KENNICK: A Bad Boy Romance Novel (11 page)

“Well, whatever you learned, I hope you take it with a
grain of salt,” Kennick said, readying his fork with another heaping sampling
of the rich risotto. “Hell, take it with the whole ocean.”

“So what
should
I
know?” Kim asked, taking a long swallow of the strange wine, her fork barren.

“There’s not much you need to know,” Kennick said with
a shrug between bites. “We follow some traditions – not others. The fun ones,
we keep those. We like the fun ones. Parties and travel and feasts. Drinking
and dancing. My cousin Tula, she’s a great
drabarni
.
That means psychic, basically. We speak the old Romani, at least sometimes. But
other than that…” he opened his palms, spreading them across the table, showing
he had nothing to hide or hold back from her.

“So you’re not…you’re not, like, only allowed to date
other Rom? I’m not, like, stepping on some girls’ toes by being here?” Kim
nibbled a bit more of the warm kale salad. It had a rich, smoky, aromatic
flavor that made her mouth water for more. Kennick’s eyes watched her chewing
and his brows furrowed slightly.

“No,” he said, voice somewhat concerned. “Well,
actually, I wouldn’t be surprised if you
were
stepping on someone’s toes. Call me the
kumpania
’s
most eligible bachelor. But that’s no business of mine. Or yours. Gypsies adapt
to what there is to adapt to. It’s what we’ve always done. We’re Americans now.
We do as we please.”

“Oh,” Kim said, somewhat relieved, though a little
taken aback by Kennick’s boldness in declaring himself a catch. He leaned
forward then, his eyes darting from her empty fork to her lips.

“Why are you eating like that?” he asked, and Kim
glanced down; her plate was still mostly full, while Kennick had made a
considerable dent in his meal. She wondered if she was insulting him by eating
in her usual demure matter. Was she expected to wolf her food down at the same
rate as the massive man across from her? Her controlled manner of eating was
something she’d perfected over a lifetime of worrying about her weight, about
what someone would think of her if she dug right in to a meal like an animal.
Like a man.

“It’s just how I eat,” she said, defensively, grabbing
the wine and taking a prolonged sip, her eyes flitting to the side, looking out
the window at the setting sun. The inside of the trailer was being bathed in a
soft, purplish light.

“You eat like a bird,” Kennick said. “Or like you’re
afraid to enjoy your food.”

“I’m not,” Kim said, stabbing her fork into the
risotto, getting agitated by the way this date was turning out. First the whole
“girls are lusting after me” thing, now he was going to tell her she wasn’t
eating correctly? “It’s delicious.”

As though to prove him wrong, she slammed the forkful
into her mouth, chewing pointedly, matching his gaze. When he broke into a wide
grin, she gulped hard.
Jesus Christ, it
is
damn good,
she thought. He must have
been putting some latent, gypsy psychic abilities to work, because he laughed;
a rolling, thunderous bark that warmed Kim’s cheeks through her indignation.

“Little Mayor,” he said, suddenly reaching across the
table to cup her cheek. Kim’s eyes widened and her fork clattered to the plate.
“You’ve got some spirit…”

She wanted to pull her face away. She wanted to stop
the shiver that was racing down her spine. She also wanted to roll her face
into his palm, feel his thumb against her lips.

“..but you’re going to make me work to draw it out,
aren’t you?” Kennick crooned, pulling his hand away. Kim’s shoulders leaned
forward as though to follow it across the table. Her heart was doing double
time. He was back at his food, and chased a huge mouthful with half the glass
of wine.

“You should eat like you’re mad at me more often,” he
said, barely containing his smile. “Eating is a passionate act. It’s carnal,
and self-serving, even when you’re eating with another person, or a whole
group. It feeds your body and your soul at the same time. A person who’s afraid
to eat like they enjoy it, well…
that’s
not
very Rom at all.”

Kim’s stomach flipped as she looked down at her plate.
To really dig in, lose herself in the flavors and the act of filling herself
with the rich meal, to be – in her mind – a pig, went against anything she’d
ever thought about how to behave in public, especially on a date.

But she wanted Kennick to like her. Especially after
the way her body had reacted to that touch. She thought the man probably had a
lot of tricks up his sleeve beside gourmet cooking. And she very much wanted to
see what was under those sleeves of his. If she was going to have to act like a
glutton to impress him – so be it.

Putting her indignation aside, she mimicked his
actions, loading her fork with a mix of the salad and the risotto and opening
her mouth wide to accept it. The flavors danced on her tongue. She gave herself
permission to enjoy it – really,
truly,
enjoy
it. And she did. So much so that she moaned involuntarily, her eyes rolling
back into her head. She eagerly sipped on the wine to wash it all down,
tasting, for the first time, the way the sweet-and-sour liquid brought out the
earthy tone of the mushrooms and the sharp green flavor of the kale.

“Now that’s more like it,” Kennick said, taking a
break from his half-finished plate, leaning back with one arm spread across the
back of the booth.

Chapter
Sixteen

“Why did your brother call me Little Mayor? And you
called me it, too,” Kim asked. They had finished eating and were sitting
outside, letting the warm night close in around them as distant sounds of
laughing and music filled the air. Kim had surprised herself by eating the
whole plate – with the help of some rather distractingly pleasant conversation,
and generous helpings of the strange wine. They were on their second bottle of
the unmarked beverage, and Kim had found the taste had grown on her quite a bit.

Kennick shrugged. He was sitting with his long legs
splayed out in front of him, feet crossed at the ankles. In contrast, Kim’s
legs were bunched up tight beneath her, knees pressed together, toes pointed
downward. He eyed her posture and laughed.

“Relax,” he said, patting her thigh – she wondered if
he had any possible idea how much that simple action affected her. Her whole
body seemed to sigh when he touched her. She wanted him bad. Wanted him inside
her, his stubble against her breasts, his hands on her waist…

“I want to know,” she pressed, taking another sip of
the wine. She knew she was barreling right around the corner of tipsy into
full-on drunk, but she hardly thought Kennick would mind. At least, that’s what
the wine told her.

“And I,” he said, turning to her quite suddenly and
grabbing the arm of her chair, pulling it across the ground towards him, “want
you to relax.”

You’re not
making that easy,
she thought, heart pounding in her chest from his
nearness. He was leaning in close now, his face inches from hers, and she
wondered what he would do if she leaned forward, letting her lips close over
his…

“Tit for tat,” she slurred, liking the way his face
broke into a smile. “You tell me and I’ll…relax.”

“Fair enough,” he said, leaning away. Kim wanted to
follow him, her body almost drunk enough to lean in after him. “We call you
Little Mayor because…I don’t know. It just seems to fit. You’re all,
like…ra-ra-Kingdom, here’s some forms, welcome and how can I help you and all
that. A lot more welcoming than your
actual
Mayor, I’ll add.”

Kim blushed at the memory.

“I really am sorry about that,” she said.

“It’s not your fault,” Kennick said, dismissing her
apology. “Now how about that tat?”

Kim’s brow furrowed. Tat? Like tattoo?

When he patted her thigh again, she laughed, and
stretched her legs out. She’d been so tense her knee actually popped slightly.

“Ah,” she said. “That kind of does feel good.”

“Old gypsy trick,” Kennick said with a wink.

“What was that other thing you called me? And what is
this wine we’re drinking, anyway?” Now, with the alcohol as lubricant, and the
immediate ease her new, spread-out stance afforded her, she felt the questions
coming easily and was surprised she’d been too afraid to ask them earlier. This
guy
liked her,
dammit. He didn’t seem
like the sort who’d invite her over, cook a damn good dinner, and spend an
evening under the stars with a girl he wasn’t interested in.

“It’s dandelion wine,” he said. “From a few summers ago.
Good, isn’t it?”

“Dandelion? Like, the weed?” she looked into the
amber-colored liquid like he’d just told her she was drinking pure squid ink.

“The very same. You can do all sorts of stuff with
dandelions. Make a good salad, too. Sometimes weeds surprise you,” he said,
looking up at her with a hint of something deeper behind his eyes.

“And that thing I called you earlier,” he continued,
surprising her again by reaching out to grab her hand in his. “
Keshalyi.
They’re good fairies. Kind and
beautiful, and always bring good luck.”

“Fairies?” Kim giggled. Kennick did
not
seem like the kind of guy who’d
discuss fairies.

“Of course,” he said, a serious note to his voice.
“What’s life without fairies?”

“You don’t actually believe in fairies though, right?”
Kim asked as his hand squeezed around hers, making the butterflies in her
stomach take flight once more as heat rushed to her cheeks.

“You can choose to believe in anything you want,”
Kennick said, looking at her in the darkness. “I choose to believe in fairies
and beautiful women and fate and feeling.”

“Everyone believes in feeling,” Kim breathed,
lightheaded in his gaze.

“Not just normal feeling,
keshalyi.
Feeling like this,” he said, and releasing her hand drew
his finger up her dress, just barely touching her. As his finger brushed her
nipple, it hardened immediately, and when his finger stopped right above her
heart, she stopped breathing altogether. His finger continued upward, grazing
her neck, making her shiver, until it landed on her lips, which parted for him
automatically. “And like this.”

Almost before she knew it was happening, he was
kissing her, soft and warm and full, the sort of kiss that made her heart feel
full and empty all at the same time.

In her past relationships, of which there had been
five or six serious ones, it had taken a long time before she felt comfortable
enough to lay her defenses down and enjoy making love. Often, it was five
months or more of pretending to come before she would have an actual climax. It
took a long time for her to feel comfortable enough to get out of her head
during the act, to forget her body’s flaws and give in to pleasure. Some
relationships had ended after a year or more with her faking every orgasm.

In that single kiss, she knew it would not be the case
with Kennick.

Her desire was too strong, his masculine scent too
inviting, his lips too luscious against hers. She wanted him with a fire she’d
never thought possible. And while she’d never let someone see all of her on a
first date, it’s what she wanted that night. She wanted his eyes on her, his
hands, his mouth. She wanted to be covered in him, to be held by those strong
arms, feel him pulsing inside her…

Somehow, they made it to his bedroom.

The walls were painted in a rich, sensuous purple,
with a few paintings hanging up that Kim was in no position to study. The smell
of incense hung in the air, something exotic and fragrant that called to mind
sweet desert oasis and shimmering bells on swaying skirts. Kennick’s lips never
left hers as he swept her through the door, shutting it behind them with his
foot. Her arms slung around his shoulders, he lifted her and laid her on the
bed.

“Are you sure…” he began to say, the question halted
when Kim sat up and moved to her knees before him, clutching the bottom of his
shirt in her hands and pulling upward. The cellophane covering his new tattoo
crinkled and shone in the light, and he ripped it away, the skin underneath
still shining and raw.

“I’ve never done this,” she admitted, bringing her
lips to his chest and touching the ink with her tongue. “I mean, not on a first
date. But I want it…”

“Then you’ll get it,” Kennick promised, grabbing her
chin to tilt her head up towards his, stroking her cheek with his thumb, the
simple movement so full of promise that she shuddered. Without giving herself
time to doubt it, she lifted her dress above her head and threw it to the
floor.

“Fuck,” Kennick said as his hands flew immediately to
her now-bared waist, his eyes hungry as they travelled up and down her body.
Slowly, his hands joined his eyes in their travels, his fingers trailing light
shivers up and down her pale, gently sloping sides. Kim let her own hands come
to his shoulders as she leaned in, kissing him once more, tasting the wine and
him mingling in her mouth.

He pulled his lips away and kissed down her cheek,
across her jawline, beginning to nuzzle her neck and taste the sweet flesh
there, the quick beat of her heart like a butterfly pulsing in the veins under
her jaw. Her flesh raised in goosebumps under his fingertips, until they
stalled at the sides of her breasts and his hands opened, his thumbs brushing
across her hard nipples, a moan escaping her throat as his kisses dropped lower
and lower until they covered her collarbone, her chest, and lower still, his
mouth moving from one breast to the other and kissing small circles around her
nipples.

His hands cupped each firm, soft globe from the sides
and beneath, and when his lips finally landed, soft and warm, over one nipple
she cried out and arched her back. He sucked the tender nub into his lips
before breaking to do the same for her other nipple, gently teasing her with
this thumb and forefinger.

She could feel her wetness dripping down her thighs
and she reached down, desperately popping the button of his jeans and ripping
the zipper down. His cock burst into her hand, thick and long and veiny,
throbbing with desire as she began to stroke it slowly. His groan seemed to
vibrate through her tender breasts as he sucked harder on each nipple in turn,
now massaging her breasts roughly. When he dropped one hand down her stomach,
tracing the curve of her tummy, towards her slit, she parted her thighs for
him, feeling the need inside her like an insatiable beast, an animal so hungry
and wild that it would devour her any moment.

His fingers traced her wet slit upwards, coming to
circle her clit delicately, making her knees shake and give for a moment, her
hand still wrapped around his shaft, now slick from drops of pre-cum that
coated her palm. He entered her first with his fingers, and her blushing groan
filled the night. His thumb remained poised on her clit, circling gently as two
fingers pulsed and probed inside her, feeling her readiness and arousal as her
pussy ached for more.

“Can’t…can’t wait…” she panted, opening her eyes to find him
watching her, studying her. When he crooked his fingers inside her and pulsed,
she leaned further towards him, wanting to collapse against him. His thumb
began to work harder at her clit, circling it faster as the fingers inside her
pressed again and again into some deep and dark pool of pleasure inside her.

“Kennick,” she moaned, never released her hand from his
shaft, “I can’t…I’m going….oh, fuck…”

A whirlwind was rising inside her, a storm about to break,
the pressure becoming unbearable. Her muscles tensed beyond desire to the point
of pain, and as he flicked his thumb over her clit, she gasped, her thighs
clenching together instinctively.

“Don’t try to stop it,” he growled, looking down at her, his
eyes all possession and flame. “Come for me, Kim.”

And so she did, as his thumb ran along her buzzing clit and
his fingers pressed hard against her G-spot, she came, the storm breaking in a
torrent of pleasure that stole the cries from her throat and made her toes curl
underneath her. She was lost, mind swallowed by pleasure, barely able to hold
herself up as he kissed her neck, every sensation perfectly timed to make her
climax swell.

When she felt herself lifted, she was still in that dark
abyss of ecstasy; she was vaguely aware of Kennick sitting down on the edge of
the bed, her form poised above him; when she fully came to, he had slipped a
condom onto his throbbing cock and she was straddling him, her soaked entrance
just above his massiveness. With a groan, she felt as he circled her waist and
pulled her down, stretching her slit as he pressed upward into her.

Slowly, inch by inch, he buried himself inside her until they
were eye-level, her hands wrapped around his neck, her hips on his, her clit
pressed against his bare stomach, and his cock plunged so deep inside her she
could have sworn he was about to pierce her in two. His lips came once more to
her neck as
 
he held her in place
and began to pump, gently, from below, sliding into her as she clutched his
neck tight and let his pulsing hips carry her away again, her still-tingling
clit rubbing against him, his massive cock filling her…she needed more.

Struggling to break his grip, she took control, using her
thighs to lift herself up and down on his cock, each stroke massaging every
inch of her cunt as she took her pleasure, his eyes trapping hers, her face
flaming up and her limbs going stiff once more. His cock filled places she’d
never even known she wanted filled, made her want to scream in pleasure, and so
she did.

“Fuck, Kennick, fuck me,” she cried out, not caring who might
hear. “Oh, my God, fuck, I’m gonna come again…”

“Yeah, baby,” he said, grabbing her once more and slamming
her down against him with such force that she felt her climax explode inside
her instantly. “You are.”