Grabbing hold of the backs of her thighs, I heard her yelp as I hauled her off her feet and pressed her into the wall, forcing her legs around my waist. I cut her off, bringing us nose to nose. “I like your pink wine coolers, and I think your pretty toenails are sexy as hell.”
Her chest rose and fell in silence, up and down, up and down, and the heat of her mouth was right on my lips as she stared at me, shocked.
Her soft lips.
Her fucking soft lips were panting and moist, and I stared at them, wanting to bite. Her hot cunt warmed my stomach, setting me on fire, and I loved how easy her body was to handle. “You’re a pretty little thing, K. C. Carter,” I whispered into her mouth, “and I like looking at you.”
“Oh, G—,” she moaned, but I cut her off, slamming my lips down on hers.
Three fucking years.
Three fucking years of desire for this girl, and I wanted that shit I claimed I didn’t want days ago. I still wanted to pin her against the lockers at school. I still wanted her riding the shit out of me with her tits in my mouth.
And I still wanted to wipe the sneer off her face and see her smile.
K.C.’s full lips moved against mine, kissing me back, and while her mouth felt soft and moved fluidly like water, it also nipped and nibbled, bit and sucked.
She was good, and I gripped her ass in both hands, pressing her into my body so hard I could feel her heat through her clothes.
Her hands pressed into my chest again, and chills fanned against my skin as she pulled away. “Stop,” she gasped.
Fuck no.
I gritted my teeth and slammed my ass down in the desk chair with her straddling me. Grabbing her wrists, I held them behind her back and jerked her chest into mine, forcing her fierce green eyes down on me.
“Say it,” I ordered.
Her teeth were bared. “No.”
Tough little shit.
I smiled, my lips threatening hers. “Your breath is shaking. You’re scared to look at me.” I sucked in air through my teeth. “And I know you feel me between your legs, don’t you?”
Her eyebrows arched together, making her look even more vulnerable.
I jerked her into me again. “Don’t you?”
And then she looked down, nodding quickly.
I swallowed, licking my dry lips. Old K.C. would never have been that brave.
She raised her timid eyes, speaking low and husky. “I liked your mouth on me in the weight room. And in the car.”
My fucking head was floating, and I couldn’t remember when I had wanted something so badly. Releasing her arms, I brought her hands in between us and then cupped her cheek, trying to get her to look at me.
My dick wanted me to bend her over every desk in this room, but my head liked her in my lap. I wanted her to be comfortable, so I let her ease into me.
Her throat moved up and down, and I saw that she was rubbing her thumb over the scar on her wrist.
“You think I tried to kill myself, don’t you?” she asked, and I blinked. She’d changed the subject pretty damn fast.
“You noticed the scar at some point and assumed.” Her eyes met mine, and she lifted her chin. “Well, I didn’t, okay? I wouldn’t try to hurt myself.”
I narrowed my eyes on her. I had definitely referred to her wrist the other night when I said she’d been desperate to get out of her own skin, and even though I had no idea why she was bringing that up now, I sat back and let her talk.
“How did it happen?” I asked.
She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I just wanted you to know that it wasn’t that. I hate when people make assumptions about me.”
I held her thighs. “Okay. Tell me what K.C. stands for, then.”
She smiled, gesturing around the room. “I’m sure you have the capability to figure that out, don’t you, Jax?”
Moving my hands up to her hips, I gripped her tight and eased her into me. Nipping at her lips in short, soft kisses, I glided my tongue along her top lip. “Tell me,” I whispered, hearing her breath quicken again. “Or I’m going to lay you on my bed.” I dug my fingers into her skin. “And eat your pussy so hard the whole damn house will hear you screaming.”
I kissed through her excited little breaths.
“Katherina Chase.” She pulled back, breathing hard. “It was my sister’s name.”
“Why do you have your sister’s initials?” I asked quickly, trying to take my mind off her hands on my stomach.
“Because,” she started, looking as if she didn’t know where to begin. “Because she’s dead.”
I leveled my gaze on her, waiting, even though her weight on my cock was getting me so hard I could barely pay attention.
She swallowed, meeting my eyes. “My sister died before I was born. I was conceived shortly after. From what I remember, things seemed fine for a while, but then when I was four my dad was sent away to a hospital. A mental hospital.”
I ran my hands down her thighs and up again, letting her know that I was listening. Truth was I cared more that she was opening up than about what she was telling me.
I already knew it all anyway.
She continued. “He’d been battling with coming to terms with my sister’s death, and he finally started to lose his grip. He stayed in there for years. Winter of senior year, I went to visit him the same way I did every month. He freaked out, grabbed a pair of scissors, and slashed me.” She ran her thumb down the long, diagonal scar on the inside of her wrist.