Filthy Foreign Exchange Book 2 Read online

  I should also probably be put off by the fact that his father and grandmother are in the same house, no matter how enormous it is, but I’m not considering that enough, either.

  No, the only thing I’m doing is rushing through my shower…to rush to him.

  ~~~~~

  I don’t knock—it may very well be the only “bold” move I have—and shut the door quietly behind me.

  He’s already in the bed, lying on his side with his head propped up on one hand, watching me. He’s assessing me; my every shallow breath, the pull of my teeth at my lips, and the question in my eyes are all under his scrutiny.

  His steely gaze travels the length of me, slowly seducing every part it touches. And when I shiver, his expression sharpens to show he’s reveling in his effect on me.

  With his free hand, he pushes down the covers, baring his naked chest.

  “Come here, Love,” he says, low and husky.

  “Kingston, I—”

  “Need to get out of your own head and into this bed, now,” he interrupts in a growl.

  My palms are sweaty, every swallow is an effort, and my pulse throbs loudly in my ears. But I somehow manage to inch forward one tiny, tedious step at a time until I’m at the side of the bed.

  I jump in, tugging the covers over me and flipping onto my side to give him my back, all in one motion. Just like ripping off a Band-Aid.

  He scoots flush against me, curling an arm around my waist and burying his face in my neck.

  “Mm-hmm,” he hums on my skin. “Finally, you and me, in the same bed, all night. Absolutely worth the wait. Sleep well, Love.”

  He kisses my neck, then moves his head to share the pillow with my own, settling in to…

  Go to sleep? Not how I saw this going, and either he reads my thoughts or my body language—or both—because I not only hear, but feel his faint chuckle.

  “Something wrong?” he asks.

  “Nope, night!” I don’t mean to chirp, and chastise myself mentally.

  I try to calm down and simply absorb the long-awaited, oft-imagined feeling of our bodies touching—the heat of his bare chest on my back, his heavy breaths syncing with mine, the welcome weight of his arm. But I’m wound too tightly with anticipation to possibly relax.

  And he’s not fooling anyone with the blasé “good night” act. I can feel his pent-up expectancy, hard and impatient against my ass.

  Is he seriously waiting for me to make the first move? He knows me better than that. And what happened to the bossy alpha male I’m finally ready for?

  Before I can even fully release my frustrated sigh, his fierce demand sets me on fire.

  “Roll over and look at me.”

  I start to but am helped immediately by his force, flipped onto my back, his body now on top of mine. He stares down at me, eyes ablaze with virility.

  “One word and I’ll take over, Love. You can get lost and just enjoy—no more thinking.” He rests our foreheads together, brushing his lips across mine. “One simple word.”

  In a voice I don’t recognize, I give us both what we want.

  “Yes.”

  His lips curl in predatory satisfaction, his smoke-gray eyes filled with victory. Game over, prey captured.

  “Yes,” he repeats, searching my eyes for any last doubt…which he doesn’t find.

  Chapter 19

  As promised, he takes complete control, and I fall freely into a state of pure abandon, following his every silent command.

  It starts with a kiss so deep, slow, and reverent I’m sure he can taste my surrender. His hands glide down my arms, only to then hoist them over my head.

  “Keep them there for me,” he rumbles.

  And then he moves up a bit so he can watch as he gradually, torturously, slides my top up over my stomach, my breasts, and finally my head.

  He groans his approval. “Absolutely beautiful.”

  My nipples shrink to tight, throbbing points under his adoring perusal. Every instinct begs me to cover myself, as I’m more exposed and vulnerable than I’ve ever been in my life. But he says precisely what I need to hear.

  “Women think they understand men.” His stare is pinned on his hands, skimming over my stomach that quivers beneath his touch. “Which is why you’re currently overthinking what I’m thinking. Do you measure up, compare…are you sexy enough?”

  He continues to explore every inch of my bared flesh, teasing around the edges of my breasts, which are bouncing slightly with my staggered breathing.

  “What you fail to consider is that males are very primal creatures—they know their mate the minute they see her…” He lowers his head, the tip of his nose grazing my skin. “Smell her. And then they claim her, as theirs, forever.”

  “Kingston…” I whisper in aching need, shamelessly arching my back off the bed to push my chest toward him.

  “Oh, I know, Love. Soon, very soon.” His tongue sneaks out, the first warm, wet touch causing me to jolt and release a tiny yelp. “So long as you understand there’s nothing in my head but you, nor will there ever be.

  “This is my first, too—my first time to ever make love, and the only time I’ll ever be in love,” he continues. “And not because I had to wait, or any rubbish about fancying a challenge, but because it’s you…as it was always meant to be. Am I making myself clear?”

  “Yes, now—”

  “Good. I’m done talking.”

  His raspy warning has no time to linger before he finally draws one of my breasts into his mouth to generate the most amazing barrage of sensation I’ve ever felt.

  I can’t help but squirm under the rush of fervor, but he’s quick to grab my hips and hold me in place. He’s relentless, sucking while groping the flesh, pushing more into his mouth. And all the while, his wickedly talented tongue is flicking the tip of my nipple.

  “Oh my…Kingston…” I moan. My head is dipped back, eyes slammed shut. I can’t take it any longer, and have to reach down to grab his hair.

  He growls but doesn’t stop, switching his attention to the other side and starting the delicious devouring process all over again. I move my hands along his shoulders, arms, and back, each taut muscle flexing at my touch.

  “More…something,” I pant, begging him.

  His pleased laugh vibrates on my breast, then he kisses up my chest and neck to find my ear. “I’d start practicing my patience now, Love, for I have no plans of rushing past any part of you.” I quiver from his warning, and feel his pleased grin. “Tits as beautiful as yours—untouched, and all mine—deserve a through ravishing. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  I gulp loudly and nod brazenly, moaning as he presses his hardness against me.

  He says nothing more, kissing his way back down my body…and then he’s sliding my silky shorts and panties off my shaking legs. How I manage to lock up, stiff and rigid, yet shake at the same time, I have no idea. But he must feel my anxiety, because he stops suddenly.

  “Echo, my love, look at me,” he says, both sweetly and gruffly. When he has my eyes, he runs a finger down my cheek and adds, “I love you—madly. I will never leave you, or let you go again. Do you doubt that? Or are you simply nervous?”

  “N-nervous.” My stutter is a wanton whisper.

  “You needn’t be.” He grins wickedly, carnal promise brewing in his eyes. “I have every intention of taking care of you. Do you trust me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good girl.”

  His finger trails a slow path to rejoin his other hand. He tries to hold my gaze, but breaks, unable to resist watching.

  “Christ, Love,” he groans when I’m completely bared to him, licking his bottom lip. He caresses my legs and thighs, then pushes them apart gently.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, flustered by what I know he’ll find. A low rumble claws up from the depths of his chest and, without preamble, he touches me—there—a finger gliding easily through my wetness.

  And then my eyes fly open in shock, because I know that sound.
>
  Oh my God, is he…

  He’s sucking his finger, his eyes positively dancing when he sees my response.

  “You couldn’t possibly understand what it does to me—your innocence, purity, that will only ever be mine.” His tone is so brutally male it’s almost scary.

  Again, he pushes my legs apart, impossibly wide. But this time, he drops to his stomach, his mouth attacking as though starving.

  I bow off the bed, my shrill voice piercing the air. Holy shit!

  He’s feasting on me, his rich hums of enjoyment filling my eardrums. Sparks of light fire off behind my eyelids, and a gradually building tingle unlike any other I’ve experienced starts in my toes. His mouth is fiery hot, covering all of me—sucking, nipping, and massaging while his tongue thrusts in and out of my core, occasionally flicking my clit. Then he does it all over again.

  I can’t stop it, but I don’t want to anyway. And soon, I’m wailing and pulling his hair, but at the same time holding his head right there. And I begin to float, pulsing from the inside out with the biggest surge of euphoric release imaginable.

  And just when I think it’s over, another—different—wave hits even harder. And this time, my orgasm comes from someplace much deeper—a full-body experience just as strong in my legs, stomach, and even hair follicles as my core.

  Despite my grip on his hair, he lifts his head. And to my own amazement, I look down at him, not at all embarrassed. Instead, I feel closer to him than I ever thought possible.

  Understanding passes silently between us, and he rises to stand beside the bed.

  I watch in a trance as he slides off his boxer briefs. He then remains still, letting me look my fill and gauging my reaction.

  He’s beautiful…mesmerizing. I’ve seen his chest before—a broad, sculpted piece of perfection—but I’ve always wondered exactly what that single line of dark hair led to, and now I know, a toned abdomen, defined oblique dents…

  And a fully erect, jutted-away-from-him-in-engorgement, threatening-looking dick. I have absolutely nothing to compare it to, but I know when something’s long, and I know when something’s thick, so I feel that my intimidated assessment is accurate.

  I’m still staring as he opens the nightstand drawer and pulls out a foil package. He uses his teeth to rip it open and turns slightly, giving me the perfect view he heard me silently ask for as I watch him roll the condom over himself.

  And then it’s he who watches me, with disarming patience and adoration…waiting for me to answer his too-unspoken request.

  I spread my legs and hold my arms open and out, inviting him on top of me.

  With one smooth, predatory move, his body covers mine, and I feel the swollen tip of him hinting at my entrance. Our breathing co-mingles while our gazes become one, and the connection we’ve always shared is on the precipice of becoming actual.

  Emotions so strong they can’t be contained escape me in a throaty murmur.

  “I loved you then,” I confess. “I never stopped…doubt I ever would have. And I love you now. Always.”

  “And I you, Love. I swear, this will be the only time I ever hurt you again.”

  My brow furrows in confusion, and he smiles, warm and loving.

  “Deep breath,” he instructs softly, and when I inhale, he thrusts inside of me.

  “Motherf—”

  His mouth muffles my scream with a languid kiss that seems endless, distracting me perfectly until the stinging pain subsides and my body relaxes.

  “Better?” he asks, sounding concerned but looking smug and cocksure…pun fully intended.

  I give a shaky bob of my head, but narrow my eyes somewhat playfully. “Not very gentlemanly to take pleasure in my pain.”

  “I’m a cad,” he says, kissing along my neck. “I admit it. But I’m the happiest fucking cad in the world. You’re finally, truly, all mine.”

  And he begins to move, slowly at first, gently gliding in and out of me. His breathing is heartfelt as he whispers endearing words in my ear, taking great care with me.

  But when my hands descend down his back and grab his tight, round ass, urging him deeper inside me, his feral growl is the only warning I get. His thrusts grow frenzied, urgent, and hard, his mouth latching onto my breast with a sharp bite of painful pleasure.

  “Ah, fuck, Love.”

  He throws his head back and lets out a long moan, his body tensing under my hands and his length twitching inside me. Then he drops all his weight on me and buries his face in my neck, his hot, fast pants blazing on my hypersensitive skin. My hands continue to roam and rub, memorizing every inch of his back, ass, and arms while he catches his breath.

  “Don’t move,” he grunts after a few moments, leaving the bed, and me, to go into the bathroom. But he’s back in an instant, handing me a small glass of water and two pills.

  “Take these. You’ll be sore in the morning.”

  I comply with no argument. I’m already sore.

  When I’m done, he sets the glass on the nightstand, turns off the lamp, and climbs back in beside me. I’m pulled halfway across his body, one large arm my pillow.

  “Um, Kingston?” I mumble.

  “Hmm?”

  “Are we going to sleep naked?”

  “Do you honestly think I’d accept anything else?” He laughs, grabbing my ass in one hand. “I won’t take you again tonight, but I’ll damn sure touch you anywhere I want. You want to try and object?”

  I bite my lip, grinning. “No.”

  “Good. Now,” he says, kissing the side of my head, “sleep well, Love.”

  And I do…without a sleeping pill.

  Chapter 20

  I wake the next morning once again able to remember my dreams. But this time, they weren’t just the desires of my heart finding life in my sleep. The visions that swirled in my head throughout the night were memories, my mind prolonging the pleasures of every touch, kiss, whispered word, and possessive drive of his body into mine.

  “Morning.”

  His sexy greeting is rasped as a kiss on my neck, and I feel his arm tightening around my waist. “How do you feel?”

  “Loved,” I sigh happily, wiggling more snugly into his hold. “How do you feel?” Dumb question perhaps, considering this isn’t his first rodeo, but I need to hear his answer anyway.

  “Complete.”

  I peer at him over my shoulder, and what I see steals my breath with realization. His morning whispers, that sleepy smile…I want every single one of them, only for me, for the rest of my life.

  I know I should feel silly—a too-young, lovesick fool—but nothing could be further from the truth. I won’t ever be ashamed of the depth of my love for Kingston, nor will I ever struggle against it again. Any fighting I do will be to defend what we have against anyone who dares downplay or discourage it…and yes, I most fear that will be my father.

  I’m in love with Kingston, and always will be. And while my dad said he understood, and allowed me to stay with Kingston during his time of grief, I’m not sure how far his leniency will extend beyond that. And while I can’t predict everything the future holds, I am positive of one thing—I’m not going to lose Kingston again.

  Isn’t it sad, how life…society…whatever, trains us to think? When something turns out too good to be true, everyone’s quick to say, “Called it.” But when something is truly inspiring and miraculous, everyone doubts it—or, at the very best, doesn’t give it the credit it deserves.

  And yet, overdramatized love stories break box-office records every weekend. Go figure.

  But I refuse to conform. I’m going to believe with my whole heart, trust with my whole spirit, and wave my whimsical flag proudly.

  We’re slow to rouse, taking our time to enjoy the new status of our relationship with reverent kisses. Our unapologetic hands worship each other’s bodies, and we speak adoring words softly against warm flesh.

  I know he’s holding back for fear I’m sore, and I am, but blissful delirium has me close to
begging for him inside me again—to love me, slowly and sensually—when there’s an urgent knock on the door.

  “Mr. Hawthorne?” an unfamiliar voice urges through the door. “Forgive me, sir, but you’re needed downstairs at once.”

  “Thank you, Barclay,” Kingston answers loudly, springing from the bed.

  “It’s Grandmother,” he worries aloud as he dresses quickly.

  “Wait for me.”

  I grab the blanket and bolt across the hall, past Barclay, modesty the furthest thing from my mind. I have to get my clothes, which are still in my room, then hurry back to Kingston.

  It takes me no time to dress, pull back my hair, and splash water on my face, only taking the few extra steps so as not to disrespectfully “announce” to his family how we spent last night—because I’m pretty sure I looked thoroughly ravaged.

  We meet in the hall, linking hands before hustling downstairs to the room where Poppy is staying.

  She’s awake, her eyes open just enough to convey happiness, with Gerard at her bedside.

  “Grandmother.” Kingston’s voice wobbles as we approach her slowly, him setting our pace. “What’s happened? What can I do?”

  She smiles, the beautiful wrinkles of age, love, and wisdom on her face deepening as she answers in a weak voice, “Come sit, both of you.”

  Two chairs are already set beside her bed for us. I take one, but Kingston sits on the bed, close to her. I look across to Gerard and, upon noticing his red-rimmed eyes, offer a small smile conveying what I hope are understanding and comfort.

  “My darling boy.” She extends a pale, fragile hand. Kingston takes it in both of his, bending to rub it along his cheek. “You have always held the most special place in my heart, from the minute you were born. And now, you hold the most important place in someone else’s—someone kind and sincere, whom I trust to leave you with.”

  “Grandmother…” Kingston pleads in a cracked whisper.

  “I can go now, in peace.” She looks as content at the thought as she sounds.

  “No!” Kingston panics, whipping his head around. “Father, do something! Where are the doctors? Medicine? Oxygen? Help her!”