ᴍᴏᴛɪᴇsʜᴀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʀᴀᴘᴋɪɴɢ (#1 ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇʟʟs ᴛʀɪʟᴏɢʏ)✓

30: Tiesha And The Truce

Ky’Mon drove her to Lowe’s house the next day. The ride had been quiet for most of the way, except for the occasional hum he let slip when a song he liked came on.

The late afternoon sun stretched long shadows over the road, the tinted windows painting everything in muted color.

When they neared the gates, he slowed the car to a stop, the heavy metal barrier still a few feet away.

Without a word, Ky’Mon turned his head, his gaze sliding over her, and crooked a finger at her while tapping his thigh.

“Come ’ere,” he said, voice low, steady.

She didn’t argue. She climbed over the console, straddling him so her knees dug into the seat.

She faced him, their eyes level. Ky’Mon’s hand slid up the back of her neck, firm but unhurried, and gently guided her forward until his mouth found hers.

His lips moved slow, deliberate, tasting her before trailing lower.

He kissed her neck, his breath warm against her skin, then dipped to her chest.

“Ky’Mon, stop,” she murmured, though it lacked conviction.

“Not yet,” he said, voice rougher now. He caught the hem of her top and dragged it upward until her bra was exposed.

It was small and delicate, barely hiding much of anything. His big hands cupped her breasts, squeezing and jiggling them like he was testing their weight, before tugging them free of the bra altogether.

His mouth closed over one nipple, the heat of him sudden and greedy. The other he kept in his palm, fingers kneading.

She rested one hand on the back of his head, rubbing absentmindedly as he sucked, his tongue rolling over her until her nipple disappeared completely between his lips.

Under her, she felt him hardening fast, the swell of him pressing up against her through his boxers.

“Ky’Mon…” she warned.

He just switched sides, pulling the other nipple into his mouth while the first got the teasing of his fingers. His free hand tightened at her waist, holding her in place.

“Ky’Mon, stop—your dick—” she began, but he cut her off by grabbing her hand and shoving it inside his boxers.

She wrapped her fingers around him, the heat of him startling even though she’d felt it before. She stroked slowly, feeling him thicken under her touch, his breath hitching.

Hot. Thick. Heavy in her hand.

Her thumb teased the sensitive spot just under the tip, over and over, and he groaned into her chest.

He finally pulled his mouth from her nipple, his eyes half-lidded, the smirk already curling his lips.

“Fuck you wearing jeans for?” he growled.

She glanced down at him and let spit drip from her mouth onto the flushed head of his cock. It slid down the sides, and she caught it with her hand, spreading it as she rubbed him.