Chapter 478 | Hips Don’t Lie

Chapter 478: 478 | Hips Don’t Lie

Jordan watched the flannel slide down her arms and bunch at her waist, and his brain filed an official complaint about how a cat onesie had become the hottest garment on planet Earth.

"I wasn’t going to use the voice," he said.

"You were going to use it. Your jaw does that cocky little shift right before you open your mouth." Chloe shoved the onesie past her hips and kicked it off the foot of the mattress, where it landed on the floor in a heap of pink ears. "I’ve documented it. Kumiko has documented it. There’s a diagram."

"Page nineteen," Kumiko whispered from the left side of the bed. "It’s a good diagram."

Chloe knelt over him in nothing but her glasses and the gold chain, and the harbor light ran down her body in long orange bars. The bruise from Wednesday sat under the chain like a stamp of ownership. Below her ribs, the small curve of her stomach caught the light, and Jordan’s hand moved there before his brain approved the decision.

She let it rest there for a second. Then she grabbed his wrist and moved it to her hip.

"Later," she said, and her voice wobbled on the word. "I’ll get sappy later. Right now I want you to shut up and take your shirt off."

He pulled it over his head and tossed it toward the stairs, and Chloe’s eyes dropped straight to his chest. Her fingers found the bite mark Kumiko had left on Monday, then Maya’s bruise on his shoulder, and she pressed both of them like she was checking that the inventory matched the receipt. Jordan felt pretty smug about being the inventory. Six weeks ago his body had been a storage unit for Red Bull and shame, and now two girls were fighting over the warranty.

"You look smug," Chloe said.

"I’m lying under the prettiest girl in Orange County. Smug is the correct response."

"Prettiest girl in Southern California."

"I didn’t want to oversell it."

She laughed and bit his collarbone hard enough to make him hiss, and then she reached down between them and tugged his sweatpants and boxers off his hips in one yank. Kumiko made a noise like a kettle starting to whistle. Chloe glanced over at her, and Jordan caught the look that passed between them, which was half amused and half something soft enough that he had to look at the ceiling for a second.

"Kumi, come here," Chloe said.

"I’m here. I’m very here. I’m so here it hurts."

"Closer than that."

Kumiko scooted across the duvet on her knees, still wearing his grey henley bunched up around her ribs and her pink shorts, her loose hair falling in black curtains past her shoulders. She stopped beside Jordan’s head and folded her hands in her lap like she was waiting outside a principal’s office. Her cheeks had gone the color of her shorts.

Chloe wrapped her hand around him and stroked once, slowly, from base to tip, and Jordan’s hips jerked off the mattress.

"Mmm, there he is," Chloe murmured. "Already this hard from rubbing her back, Jordan? That’s embarrassing for you."

"You unzipped a cat costume in front of me. I’m only human."

"You’re barely human. Your hands are a war crime." She lifted up on her knees, lined him up against her, and held there, just the tip pressed against her slick heat, while she looked down at him over the rims of her glasses. "Don’t move. I mean it. I’m doing this part."

Then she sank down.

The sound she made started low in her chest and climbed as she went, a long shaky "Nnnnhaaahh," and her thighs trembled against his ribs. She took him an inch at a time, and every inch got its own little gasp. When she finally settled all the way down, her nails dug into his abs and her mouth fell open.

"Fuck," she breathed, then something in Korean that Jordan was fairly sure his grandmother would slap him for understanding. "Every time. You’d think I’d get used to it."

"You want me to stop?"

"I want you to keep your hands where they are and let me ride you until I can’t remember what a spreadsheet is."

Jordan kept his hands on her hips and did exactly that, which was the hardest athletic event of his entire life, including Maya’s burpees.

Chloe started slow. She rolled her hips forward and back, grinding down so her clit dragged against him, and every roll pulled a soft "ahn, ahn, mmh" from her throat. The mattress creaked under them. Her glasses slid down her nose, and she pushed them back up with one finger without breaking her pace, which was the most Chloe Kim thing Jordan had ever witnessed.

Kumiko watched all of it with her hands pressed flat over her own mouth.

"You can breathe, Kumi," Jordan said.

"I’m choosing not to," Kumiko said through her fingers. "Breathing is loud, and I don’t want to miss anything."

Chloe reached over without looking and grabbed Kumiko’s wrist, then pulled her hand down and laced their fingers together on Jordan’s sternum. Kumiko’s whole face crumpled. She made a small wet sound and squeezed back so hard her knuckles went white.

"Kiss him," Chloe gasped, picking up speed. "He’s getting cocky down there. Give his mouth something to do."

Kumiko didn’t need to be asked twice. She bent over and kissed Jordan upside down, her loose hair falling around his face like a tent that smelled like strawberries, and her lips were soft and clumsy and so eager that their teeth clicked. Jordan laughed into her mouth. She huffed against him and kissed harder, then licked his bottom lip and made a tiny squeak when he licked back.

Below them, Chloe’s pace broke loose.

The wet slap of her hips against his filled the loft, louder than the traffic outside. The headboard started going thunk, thunk against the brick, and Chloe planted both palms on his chest beside Kumiko’s hand and bounced on him in earnest. Her moans came out in short broken bursts now, "Ahh, ahh, ahhn, right there," and her breasts swung with every drop. Jordan’s grip on her hips tightened until his fingers sank into soft flesh.

"Don’t you dare thrust," Chloe warned, her voice cracking.

"I’m not thrusting."

"Your hips are thinking about it. I can feel them thinking."