Scotch, Scandal and Sex

Chapter 5: Scotch, Scandal and Sex.

Kyle's lips were hot against mine.

He was fire and I was ice.

I grabbed him by the collar, yanked him forward. My lips crushed against his, all teeth and urgency, and he didn’t hesitate.

He growled into my mouth, his hands gripping my waist, lifting me with ease as my legs wrapped around his torso.

We crashed into the wall, knocking down a framed picture. Neither of us cared.

He stopped.

Warning signs were going off at the back of my head but I was suddenly deaf. Heck, I've only known Kyle for what? A day or two?

“You’re drunk,” he muttered against my lips.

I stared at him, lips parted. “I want you to ruin me.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ll do it.”

We just stared at each other.

He reached out, slowly brushing his fingers down my cheek, over the slope of my jaw. “Are you sure?”

“I know what I’m doing,” I breathed, my voice a ragged whisper. “Just… don’t be gentle. Don’t make it sweet. I don’t want romance, Kyle. I want to forget who I am.”

When he lifted me, my legs wrapped around him instinctively, the scotch bottle forgotten as it rolled across the floor.

He carried me to the bedroom, dropped me on the bed then stared down at me.

“You can still say no,” he rasped.

Instead I pulled tank top over my head defiantly and pulled my jeans down my legs. Remaining in just my panties. My heart was beating loudly.

“I don’t want to.”

His voice went ragged. “You’ve never done this before.”

“Then teach me.”

He climbed over me, caging my body with his. “Not gently. Not tonight.”

“Good.”

Our mouths crashed again. His hand slid up my thigh, fingertips grazing the lace of my panties. He leaned down, lips brushing my throat. “You’re soaked.”

For the first time in my life, I was.

He pulled his shirt over his head, then slid his belt through the hoops and pulled his zipper down, not taking his pants off entirely.

Then he reached into the nightstand, pulled out a condom, and settled between my legs. I was shaking now—part fear, part anticipation.

I've never gotten this far before. But I was far too gone to even care.

“Eyes on me,” he said softly. “You’ll feel me. But I’ll go slow.”

“I told you not to—”

“I know what you said,” he interrupted, voice rough. “But I’m not going to take your first time like a monster.”

I watched him roll the condom on. And I swear, that was the sexiest scene I've ever seen. I rumpled the sheets beneath my palms and fought the urge to cover my body with his sheets.

“I'm clean, you don't have to worry. I get checked regularly.” He said, as if he could read my mind.

I nodded.

And when he finally pushed into me, slow and deep, my gasp caught in my throat.

I clutched at him. His name fell from my lips like a plea.

I finally did it.

He stilled, letting me adjust while breathing hard.

“You okay?” he asked.

I nodded. Then moved my hips.

And that was it.

He began to move. I moaned.

The first time I did, I instinctively clasped a hand on my mouth to cage it.

Kyle didn't like that.

“Don't you dare hold it in.”

Each thrust was deep. Controlled. But filled with heat.

My body learned him with every slow grind. My hands tangled in his hair. My legs tightened around his waist. And when I came, it was like a scream stuck in my chest for ages.

Kyle followed with a curse buried in my neck, his rhythm breaking as he collapsed over me, breathing hard.

Silence fell.

Just our panting.

Just the sound of reality creeping back in.

Kyle pulled out, discarded the condom, then grabbed his shirt from the floor. While I lay there confused on how it had taken Kyle less than two days to do what Austin couldn't do in nine years.

With a backward glance at me and his hand on the door, he said, “You're not frigid.”

And he left.

~~~~~~~

I woke up to the sound of a knock landing impatiently on the apartment door. The shower was running down the hall.

I grabbed one of Kyle's t-shirts that I could get my hands on, taking a minute to glance around his very organised and clean bedroom.

Weird.

“I'm coming!” I announced to whoever had the patience of a cigarette paper.

Austin.

Standing in the doorway like a ghost who’d crawled out of hell. Pale. Shaken. Eyes bloodshot. Tie missing. Shirt wrinkled.

He looked like he hadn’t slept. Like he’d screamed into pillows all night. Like he’d broken things.

I stood there, the hem of Kyle’s shirt brushing my bare thighs. I didn’t cower and I didn’t cover up. I let him see.

His eyes tracked every inch of me.

Then he laughed.

Not amused. Not kind. Just… broken.

“You even had sex after the stunt you pulled?” His voice cracked at the edges. “You’ve officially lost your mind.”

“I lost my mind,” I said, “the day I found you buried inside my cousin.”

His face twitched.

“I came to warn you,” he said tightly. “This thing you’re doing? You think it ends with you on top, giving speeches, calling me names in front of the press? Embarrassing a senator?”

I crossed my arms. “I think it ends with you irrelevant.”

He stepped forward once... then twice. Now just feet away.

“You messed with the wrong man, Serena,” he said low. “Senator Whitmore doesn’t forgive. And he never forgets.”

“Good. We have that in common.”

Austin looked like he wanted to scream and trash things, but he didn't.

He just whispered, “Do you know what happens when someone like Whitmore decides you’re a liability?”

Kyle’s voice came from behind.

“She survives,” he said, stepping into the room, wearing a grey shirt and black jeans. His hair damp from the shower.

Austin’s eyes flicked to him then back to me as if he couldn't believe his eyes.

And suddenly, the facade cracked.

“You fucked him?” Austin asked.

I shrugged.

Kyle answered, “Yeah. Matter of fact, she did.”

“What the hell were you thinking?!”

Okay…

“What the hell is going on? And what's it to you who I sleep with?” I asked.

“You could have fucking had anyone! Why him?!”

I looked from the both of them slowly, my heart hammering in my chest. “Do you know each other?”

Kylie smirked, stepping forward.

“Yes, sweetheart. We go way back.”