Kelly

AFTER GLANCING AT THE TIME ON MY PHONE, I dart out of the ensuite bathroom of the new house, abandoning my task, and trudge down the stairs, the sound of my boots against the wood a loud clunking sound in the quiet house.

Flipping this house has been a slow process since I'm only able to work on it when I have free time between the houses that I'll actually make money on. I spend the majority of my time here after hours and sometimes on the weekends if I can spare some precious time away from Sutton.

Now that the sun sets so ungodly early these days, the scene outside the wall of windows in the living room is a breathtaking view of the golden rays reflecting off the lake across the street. I don't take the time to appreciate it, though, as I cross the main level of my new house, now growing dark as the day begins its surrender to night.

I cuss under my breath when I realize I'm too late. Because I got lost in my task, I didn't realize the time and I didn't have the chance to flip on the outside lights before Sutton arrived.

I open the front door just as she's climbing the porch steps, awkwardly balancing a pizza box between her arm and hip.

"Hey." Her voice is breathless as if she walked here instead of driving. I take the pizza box from her and set it aside so I can pull her into my arms, inhaling the familiar and intoxicating scent of her.

"Hey." My voice is a whispered rasp.

Ever since her unexpected emotional response to my surprise earlier, I've been itching to get her in my arms. Had I known she'd react so strongly, I would have waited to give her the present until we were together. I regretted the decision immediately.

I pull out of the hug and lean down to softly brush my lips against hers. "Hey," I say again, tracing her lips with my thumb as I study her face for signs of her mood. The blue of her eyes sparkle under the fluorescent porch lights and her cheeks are tinted a soft pink, but it's her shortened breaths that give her away.

She's still processing the gift.

She's an internal processor, taking her time to mull over every little thing. I know this about her. I love this about her.

I finger the tiny heart pendant, my thumb nail running over the textured grooves. "Beautiful," I whisper, looking her in the eyes.

She ducks her head, burying her face in my chest. "Kelly," she groans, her voice muffled against me.

Not allowing her to hide for a single second, I pry her head away, forcing her to look up at me. "Baby girl." My voice is a deep warning, and she shivers in my arms. "Talk to me."

"You're too fucking sweet." Her words come out in a rush, and she laughs at herself. "I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed by the gesture, to be honest."

I cup her face in my hands, holding her in place, forcing her to focus on the words I'm about to say. "If you think that's too sweet, then hold on, baby girl. I plan on spoiling you every single fucking day of our lives simply because you deserve it. And I want to. I want to overwhelm you. If anyone deserves to be overwhelmed by sweet gestures, it's you, baby girl. You deserve far more than I can give you, but I'm going to try every damn day to show you your worth. You're worth more than all the sweet gestures in the whole fucking world, Sutton. So get used to it. This is only the start."

She sucks in a breath, and I steal it away with my mouth, my tongue greedily seeking entrance. She allows me in, swiping her tongue against mine, eliciting a deep rumbling moan from me. Just as I settle in to show her with actions what I meant with my words, her small hands push into my chest, and she laughs against my mouth.

"Easy, baby. We're practically spotlighted here on this bright porch. We're bound to get caught canoodling by Leo or Marg or any of the others from the geriatric spy group."

The apples of her cheeks are burnt red, and she shifts her eyes away from me. I allow her to disentangle herself from my arms, giving her the space she seeks. I'm almost expecting her to call me intense again. I'll never dial down the intensity where she's concerned. We may be hiding our relationship for now, but it doesn't dampen it by any means. Everything is real. So fucking real.

"Speaking of canoodling," she says as she leans against the porch railing, her arms crossed protectively over her chest. I ache to erase the distance she erected between us, but I know better than to rush her feelings. I can practically hear the gears grinding in her brain as she struggles to process everything I just threw at her.

I arch an eyebrow at her to continue her thought.

"Remember when you heard the story of the first yoga experience with Marg harassing me? We were at Jensen's BBQ, and you went lowkey mental on me." The corners of her lips lift in amusement as she recalls the memory of me hauling her away from our friends and family to get some privacy while I pried the story out of her.

"Untrue. I do not remember it that way." I shove my hands in my pocket. It's either that or I use them to haul her back into my arms.

She scoffs, pushing away from the railing in her rush to correct me. "Whatever! The minute you heard Marg threatened me, you were all broody and intense and pretty much dragged me away to get the full story. Then you were right on the edge of raging until you found out it was all about a sexy book club."

"You're not going overboard on the level of freaking out I really did or anything," I say facetiously. "Maybe cut that in half, and it's somewhere more accurate."

"Ok, Denial Denny over there." She settles against the railing again, a hint of a smile on her lips. "Just admit you about lost your shit when you thought Marg had threatened me for real."

I take her hand and lead her over to the porch swing. I don't relinquish her hand once we're sitting. Instead, I intertwine our fingers, tucking our joined hands in the crevice between our bodies. "Yes, it's true," I admit as I push off from the ground, causing the swing to rock back and forth. "I did almost lose my shit. It makes me crazy to think of you getting hurt or being sad or whatever. I don't like it. But I'm not the psycho you're making me out to be. I was just a bit pushy in my concern."

"Pushy?" Sutton laughs—her head slightly thrown back, her nose wrinkled. It's my favorite sound, her laugh.

She turns her body toward me, amusement still lingering on her face. "I love it how you see yourself as pushy when it's pretty clear to every single person on the planet, my brother apparently excluded, that when it comes to me, you flip to some overly protective version of yourself. You go a tad beyond pushy, Kelly. You're demanding and kind of ridiculous in your approach. You took the shirt off your back in the middle of a crowded bar and covered me up with it. We weren't even together then. The fucking nerve!"

Her eyes are wide, her eyebrows curved upward as if they're the punctuation to her incredulity. I gawk at her—there's no better way to describe it—almost forgetting to pay attention to what she's saying. Her flushed cheeks and wild blue eyes are a major distraction.

"You're lucky I loved it," she continues as if she's completely oblivious to my reaction to her. "Someone else might have kneed you in the nuts. It's only worse now that I'm yours. You lean heavily on possessive tendencies. You definitely stake your claim and make sure I'm off-limits to all."

"Ok, ok. I get it." I raise our joined hands as if in surrender. "You're not wrong. But I'm also not sorry. You're mine. I'm gonna get pissed when someone hurts or threatens you. I'm gonna correct any asshole who thinks he has the right to look at you or touch you. If you want to pretend like you don't like that shit, then fine."

She tries to wiggle her hand out of my grasp, but I tighten our connection, refusing to let her go. I know this is a sensitive topic because of our argument at Roxy's last weekend, but I need her to understand my point of view.

"Fine, I get it, you might not always appreciate how I handle things, but we both know you don't hate it as much as you pretend, baby girl. For the same reason you let me cover you up with my shirt and then later sent me a picture of you wearing only it. With other pictures since then with you still wearing my shirt. Pretend you're all bothered by me acting a certain way, but proof's in the pudding, baby. You know you don't always hate it. Maybe you should be the one with something to admit."

She sits back on porch swing in mock offense before breaking into a laugh. "This is ridiculous. We're ridiculous. I swear we start fights just to hear ourselves bicker. Is that a weird kink?" A smirk slithers across her lips as she crawls onto my lap, her legs on either side of me on the swing. My hands immediately go to her hips, smoothing down her thighs and then back up, slipping under her sweater in search of her soft skin. A sigh escapes my lips at the contact.

"I do, in fact, have something to admit," she continues as if she's completely oblivious to my reaction to her. "I don't always hate it when you get all puffed up and pissy. Sometimes it's hot. I kinda like knowing you like me so much that you want to keep me for yourself and that you can't stand the thought of me being unhappy in any way."

Her cheeks heat a darker shade of pink at the confession, and she places a few soft kisses on my lips as if she's attempting to distract me from the feelings she is broadcasting so freely on her face. She whispers against my lips, "It's almost like you're showing me you care about me."

I take her lips in a bruising kiss, yanking her closer on my lap. "That's exactly what I'm showing you, Sutton." My hands wander under her sweater, coasting up her ribs, my fingers feathering the outline of her bra.

She grinds her pelvis against me, the little temptress. "Maybe you can show me inside so we're not on the front-page news."

I stand with Sutton in my arms, her legs wrapped around me, and I carry her inside, pushing her against the closed door. I greedily bite my way up her neck to her mouth, taking her bottom lip into my mouth and yanking lightly with my teeth. Balancing her weight against the door, I rip her shirt over her head, and I lean down to bite her nipple over the sexy bra she likes to tease me with; and she squeals, bucking into me. I push her bra cup down and take the nipple between my teeth and she sucks in a breath.

"Kelly," she exhales on a soft moan.

She manages to get my shirt off and unbuttons my pants, ramming her hand inside to grip my hard dick. I grind into her involuntarily, the door rattling from our movements—fuck, no one has ever had the power to drive me this insane—and she pumps her hand over my cock.

"Sutton." Her name is a low groan out of my mouth.

I set her down and we waste no time undressing each other. Our clothes are strewn around us on the newly finished floor, evidence of our desire. I cup her neck with one hand, bringing her naked body up against mine in a hard yank, my mouth instantly claiming hers. Then I flip her around, shoving her into the door, my body immediately pressed up against hers, my cock sandwiched between us. Reaching around her, I glide a hand between her thighs, stopping just shy of her pussy. She moans in frustration, pushing back against me as if pleading for more.

It's so sexy the way she is uninhibited in her pursuit of pleasure. And fuck if I don't love pleasuring her. It might be my addiction—one I'll happily submit to time and time again.

"Have some patience, baby girl," I whisper against her ear, chuckling.

"No," she sasses. "Just touch me already. Please, Kelly. Just touch me."

I swipe my fingers through her folds, smearing her arousal, stopping ever-so-briefly on her clit to apply a bit of pressure with no movement before leaving with a hasty exit to pump inside of her without warning. I ram three fingers in her for a few counts, abruptly withdrawing and resuming attention to her clit, this time paying more attention with slow swipes, rotating direction and pressure every so often, creating a frenzy she has little control of.

With her cheek pressed against the door, she writhes her lower half against my hand. When it just isn't enough, she cries, "More, Kelly. Stop being so mean."

I laugh against her neck, turning her around and kissing her hard on the mouth before dropping to my knees and pressing my nose to her pussy, inhaling her deeply before hooking her leg over my shoulder and licking her with one quick swipe of my tongue, pausing long enough to witness her reaction: she gasps, eyes squeezed shut, and her body sinks against the door as if in surrender. I take in the sight, committing it to memory along with the other millions of my girl clogging my brain, before I swirl my tongue over her clit, sucking it between my teeth and instantly licking away the sting. On the fourth or fifth tongue rotation, she stiffens, holds her breath for count of two before releasing it in a long, breathy moan, her body seizing as it succumbs to the orgasm.

Her head thunks against the door, hair falling over her face. She combs her hair back with her hand, then covers her face as if belatedly realizing her mistake of baring her reaction to me, cowering behind her arm. "Shit. What even was that?" she asks the crook of her arm.

I stand, kissing my way up her body, making a detour with a lingering kiss on her lips before ending with a soft kiss on her forehead, resting my lips there against her warm skin. "That was me getting you off, baby girl. Because you're mine. And I can. And I fucking love every moment of it because I get to hear you, smell you, taste you, make you feel good. Really good. And I get off on making you feel good."

She surprises me by jerking my face down by my chin until we're eye level, lips practically brushing. With her intense blue eyes peering into mine, she states, "I might be yours, but you're mine, too. And I also get off on making you feel good."

Before I have a chance to process her words, she drops to floor in front of me and swipes her tongue across the head of my cock.

Jesus, my whole body stiffens from her simple touch.

"So what you're saying is you'd go a bit psycho if some girl was sniffing around me," I ask as I thread my fingers through her hair, yanking her head back to look at me.

Without breaking eye contact, she grazes her teeth over the head of my cock with a bit more pressure than usual. She ignores me when I hiss and grip her head in warning. Instead, she glares at me and declares, "There better not be any damn girls sniffing around you."

"It's all it'll ever be, though, baby girl. Because you're the only girl I see. The only one I want. Fuck, it's like a crave at this point. I crave you, Sutton."

Not being able to delay it a minute longer, I lay her on the floor, settling on top of her between her legs. My hand smooths its way up her calf, wrapping it around my waist. I position my cock at her warm center, but before I slide in, I kiss her softly, a direct contradiction to the lust streaming through me, the urge to lay claim to this girl a raging roar fighting its way out. "Feel free to go psycho on my behalf any time, baby girl. I love being yours."

Then I sink into her and our words are replaced by grunts and groans and cussing and crying out of each other's names.

"Kelly. Oh god."

"Sutton. Fuck, baby girl."

"Yes, Kelly. Kelly. Kelly."

"Sutton, baby. Jesus. So good."

Sitting up, I reposition us so she's in my lap, straddling me like she was moments ago on the porch swing. With my hands gripping her ass cheeks, I grind her into me. She circles her hips around me, her clit grazing my pubic bone with every rotation. Soon, she picks up speed, shortening the hip thrusts to only half circles, focusing her attention on her clit's friction against my body as my cock glides in and out of her.

"Kelly," she whimpers into my ear before exploding, her body bursting and then locking down with vise-like contraction against my cock. It's too much. It sends me right over the edge.

"Baby, fuck, baby girl." I groan low and husky, my head buried in her neck as I come.

A few breaths later, I lift my head to lock eyes with her. With a hand cupping her throat, I lightly brush a thumb along the column of her neck. "I'm so fucking gone for you," I confess before settling my lips against hers, taking her mouth in a slow, sweet kiss, my tongue meeting hers in gentle caresses, all hunger from before replaced with tenderness.

I pull back from the kiss, running my hands up the length of her naked body, reveling in the goosebumps popping up on her skin from my touch. "You admitted you're mine, so you basically solved our fight. I'm right. You're wrong. I forgive you. The end."

With a scrunched-up nose, she says, "Explain your boy math for me like I'm five."

I can feel the grin growing across my face, but I don't even try to stop it. "You were whining about me taking care of you, accusing me of being a possessive asshole. But you not only admitted that you're mine, but you also said you liked it when I claim you. So, therefore, all your complaints are null and void, ending the fight."

"So it's just 'the end' then?"

I grip her hips in a possessive hold. "What else is there to argue? You're mine. You admitted it. The end."

The smile on her face gives her away, her sassiness just a front. "Your boy math is dumb." She wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me in for a kiss.

"Brat." I nip at her lips.

"I guess that makes me your brat. Boy math and all."

I tickle her until she's squirming out of my lap; I pin her down so she can't get away. "Where are you going? You're stuck with me now."

Like I'd ever let her go.