“Maybe.” Her tongue swept out to wet her lips. “Maybe not. You’re not my daddy, so you don’t have a say either way.”
Because he heard the sly taunt in her tone, he didn’t get annoyed. No way would he let her play him so easily. He braced his hands on the counter on either side of her hips. “Does it count if I get you to call me Daddy?”
Her nose wrinkled adorably. “I hate that phrase.”
Justin laughed and leaned in to suck her lower lip between his teeth. “I could make you say it.”
She shook her head, making a sound suspiciously like “nuh-uh” while he worried her plump flesh between his teeth. By the time he finally drew her tongue into his mouth, her eyes were hazy with lust. “I could make you do things too,” she murmured between kisses.
He didn’t doubt it. “Like?” he asked, trailing kisses from her swollen lips to the tender line of her jaw.
She wrapped her legs around his waist and rubbed her scorching center against his erection. “Like getting you to tell me why you got your tongue pierced. And this tattoo.” While she spoke, she rolled up his shirt again and feathered her fingertips over the black ink on his abdomen. “I could have an orgasm just thinking about either one.”
“Yeah?” That made him inordinately pleased, especially on the heels of her small dick reference. “So you remembered me as not packing much, huh?”
“The memory’s kind of indistinct, to be honest,” she hedged. “But at least that means I was remembering you in bed. That makes up for some of it, right?”
“Nice save.” Her wild movements against his groin picked up speed until he could feel her wetness soaking through the layers of their clothing. He closed his eyes. God, the thought of her damp pussy covered only by his boxers drove him wild. He reached between their bodies and pressed two fingers against her clit. “Fuck, you’re throbbing.”
“No kidding.” She grimaced and tugged up her T-shirt. “All over, but more there.”
“Hang on. Let me.” He pulled it over her head, unable to stifle his groan of pure appreciation at the sight of her bare breasts. They weren’t huge, just firm and perfect. Small nipples a shade darker than her peach skin peaked under his avid gaze, and almost immediately he felt liquid trickle down his shaft. “Look, fair warning.” He inhaled a ragged breath. “It’s been awhile for me. A long while. And—”
“Touch me, Justin.” She seized his hands and brought them to her breasts. “Everywhere.”
He spread his fingers, feathering them over her velvety skin. She let out a low moan. When he clasped his lips around her nipple, she urged more of her breast into his mouth, arching her back as he sucked. Every thought, every emotion rolled over her face, encouraging his own desire. Her cornflower-blue eyes burned as he switched his attention to her other equally needy nipple. Sweet, so sweet. She smelled like plums, freshly plucked and ripe. Tasted like them too. He sucked harder. This time, her fevered moan whipped across his nerve endings like a thousand cat-o’-nine-tails.
He’d planned on going slow. As crazed as their kisses on the couch had become, he had no intention of pushing her or rushing her into more than she could handle. Despite what she thought she knew about him, when he fantasized about them sleeping together again, he didn’t imagine leisurely mating accompanied by s
oft music. Kylie demanded hard, driving rock and quick, punishing thrusts.
His need for her slayed him. Right now he didn’t feel tender toward her. Not with the head of his cock pushing against the waistband of his shorts in a desperate attempt to get free.
She pulled him against her, almost demanding he devour rather than savor. “Easy,” he murmured.
“No.” Daring him, she reached down and slipped a hand into the plaid boxers she wore. The fingers she dragged back to her mouth glistened under the too-bright fluorescent lights. “Not easy.”
She let out a soft sigh at the first taste of herself, and he nearly wrenched her hand away so he could lick it clean. Instead of swallowing all the liquid she’d collected—and he knew just how wet she was from the brush of her covered groin against his—she painted some over her lower lip until it gleamed. She was baiting him, and he had no intention of resisting.
Keeping his eyes on hers, he leaned and dragged his tongue over her lip, groaning from her taste and the erotic feeling of her swollen flesh under his tongue ring.
“God. God. Do that to me here.” She rubbed her palm against her mound. “Please.”
His mouth curved wickedly. “Only if you call me Daddy.”
“I’ll call you any damn thing you want.” She smiled. “Except that.”
He grasped the waistband of his boxers and stripped them off her, taking as much care as possible not to jostle her legs or twist her back. The first thing he saw once he’d pulled them free of her legs was the nasty splotch of mottled blue and purple that wrapped around one shapely upper thigh. He went still, seeing other bruises, remembering other reasons for such a small, soft woman to be hurt.
“Justin.” Kylie skimmed her hand over his cheek. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”
He made himself smile. With one look at that bruise, he’d been a six-year-old boy again. Every muscle had tensed in the classic fight-or-flight response, and his heart still drummed dully in his ears.
Kylie wasn’t his mother. She hadn’t been kicked around by the asshole she still claimed to love even after he’d fractured her bones and smashed her jaw. And goddamn it, he wasn’t going to relive discovering his mama broken on the kitchen floor.
Not again.
Slowly, Justin spread Kylie’s legs apart. The gentleness he’d lost reappeared. She wanted to forget. So did he.