11
Your Kiss Is on My List
I walk into the kitchen, shaking my head at Keaton and his ridiculous idea. I immediately stop, once inside the door. Suddenly, kino doesn’t seem like such a bad idea.
Standing in front of the counter is Eastlyn, and she’s shaking her hips seductively in time to the beat of Luis Fonsi’s “Despacito”, which is blaring from the phone at her side. Usually not the most graceful of dancers, her sway is nonetheless nothing short of mesmerizing as she makes small circular motions. They’re slow like the song’s title suggests, and make me think of how her motions would feel if she were riding my cock the same way. My eyes track every curve of her sexy frame, catching each move she makes, and I’m fucking spellbound. Rather than do the polite thing and let my presence be known, I instead lean against the doorframe and watch, soaking up every bit of her performance, filing it away with every other memory of Eastlyn Hatfield I have kept.
As she lifts a frosting-covered spoon, I suppress the moan that’s trying to escape. Her tongue darts out, lapping up the sugary goodness. I watch, enthralled, seeing her plump lips wrap around the metal, and I can’t stay quiet anymore.
“This time I’m getting a proper taste,” I say, clearing my throat, knowing the words are coming out more hoarsely then I intend.
“Shit, Coy, you scared me!” she laughs, turning and placing her hand over her chest. I inch in closer. We don’t say a word. We stand staring at each other for a few beats before she turns back towards the cake and bowl of frosting as if attempting to dissuade me.
“What is it you’d like to get a taste of this time, exactly?” she asks, her voice sounding a bit wobbly and also a little bemused, knowing she’s just issued an innuendo I can run with. Standing directly behind her, I can hear and almost feel her breath hitch.
“You know what I want to taste, Sprinkles. Don’t pretend that you don’t,” I tsk, stepping in closer. Bracing my arms on either side of the counter, I cage her in and nuzzle my face into her neck.
“You want a taste test? You worried Keaton’s cake won’t be up to par?” she tries to say as though she’s unaffected, and raises the spoon over her shoulder so all I have to do is lean forward to get a taste. “You know, the Whirlwind is my thing, and my mom bakes the best cakes in the province…” I ignore her.
“I don’t wanna talk about your mom right now. Turn around and look at me, East,” I whisper into her neck, the length of my hardness resting against her plump backside.
“No,” her voice trembles. “You’re in my space. I need to get this finished before the others get here,” she says, and it’s a shitty excuse that I’m not buying. Keaton is a grown-ass man who does not need a birthday cake, despite what Katie might think.
“I think we both know me standing here still isn’t close enough for either of us.”
“Coy…” It’s breathless, and sexy as fuck.
“Come on, turn around. Look at me, baby.”
And finally she does.
Goddamn, this woman is insanely beautiful. My own breath catches when I see her green eyes, all lust-laden and wide, meeting and melding with my own. She licks her lips, the subtle gesture drawing my attention to their fullness, now laced with a wet sheen, and I stare with rapt fascination. I have wanted to taste those lips for too damn long. Feeling her kiss against my lips has been a top priority on my list of Eastlyn fantasies for years, and as that old song goes, I have absolutely no doubt that her kiss will most definitely be on my list as one of the best things in life. This girl is crazy if she thinks I’m leaving this kitchen without tasting the lips that I know will destroy me, that’ll have me begging and pleading for more of her kisses. Because with just one hit, I know I’ll be addicted forever.
“I said I wanted a taste.” I raise my thumb to her cheek. “You’ve got frosting here, Sprinkles. Seems to be our thing, you dirty from cake-ing and me coming in as the cleanup crew.” I take in her lips. I think about all the whispered promises I’d like to make over them before sealing my words with a kiss, a kiss that we’ll both no doubt feel everywhere. Leaning in, I dart my tongue out, licking the corner of her mouth. “Mmm. So fucking sweet. Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to taste you? To feel your lips against mine?”
That’s all it takes.
Eastlyn wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me into her, our eyes crashing, our chests heaving, and she licks the edges of my mouth with her tongue, making me groan. She lingers there a while, nibbling and teasing, driving me out of my fucking mind.
“Eastlyn,” I warn, and I feel her smile against my cheek before she returns her mouth to mine, her tongue darting out, testing whether I’ll let it pass, allowing our tongues to touch for the first time.
And I do. I open, granting her the access she seeks with as much ferocity as my own. She tastes like sugar, and I can’t get enough. Our tongues intermingle, moving deeper into one another, twisting and duelling to taste one another, battling for dominance as we moan into each other’s mouths with the passion of a blazing inferno, one I never want to die. We kiss one another until she pulls back, looks up at me, and smirks. “You taste so sweet,” she says.
“Not nearly as sweet as you, Sprinkles. Now shut up and kiss me some more,” I say, gliding my tongue along her bottom lip and tugging on it gently with my teeth.
“Oh God, Coy,” she utters, and it’s music to my cock. My hands knead her ass as I move her against the fridge, positioning my dick so it rubs between her centre, showing her just how fucking hard she has me.
“Sshh, baby,” I growl over her lips, “your brother is right in the other room.” I grind my cock against her despite the realization that we’re standing in her family home. We’re making out like teenagers in the kitchen, and I could give two fucks as she continues to grind her hot pussy down on my cock as we dry hump each other to near orgasm. “Want you so bad,” she whimpers, as I pick up the pace, needing to feel more.
She moans, tilting her head back, allowing me to run my tongue along her throat, trailing a line of soft kisses over her skin to her collarbone then moving back up to her ear where I whisper, “My cock aches to be in you, baby. So fucking bad.” My tone is guttural and I mean every single word.
“God, Coy.” She pulls me in, taking my mouth with hers. I’m about two seconds away from blowing my load in my pants when I’m doused with reality.
“Ahem.” There is a familiar clearing of a throat, and panic sets in. I practically drop Eastlyn onto the floor as we scramble to separate and brace ourselves to face the music.
We’ve been caught—like two fucking horny teens. I stuff my hands in my pockets.
“Well, it’s about damn time,” Mrs. Hatfield says. “Now, finish getting that cake ready, the others have just arrived. Then you can go home and finish sucking face.”
Katie smirks before walking back out the swinging door.
“Holy shit,” Eastlyn whispers, and we both burst out laughing.