Page 38 of Trailer Trash

“You’re so stupid, Killian,” she pouts, yet her voice is still playful. “Why ya gotta be like this?”

Her thumbs rub along my jawline before roaming. The pad of her thumb gently caresses my bottom lip. I’m stunned. I didn’t think she liked me — at all.

She leans in, her full lips barely brush mine. She pulls away, then repeats. I feel like if I move, she’ll sober up and leave. But God, I’m dying to taste her, to feel her tongue against mine.

She kisses my lips more firmly, and this time, I grab the back of her head and slam my tongue inside her mouth.

We kiss.

Not just kiss. We devour each other, both swept up in a first, charged and unforgettable moment. My heart thrums inside my chest. Yeah, her mouth is soaked with alcohol. I taste and smell nothing else but cheap vodka and soda, but it’s still better than I imagined.

“Uh, you’re a good kisser,” she whines into my mouth.

Oh, yeah. Alcohol makes her honest, and I’m exactly the wrong man to know that.

Then—

She grinds her fucking pussy right against my shaft, which is at full mast. It has been since she shook her ass for everyone to see.

That makes it even crueler when she stops and sits back. I fight, chasing her mouth for another kiss.

“Wait,” she says.

“Why?”

Her lips purse, but those drunken eyes survey my body. Her fingertips trace my tattoos slowly as they work their way down.

“These creepy villains all over you. Ugh... You’re so perfect,” she mutters bitterly. “I hate that.”

I smirk.

But then, she lands a sloppy little swat against my cheek. The bad side.

“What the hell?” I snatch her wrist to prevent a second strike, chuckling. “Did you just slap me?”

“Yep. Know what? I even like your stupid scars,” she slurs.

“Oh. Really? Go on.”

“What am I doing?” she says and looks around.

Oh, no. This isn’t over.

I grip her round hips and jerk her closer, then thrust against her pussy, letting her feel how hard I am.

She looks down into the crystal-clear water, seeing what I see. My cock is partially out, having extended past the waistband of my swim trunks.

“Whoa... That’s yours?” she says.

I try not to laugh. “Yeah. It’s mine. Wanna see all of it?”

She taps the tip and giggles, smiling like she did something extremely naughty.

“It goes all the way up to there,” she says in awe. “It’s huge. My ex wasn’t that big.”

Fuck, I love drunk-Harlow. She tells me everything.

“Great, I’ll let you feel it,” I say, and as casually as I can, I start untying my swim trunks.