Page 64 of Token

Kennedy let out a whimper. “So are you.”

He swiftly covered her nipple with his mouth and had her gasping. She didn’t remember much beyond that. The way he touched her, the way he kissed her, had her desperately moaning and panting beneath him. She closed her eyes at the intensity of what he made her feel, eagerly parting her legs and tilting her hips as he sheathed his erection and entered her.

She cried out, a breathless sound of pleasure that ricocheted off the walls and elicited an “oh fuck” from him that sounded as if it were expelled through gritted teeth.

“Fuck, that feels good,” he groaned as he pulled out and drove into her once again, his hands pinning hers above her head on the mattress.

Her legs circled his hips. She wanted him closer. And closer still.

He laved her other nipple, her inner walls clamping down hard on his cock. Nate released a string of curses, his breathing quickly becoming labored.

As he drove into her, his pace hard and unrelenting, her body raced headlong toward a climax she sensed—no, knew—would level her.

“Open your eyes,” he rasped, his mouth next to her ear.

Kennedy heard him but couldn’t make sense of his words and responded by arching her hips in tandem to the downward plunge of his.

“Kennedy, open your eyes.” Though still choppy and breathless, there was no mistaking the firmness of his tone.

“I can’t,” she gasped. She wanted to touch him, but her hands were still secured by his.

Nate slowed his thrusts. “Yes, you can. C’mon, baby. Open those pretty eyes of yours.”

How could she when her lids felt as if they weighed one hundred pounds?

“Open your eyes, beautiful, or I’ll stop,” he said, his tone more playful than threatening, but he slowed his thrusts even more.

Kennedy let out a moan of dismay but did as he demanded, her mouth pushed out in a pout. She opened her eyes to find Nate’s blue ones slitted and positively devouring her.

“Good. I want to look into them when you come.”

That grumbled remark alone would have been enough to set her off, but added to that was, with her acquiescence, he resumed the pace of his thrusts, sending her body hurtling into a paroxysm of pleasure. Nate followed seconds later, his grip on her hands tightening as his body shuddered in completion.

Boneless and sated, Kennedy felt more alive than she’d been in a long time, her skin flushed and damp from all their delicious exertions. She’d read somewhere that orgasms had a restorative effect. Hers had been earth-shattering, so the benefits had to be exponentially greater.

Nothing beats sex like this.

It took another minute for their breathing to even out, and Kennedy barely moved when Nate pulled out of her and rolled onto his back. Seconds later, he got out of bed, and she couldn’t take her eyes off his firm, tight ass as he walked, in all his naked glory, to the bathroom to take care of business.

He was back before she could miss him. This time she was able to admire the front view, which was just as impressive as the back. Gaze hooded and without saying a word, he slid in beside her and snuggled her into his arms, spooning against her.

“Give me fifteen minutes and we’ll do it again,” he grumbled into the tousled dampness of her hair.

The hangover she had from fantastic sex caused a lethargy that made it almost impossible for her to lift her head off the pillow of his arm. She purred contentedly.

Her lethargy was all but forgotten fifteen minutes later. Just as he’d promised.

17

“Working hard or hardly working?”

Nate lifted his gaze to find Jack framed in the doorway. Smiling lazily—nothing like great sex to start the week off right—he sat back in his chair and gestured at his friend. “This is what I get for having an open-door policy. It encourages the riffraff to drop by anytime for specious reasons.”

“Specious?”Jack asked with a grin as he sauntered in. “When have I ever needed a good reason to stop by your office? But I would argue that shooting the shit is good reason enough. And who the hell are you callingriffraff? My car costs more than most people make in a year.”

Nate snorted. “I wouldn’t brag about spending that kind of money on a depreciating asset.” Last summer, Jack had dropped almost two hundred grand on a Porsche 911 Turbo. He swore his friend would marry the damn thing if he could. After over a year, it still had that “new” car smell.

“Look who’s talking. How much did you spend on your mansion in the sky?” Jack smirked.

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