Page 95 of Rival Summer

Me

Kristina!

Kristina

I know, I know, but the options were limited on the app, and I figured why not? Plus, he's hilarious, Chan. I peed my pants!

Me

Oh, we have a lot to catch up on when I get back

Setting the phone down on the counter, I shook my head, still snickering. With one final glance at our conversation, I turned back to the sink and plunged my hands into the warm water.

Then a knock on the door made me pause. I turned off the faucet, my hands dripping water as I reached for the dish towel again. With a quick swipe across my hands, I headed to the door and pulled it open.

"Morning, beautiful," Boston greeted me with a grin, holding two to-go cups. "Figured you'd need coffee after last night."

"Aw, you read my mind," I squealed, taking the cup he offered.

He stepped inside. As I closed the door behind him, his body stiffened, narrowing his eyes. "Are you wearing Reese's jersey?"

"...sorta," I admitted, a sheepish smile tugging at my lips. "Laundry day left me with limited wardrobe options." I gestured vaguely to the chaos behind me, where the washing machine had a load running and a full basket sat next to it.

He placed his coffee on the counter, then threaded his fingers through his hair, pushing it back in a gesture that was both casual and disarmingly attractive. Leaning back against the counter, he watched me with a curiosity that was new—not angry but more mischievous.

"Want me to take it off?" I asked, half-expecting him to make it a bigger deal than it was.

But then he shot me a dangerous half-smile, his gaze suddenly burning with a heat that sent a thrill down my spine. "Nah, keep it on," he demanded, closing the distance between us. His hand found my hip, fingers gripping tightly and pulling me closer. Fisting a hand in my hair, he gently tugged. My head went back slightly and he leaned in, lips brushing against my ear. "I'm going to fuck you in it. So the next time you try to put this jersey on, you'll be thinking about me."

His breath was hot and heavy, making my skin prickle with goosebumps. I quivered as his fingers roamed up my body, tracing the outline of my breast. My nipples hardened under his touch, straining against the jersey fabric.

He pulled back slightly, then, gazing into my eyes as his hand slid down to the hem of my jersey. With a slow, deliberate motion, he lifted it up, exposing my stomach and the waistband of my panties. His fingers traced along the edge, teasing me before finally dipping below the waistband.

"Oh god," I gasped approvingly as he touched me, his fingers exploring my wetness.

“Fuck, you’re dripping wet.” He groaned in response, his own arousal evident as he pressed himself against me.

“Mhm,” I moaned, his fingers starting to move over my clit.

"Tell me you're mine," he demanded. His eyes were dark, fathomless, clouded with desire. "Tell me you belong to me, Chandler, not him."

I licked my lips before replying in a breathy whisper. "I'm yours. I belong to you."

He crushed his mouth to mine, swallowing my soft moan as he lifted me off my feet. My legs wrapped around his waist instinctively before he set me on the counter. The taste of his desire lingered on my lips, fueling my own need for him.

He lifted up the jersey, his eyes devouring my nakedness underneath. He leaned down, taking one nipple into his mouth as his hand teased the other. I moaned in pleasure, arching my back as his tongue flicked and swirled around the sensitive bud.

His hand slid down my body as he slowly peeled my panties down my legs, his touch sending waves of desire crashing over me.

"Spread your legs for me," he growled, his voice low and husky. "Let me see that pretty pussy."

I obeyed, my heart pounding in my chest as I spread my legs wider, revealing myself to him completely.

"That's my girl," he groaned approvingly. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

He slipped two fingers inside as he continued to torture my clit, his touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through my body.

"I'm your girl?" I managed to ask. His eyes blazed with lust and possessiveness. He didn't stop for even a second to answer the question. Instead he continued curling his fingers, moving them in and out of me. The sensation was already almost too much to handle. I never wanted him to stop.

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