“Up here,” Kent mumbles, stifling a yawn. I follow him up the stairs to the next level, walking down a long hallway, past another couple of closed doors, and up another flight of stairs to his bedroom. Kent’s bedroom occupies the entire floor space up here, and it’s bigger than my whole apartment. It’s magnificent with stunning views and his own private living room.
“Holy shit,” I say as Kent flops down on the bed, face-first. “This is incredible.” The curtains are open, highlighting a spectacular view of the city spread out before us. At this late hour, there is only a smattering of lights in the distance.
“Presley baby,” Kent mumbles, and I swing back around, walking toward the large king-sized bed.
I round the bed, sitting beside him, brushing strands of dark hair from his brow. “Can I get you anything?”
“Just you,” he says, reaching a hand out to cup my face. “I have shirts in my closet. Grab one to sleep in.”
I press a kiss to his cheek as I stand. “I’ll be right back.”
I step into his walk-in closet with my mouth trailing the ground. There are rows and rows of clothes and too many shoes to count. Casual clothes are lined up beside fitted suits and a collection of dress shirts and ties in every imaginable color. A collection of expensive watches and cufflinks sits atop the mahogany dressing table in the center of the room. A row of strip lighting at the top of the mirror above the dresser illuminates the room, highlighting my features in stark contrast to my surroundings. This is a world away from anything I’ve ever known, and I’m not sure if I fit in here.
My cell vibrates in my pocket, and I remove it, reading the reply to my text.
Chris: I’m not at your place. Had to head out. I’ll see you again soon. Thanks for looking after me. I owe you.
I drop onto the chair in front of the dresser, resting my head in my hands. I was hoping I had gotten through to Chris this time. That he was going to seek help and stay with me until he got clean.
But it’s the same tired, worn-out story.
He stayed with me three nights this time. I got to stuff him full of home-cooked food, made sure he slept well, and got him some new clothes and another new cell. I have no idea what he does with his cell phones, but I have a stash of disposables purely for my ex.
I don’t bother replying because there is nothing more left to be said. Instead, I offer up a silent prayer someone will look after him until the next time he shows up at my place.
Seeing Kent similarly trashed has messed with my head.
I know what he said, but I also know how alluring addiction is. Just because he keeps sober during the week and only indulges on the weekend doesn’t mean he has control over it.
There was a time I might have gone down that slippery slope, but seeing what that shit has done to Chris was my saving grace. Now, I don’t touch drugs, and I rarely drink to excess. I haven’t worked my butt off since I graduated high school to flush it all away. Having a set goal has helped me avoid falling into the trap a lot of foster kids fall into. I know being around Chris and Clay means I’m still a part of that world, but I never let myself forget that, so I don’t get sucked in. I’ve come too far, worked too hard, to let that happen.
Imogen wishes I would cut them loose because she hates they are my ties to the criminal underbelly and drug culture, but I can’t do it. I can’t turn my back on the two guys who got me through my teenage years. I care about them. Walking away would be too selfish, and it’d hurt me too.
I stand, yawning as a wave of fatigue washes over me. It’s been a long, draining day, and I just want to crash. Finding a pile of T-shirts, I choose a plain white one with an embossed Boss logo and take it out to the bedroom.
Kent is snoring on top of the covers, lying belly down, in only his tight boxers. My eyes travel over the length of him from his feet to his broad shoulders, memorizing his toned legs and powerful thighs, his pert ass, and muscular back. The ink on his arms extends along the top of his back, and it’s good work. Whoever did this knows their stuff. The rest of his back is smooth and unblemished. A blank canvas ready for the taking.
I wonder if he’d ever let me ink him? The thought excites me more than it probably should.
My features soften as I focus on his gorgeous face. He looks so much younger in sleep. His long lashes fan across his chiseled cheek, and strands of his dark, silky hair brush against his brow. His full lips are slightly parted, air slipping softly from his mouth.
He is physically beautiful, hiding all the broken, tormented parts on the inside. Perhaps that is why we are drawn to one another. Kent is shielding hidden depths I have barely begun exploring, and he’s only started to crack my veneer.
I don’t really know why I’m here, and while one part of me feels like a stranger in a foreign land, another part of me feels like this is home. I can’t determine which side is more troubling.
I traipse into the bathroom, gently closing the door as I gaze in awe at the opulent room with matching marble features. His and hers sinks rest in front of a large mirror with bright overhead lighting. A massive walk-in-shower is enclosed behind floor-to-ceiling-length glass, and a ginormous freestanding claw-foot bath sits alongside a wide window. At this height, there is no one overlooking the property on either side and no obstruction marring the citywide view.
I slip out of my clothes, knotting my hair in a messy bun on top of my head as I take a quick shower, lathering myself in Kent’s bodywash, recognizing the spicy fruity scent as it covers my skin. I towel myself dry and slip on Kent’s shirt, sans underwear, because I don’t have any clean panties with me and the shirt is long enough to hide my intimate parts anyway. Borrowing one of the toothbrushes I find, I brush my teeth.
Tiptoeing back into the room, I close the curtains and pull the comforter up over Kent before sneaking back downstairs. My mouth is parched, and I want to find some Tylenol because I’m sure Kent will have the mother of all hangovers in the morning.
I pad into the main living area, admiring the beautiful décor, wondering if Kent’s interior-designer Mom designed the space because it is truly stunning. I’m too busy ogling the room to notice the man standing behind the island unit, staring at me like I might be an apparition.
I jump, emitting a startled squeak as I slap a hand against my chest.
“I’m sorry,” he says in a deep voice that sounds eerily similar to his brother’s. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
He’s wearing low-hanging pajama pants, a loose white shirt, and a curious expression. I recognize Keanu from pictures online, and I know he co-owns this place with his triplet, but Kent said he is rarely here anymore. Now he and Selena—his wife—have graduated Harvard, they apparently spend most of their time at their house in Wellesley.
“No apology is necessary. Kent didn’t tell me you were here. Is Selena with you?”
“She’s sleeping,” Keanu confirms. “And Kent doesn’t know we’re here. We had a fundraising event in the city that went on longer than expected, so we decided to crash here rather than making the trip back home.”
I walk toward him, conscious of how this must look. Me naked underneath his brother’s shirt. “I’m Presley.” I smile, holding out my hand. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”
“Keanu. But you obviously know that.” He shakes my hand, and a genuine smile spreads across his mouth. He looks so much like Kent it’s unnerving. “So, you two are dating now?” he asks.
“To be honest, I’m not really sure what we are,” I truthfully admit. “We’ve been on one date, and we’re supposed to be going out again tomorrow night. Things are a little complicated.”
“Aren’t they always?” The kettle pings behind him. “I was making some peppermint tea. Would you like some?”
“That would be lovely.”
He gestures at the table on the left. “Take a seat. I’ll bring it over.”
I watch as he makes two cups of tea, enchanted by how similar his mannerisms are to Kent’s
. He’s not as broad or as built as his triplet, his leaner muscles a nod to his previous modeling career, and his hair is shorter and cut much tighter at the sides, but he’s every bit as hot as Kent.
“You guys got in late,” he says, handing me a mug before claiming the seat across from me.
I inhale the minty goodness, briefly closing my eyes as the calming scent swirls around me. “I was working, and Kent showed up. He crashed in the staff room until the bar closed.”
“Which bar do you work at?”
“I’m co-manager of a bar in Mattapan called Ramshackle. It’s a dive, but the owner is good to work for, and my coworkers are great.”
“We’ll have to stop by and check it out sometime.”
I almost choke on my tea. “I’m not sure that would be a good idea though my boss would probably fire me if he heard me saying that.” His brows pucker in confusion as I take a sip of my tea. I grin. “Business has tripled since Kent started showing up. I think every woman in the vicinity has been in there at least once the past couple of months.”
He chuckles. “Sounds like my brother.”
“He’s been making quite the name for himself in Mattapan.”
“That’s how you two met?” he asks, curling his fingers around his mug.
“He didn’t tell you?” I assumed Kent had spoken to his brother because he seemed to understand who I am.
“I haven’t spoken to him in a couple weeks. Sel and I were in Italy. We only got back a few days ago, but I know who you are. He told my sister-in-law Eva all about you.”
Warmth blossoms in my chest. “Kent mentioned he was closest to Eva and Selena.”
Keanu nods. “He is, and Sel will be so happy when I tell her you’re here. She’s delighted he’s met someone.”
“It’s very early days,” I caution. “But I like him, and I think he likes me.”
Keanu beams at me. “I look forward to getting to know you better. Maybe we can all go out to dinner or you and Kent can come to our house one weekend.”
“That sounds great.”
We finish our tea, and Keanu shows me where the first aid kit is. I grab some Tylenol and two waters from the large fridge, and then we say goodnight, and head to our respective rooms.
Kent is still conked out as I crawl under the covers alongside him. I stare at his beautiful face like a creeper until my eyelids grow heavy, and I eventually fall asleep.
I wake the next morning, pressed up against Kent with my back to his chest and his muscular arm clamped tight around my stomach. The covers are pooled around our waists, and the room is bathed in darkness, the heavy drapes blocking out all light, so I’ve no clue what time it is.
“Morning, Presley baby,” Kent whispers, nuzzling his face in my neck. “Did you sleep okay?”
“Like the dead,” I admit, grabbing his arm, biting back a pleasurable moan when his tongue darts out, licking a trail along the side of my neck.
“You smell like me,” he murmurs, nibbling on my ear.
“I took a shower last night. I hope that was okay.”
He turns me around in his arms, smiling. “Of course. I’m only sorry I wasn’t awake to participate.”
I swat at his chest. “You passed out pretty much the second you hit the bed.”
“Sorry about that.”
I trail my fingers through the scruff on his chin and cheeks. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I got run over by a truck, but I’ll live.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “Thanks for the Tylenol and the water.” He kisses my cheek. “And for coming home with me. I like waking up beside you.” He leans in to kiss me, and I shuck out of his arms, shrieking. He stares at me like I’ve grown ten heads.
“I need to brush my teeth and pee.” I swing my legs out of the bed. “Hold that thought!”
I race into the bathroom with his hearty chuckles chasing me. I attend to business, drag a comb through my hair, and brush my teeth before crawling back into bed with him.
“You’re too cute for words,” he says, resting his palm on my hip and pulling me in close. “Come here.” His hands wrap around my back, and he holds me flush against his body as his gaze dips to my mouth. Every solid inch of his hard body is pressed against mine, and my panty-less pussy floods with warmth when I feel his thick length prodding my stomach.
“We should talk.” I remind him, dragging my lower lip between my teeth.
“We can talk later.” His seductive voice sprouts waves of goose bumps along my arms and the back of my neck. “If I don’t get to taste you right now, I’m likely to self-combust.”
A giggle bursts from my lips, quickly swallowed by his mouth. Circling my arms around his neck, I press my body into his as we kiss, basking in the feel of his skillful mouth gliding against mine. He licks at the seam of my lips, and I open for him, his minty breath fanning across my mouth, confirming he’s also brushed his teeth. Our tongues tango, the tempo rising as we grind against one another, and my skin heats like it’s on fire. Kent’s fingers slide under my shirt, his hand stalling when it reaches my bare ass. “No panties?” he rasps into my mouth.
“I’ve got nothing on under your shirt,” I admit, grazing my teeth along his stubbly jawline.
“Fucking hell. Are you trying to kill me, woman?”
I giggle, placing my palm on his erect cock. “I can take care of that for you.” I peer into his eyes, conveying my message. I’m willing to look after his needs, but I’m not fucking him.
Not yet.
I know once we go there I will be completely under his spell, and I’m not ready to hand over that much power yet. Kent’s kisses destroy me, in the best way, so I know his cock will ruin me for all others. I need to build up to that in a way I’ve never had to with any other guy.
“Not until I take care of you first,” he says, moving his body until I’m underneath him and he’s hovering over me. His fingers pluck at the edge of the shirt. “Can I take this off? Can I look at you?”
“Only if you get naked too.” Because, come on? I totally want to see what every conquest has been raving about online.
Kent stands, smirking as he pushes his boxers down his legs, kicking them away, standing proudly before me, stroking his impressive erection as it juts out from his body like a weapon that will lay siege to my womb.
I lick my lips, sitting up in the bed, eyes firmly fixed on his as I slowly pull the T-shirt up over my body. I toss it aside, brushing messy strands of hair out of my face as I lie back, letting him drink his fill. “Liking what you see, baby?” I tease, running my fingers down the front of my body, casually fondling my breasts.
“Holy fuck, Pres.” Kent crawls back over me. “You are a work of art.” He leans down, planting a kiss on my flat stomach. “Beautiful.” Carefully, he presses down on top of me, keeping himself propped up on his hands so his full body weight isn’t resting on me. Bending his head, he kisses me, and there is nothing slow or tender about this kiss. It’s hard and demanding and full of everything I’m feeling. “I want to make you come with my fingers and my mouth. Let me?” He stares deep into my eyes, and I drown in the oceanic blue depths of his gaze.
I nod. “I’d like that.”
A wicked glint gleams in his eye as he slides down my body, nipping, kissing, and sucking as he goes. He lingers on my breasts, lavishing worship on them, fondling and sucking, his tongue laving the hardened tips until it feels like I might melt into a puddle on his bed.
“Kent,” I squirm. “Please.”
“Please what, Presley baby?” he asks, grinning as his teeth pluck at my nipple while he watches me through hooded eyes.
“Please fuck me with your mouth and your fingers.”
“I love these.” He kneads my breasts. “Perfect handfuls.”
“I’m glad you approve.” I fake pout. “Now get to work on my pussy.”
He barks out a laugh. “Bossy in the bedroom too. Noted.”
I spread my legs as he positions himself between the apex of
my thighs, hissing when his hot mouth licks a line along my slit. He works me over with skill, flattening his tongue against my clit as his fingers push inside me. Then he alternates, plundering my inner walls with his wicked tongue while he rubs my clit with the right amount of pressure.
I shatter, breaking apart as every molecule in my body floats, existing on a new plane. My limbs tremble and my core throbs as fiery after-tremors rip through my sated body. “Hot damn.” I prop up on my elbows. “I do not want to know how you came to be so good at that.”
“No pussy has ever tasted so sweet.” He flops down on the bed beside me, grinning.
An unwelcome thought infiltrates my mind. How many women has he entertained in this bed? It twists my insides into knots. But all negative thoughts flit away at his next words. “You taste like heaven on my tongue, and it’s only fair to warn you I think I’m addicted to you.”
I push him flat on his back, straddling his hips. “I think it’s fair to say I’m on my way to being addicted to you too.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Presley
I lower my lips over his hard, thick shaft, keeping my eyes locked on Kent’s as I take him deeper into my mouth. A strangled sound rips from his throat, and he jerks his hips as his eyes roll back in his head. I glide my lips up and down his erection, stretching my mouth wide, taking as much of him inside me as I can manage. Curling my hand around the base of his cock, I pump him in time with the movements of my mouth, savoring the first taste of him on my tongue.
I know not every woman enjoys giving head, but I fucking love it. I love having control over my man’s pleasure, being in sole charge of bringing him to dizzying heights, and I love watching him come apart in my mouth.
“Fuck, Presley. That feels so damn good,” he moans, thrusting his hips forward, in sync with me. With my free hand, I fondle his balls, alternating my attention between them as I suck him faster and deeper. Tears leak from the corners of my eyes and my jaw aches because Kent is big, and his long length is hitting the back of my throat even though I don’t have all of him inside.
Reforming Kent: A Stand-Alone Angsty Bad Boy Romance (The Kennedy Boys Book 10) Page 10
