The Token 8: Kiki: A Billionaire Dark Romantic Suspense Page 7

  So much for me having a say, making a stand—anything.

  Chet has me.

  All of me.

  As long as he's around and I am too, he's the one in charge. I can't believe I ever thought I was.

  TWELVE

  Chet

  I've done something I told myself I never would.

  All women are whores. They deserve to be fed cocks in their mouths or pussies or whatever hole I choose. Period. Clarice taught me that lesson well.

  My arms come around Kandace, cupping her luscious breasts. I kiss the bones of her spine to where the small of her back flares as she lies against the stone countertop.

  I don't miss one.

  Moving from the dimples at her lower back, I get midway and turn my face so my cheek rests against her warmth.

  Our breathing syncs.

  I stand. Trailing my hand down her back, I cup her ass.

  Kandace turns, not meeting my gaze. “Go, Chet.”

  I'm not going anywhere.

  That's what she doesn't understand. I've been waiting my entire life for redemption, for something that feels filthy but not wrong.

  I stroke her jaw, and my thumb flips her lip down. Her mouth trembles underneath my touch. She bites her lower lip—a nervous habit, I presume.

  A fat tear slides down her cheek.

  I've seen a thousand tears and wiped away none, but my hand lifts of its own accord to swipe the hot wet salt.

  “No.”

  My voice is soft, the word as hard as nails.

  Kandace leans into my palm. “I want you to go.”

  “If I listen to your words, I might. But I felt your body. Your pussy loved me. You can't fake it, and I wouldn't want you to.”

  Her face jerks out of my palm. She yanks her skirt down and steps out of her heels. Her head grazes my shoulder.

  I look her over. She’s so tiny but so full of personality. I love dominating that.

  She loves the dominance. If only Kandace would admit she's needy for what we have.

  I cup her waist with my hands, and my cock—a flaccid tool a moment before—comes to semi-hard life.

  My hands move up to her full tits. I rub my thumbs across her nipples, and they cooperatively rise.

  “Stop touching me.”

  My eyes move to hers. They’re deep, welling with more tears.

  “I can't,” I say and draw her against my body. My pants are at my ankles, and I leave them there. Turning us away from the kitchen, I grip her against me and set my chin against the top of her head. “Every part of you is mine. I want to touch it all. Every moment.”

  Her hands, clenching at my shirttails, release and travel to my neck. She grips my shoulders. “Why me?”

  “I don't know.” I'm not playing my normal game.

  Kandace strips me. My body is nude, but I feel naked with her. I loathe vulnerability, but something deep inside me gave me permission the first time I ever saw her dance.

  Her hair has long come undone, and I plunge my fingers into the deceptively soft tendrils. I tip her head back none-too-gently, and her eyes widen, her breaths speeding. I search her face.

  Every line, every finely sculpted bone from her smooth forehead to her stubborn jaw—it's a face I care for.

  Too much.

  “I'm not going anywhere,” I say.

  Fresh tears spill.

  “Have I hurt you, really?” I duck down, holding her eyes prisoner.

  She shakes her head.

  “Then what the fuck is it? Because I take, I own—I fucking consume, Kandace. And my sights are set on you. I've never pretended it was any other way.”

  Her breath hitches, and I release her though my hands ache to touch her.

  Two feet of space separate us.

  Or the Grand Canyon.

  She retreats a shaky step. I fold my arms across my chest. I can't read her when she's not being herself: animated, glaringly opinionated. It's unnerving in the extreme.

  Kandace smooths her hair, trying to cling to normalcy.

  “I—Chet...”

  “Sin,” I say.

  Her lips turn up at the corners. “Sin.”

  I nod, unfolding my arm and flipping up my palm. Go on.

  “I'm not some exotic booty call. I like—” Her eyelids sink as she casts her gaze to the ground. Eyelashes lay like lacy soot against her skin.

  I swallow. Hard.

  “I love—love what you do to my body. It's kind of sick and perverted that I let you bite me, fuck me after you've barely gotten through the door.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and gives me a nervous eye flick.

  “And?” I hear nothing wrong about any of it. My brow furrows.

  “And!?” Kandace spins away.

  I love the view. I grin at her round ass undulating as she struts off in a lather.

  She whirls, pointing at me. “I'm a damn mess! You came in me—again!” She gestures at the yoke of her thighs. “What if you have something?”

  “What if you do?” I ask in a calm voice.

  Her chin juts out. “Well then you're McFucked, ya prince!”

  I chuckle.

  Alive. Kandace has awoken me as though from a dream.

  “And you bit me all over! Rabies, anyone?”

  My smile dims. “You like it.”

  Her gaze locks with mine. “Yeah, you smug bastard.”

  I swing my palms away from my body. “I am waiting for the reason I should leave you.”

  Her words cause me to still. “Chloe.”

  My bark of laughter is unscripted.

  She folds her arms beneath her tits. I track the rise and fall of them.

  “Can you—earth to Chet? Can you focus on my words, pal? Instead of ogling my boobs.”

  A smile tweaks my lips. “I'll make every attempt.”

  “You're hopeless,” Kandace says but she's smiling.

  I don't bother to disagree.

  “Faren told me about Miss Hoity-Toity. I'm not going to be some fling on the side of Ice Queen. I have just this much self-respect.” She puts her index and thumb almost together.

  I move toward her with purpose, and she backs away until her delicious ass bumps into the counter we just fucked against. I grind my hips against her front, and her breath catches.

  “I have never had respect for women.”

  Kiki's eyes narrow. She grabs my shoulders as I push my cock through the material of her skirt and fit myself between her pussy lips.

  “So why am I letting you do this?” she asks with a little groan.

  I tell a truth. Just one.

  “I respect you.”

  “Oh, Sin,” she says quietly, her forehead falling to my shoulder.

  I cup the back of her head and bring it against my chest.

  “Very much.”

  “You know how fucked up we are?” she asks.

  I stop moving against her and just hold her.

  There are a lot of firsts today.

  She doesn't see my smile because her face is pressed against my heartbeat.

  “Yes,” I say.

  “Why doesn't it bother you? We haven't even been on a date. Yʼknow, like real people do? Dinner and a movie...?”

  “We are real, and we are not others. I'm untroubled about not being the same as everyone else.”

  I pull away to gaze into her flushed face. When I hold her head, her face is so small that the heels of my palms meet under her chin.

  “Is this what all the drama is about? Let me put it to rest.”

  I drop my hands and move away. “I've never dated. I fuck.”

  Kandace just stares at me. “And we have.”

  My eyes go to slits, her body filling my vision like a drug, an addiction.

  “Dating will come later. If I had to wait one more minute, live through one more unanswered text—I was going to cease to exist. I tried to be patient. In the end, you caused me to be what I am right now: a starving animal.”

  I step closer.

>   “Maybe once I've fucked you every day for a month we can see a movie.”

  Kandace shivers.

  I step nearer still.

  Her knuckles turn white from the death grip she keeps on the countertop.

  “But right now, I want to know your body. I need to.”

  “Well, that's great, Chet. Maybe I want to know more.”

  I grin suddenly.

  “You will.”

  *

  I tow her into a large shower that's the focal point of her small bathroom. I turn the faucet on and step in when it's hot.

  I beckon Kandace with my hand.

  She looks pointedly at my cock, which is ramrod straight with a mind of its own.

  The constraints of being male.

  I shrug.

  “I can't believe you can get hard again.”

  Kandace strips quickly.

  I want to watch the clothes fall away from her body. “Slower.”

  She exhales as though she's bothered, but I see the look in her eyes. She loves that I want to watch.

  Facing me, she hooks her thumbs into black panties that show more skin than not, now torn strategically. They slide down slim thighs with pockets of fat and muscle in all the right places. The lace skims her knees and edges down to tapered ankles. Petite feet with hot pink toenails peek out from the pooled material.

  I love the unexpected, and I know to my marrow that Kandace will never bore me.

  She steps out of her underwear, her naked slit perfectly bare. A little tuft of tight, short black curls ride above her perfect pussy lips. I can't help the hissing breath that eases out of me as I view her nakedness.

  My reaction seems to help her unveil her body. She reaches behind her and unclasps her bra. The cups loosen, falling forward.

  She raises her arms, and her tits are bare. A healing bite mark crescents one nipple.

  My dick surges at the sight.

  She smirks when she realizes I'm looking at my little love brand, and she flings the bra in my face as the water beats against my back. I snap my hand out, catch the bra, and toss it over the top of the shower wall.

  Kandace glides into the shower. The water hits her toes, and she shivers.

  I draw her against me then turn her so the hot spray sluices over her body.

  “What are you doing?” she asks. “What am I doing?”

  “Getting clean.”

  I kneel, and her eyes widen as I say, “Lean back against the wall and put your foot on my shoulder.”

  Kandace doesn't say anything. Soon her foot is light on my shoulder, her back against the glass block.

  I turn the soap over and over in my hands, creating a thick lather.

  I begin at her ankle, churning the suds up her smooth leg. I never take my eyes from her face as I watch the pulse in her throat.

  When I get to her inner thigh, her fingers clutch my shoulders, halting my progress.

  “I'll be sore, Chet.”

  “No.” I clean her thoroughly, my fingers so light they must feel like weighted air. I move over and back, over and back, until the water is second to the moisture of her arousal.

  Her eyes close. “Oh my god, Sin, how do you do that? How do you—how are you so brutal... then so tender?”

  Only with you. But I say nothing.

  When I can't reach any higher, I take her foot from my shoulder and move into the line of her body. My hands glide up from the bottom of her heavy breasts, and I mound them together again and again until she moans. I give a single flick against each pert nipple. Her hands slap my shoulders, her eyes wide.

  “I—fuck me again, Chet.” Her voice is hoarse, needy.

  Then I do something again, breaking every rule I have.

  I give her my lips as my answer.

  It feels foreign, alien, but I do it anyway. Her soft mouth is as pliable as I'd imagined.

  I sip and peck, deepen the kiss until Kandace opens her mouth. Our tongues meet, and it's nothing like I've ever done.

  It's so much more.

  I hear a noise and realize it's me. I'm making a strange sound.

  Contentment.

  I don't analyze. I walk her to the other side of the shower, rip my shirt from where it's draped over the top of the shower wall, and lay it on the tile.

  I lie on my back, and my eyes seek hers like a missile after a heated target.

  “You fuck me, Kandace.”

  Her answer is music to my ears.

  “Yes, Sin.”

  She straddles me, suspended above my prick. It throbs once in acute agony.

  Then her heat surrounds me as I fill her.

  A strange feeling descends, enveloping me as she rides my cock.

  Happiness.

  THIRTEEN

  Kiki

  My hands fall to Chet's thighs as I lean back and rock with him, deeply impaled by his penis.

  And what a penis it is.

  Helpless little sounds leak out of me. I'm sore, but it doesn't matter. The steam, the hot water, the aching—it's all on the periphery. The moment is Chet and me, and I'm so in the moment.

  His fingers knead my hips, urging me faster, as though impatient for my flesh. I brace myself on my heels and push against him as he enters me. The stretching inside me feels like too much.

  Then Chet does a little swirl and thrust with his hips, and I come hard. My arms tremble, and I know I won't support my weight.

  He seems to sense it, and rises with me in his arms.

  Chet turns me against the wall, and my back lands against the cool tiles, his hand behind me and the other cupping my ass. He pounds inside me. Once, twice, and the third time's the charm.

  The man is a cum-factory, exploding inside me.

  “Kandace,” he groans, still moving

  I love the way he says my name. It makes me want to cry. Not because I'm sad, but because I don't want it to end.

  He braces against me, the two of us pulsing together. A minute passes, the water still hot at our backs. The hiss of it falling is the only sound other than our slowing heartbeats.

  Very gently, as if I'm made of the finest crystal, Chet lowers me.

  I look into his face and see raw emotion there. He scoops my soaking hair and puts it behind my back. His face dips, and he kisses me again, as if he'd eat my lips, my mouth... my soul.

  “Kandace,” he repeats. “You undo me.”

  I laugh, and his face jerks back.

  I smile at his mildly insulted expression. “Listen here, bucking bronco.” That gets a smile. “I'm pretty undone myself. As in—mondo tired. You've worn me out.” I run my hands from his shoulders to his heavily muscled biceps and twist my fingers over forearms that are so heavily striated, they look like ropes of flesh. We lace our fingers when I reach his hands.

  “And that's saying something.”

  Chet chuckles.

  We step out of the shower, and I hand him a towel.

  “Wait,” he says. He wraps my hair in the towel meant for his body. When I have a turban on top of my head, Chet dries me with another towel.

  “I'm serious, Chet, I can't screw anymore.”

  He looks up at me, his eyes at half-mast. “Who said anything about screwing?”

  Still, the press of the terrycloth is an erotic breath of softness over my body, catching each drop of water as it falls.

  Chet reaches my toes, and I squeal when he gets between them.

  His grin transforms his face. Easy and free, he looks utterly different.

  Unguarded.

  “I like this Chet.” My finger touches the tip of his nose.

  His expression freezes.

  “What Chet?” he asks neutrally.

  “This one,” I say softly, touching his arm lightly as he stands.

  He doesn't respond, quickly drying himself.

  I blush at his flaccid penis. That his tube of love did those things to me... seems inconceivable, but Chet has the moves. Boy, does he.

  He strides around my small cond
o, picking up trousers, socks, underwear, and the cufflinks he'd left behind.

  “Ah,” he says when he plucks them off the entrance table. “I wondered where they'd gone off to.” He lifts them with his fingers then loosely closes his fist around them.

  “You put them there when we were christening the wall,” I say, my voice as droll as they come.

  My cell dings between us on the kitchen table. I don't move to answer, but Chet does.

  I go to intercept, but I’m too late.

  Chet scoops it up, frowning at whatever he sees on the screen.

  Shit.

  But why should I feel bad? I mean, he's got Chloe for shit's sake. And Ax and I—we're nothing.

  Though it could be something.

  I bite my lip, and Chet's eyes zero in on my mauling of the soft flesh. I let it plop out.

  “Who is Ax?”

  I lift a naked shoulder, my boob jiggling a little from the motion. Chet's eyes flick to my breast then back to my eyes.

  “A guy.”

  His eyebrow cocks. “Clearly.”

  The silence has words.

  “He's a guy I was friends with in the projects,” I say.

  Chet pulls a face. “Projects?”

  Right, rich boy doesn't know the term. “Yʼknow, slums.” I sound a little more harsh than I mean to. Try as I might, I can't wash the dirt off the word.

  “I see.” Chet's gaze doesn't hold the condemnation I think it will. It's neutral.

  I try not to be defensive about my past. I can't help my birthing circumstance, my old hood, my stripping to pay for school at Udub—none of it. It's my past. But knowing all that shit doesn't make me feel any less self-conscious.

  I inhale deeply, poised to speak, but Chet holds up a hand. “I'm not interested in an explanation of your background.”

  I see red, literally. He gets a load of my pissed off expression, no doubt.

  Chet rakes his longish hair back from his forehead. “What I mean is that I do want to know you, were you come from. However, I don't want you to feel you're lesser for it.”

  I don't cry, but my throat feels as if a fist is crammed inside it. Something tells me I've misunderstood Chet. Not that he's the easiest dude to get a bead on.

  “There are a hundred Chloes, but only one Kandace.”

  Still. I have to pick at it. Like a scab. “We don't match.” My insecurity of being with a trust fund billionaire doesn't want to go away, even though he's the first man I've ever chosen.