Jump Start Read online

  Jump Start

  Commitment Book 3

  Karen Botha

  Contents

  Hello from London

  1. Elliott

  2. Kyle

  3. Elliottt

  4. Kyle

  5. Elliott

  6. Kyle

  7. Elliott

  8. Kyle

  9. Elliott

  10. Kyle

  11. Elliott

  12. Elliott

  13. Kyle

  14. Kyle

  15. Elliott

  16. Elliott

  17. Kyle

  18. Kyle

  19. Kyle

  20. Elliott

  21. Kyle

  22. Elliott

  23. Kyle

  24. Kyle

  25. Elliott

  26. Kyle

  27. Elliott

  28. Kyle

  29. Elliott

  30. Kyle

  31. Elliott

  32. Kyle

  33. Elliott

  34. Kyle

  35. Elliott

  36. Kyle

  37. Kyle

  38. Elliott

  39. Kyle

  40. Elliott

  41. Kyle

  42. Kyle

  43. Elliott

  44. Kyle

  45. Elliott

  46. Eliott

  47. Kyle

  48. Elliott

  49. Kyle

  50. Elliott

  51. Kyle

  52. Elliott

  53. Kyle

  54. Kyle

  55. Elliott

  56. Kyle

  57. Elliott

  58. Elliott

  59. Kyle

  60. Kyle

  61. Elliott

  62. Kyle

  63. Elliott

  64. Kyle

  65. Elliott

  66. Kyle

  67. Elliott

  68. Kyle

  69. Elliott

  70. Kyle

  71. Elliott

  72. Kyle

  73. Elliott

  Other books by Karen Botha

  THANKYOU

  74. special thanks

  About the Author

  Hello from London

  Hi everyone,

  You’re back again, Elliott and Kyle are pleased to have you back.

  Don’t worry if this is your first foray into the Commitment series, you’ll be fine, you’ll understand what’s going on as all the stories are standalone, but if you read Buckle Up first, you’ll understand the people a little better.

  Jump Start was fun to write and other than the motor racing which I love, this is the book out of this series which contains the most of my life experiences. I did actually go to that premiere and Robert Redford looked at me. Honest!

  As always, don’t take Elliott and Kyle’s lives too seriously, and if some facts don’t tie in with our lives, what does it matter? These guys have their own universe which is way better than the reality we’re all trying to escape.

  Likewise, this is total fiction, do not for whatever reason think that these guys are based on anyone in motor racing. They are not, they are figment of my imagination, created from pure personal pleasure.

  So, all that’s left is for me to wish you happy reading and I’ll see you on the other side.

  Mwah

  Karen x

  Elliott

  “This time tomorrow, this will be your home,” I whisper into Kyle’s hair as he snuggles against me on the sofa.

  “This is already my home because it’s where my heart is. Nothing will change tomorrow just because I’ve moved my belongings in.” He looks up at me and his lips brush my neck, creep up to my Adam’s apple, and continue to lick upwards. It’s not the slimy, possessive caress that leaves a slick path, but the merest touch with the tip of his tongue combined with hot breath alerting my every sense that in just a few moments, our lips will meet.

  “We’ll be able to have sex whenever we want.” His voice is husky now and as he shifts to sit on my lap, the hardness in his pants brushing up against my leg. “We won’t have to rush, or perform on demand because it’s the only night we have together.” His words breathe across my lips and I part them in readiness for his mouth.

  As our mouths meet I murmur, “I can’t wait for this house to become our home rather than a place I stay.”

  My head swims as he presses against me, his tongue claiming my mouth in the most tender kiss we’ve ever shared. His tongue wraps around mine, a gentle declaration of his territory. My jaw relaxes, allowing him to take what is his as my hands slide up his back, enjoying the way his hips shift when I touch him. He still tastes of the curry we just ate. Our final meal where he has to leave afterwards, this time to close up his apartment. This kiss bids a welcome goodbye to life as we’ve known it, drawing a line in the sand.

  His shoulders are broad and I run my fingertips over their expanse, slipping down his sides before meeting again on his waistband. His jeans gape at the back where he’s sitting on me, legs spread wide and hips jutting forward. My hands drop, enjoying the tautness of the thick material pulled over his toned butt.

  I squeeze and buck up into him, letting out a sigh of gratitude as I pull him down, firm against my other, very obvious sign of appreciation.

  He slips against me, riding me through our clothes, the burn creating an unnecessary heat which only adds further to my enjoyment.

  “I can’t believe you’re mine. You’re so fucking hot.” His words strike like a fire bolt direct into my heart, ripping the air from my lungs. My cock reacts to its own jolt of lightning.

  “I’ve been yours since the day we met. I’ve never wanted anyone else since that first time I laid eyes on you.”

  Our mouths meet again, but the tenderness has gone. Our lips are hard, aggressive even as we possess the other, giving the other a piece of our hearts. My hands grapple on his back, roughing his t-shirt around those broad shoulders and forcing our eager mouths to break contact long enough to slip it over his head.

  The finely sculpted muscles of his chest are exposed, generous and toned, his small nipples tightening as I run my palm across his warm skin, wanting, needing to feel every part of him with an urgency which drives us both to start ripping at the others’ clothes.

  Kyle

  I can’t believe this time tomorrow we’ll be living together. Elliott is turning his perfect mansion into our home. This is where I’ll return to every day after work. This is where my mom will come to stay at Christmas.

  Elliott’s generosity is given without any reservations and my heart swells. He has so much and yet he acts as though it’s nothing. My firm kiss burrows into his mouth, needing him to understand my appreciation. To feel that he’s not making a mistake with me, that I’ll respect and care for him and never take advantage of his generous spirit.

  Straddling him naked on our sofa, I’m in the process of coating his cock with lube, rubbing myself against him as I clasp both our throbbing shafts in one of my muscular palms. His thick neck snaps back as his eyes hover between open and closed, his mouth emitting a gasp.

  “How could I not want to live with you when you treat me like this?”

  His words send shivers to the extremity of my every nerve and skyrocket them back again sending stars to my head, my thumping heart, and my pulsing cock. His warm palm covers mine, slowing my movements against him, slipping my hand aside until it rests only on his as he wraps his delicate fingers round the base of my thick member. His contact is electric. It always is. There’s never a time his touch doesn’t elicit a thunderous charge in me, but today, he’s full of enhanced intensity.

  Sex pulses from his grip, an energy between us that vibrates into my cock and down to my balls. The heat from his fingers as they restr
ain my dick sends my blood pounding. Slowly, he slides them up, wrapping my foreskin over my swollen head and lightly twisting. I do the same to him, mirroring his actions, hoping I’m also able to convey the depth of my emotion in the small movements.

  Our eyes lock in a heady gaze.

  Our fingers release at the top.

  Our palms reconnect with soft skin.

  And we slide back down, feeling every bulbous vein flooding our cocks with blood as we work the other into a frenzy of love, desire, and lust.

  “Come with me,” I whisper.

  Elliott nods, past words, panting, biting his bottom lip, and struggling now to maintain eye contact.

  There it goes again, that warm rush of yearning spreading up from my groin, drowning all other emotions, blocking out chores and reality and overtaking the moment.

  He sees it. A spark of recognition melts the ice of concentration in his blue eyes.

  “I’m going to come.” He squeezes his eyes shut and stops moving as he tries to halt the surge that’s already causing his hips to buck.

  The honesty of the gesture pushes me over the edge and I join him, releasing my hold on him, smashing our thrumming cocks together again, allowing them to ride against until the primal need raptures.

  My head spins. My eyes see stars and I lose control my body taking its own course, sprinting out of control towards waves of satisfaction.

  Elliottt

  I wave Kyle off at the door and pad back into my house. It feels so empty without him. Maybe it’s because this is the last night we won’t officially be living together, but it’s cold and I shiver. Wrapping my arms around myself, I huddle back inside and push the unsettling emptiness aside, preferring to run upstairs and begin my side of the chores.

  I must make space for him to move in.

  Now, where to start? I haven’t given the process much thought, but without thinking, I automatically pad to the bedroom.

  It didn’t seem like a big job when we discussed it. But now, well. I don’t know where to start. I’m staring at the color coordinated racks filled with the huge array of items. And I need these. I turn up to a million and one different social engagements, and I need the clothing to fit in. It’s all part of living under public scrutiny. I realize creating space isn’t going to be a simple de-cluttering exercise that can be done in a few hours.

  I look around, wondering where to start. I try to fathom the most sensible option and then when I can’t settle on one, move to the spare room next door. Hovering in the doorway I think this could be the solution. If I make this a dressing room for Kyle, he’ll have his own space.

  Perfect.

  I open the closet nearest the entrance and brush my palms down my sweats, ready to start.

  The first to move is my ski gear. I drag it out of the wardrobe, hang it over my arm and lug it into the third bedroom. I don’t need to find a home for it right now; laying it on the bed will be fine.

  Music will be a great addition to my efforts, so I pull my phone out of my pocket and connect it to the speakers that run throughout the stone walls. The vibes of my house music playlist rings out and my mood is instantly lifted. This isn’t a job. It’s a step forward. I’m rearranging all of this junk so the man I love can turn this brick and mortar dwelling into a home.

  Jogging back for round two with a renewed vigor, I pull a box from its base. Opening it, expecting to find old shoes that can be sold for charity, I’m stabbed through the center of my heart.

  Noah.

  Our smiling eleven-year-old faces beam up at me from the faded glossy paper. I’m holding a trophy in one hand; my other arm is wrapped over his shoulder.

  “What happened to you?” I crumple against the bed, running my thumb over the innocence of our smiles. “Why did you hate me so much?”

  Pain I’ve not allowed myself to touch until now rips through my ribcage, splitting it down the center and exposing my heart. My eyes well, fat tears threatening to overflow and ruin the excitement of this moment.

  “Why are you still intent on hurting me, Noah?”

  I’m about to rip the photo up and toss it I don’t know where, but something stops me. A knowledge that if I throw this piece of my life away, I’ll be disposing with it a huge part of my history and of who I am.

  I lay the thick paper back in the box, ignoring the picture below of my mom when she was too young to know how our poor lives would change because of her devotion to me and my happiness. Instead, I plant the lid firmly back on top and deposit it in the bottom of the wardrobe in room number three.

  Maybe one day I’ll be ready to look through these again, but that time isn’t now.

  It’s pointless cleaning this up until I see what Kyle has to bring with him. We can do it together when we know what space needs to be cleared. I’ll start on the bathroom cupboards instead. Must hide that acne cream.

  Kyle

  This house never felt like home, anyway. It was only temporary until I got myself sorted when I split with Madeline so I shouldn’t feel sad, but I do.

  Something about bringing in boxes and depositing a bunch of functional home making equipment within them means the temperature of an apartment grows cold. I’m moving about, shifting things from one place to another, cleaning inside kitchen cupboards ready for tomorrow morning’s handover with the rental agent. I should be warm. But I’m frozen to my core.

  This was the place that I argued with my dad, one of our last conversations and certainly our last argument.

  This is where I was living when I opened the contract for my new position which would eventually lead to meeting Elliott. I’ll be leaving a part of my history within these grubby walls. I know moving doesn’t mean you abandon the memories, but I’m still taken aback by how sentimental I feel about a place I never really liked that much. I guess it’s like splitting up with a girlfriend you don’t like. You’re still sad it didn’t work out, but you never had expectations in the first place.

  Humans are complicated. It baffles me how we can make sense of others when we very often can’t make sense of ourselves.

  The packing is pretty much done with only a few bits and pieces to do. I have time to head up onto the roof. There’s a few minutes to see that one last time before I move my life forward.

  Grabbing a few beers from the fridge, I run up to the roof and hold my hands out to the side as I breathe in the freedom of detachment from the beauty of life below. Knocking the cap of the bottle on the ledge of the wall, I suck down on the neck and enjoy the bite of the cold liquid as it bounces off my taste buds.

  “You’re Kyle Beaumont aren’t you?”

  A sharp jolt sizzles in my chest at the realization I’m not alone. I turn toward the female voice. “Who’s asking?”

  “You are. I recognize you from TV.”

  “Huh?”

  “Yeah, Elliott Judd’s boyfriend.” The short blonde nods, takes the other beer from my hand and twists the cap loose without speaking and I’m so shocked I let her.

  “Like I said, who’s asking?” I grunt, watching as she glugs the drink down.

  She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, “I’m Jodie. I live downstairs.”

  “And how do you know who I am then?”

  “You’re in the papers a lot. Don’t you read them?”

  I don’t. I’ve never been bothered, and it’s a habit that hasn’t been difficult to pick up from Elliott. “You’re better not knowing what poisonous things the press say about you,” he said. I didn’t need any further convincing so I’ve tried to avoid them ever since. Instead of furnishing her with this insight into my private life, I shake my head.

  “You’re quite the celebrity now. The one who snagged the play boy racing driver.”

  And then it occurs to me that no matter how things work out between Elliott and me, life will never be the same. This grimy little temporary apartment is also the place where I’ll leave my anonymity.

  Elliott

  He shows up with a v
an.

  Fine. I’d anticipated that.

  But the size of the van?

  Whoa, where is all this stuff going to fit? I didn’t even get around to clearing a spot for his clothes. I did not expect for him to turn up with a huge truck filled with his belongings.

  He grins as he bounds off the back of his motor bike, parking up in front of the moving van. “Good morning.”

  My astonishment dissolves into the cold winter sky.

  “Brrr, it’s freezing. I’m glad I won’t have to make that journey again.” He rubs his gloved palms together, locking his fingers, and twisting as he blows into them.

  Pulling him into me I say, “I can warm you up if you like.”

  “Now, Elliott Judd, getting it on while the movers work around us may be a little forward. Even for you.” He whips his helmet over his head, and plants his lips against mine before turning to the truck. “This is it then. It’s real.”