Page 51 of Kellan & Emmett
The words caught in my throat. Sunlight caught his skin, gold against the smooth lines of his shoulders, the soft trail of hair disappearing into his jeans. And then those, too, were shoved down, pooling at his ankles, leaving him utterly bare. My pulse slammed. He stood there like he’d shed more than just fabric — like he was finally unhidden.
And Christ, he was gorgeous. Broad chest dusted with hair, lean stomach, cock thick and heavy, already beginning to swell. My own hardened in answer, heat rushing through me until I was dizzy with it.
He caught me staring and grinned, wicked and sure. “What’s wrong, Kelly? Forgot how to undress?”
I swallowed hard, then shoved my jeans down, briefs with them, baring myself to him. His gaze swept down, lingered, and his smirk turned molten.
“There he is,” he murmured.
The tension between us snapped, turning sharp with want. Emmett jerked his chin toward the water. “Race you.”
I barely had time to brace before he bolted, bare feet pounding the grass, and I chased after, laughter tearing out of me even as my body ached with need. We hit the creek together, cold water slapping hot skin, and came up sputtering, grinning like idiots.
I lunged, dunking him under, but he came up laughing, hair plastered to his forehead, chest slick with water. And then the laughter faltered. He was looking at me like he had back in the office, right before he kissed me — like he couldn’t not.
One breath, two, and then our mouths collided.
The creek surged around us, cool, but every part of me burned. His tongue slid against mine, desperate and hungry. Our cocks brushed under the water, both of us hard, and I groaned into his mouth, clutching at his slick shoulders to drag him closer. He ground against me, water churning, hands roaming everywhere, discovery tumbling into want so sharp it made me shudder.[16]
His mouth tasted of river and heat, of something I’d been starving for half my life. The kiss turned frantic, teeth clicking, tongues tangling, until I didn’t know where I ended and he began.
I slid my hands down his back, the slick curve of muscle under my palms, until I cupped the swell of his ass and pulled him tighter against me. His cock slid against mine, trapped between us, the friction dizzying even through the current. He groaned into my mouth, the sound raw and helpless, and it went straight to my spine.
“Emmy—” His voice cracked on my name, swallowed by another kiss.
Water lapped at our chests, our thighs, cool where our skin met, but everywhere else we burned. I rocked against him, slow at first, then harder, water splashing around us as we chased thedrag of cock on cock. His fingers dug into my shoulders, then skimmed down, trembling, until they wrapped around me under the surface.
I gasped into his mouth, hips jerking. “Fuck—”
Kellan’s hand worked me under the water, the motion uneven, shaky, like he didn’t quite know the rhythm but couldn’t stop trying. It made my breath catch — not from finesse, but from the rawness of it, the fact that he wanted me enough to try. My own hand slid between us, closing firmly around the thick length of him. I knew what I was doing, but the water made every stroke slick, every drag a little chaotic, and somehow that mess only sharpened the need. We ground together, my grip steady where his fumbled, and the combination had us both gasping.
Every groan, every breathless laugh, every splash felt like a confession. We kissed through it, lips swollen, teeth scraping, water beading on our skin. His forehead knocked against mine as our rhythm stuttered, cocks sliding hot and slick under the current.
I’d imagined him like this a thousand ways, but none of them touched the reality of him shuddering against me, gasping my name into the open sky.[17]
Kellan’s fist pumped me hard enough to make my hips jolt, his rhythm stuttering, uneven. He didn’t know what he was doing — not really — but Christ, he wanted it, and the want made my whole body shake. His forehead pressed to mine, teeth gritted like he was holding on for dear life, and every clumsy stroke felt like a vow:I want you. I’ve always wanted you.
I wrapped my hand around him, firmer, practiced, my thumb sweeping over the head just the way I knew would undo him. The water slicked every movement, made each slide chaotic andslippery, but it didn’t matter. The mess of it made him groan, raw and broken, like he couldn’t believe how good it felt.
We kissed through it, mouths hot and open, swallowing each other’s gasps. Our cocks slid together under the current, his grip faltering, mine tightening, until the rhythm collapsed into grinding need. He jerked against my fist, panting into my mouth.
“Emmy—” His voice cracked, desperate, and then he shuddered hard, spilling hot even in the cool water, muffling his groan against my shoulder. The force of it undid me. My body seized, release tearing through me as I stroked myself into his trembling grip, coming with a ragged cry that echoed across the creek.
We clung to each other, water rushing past, our breath ragged and uneven. His chest heaved against mine, my hand still wrapped around him, both of us shaking from the flood of it.
For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of cicadas, the rush of the current, and the wild hammer of his heart pressed to my chest.[18]
The current cooled us, but my skin still burned where he touched me. His forehead rested against mine, both of us panting, water lapping at our waists. I didn’t know how long we stayed like that, but eventually he huffed out a shaky laugh, the sound half-disbelieving.
“Jesus,” he muttered, voice raw. “We really just did that.”
“Yeah,” I said, brushing my thumb over his jaw before letting him go. “And we’re gonna freeze if we don’t get out.”
We stumbled up the bank, dripping and giddy, collapsing onto the grass. The sun baked down warm, blades sticking to our wet skin. For a while we just lay there, laughing under our breath,catching the rhythm of each other’s lungs. Then modesty—or maybe comfort—nudged us. We tugged our clothes back on, damp fabric clinging as we dressed.
Emmett reached into the back pocket of his jeans once they were on and pulled out a small, worn pocketknife. “Come on,” he said, tugging my hand. “I want to show you something.”
We wandered a few steps into the trees until we came to an old oak, bark rough and ridged, the kind of tree that had stood through decades of summers. My throat went tight the second I saw it—the carved letters still faintly there:Emmy + Kelly friends 4ever.
