by Chelle Bliss
“Not at all,” I answered when Kit only stared back at the woman. “Come on, Kit. Stand by the president.”
She moved like she was on autopilot, but she stood where directed, smiled when the assistant counted, and with just a few snaps of the camera and some parting words, the president and first lady and all the hangers-on behind them left the room.
Kit went on staring at the door for a long time after they left, and I smiled, head shaking as she stood there. “Eventually,” I told her, leaning against the wall, “you’re gonna have to blink, or your eyeballs will drop right out of your head.”
“Kane.” She exhaled, head in a constant shake as she turned to me. “That was the fucking president and first lady,” she said, finally blinking.
“I caught that.”
“They know we exist in the world.” She moved close, eyelashes fluttering now.
“Figured that out when she asked for five hundred pictures and promised she’d tag you on Instagram.”
“Kane…”
Finally, I pushed off the wall, nodding as she went on staring, not seeming capable of more than a few words.
“Come on, Kit. Let me take you to your car.”
By the time we made it to the back entrance, the motorcade had vanished, the reporters had thinned out, but the crowd of hotel staff and curious onlookers had doubled in size. Kit followed behind me as I held tight to her wrist, relying on my size to part the crowd as we left the hotel and headed toward 6th Avenue and the parking garage.
We caught the attention of several groups as we moved, but no one bothered us, likely because Kit wore an expression that was a little giddy and ridiculous. She didn’t seem able to make the wide smile leave her face, and I wondered how long it would take for her to let reality shift back into place.
“The President of the United States,” I said when we were nearly to the parking garage. I dropped Kit’s hand, and she walked at my side. “Was he everything you imagined?”
“Definitely.”
“You on cloud nine?”
“Absolutely.”
That made me laugh, and the sound of my voice brought Kit’s attention to my face, made her laugh too. And as we came to the gray building up ahead and the garage entrance, that laughter seemed to relax her. Kit wrapped her arm around my waist and I let her, liking how good it felt to have her close, how normal it seemed to me.
“You know, I could go for…”
“Oh my God! It’s you!” We heard behind us, and I walked faster, pulling Kit’s arm from my waist to get us into the parking garage. “Hey, Kit! Kane, hold up a second.”
“Fuck,” I muttered, stopping when Kit turned. She held on to my wrist to get me to hold back and nudged my ribs.
“Ratings, remember?” she said behind her hand as two fans approached, both older ladies who looked to be in their sixties. They sported gray hair, the tips dyed pink, and stood in front of us, their phones already out from the fanny packs at their waist.
“Trust me,” I whispered, “Bill won’t know about this shit.”
“I’m honestly on such a high right now I could smile for a thousand annoying fan pictures.”
I liked seeing that smile. I liked how real Kit looked. I hadn’t seen that from her since before Jess died. Right then, with her greeting the fans, answering the shit-ton of questions they threw at her, how Kit didn’t bat an eye the more personal those questions got, I realized I’d do just about anything to keep that expression on her face. Even deal with overly curious fans.
“Kane, you’re so handsome.” The older woman winked at me, then seemed to think of something that made her laughter die. “Oh, Kit, I’m so sorry. That’s so rude of me. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.”
“It’s not a problem,” I said, leaning down for a third picture with her friend.
“No. No, it’s not,” she said, looking between me and Kit. “You know, we all saw that video.” I glanced at Kit, surprised when she kept smiling, when that flicker in her eyes only got brighter. “Well, everyone saw it, didn’t they?” The woman’s laughter returned, and she tugged on her friend, pulling her away from me. “I think we should get a shot of just the two of you.” She glanced between us, then at her friend. “That’ll be lovely for the fan site, won’t it, Ethel?”
“Oh, yes, Linda. You do a picture, and I’ll take a video.” Then Ethel widened her eyes, bouncing a little on her feet. “Oh lord, you know what would be great? If you two kissed. Oh, the fans would just die.”
“Oh, honey, yes!” Linda took to bouncing like her friend, both old women moving closer, adjusting their phones as I stood still, my shoulders aching from the tension that had settled between them.
“I don’t think…”
Kit cleared her throat, looking up at me, and I realized the request hadn’t done anything to take the smile from her face. “Ratings,” she mouthed, and then I faced her, forgetting for a second that we had an audience.
“You sure?” I asked her, thinking the spark in her eyes had gotten brighter. I wondered if it was the last-minute meeting with her hero that had given her the smile she wore, or if there was something more to it. I half wondered if I’d done something to contribute to it.
“The fans, you know,” she said, her tone a little mocking. And when Kit’s smile only widened, when she pushed against me like she’d been doing it for a lifetime, I decided I didn’t care about the fans or the president or anything at all in the world but my friend and tasting her sweet mouth again.
It started slow, that kiss; a brush of our mouths, the smallest hint of wetness we shared. And then I inhaled, catching the hint of Kit’s breath, that airy scent that made me a little drunk.
Next to us, I thought I heard the women laughing, making noises that I recognized as approval, but my mind was wrapped up in the taste of Kit and the feel of her against me, of her breath hot and damp against my lips, of her fingers sliding over the back of my neck. Then I held her face, covering most of it with my hands, enjoying her, all of her, for just a second.
Those vivid daydreams swam back into my head just then, and I didn’t imagine faceless assholes who didn’t know how to touch Kit. I saw myself touching her, taking everything she had, covering her body with mine, pushing apart her legs with my knees, diving in so deep that I got lost.
Distracted as I was by the taste and feel of her, I barely noticed when she started to pull away, and I opened my eyes, watching her, forgetting for a second that we weren’t alone, that she wasn’t mine to take like this. But logical thought went out the window. Reason left me completely. I wanted to keep on tasting her, and I was damn tired of pretending that Kit was only my friend.
“Kane…” she muttered, but anything else she might have said got lost when I pulled her closer, moving my hand to the back of her head, threading my fingers into her hair and diving back into that sweet, tempting mouth.
She let me.
Kit gave as good as she got, tongue and teeth and touches that were the sweetest tease. We got a little lost in the moment, my blood hot and burning me alive, and I liked the fire she set inside me and how it scorched. It was only the catcalling and old lady shrieks that broke us apart, though even that was a torturously slow movement.
I felt Kit freeze when the women started screaming, all giggling laughs and professions that we were scorching. “Holy shit!” one of them said, but I didn’t look at her.
The small oath was enough to stop us, and I pulled back, still holding Kit’s head, unable to do anything but look over her face, tempted to dive right back into where I’d just been.
“Well,” Kit said, licking her lips, and that one word was enough to bring me back to myself.
“Hmm.” It was no word at all; it was the same grunt of noise that tended to wiggle out of my throat anytime I was at a loss for dick-all to say. And I was, but I was also burning for my friend and eager to get away from our audience. “Ladies,” I finally said, nodding to the old women as I led Kit to the garage en
trance and straight for my truck.
She didn’t speak at all as we got off the elevator and found my pickup. Kit didn’t even remind me that she’d driven from Ashford and that her car was in the same garage. She didn’t say anything at all as I opened the door for her, still trying like hell to get my blood to keep from burning me alive. Every inhale I released brought back the taste of Kit’s lips and the memory of how warm her breath had been, how soft her tongue had been against mine.
We were out of the city and near a stretch of walking trails before I even realized where I was headed. My truck moved, I steered it, but in that cab, neither of us made a sound. Not until I spotted a long walking trail and a cluster of trees near the small parking area. I didn’t think about doing it. Didn’t use my blinker. One minute the thought of her over me, our bodies pressed together was in my head, then next I was hanging a right and finding two large Hemlock trees with limbs in need of a good cutting.
“Kane?” Kit said, finally speaking, finally doing more than looking out her window. “What are we doing here?”
I threw the truck into park and unbuckled my seat belt, debating what I wanted and what should be done. With any damn common sense, I would leave that truck, take a walk to cool down. Maybe run the trail just to get the taste of her out of my mouth, replace it with heavy breathing and sweat.
I had no damn common sense. Not when it came to Kit.
“Kane?” She repeated, then sat up straight when I leaned over to unbuckle her belt. “What are you doing?”
Kit was my friend. She meant a hell of a lot to me. She watched me at that moment as if I had answers she needed. As if anything I did would have to make sense. But I was out of answers. I was relegated to need.
“This,” I told her, pushing the seat belt from her waist. It took exactly two seconds to lean toward her, pick her up, and settle her right over my lap. She felt warm, her light weight comforting. And then, I took her face between my hands and pulled her mouth to mine.
She released the smallest noise, half gasp, half moan until she responded, going at me like there was nothing left in her that wasn’t primal and basic. It was fucking glorious.
“Kane,” she panted, a low shift of noise that moved from her throat and turned into a moan when I pressed her against my throbbing cock. “God, Kane.”
“Kit, kiss me,” I told her, trying like hell to keep myself from losing it completely. I told myself I only wanted a taste, just that small reminder of what it felt like to kiss her, but fuck, it was hard to keep my control. “Kiss me,” I told her again, “like you don’t wanna stop.”
“I…I don’t…”
Yep.
Control.
Gone.
Kit rocked against me as I kissed her, pushing her down again and again on my cock, feeling that sweet warmth of her pussy as her skirt lifted higher and higher. I smoothed my hand over her ass, gripping the fabric, the tips of my fingers grazing the swell of her round ass.
“Ah…” she whined, grunting as I squeezed her ass, and I shuddered when she went at my neck, nibbling, biting, pulling my ear between her teeth, working her hips over me like she was fucking me silly.
“Want… Fuck, I want to taste you,” I said, licking her neck, teeth against the tender skin of her collarbone, my free hand over her nipple. “Bet you taste sweet.” I sucked on her bottom lip, grinding myself against her pussy. “Bet you taste sweet every fucking where, Kit.”
I liked control when it came to sex. I liked to take and give and not be gentle. It turned me on to be in control, to have no inhibitions, to be free to fuck like I wanted. I’d thought about all of this, with Kit starring in my filthiest fantasies. But in that cab, with her rocking over me, with Kit’s teeth and wet mouth drinking me up, I didn’t give a shit about control. I didn’t give a shit about doing anything but being with her however she wanted me.
“Kane…I want…”
My heart raced, and I felt my pulse throbbing in my neck. “Tell me what you want. Fucking please tell me what you want, Kit.”
“Touch…” She shuddered against my thumb when I grazed her nipple. “Shit, Kane, I want you to touch me.”
“Fuck…”
Sex was easy, and passion made you reckless. I could have moved her then, laid Kit on her back and fucked her raw in the cab of my truck. I could have gone balls deep, filling her up, touching and taking and having my fill because we both clearly wanted this shit to go down.
But as she moved against me, as I inched my fingers down her ass, to the curve of her legs, toward the sharp bone of her thigh, up to her damp thong, I realized what I wanted at that moment wasn’t for anything to happen, but to see her fall apart. Not because I fucked her quick, but because I touched her right.
“You want my touch?” I asked against her ear, loving the sight of her features, how she sucked on her bottom lip, how my teasing touch over her thong, against her throbbing pussy, had her panting, moving against the tracing touch I gave her.
“Yeah…yes, I want you to touch me, Kane.”
“Bad?” I said, frowning when I held my finger still and Kit moved down, catching my fingers between her pussy lips. “Christ…”
“Touch me, please,” she said again, and I couldn’t take how badly she shook, how small beads of sweat had started to collect along her forehead. “God, Kane, don’t make me beg.”
Even I wasn’t that cruel. “Whatever you want…”
I watched my friend Kit shake, her nipples pebbling against her shirt, her body arching as I pushed her thong aside and felt her wet, warm pussy, as I slipped two fingers inside her and circled her clit with my thumb.
“You’re so fucking tight, baby. So wet and warm.”
“Yes,” she said, her entire body shaking. I couldn’t stop watching her, couldn’t stop wanting to taste her, feel her. I could have come right then, just watching her as I touched her, as I filled her just a little.
“Squeeze against my fingers, Kit, squeeze tight and I’ll make you come.” I lifted up, leaning to kiss her neck as I worked her pussy, teasing, finger-fucking her until she was dripping, until those walls got tighter and tighter. “You like this? Feeling me inside you?”
“Kane,” she panted, and I knew she was close. “Please.”
“Please what, beautiful? I need you to tell me. What do you need?”
The loudest moan came when I sucked on Kit’s nipple, teeth rubbing against that hard flesh. “Faster,” she said, the words coming out in a pant. “And harder.”
“Shit…”
No fucking way I’d deny her. No fucking way I’d be able to stay away from her or lie to myself about not wanting her, not needing her. I curled my hand, the knuckle hitting deep inside her, right against her G-spot, and I sped up the action, smiling as I heard Kit’s breath go uneven, as she slammed her eyes shut and clamped that pussy around my fingers.
A few more swipes of my thumb against her clit and two fingers deep inside her and Kit shuddered, screaming a quick succession of “Yes, yes, yes!” before she came on my fingers, wetting my jeans and filling the cab of my truck with the smell of her body.
Nothing had ever been sweeter to me. Nothing would ever be again.
“Kane,” she whimpered and fell against me, her body spent.
“I’ve got you, Kit,” I told her, holding her close. “I’ve got you.”
I fucking meant it.
13
Kit
“So, like, how good of a kisser is he?” Lexi, the hair stylist from the set, asked from the pedicure chair next to me.
I smiled but didn’t answer as I wiggled my toes in the warm water.
Neva, our makeup artist, eyed me from the chair on my other side. She had that look again, the same one she gave me anytime she looked me over after she’d finished with my makeup. She was good at her job, and my skin had never been better. “Come on, Kit. Scale of one to ten.”
“It wasn’t a big deal,” I lied. Twin eye rolls from the pair of them and I knew
they’d called bullshit on my forced disinterest. My face heated, and the familiar blush crawled up my chest and neck.
“So, you only kissed him that one time in the bar?” I could feel Lexi’s penetrating stare without having to glance in her direction.
“Maybe.”
“Bitch, don’t you lie to us,” Neva said, slapping my arm as she laughed. “How many times have you kissed Kane?” The women never held back when we were alone, but neither of them had asked me anything until now.
I stared down at my feet, watching the water dance over the tops as the bubbles rose. “A few times.”
“When was the last time?” Lexi asked.
“Yesterday,” I answered truthfully because I knew these women. They’d badger me until I finally caved. Plus, they could spot a liar a mile away. Besides, the twenty different shades of red running over my face and neck would advertise any lie I attempted to tell.
“Girl,” Neva drew out the word, being overdramatic like she often was. “We need all the details.”
“Yeah. That man is a fine piece of ass, and he has some of the best damn lips. They gotta be soft.”
My laugh was a little forced, a lot overdone because Lexi wasn’t wrong at all. Kane’s lips were out of this world, soft and thick too. They were made for kissing.
“They’re pretty nice.” I shrugged, hoping I could shove down the stupid smile that threatened to stretch across my mouth. Those lips were fucking spectacular, the best I’d ever laid mine on. When neither woman replied, I glanced from side to side and saw them staring at me, eyes narrowed. “What?”
“We want a play-by-play, and do not leave anything out.”
“Fine,” I groaned, but only because I was sick of holding everything in. Jess had been the only person I could talk about shit like this with. But she was gone now, and it wasn’t like Kane would exactly be objective if I started going on about the kiss and hot make-out session. Hell, Jess would’ve known what I should do about whatever was happening between Kane and me. Without her here, I was lost.
