Idol (VIP 1)

I suck in a breath and surge down. My mouth finds her slick, swollen flesh, and I latch on, feasting like it’s my last meal.

Libby gasps, her body arching off the bed. In the gloom, her skin is a pearly cream, her sweet little tits pointing up and shaking as she writhes. I hold her hips down and eat her out with no finesse, just greed. And she whimpers and cries.

Good. Remember that. Need it. Crave it. I know I will.

I don’t let her come. Not yet. When she quivers against my tongue, her clit swelling, I lift away. Libby cries out, her arms reaching for me.

“Shhh,” I whisper, crawling over her. “I got you.”

Her damp breasts cushion my chest as I settle over her, needing that skin-to-skin contact. The throbbing tip of my cock finds the slick notch of her pussy, and I push in, no hesitation—a little mean about it, even. We both need that.

The first thrust is always the most painful. Because it never fails to punch me in the heart, the fucking perfection of her, the tight, hot, wet clasp. Like home. Yeah, she’s my home. My everything.

She never shies away from me, but raises her hips, spreads herself wider, as if she needs to take every inch I can offer. Her legs wrap around me, her hands grasping my shoulders. “Killian.”

We move as one, pulling apart, sliding back together. It’s slow torture. Every time I ease back, I feel cold. Every thrust in, I want to grind myself there, imprint myself from the inside.

My arms bracket her slim shoulders. In the dark, I find her. Her eyes glint as she stares up at me, and we slowly undulate. Her air becomes mine.

Tell her. Beg her not to go.

I dip my head and kiss her, kiss her until I don’t feel anything but her mouth, her body. Kiss her until I can’t think about tomorrow.

I’m probably crushing her. There isn’t any space between us. But she’s wrapped tight around me, not letting go. Her lips consume me, her sweet pussy milking my dick as she comes. And I want to shout. It can’t end. Not yet.

But then I’m coming too, so hard my body shakes. I don’t make a sound. I can’t. I’ll be begging her if I do.

I fall asleep wrapped up in her, my fingers clinging so hard to her shoulders that my knuckles ache.

In the morning, she’s packed before I’m out of bed. The sight of her bags settles like lead in my gut as I pull on a pair of jeans.

“You’re leaving now?” I ask, stating the obvious. But, Jesus, she’s fast.

Libby shifts on her feet, as if she’s already imagining walking out the door. “Your plane leaves tonight, anyway. Scottie got us a flight out early.”

Right. Because he’s now the one she plans things with. He’s her manager. He should be planning her life right now. He does the same for me. A green tinge of jealousy clouds my vision.

“Okay, then. I guess you gotta go.”

Libby nods and grips her rolling suitcase. “Have a safe flight.”

“Yeah, you too.” Fuck, we’re already talking like strangers.

She glances at the door and a small smile tugs at her pretty lips. “Seems we’re destined to always be leaving each other.”

So stay. Tell me you can’t live without me the way I can’t live without you. But she doesn’t. And I don’t either. I should. My heart tells me I’m a fool not to tell her how I feel. But I’ve pushed and cajoled Libby too much already. She needs this, and I refuse to stand in her way just because I’m hurting.

If you love someone, you set them free. Isn’t that how the saying goes? That, if it was meant to be, they’ll come back. Doesn’t help me for shit right now, though.

“Well…” I make an abortive move to go to her just as she leans in to hug me. We meet in the middle, our lips brushing, her nose bumping into mine. It’s quick, almost impersonal. It fucking sucks.

“Call me,” I tell her.

Her gaze is on the floor. “I will.”

One last awkward hug, and then I step back, stuffing my hands into my pockets. I’m not proud of that, but I know I won’t be able to let her go if I don’t distance myself first. I don’t watch her leave, just turn away and head for the bathroom. But I hear the door click and the hollow sound of an empty room loud and clear just the same.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Libby

As I board my plane, I’ve realized two things: I let Killian go without a fight. And he did the same with me.

At the time it all felt very self-sacrificing. Now I feel as though I’ve swallowed razor blades. Why didn’t we just talk to each other? Why did’t I put up a fight? Why didn’t he?