Home > Always Meant to Be(43)

Always Meant to Be(43)
Author: Siobhan Davis

Growing impatient, Kendall takes matters into her own hands, pulling me down as she stretches up on her tiptoes to press her lips to mine. The instant her lips glide against mine, something buried deep, deep inside me springs to life, like a dormant volcano that has suddenly erupted, gushing forth lava with gleeful enthusiasm after centuries of being restrained. It’s like some inner switch has been flicked and everything that has come before is inconsequential. Nothing else matters in my world, only the woman kissing me with the same need and devotion I feel.

My arms wrap around Kendall, hauling her up off her feet as I angle my head to let her deepen the kiss. I hold her up, pressed flush against me, as we give in to our desire. Her lips are like molten chocolate moving against mine, and I want to eat them up and drink them down, gorging and feasting as if I have never eaten or drank before. Lust burns a path along my skin in every place where she’s pressed against me, and I can barely control myself. My flesh is blistering, oozing with potent need, and she’s the only remedy to temper the flames. I lift her up my body, and her legs automatically encircle my waist as I walk us toward the wall. Our mouths are devouring one another, our tongues dueling, and our mutual moans are dripping down our throats.

I push her against the wall and grind my erection into her pelvis as a growl rumbles from deep within me. She whimpers into my mouth, her nails digging into my scalp, as she clings to me. I nip, suck, and bite at her lips while thrusting my tongue into her mouth and rocking my hips against hers as we kiss. She’s clawing at me everywhere she can reach. Fisting handfuls of my hair, dragging her fingers across my scalp, burying her nails in my shoulders, and grabbing my back through my shirt. Lifting her hips, she pivots against me, and my dick jerks behind my sweatpants, leaking precum from the tip.

Using my body to keep her flush to the wall, I move one hand lower, brushing against the soft curves and dips of her gorgeous body. I’m internally rejoicing at the way she shivers and moans at my touch. The whole time, we’re kissing and kissing like we can’t get enough. I know I can’t. I’m terrified to stop in case it’s all been a dream and I’m going to wake up and cry. Slipping my hand under the hem of her dress, I trail a path along her thigh, almost coming undone at the feel of her silky-smooth skin against my rough fingertips. My fingers brush against her panties, and she goes rigidly still underneath me.

She shoves at my shoulders, urging me to stop, and I remove my hand from under her dress as I reluctantly tear my lips from hers. “What’s wrong?” I ask, reading her body language and carefully setting her feet on the ground. I might be an asshole for loving how swollen and bruised her lips look after my demanding kisses, but I can’t help the surge of pride I feel.

“I can’t do this.” Tears leak from her eyes as she ducks down and slides out from under me. “I need to go home.” She races toward the stairs, and I give chase.

“Kendall, wait. Let’s talk about this. Don’t run away.”

“I can’t do this now, Vander,” she calls out, over a sob, as she flies down the stairs.

“Kendall, please. Baby, please don’t leave like this,” I say, hot on her heels.

She whirls around at my front door, and pain stabs me through my chest at her tear-sodden face. “This is all too much.”

I move toward her, but she shakes her head and holds up a palm. “I can’t make sense of any of this,” she sobs, and it’s killing me she won’t let me comfort her. “I need time. Space to process everything.” She swipes at the tears rolling down her face as she yanks the door open. “Please give me that.”

Giving her time to convince herself what we just shared wasn’t real isn’t the best course of action, but I promised myself I wouldn’t push her, and I meant it. “Okay. Take whatever time you need, but you know what’s in your heart is the truth. You can’t keep running from it.” I can’t let her go without confirming what she means to me. I need her to have no doubts in relation to where I stand. Stepping toward her, I cup her face in my hands before she can stop me. “You can’t keep running from me. I love you, Kendall. I love you so fucking much. You are my entire world, and I will never give up on you.” I press a fierce kiss to her lips before stepping back even though it physically pains me to do so. “If you need me, you know where to find me. I’ll be waiting.”

 

 

It’s been one week since Kendall and I kissed and she bailed on me, and I haven’t heard a peep out of her. Remaining true to my word has been torturous, but I’m giving her the space she asked for and praying she doesn’t deny what we share or find other reasons not to move forward with our relationship.

Now that I have tasted her, there is no going back.

My blood is on fire.

My body is weak with need.

And my heart feels hollow without its missing part.

I crave her with a need that is possessive and instinctual, and it honestly feels like I’m going out of my mind.

Kendall has got to be feeling it too because I know I’m not alone in this.

I can’t concentrate for shit this week, and West has been pestering me almost daily to tell him what’s wrong. My knuckles are aching from pounding the punching bag so fiercely, but nothing takes the edge off this restlessness. My mind and body thrum with excessive energy like I’ve been woken from a deep slumber, and now I’m bursting with vitality. I can’t shut it off, and I have barely been sleeping because I can’t switch my thoughts off. Jerking off multiple times a day—always to visions of Kendall—is not enough to sate this boundless, twitchy hunger consuming me from the inside out.

I talked with Jimmy, updating him on the latest with Kendall, and he cautioned me to bide my time. To give her the space she needs to come to terms with everything. But that’s easier said than done.

I need her.

I need her.

I need her.

I love her.

I love her.

I love her.

Butterflies careen around my chest as I walk toward West’s house to attend his eighteenth birthday party. I’m excited to see Kendall, but I’m on edge too because I know Curtis will be here, and I’m barely holding it together as it is. My hands twitch at my sides, and I don’t know how I will stop myself from reaching for her when every part of me is dying to touch her.

Here goes nothing, I think as I rap on the front door. It opens instantly, and I try not to be disappointed when I see who is greeting me. “You made it!” Stella throws herself at me, wrapping her arms around my neck and planting a loud kiss on my cheek. “West was about to send out a search party,” she adds, pulling back and leaving space for me to step into the hallway. “You’re the last to arrive.”

“I got caught up in my studio,” I truthfully admit. All week, I have been painting up a storm and adding to my considerable Kendall collection. “Lost track of time.”

“You’re here now. The party boy will be happy.” She loops her arm through mine and drags me through the house and out to the backyard.

Kendall rented a large marquee for the night, and the party is already in full swing. Several heaters are dotted around the space, and it’s warm. A band is entertaining the crowd, and the dance floor is packed with boys and girls from school throwing questionable moves. Circular tables and chairs occupy most of the rest of the space. On the left, a hot buffet is spread out along a rectangular table, and people are helping themselves to food and drink.

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