow,” he says, bringing his mouth to mine, and then he kisses me like he means it. He grips my hips, and together we guide me into the right spot. His cockhead is bulging, and once it pops into me I gasp. But oh, the sensation is magical. Like trumpets are playing in the distance and my veins have lava pumping through them instead of blood. Every inch of my body lights up, electric and aware, as he pushes himself deeper inside of me. Stretching me to my limit.

  I sink down, down, onto his glorious shaft. Our foreheads meet, and his breathing is labored while my pussy consumes him. He cups one of my breasts, as if making sure it hasn’t gone anywhere. Once he’s buried inside of me, every last inch of him, I moan into his chin.

  “Connor,” I say, almost like I’m begging.

  “Fuck, I know,” he responds. He sucks at his teeth, helping rock me in a slow circle on top of him. His cock fills me in a way I’ve never been filled before. “You feel so fucking good, Kins.”

  He grunts, flexing his hips once I start to move against him. I feel maxed out already, as if I’ve already come a hundred times. But we’re just getting started. He wraps his arms around my waist, mashing my breasts against his chest again. He breathes into the hollow of my collar bone. Rocking upward into me while I do slow, lazy circles on top of him.

  It feels too good. Like way too good. I can’t even keep my eyes open, and I’m a breath away from coming. But dammit, I want to last. I want us to come together, so I can have this perfect first and last time with him.

  Connor squeezes my sides, and then he slides his hands over my ass cheeks, spreading them. God, it feels so good to be manhandled by him. To have his hands everywhere on me for one glorious, dreamy morning. He jiggles my ass as he rocks up into me again, and then he groans.

  “Fuuuuck, Kinsley.”

  My nipples graze his chest, and the slight friction there pushes me even closer to the edge I’ve been hanging onto by a thread. My core tightens, and I rock against him again, his cock buried so deep, I can’t even speak.

  “I’m close,” he says, and I nod because I know. Because I’ve been close for years when it comes to this guy.

  “I want to come with you,” I whisper into his ear, and he sinks his teeth into my neck then, not like a vampire but like an impassioned lover. The unexpected move is a hard shove to my orgasm, and heat rockets through me, sticky and wild and free. I can’t even see as the orgasm assaults me. Connor’s arms go tight around my waist. He is coming too, moaning into my shoulder as his hips jerk, and we buck and writhe without rhythm.

  My insides are goo, and once the pleasure recedes into a dull roar, I turn into useless putty in his arms. Connor laughs weakly, burying his lips into my hair.

  Nobody says anything for a long time.

  And before I know it, with Connor still buried inside me, I fall asleep in his arms.

  Chapter 14

  CONNOR

  I awake with a start, so disoriented that I nearly fall out of bed. I’m naked, and my thighs hurt, and what the hell time is it?

  I grope for my phone. It’s almost two p.m. I rub at my eyes, the room full of sultry afternoon air. Shit. We left the windows open last night, and now it’s humid. I roll out of bed and stumble toward the window, more bodily sensations revealing themselves. I’m sticky, like I forgot to take a shower last night. But oddly sated. Like maybe the sex-a-thon I dreamt with Kinsley could have happened.

  My foot connects with something weird. I look down with one eye pinched shut.

  A condom wrapper.

  I pause mid-stride.

  Holy hell, so that amazing sex with Kinsley wasn’t a dream. And I actually haven’t showered since that textbook demonstration of amazing sex.

  I push the window down, and then I assess the room, rubbing at my face again. Consciousness makes tentative steps through me, bringing back the memories.

  Long, sleepless night.

  Volcanic sex with Kinsley in the morning.

  And then a catatonic sleep afterward.

  I check the bathroom, hoping she’s in there. But she’s not. I yawn, scratching at my chest before meandering back toward the bed. Well, that was a great start to the post-funeral vacation. More moments return to me as I head for a quick, cool shower. The slippery velvet of her pussy when I pushed my fingers inside her. That look on her face, half twisted between ecstasy and shock, when I eased my cock into her for the first time. And the way that blonde hair of hers tumbled over her shoulders. Fuck. This morning was epic, and I can’t wait to recreate it.

  When I finally find my phone, a text is waiting for me.

  KINSLEY: I’m spending the day with my parents. I’ll text you when I’m ready to come back.

  I frown. That’s sort of a bummer. Not that she doesn’t have every right to spend the day with her parents, but what about more sex? I dress slowly, feeling significantly less tense than I have in probably six months. Sex with Kinsley wasn’t just good, it was fucking fantastic. Shout it from the rooftops–style fantastic.

  I’ve got on a perma-grin when I go downstairs. Mom spots me when she comes into the kitchen and tuts.

  “You’re up late today.”

  “I’m allowed to sleep in—I’m on vacation. Where is everyone?”

  “Your father is at work. And your brothers went to the lake together.”

  “Aww. Everyone’s bonding.”

  “I hope so.” Mom sends me a look. “And you should join them.”

  I heave a sigh. It’s no secret our family is fractured, to say the least. I don’t want to be one of those millennials who blames Dad, but let’s be real. Our dad is a competitive asshole who formed us in his image. So yeah, I called myself a competitive asshole by default.

  But how c
ould we avoid it? I change into my swim trunks and head down to the lake, a towel over my shoulder. I’m not sure who I’ll find or what will be going on, but it doesn’t matter. As long as I’m in the sun and water, that’s all I need.

  My flip-flops scuff down the sidewalk. The sun beats down on me, warming the tops of my shoulders as I walk past cute cottages and well-maintained two-story homes with wooden signs in the yard that declare their love for lake life. In our neighborhood, it’s typical for people to name their homes, which means I’ve walked past The Shleigel Shanty, Buck Paradise, and Grover Groove on one block alone.

  The perma-grin widens once my feet hit the sand at the end of the block. The beach is busy today, but I spot Grayson and the others a little down the shore. They’re all playing beach volleyball, which obviously means I’m going to join. After all, competitive asshole here. I jog toward them, losing my sandal no fewer than three times in the process. I drop my stuff near theirs at the net pole.

  Grayson shouts for me to get my ass in the game. Dom asks me if I even dare try. I decide to join Weston and Maverick’s team, because they’ll need the most help against our two assholier older brothers.

  I join the game effortlessly, the cerulean sky streaked with wispy clouds as we volley back and forth. We’re all shouting and laughing, and for once, we’ve struck that balance between competition and enjoying ourselves.

  But of course, it doesn’t last long. Maverick dives to return the ball, but he misses, which causes Dom to start laughing. Maverick insists the ball was out of bounds anyway, and then the fight over the unclear boundaries begins. Weston and I hang back as Mav argues his point against Dom and Gray.

  “Where’s your girlfriend?” Weston sniffs, shielding his eyes against the sunlight.

  “With her parents.” I wipe at my sweaty upper lip with the collar of my shirt. “Where’s yours?”

  Weston laughs. “I don’t have one.”