Rebel North

by JB Salsbury

  “You’re teasing,” I say, almost to the point of panting.

  “I’m not,” he says, never taking his eyes off his hand as it makes another pass along my skin. “I’m savoring.” He tilts his head and watches his fingertip change direction and head up to stop at the underswell of my breast. I bite my lip, ready for his touch against the sensitive tip that is beaded and begging. I arch my back, a silent request for him to take. “I’ve thought so long and hard about this moment,” he whispers. “About where I would start if I got the chance to touch you. The roadmaps I’d follow in order to experience every part of you.”

  My mind spins with what he’s telling me. That he has thought about me in a sexual way at all is enough to blow my mind, but to think that he’s been feeling this way and holding himself back? I have to know… “Why? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

  His head is tilted forward, and he peers through the longish, messy locks of his hair. “You’re not the only one with a reason to want to hide away.”

  Of course—his dyslexia. He hides what he considers to be his weakness, just as I hide my scar.

  “You know I don’t care about—” I suck in a hissed breath when he cups my breasts and squeezes, not hard enough to hurt, but just enough to send a rush of liquid heat through me.

  He brushes his thumb against my nipple, then leans in and sucks it between his teeth over my bra. The lash of his tongue over lace, the wetness of his mouth, and the heat combine to build an ache between my legs. I clench my thighs together. Shift from foot to foot. Nothing works to put out the flame. Instead, every movement kindles the sparks to a flame.

  His arm wraps around my lower back and forces our hips together. His teeth clamp down around the tip of my breast, and he folds over me. I hold on to his shoulders, my head falling back, while he licks, bites, and kisses my breast. He pulls back to check out his handy work. The skin is red and protruding, pressing hard against the black lace cage of my bra. “You’re sexy as fuck,” he says in a voice that carries a million dirty promises.

  “So are you,” I squeak out.

  He pulls me upright and kisses me, and there’s nothing gentle about this kiss. Nothing even remotely polite. He plunges his tongue between my teeth, bites, and sucks my lips. He takes. Overpowers. Conquers.

  He keeps a hold on me, and we move across the room. The chair hits the backs of my legs, and he presses me down. His mouth still on mine, he drops to his knees between my legs. His trembling hands run up my bare thighs. He hooks his fingers into the elastic at my hips. “May I?” The question is spoken against my parted lips.

  I nod and lift to help him slip my panties off.

  He sits back on his heels, his eyes like smoldering embers as they blaze a trail along my skin and settle between my legs. My mind screams to cover up, to be ashamed of my nudity, afraid that he might not like what he sees. I shift nervously in the chair and hate all the space between us, the space to see all my physical flaws and inadequacies.

  “Come here.” I reach for him, only to have him grasp my hand and press it to his lips.

  “Not yet.” His gaze drops slowly down my body. “I’m not done looking at you yet.” One more kiss to my wrist, and he releases my hand. He shifts forward, wedging his torso between my knees. His long fingers slip up my thighs, back down, and press my legs further apart. “Relax,” he whispers. “You have no idea how fucking beautiful you are.” He lifts his chin toward the back of the chair. “Lean back.”

  Leaning back means scootching my butt forward, and with my legs wide apart, it brings my pussy closer to his face. He notices, licks his lips, then lowers his head between my legs.

  He licks up my inner thigh and stops just shy of where I need him most. Switching to the other thigh, he repeats the delicious torture. Back and forth, he tempts me while inching closer and closer.

  My legs shake with anticipation. My hands grip the chair to keep from grabbing his hair and forcing the contact.

  He blows against my wet, sensitive skin, making me shiver and bringing goosebumps to the surface.

  “Stop teasing,” I say breathlessly. “It’s mean.”

  He pushes off his heels and kisses my stomach, where I feel him smile against my skin. “I like playing with my food.” He kisses down between my legs, and I bite my lip in anticipation of what’s coming.

  Rather than feel his tongue, I feel the brush of his fingers as he runs them between my legs with a featherlight touch. A soft growl escapes me, and I dig my heels into the floor and shift myself forward, chasing after more.

  His dark chuckle fills the air around me, but he continues to tease me with his fingers. “Easy, Bee. Let me play a little longer. Then, I’ll give you what you want.”

  I try to hold on, I really do, but he plays my body as if it were his own and he’s learned all the ways to drive me wild. I shake with need. My legs lose the ability to hold me up, and I can’t take another second of this agonizing emptiness.

  “No.” I slide off the chair and onto his lap in a straddle.

  We moan in unison when my hot, wet center meets the solid line of his erection that is barely contained in cotton.

  “Fuck.” He grabs my hips, and I worry he might push me off, but instead, he pulls me tighter against him and rolls his hips forward, grinding his heavy girth against me. “You’re going to make me come.”

  I hold on to his shoulders and move my hips in a circle. “Me first.”

  “If you say so,” he says playfully and puts me on my back. His mouth comes down on me hard. His tongue spears into my mouth the way his hard-on probes at my entrance.

  I reach down and free his erection with clumsy hands. He’s thick, heavy, and hot in my palm. I wrap my fingers as best I can and stroke. He hisses and thrusts into my hand, a preview of what he’s going to do to my body.

  “I need to be inside you,” he breathes against my throat.

  “Yes.”

  “Condom.” He reaches into his pants, which are hanging haphazardly off the chair, and fishes out a foil package.

  “I’m on the pill.”

  He drops his boxer briefs. I try—and fail—not to stare. He’s so much bigger than I would’ve expected. I knew every part of Kingston would be beautiful, and that much is true. But the size of him catches me by surprise.

  “We’ll talk about safety for next time,” he says and reclaims his kneeling position between my legs. “Right now, I want you to trust me, and I need to get inside you.”

  “So you’re saying there will be a next time,” I say and smirk.

  I expect him to fall over me, pin me to the floor, and sink deep inside. I gasp when he folds over me only to hook his arms around me and pull me upright, straddled over his thighs.

  “There will be a next time.” He grips my ass in two hands and slides me forward until the tip of his hard-on wedges against my core. “Many, many next times.”

  “We’ll see about tha—” I gasp when he thrusts forward, burying himself inside me.

  He doesn’t move, giving my body a moment to adjust to his size. He slides his hands up my back and into my hair, fisting the length, and bringing our lips together. “I’m sorry, what was it you were saying?”

  “All the next times,” I say, feeling stretched, full, and wanting more.

  “Mmm.” He nuzzles my throat and kisses along my jaw. “All the next times. I’ll never get enough of you.”

  “Kingston.”

  “Yeah, Bee?”

  “Move.”

  Kingston

  Move.

  I have to stay present, stay cautious and careful, because if I let go, if I release all the pent-up desire, I’d probably scare the shit out of her.

  This is not how I saw tonight playing out in my mind. I wanted her on the bed. I wanted to taste her, feel her come against my tongue. My fingers. But an urgency drives us that can no longer be ignored. We need to fuck. Then, I can go back and take care of her properly. Like a gentleman.

  I wrap her legs
around me and slide my hands up her back to unfasten her bra. The straps fall down her arms, and I toss the scrap of lace aside. Her breasts are full, round, and tipped with dark pink nipples. I flex my hips, and she arches her back, pressing her tits up in offering. I lick, suck, and bite at the firm peaks.

  She tastes like cinnamon and sugar—sweet and hot.

  She falls back on one arm, laying her body out before me, and I grip her hips to slide her against my dick, watching myself disappear into her sex and then slowly pulling out.

  “We look so fucking sexy together.”

  She moans, rolls her hips, and I can’t stand it another second. I need to taste her.

  I release my hold and drop her backside to the ground. She gasps when I pull out of her and then sighs loudly when I lick between her legs.

  She buries her hands in my hair, holds me to her as if she fears I won’t finish the job. Not a fucking chance. I lose myself in the feel of her—the dripping heat, sweet flavor, and sounds she makes that seem to emanate from her chest.

  I have wanted this for so long. To pleasure her with my mouth, to consume her, ravish her, bring her the kind of ecstasy that she’d never want from another man. Make her feel so good that she’d come back for more and never want to leave.

  Her release hits like an electric shock. Her body is like a live wire. She arches her back and explodes against my tongue. Her grip on my hair is tight to the point of stinging, and something about the pain makes my own orgasm swell to the surface. She rides my tongue until the final shockwaves subside and then falls limp to the floor.

  I kiss the inside of her thigh and watch the rapid rise and fall of her chest until it slows. “You good?”

  “So fucking good.”

  I hide a secret smile against her skin. “I hope you still have something left because we aren’t done yet.”

  She props herself up on her elbows, her hair a mess, cheeks pink, and eyelids half-mast. “You bet your ass I have some left. Years’ worth, actually.”

  My dick is painfully hard. I grip it in my fist and stand. Her eyes follow my movement, her gaze particularly invested in my throbbing hard-on. She scrambles to her feet, and I lift my chin to the bed. She turns and heads that way, her naked ass swaying the entire way. Crawling onto the bed, I follow her down. With my knee to the mattress, I settle between her legs. I slip inside her, inch by painstakingly slow inch. Our kiss is unhurried, lazy, as if we had all night and all day tomorrow. I move inside her with intentional strokes, changing the angle of my hips to hit every possible spot and drown in the sexy sounds each one coaxes from her lips.

  I keep my pace even, knowing if I give in to the drive, I’ll come too fast. But being inside Gabriella, the tight grip of her body combined with her slick tongue in my mouth sends my self-control out the window. My hips kick a little quicker, a little harder, and she claws at my ass in encouragement. Our kiss turns frantic. Tension and heat coil at the base of my spine. My muscles flex, and I thrust harder.

  “Yes,” she says against my lips. “Don’t stop.”

  I push up onto my hands and hook her leg with my arm, opening her wider, sinking in deeper. She holds my wrists, hanging on, grounding herself while I pound her mercilessly into the mattress.

  Stars explode behind my eyes, and my release comes barreling to the surface. My hips shoot forward, planted deep. My orgasm washes over me in unrelenting waves. I fall on top of her in a useless heap and bury my face in her neck.

  “Good God, woman. You’re going to be the death of me.”

  Her deep chuckle is sexy as fuck. She wraps her arms around me, and her legs do the same at my hips.

  I roll to my back, taking her with me, and I fucking love the way she settles against my chest—nose to my throat, hair splayed over my shoulder, and her warm, sexy body all over mine.

  Her stomach growls.

  “Shit,” I say, smiling, because honestly, how could I not smile. I’m naked in bed with a woman I never thought I’d get a chance with. “I never fed you.” I slap her ass. “Come on, let’s eat.”

  “In a minute.” She sounds more relaxed than I’ve ever heard her, and hell if that doesn’t make my chest swell with manly pride.

  I press a kiss to her head and run my fingers through her hair. “Take all the time you need.”

  I mean it. Even if she needs forever.

  Twenty-One

  Kingston

  I wake to the feel of Gabriella thrashing against me.

  Her naked body is damp with sweat, and she kicks at the bedsheet as if it were a monster with a hold on her ankles.

  I put my lips to her ear. “Hey, shhh…” I wrap my arms around her middle from my position at her back. “You’re dreaming, Bee.”

  My voice seems to only make her kick harder.

  “Gabriella, wake up.” I prop myself up on an elbow and notice her cheeks are full of air as if she were holding her breath. Shit, she’s not breathing. I get to my knees and roll her to her back. “Breathe!” My pulse slams through my veins. I shake her. “Wake up!”

  She gasps so hard she chokes, and I roll her to her side while she coughs and catches her breath. She sucks in a wheezing breath, and the sound of it sends me falling back to the bed in relief.

  “You okay?”

  She sits up and throws her legs off the side of the bed. Her bare back is a silhouette in the dark room. “Bad dream.”

  “Yeah, I figured. Do those happen often?”

  She shakes her head. “No. Not until recently.”

  I grab the cold bottle of water I brought in earlier when we ate cereal wearing nothing but our underwear. I check the clock. That was two hours ago.

  She guzzles the cold water and then sets it on the bedside table and falls back onto the pillows.

  “You want to talk about it,” I say while staring at the ceiling.

  “Not really.”

  “Okay.”

  Silence fills the space between us, and a sense of unease trickles in, tainting my good mood. Taking a shit on my hope.

  “If you go back to sleep, you might not even remember it in the morning.”

  She rolls to her side, facing me. “Help me forget?”

  Crushing suffocation pulls behind my ribs, the feeling so painful it should be enough of a warning to send me the opposite way. To do what’s best for Gabriella and let her go. Be out of her life forever.

  She wants to forget, and she looks at me as if I could help her with that.

  I meet her on the pillow, kiss her, and let my lips rest against hers. “I’d be happy to do that.”

  My only fear is that in making her forget, she might remember.

  Gabriella

  I pull myself from Kingston’s arms well before sunrise. Exhausted from the night’s activities, combined with one doozy of a nightmare, I lean my head against the window in the backseat of the Uber, close my eyes, and smile.

  In what universe does a woman like me get to spend an entire night, naked, with a man like Kingston?

  My skin still hums with the memory of his hands, and my lips tingle from his brutal kiss. Warm and a little sore in all the best places, I wish I was still in his bed and wrapped in his arms.

  He was still sleeping when I left, and not wanting to wake him, I kissed his stubbled cheek and whispered goodbye. Maybe I should’ve left a note?

  The car jerks to a stop outside my house.

  I drag my feet through the front gate and to the door.

  “Gabby?”

  My feet freeze in the large entryway. “Dad?”

  He walks around the corner, wearing a suit and smelling fresh from a shower. A cup of coffee in one hand, he looks me up and down under the bright light of the chandelier. He frowns. “I assumed you were at the clinic.” His frown deepens as he takes in my dress, heels, and the messy knot of hair atop my head. “I see I was wrong.” His voice drips in disappointment.

  “Not entirely wrong.” I head to the stairs. “My shift starts in an hour.”

&n
bsp; “Jesus, Gabby…” he mutters.

  I whirl around from a few steps up. “Do you have something to say?”

  Ever the high-powered CEO, he lifts his nose and manages to look down at me, even from his position at the bottom of the stairs. “We had an agreement.”

  “And I’ve been sticking to my end.”

  “No.” He scowls at the place where my dress hits the tops of my thighs, making me fidget and want to tug at the hem, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction. “You haven’t.”

  “You said I could stay in New York as long as I wanted.”

  “I said you could stay in New York while you recovered.”

  “However long that takes,” I fill in the rest of our agreement.

  He blows out a breath and gives my obvious walk of shame outfit another once over. “Looks to me you’re recovered.”

  “Because I went on a date? You think because I had sex, I’m recovered?”

  He cringes at my words. “Watch your mouth. I’m still your father.”

  “You’ll always be my father, but I’m grown up now. I don’t need a parent.”

  The tension in his face falls. “I suppose you’re right. I’m overprotective since… you know.”

  “I know. But I’m okay.” Memories of Kingston’s smile and the emotion in his eyes when he looks at me all flood my vision. “Better than okay, actually.”

  “Oh, yeah?” My dad sounds hopeful. “Anyone I know? Is it Tom Peterson’s son? Boy, did he have a thing for you in high school.”

  I frown on the inside, not wanting him to see my disappointment. Ever since the accident, he’s been wanting me to be the person I was before, enjoy the things I did before, erase the horror of that night in a pick-up-where-we-left-off kind of way. He doesn’t understand that the accident changed me permanently. That the Gabriella from before is gone. She’s never coming back. “No, you don’t know him.”

  “Will I get the opportunity to meet him?”

  “Maybe.” My cheeks warm. “If things continue as they have been, then yes, you will.”