Chapter 37
cleo
. . .
Grady’s heartbeat was steady beneath my ear as I pried my eyes open and peered around the room.
It was bathed in a soft morning glow filtering through the window.
I knew this was his dad’s room, but there was still so much of his mom here, too.
Pictures of them lined the top of the dresser, and the comforter was an olive green with a floral pattern stitched at the bottom.
On what I assumed was her side of the bed, there was a vase of fresh flowers.
Clearly, keeping that up was Grady’s task, given he’d been here for nearly two weeks now.
It was these tender touches that made my own heart ache for the woman who’d been so kind.
When Charlie started talking about not knowing her grandmother, I knew passing on the vintage Pyrex set she had given me was the right thing to do.
Marsha would’ve loved Charlie. She would’ve spoiled her rotten, likely spending their time together tending the garden or baking cookies in the kitchen.
While I definitely couldn’t help in the floral department, I could try to bridge the gap with sweets.
At the sound of Grady’s snoring, I turned my head and watched him.
It was strange how peaceful he looked. We never had the luxury of many sleepovers when we were kids, so seeing him like this was a first for me.
I was obsessed with the way his long lashes fanned out against his cheeks, and the way his pouty lips were parted just a touch.
If I were an artist, I would want to spend hours capturing his likeness to get it right.
Since I wasn’t, I’d settle for staring at him as though he was a work of art because to me, he was.
Seeing him like this gave me an idea, though, one which would conveniently ruin whatever peace he’d found while profusely begging me for more.
Slowly, I extracted myself from his hold, waiting a moment as he readjusted his position.
It’d be my luck if he woke up before I ever had a chance to have my fun.
When I realized he was, indeed, back asleep, I slipped beneath the covers and settled myself between his thighs.
Neither one of us had put on clothes after crashing last night, which meant I was staring at his semi-hard cock.
I’d always thought the concept of morning wood was a joke, a way for men to excuse themselves from being hornbags who demanded sex before even waking up, but being older taught me it wasn’t always true.
Taking hold of his length, I let my tongue run from base to tip. His body shivered under my touch, head lolling to one side as I took him inside, moving slowly. The longer I worked him, the more restless his body became.
This was exciting. I’d never been the type of person to think about a spontaneous blow job, let alone actually giving one.
By the time Grady and I were able to be a little more open and adventurous with our sex life, we were on the downhill slope of our relationship.
And I never enjoyed giving Thomas head. It always felt like a chore versus something I actually wanted.
I did it because he asked, not because I enjoyed it.
Eventually, even that went away, though—not that I was complaining.
I wasn’t sure if I was still drunk on orgasms or if my preferences had changed overnight, but I felt the shift. I woke up wanting the taste of him to start off my day, and I wanted to give him a surprise I knew he’d love.
I liked the idea of him being asleep, though. It took the pressure off having to ask him if I could suck his cock. Not that he would say no, but I wasn’t exactly comfortable with being so open yet. A good morning blow job today could mean road head next week. Baby steps, and all that.
The feeling of him hardening in my mouth was strangely euphoric. Knowing I had that kind of control over his body? Yes, please. Sign me up. It was more than that, though. It was also knowing selfishly, he was getting hard for me. He was going to come down my throat, not anyone else’s.
When one of his hands moved to my head, fingers tangling themselves in my hair, I smiled around his dick. The covers were thrown back a second later, and I looked up to find his ice blue eyes locked on me.
“Good morning,” I said, releasing him with a pop. “Did you sleep well?”
“Oh, god, I love you,” he said, as I let him guide me back on his length. I could feel the way he was fighting the urge to fuck my mouth, the way his hips rocked ever so slightly beneath me. His restraint was so goddamn sexy. It only made me want to see him lose control.
Doubling my efforts, I added my hand to stroke his base as I bobbed up and down. Saliva coated his dick, running along my skin, but I didn’t care. I liked the messiness of it. His grip grew tight before he yanked me off with a sharp exhale. “Fucking shit, bluebird. Are you trying to kill me?”
“No,” I said with a smile. “I’m trying to make you come. You definitely need to be alive for that.”
Grady’s head fell back on a groan. “You’re making this whole abstaining thing really fucking difficult.”
“So, fuck my mouth,” I said, running my tongue along his tip, earning another low rumble from his chest. “Show me how badly you want me, baby.”
I wasn’t big on the pet names like he was, but I liked calling him baby. It was endearing, and he folded every time.
“You want me to fuck your mouth?” I nodded. “It’s going to be rough.”
“I can take it,” I rasped, feeling my arousal between my thighs as I shifted my legs together.
There was no way I was going to be able to hold off on the whole sex thing for much longer.
If I didn’t fold right now, then I would by the end of the day.
Conversations, be damned. There was only so much a woman could take, and I was at my limit.
Grady sat up quickly, taking my mouth in a bruising kiss. “I love you,” he said, crawling off the bed.
“I love you, too,” I assured him. “Now, do your worst.”
Taking my hand, he helped me off the bed and dropped to my knees.
I had to sit up straight, but it was the perfect height for him to have his way with me.
With trembling hands, he gathered my hair and wrapped it around his fist, jerking my head back just a touch.
“Tap my leg if it’s too much, okay? I don’t want to hurt you. ”
“You won’t,” I murmured, pressing a kiss to his tip. “I trust you.”
Something about those words set him off.
It was as though he needed additional reassurance, to know I wasn’t doing this because I thought he wanted it or because it would please him.
I was doing this because I truly wanted to.
Because, after fighting him for so long, I finally trusted him not to hurt my body or my heart.
With a fistful of hair in one hand, he guided his cock to my lips with the other. I opened my mouth and laid my tongue flat, eagerly putting myself on display for him.
And then his restraint broke.
Gone was the timid man who’d been worried about hurting me. In his place was someone ruled by the desire to give me exactly what he wanted, exactly what I asked for. His mouth fell open on a groan as he surged forward, letting his cock hit the back of my throat.
I wasn’t a pro at giving head, and my gag reflex wasn’t great, so I coughed and spluttered at first, but recovered quickly.
Grady, to his credit, wasn’t nearly as aggressive as I imagined he could be.
He was still rough, though, forcing me to take every powerful thrust of his hips as though he wasn’t choking me.
“Goddamn, bluebird,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “Look at you being such a good fucking girl for me. You like it when I fuck your face?” I nodded as he pressed me down on his dick until my nose hit the flat expanse of his lower abdomen.
I gasped for air as he ripped me off his length, watching through tear-filled eyes as he started stroking himself to completion.
Before he could come, I surged forward, capturing the end of his dick with my mouth.
I hummed around him as the first spurt of his release hit my tongue.
He let out a deep growl, looking in awe as I took every drop.
The flavor wasn’t great, and honestly, part of me wanted to gag a little bit, but the idea and act of what we were doing, the way he was claiming me, marking me, had me sitting still like the good girl he’d called me.
It appealed to some basic, biological part of me. The one that told me this man was marking me as his, and I reveled in it.
When he finished, he smiled, grabbing the trash can next to his nightstand. “You can spit it out, bluebird. I’m not gonna make you swallow.”
Oh, thank god.
I leaned forward, barely having time to spit it out before he pulled me up and kissed me. I wanted to protest, to tell him I still had the taste of him on my tongue, but why did it matter? If I could kiss him after he’d tongue fucked me into oblivion, why couldn’t the same be said of him?
“Good morning to you, too, by the way,” he murmured, running his nose along my own.
It turned out waking Grady up with a blow job came with more than just the satisfaction of a job well done.
He was all too happy to return the favor, making me come with his fingers and his tongue until I could barely move.
And then he let me watch as he pleasured himself and spilled his release in his hand.
I’d tried to do it myself, but I was told I had to keep my hands to myself and stay far away so he didn’t get hard again two seconds after he came.
Honestly, the way that man was obsessed with me should probably be studied, but I damn sure wasn’t going to complain.
When you spend your life running from the demons in your head, it’s a relief to find the person who puts them to rest. They would come back, they always did, but I wasn’t as worried with Grady at my side.