Chapter 39 Grayson #2
As I scan the last face of a diner eating at the five-star restaurant downstairs into ViCAP, a voice echoes from the entryway of our suite.
Our suite is a pompous, multiroom penthouse that takes up an entire floor.
Its security features should identify my caller, but I’m still smacked with curiosity.
Macy can’t be back already. Surely. She left only ten minutes ago.
When I wheel back from the desk, I find Macy and the perp she’s meant to be entertaining downstairs. Her target is tall and nervous and can’t stop darting his eyes between Macy and me when she guides him into our suite like he’s a long-lost friend.
He freezes partway in, like he’s walked onto the wrong movie set. “Hey… ah… nice to meet you, but I don’t swing that way.”
Macy drags her teeth over her red-painted lips, all seductive-like, before she purrs, “Really, Hasan? That’s not what I heard.
” I slouch low in my chair to enjoy the show when she folds Hasan in two with a stern punch to the stomach before she pinches his shoulder, lowering him to his knees.
“I was informed that you take whatever you can get. Even after you’ve been told no. ”
Hasan blubbers out a reply I can’t make out since Macy goes straight for the jugular.
By jugular, I mean she presses a knife to his crotch.
“Tell me everything you know about the baby-making syndicate working out of Tijuana. If you give me something good, I might consider letting you walk out of here with a functioning penis.”
“I don’t know anything—”
Macy wastes no time. She nicks him enough to double the width of his pupils and to have him sobbing like a baby.
Hasan cracks faster than Samuel did, and the information he spills will disband this operation in weeks.
With a smirk that reveals she’s in her element, Macy cuffs Hasan before she walks him to a plainclothes detective waiting in the hall.
I assume her eagerness to cut this sting short is because she couldn’t stomach the thought of being away from Mason for hours on end, but I’m mistaken when she throws me a longing look over her shoulder while saying, “That call I took earlier was from the hospital. They gave me the all clear.”
My tongue thickens so fast that it is difficult to talk, but I persevere. “The trauma team?”
I’m grateful for the loose fit of my dad pants when Macy’s grin turns sultry as she hurriedly removes her stomach extender. “Obstetrician. I am officially cleared for everything.”
“Everything?” Whoever that pubescent teen is should shut the fuck up before he ruins this for me.
Unlike my nasally shriek, Macy’s voice is a seductive purr. “Everything.”
Before I can remind myself that gentle still needs to be in my vocabulary so soon after she was hurt, I race across the room and attack her mouth with the savagery of a shark. Macy doesn’t seem to mind my barbarism. She curls her legs around my waist before grinding down—hard.
I stifle her needy moans when I drag my tongue along the roof of her mouth before dueling it with hers. She tastes like heaven, an erotic mix of sex, sensuality, and strength.
I could survive on her kisses alone.
That’s how perfect they are.
When I weave my fingers through her hair to hold her mouth hostage to mine, the raised scar at the back of her skull reminds me of how lucky I am to have this opportunity.
It was a close call for some time. Grief counselors were on standby, and against my wishes, a priest came into her ICU cubicle to administer sacraments and provide spiritual comfort.
I told them they’d jumped the gun. Macy is stronger than the people who tried to take her down.
She proved me right, as she has time and time again over the past two months.
The tension that’s already boiling turns excruciating when Macy shifts my thoughts back to the present by rocking herself against my stiffened shaft.
We’ve had a handful of dry hump sessions, and some X-rated, self-exploratory exposés in the shower, but this, knowing I can remove my dick from my pants and not risk hurting her, is top tier.
I’ve dreamed of this moment.
Although Macy’s kisses make me forget the world, my promises are another matter. “You’re on baby duty, punk.” Silence meets my demand, but it doesn’t weaken the authority of my following words. “Don’t act like you’re not watching. I’ve felt your beady eyes on me all night.”
Brandon’s laughter trickles through the speaker of the smart TV pompously hanging on the far wall of the suite’s living room. “You’ve got two hours, max, before Mason wakes up for a feed. Make the most of it.”
Before I can reply, Macy whispers for me to take our exchange into the second room of our suite. “There’s no TV in that room, and the baby monitor is an old-school unhackable device.”
“Party pooper.” Brandon shouts to make sure Macy’s giggles don’t drown out his reply when I nearly trip while we fumble toward the room we previously had no use for.
I can’t mistake her eagerness. She’s as on edge as I am. Proof? Her hand is down the front of my boxers, stroking my cock, and she shoved my pants down around my ankles.
“Your hand feels so much better than mine. A hundred times better.”
I swallow her moan when she drags her thumb over the split in my crown to gather a droplet of pre-cum. She swivels the sticky goodness over the head of my dick before she slides it down the vein feeding my monster erection. Her long, controlled strokes drive me wild with desire.
“I’m so fucking hard it hurts. That’s what you do to me, freckles. You drive me insane.”
As we stumble toward the bed, our lips as connected as our crotches, I rock my hips upward, rubbing my pulsating cock against her palm before piercing her opening with its head. I step and rock, step and rock, until cum presents at the crest of my cock, and I can’t take the teasing any longer.
Macy squeals when I toss her onto the bed, and her recently washed hair whips up a smell I’m obsessed with. Only one thing matters more. No, it isn’t Mason’s newborn scent that brings mortals to their knees. It’s the smell of Macy’s aroused state.
Her dress, which is wrapped around her waist like a belt, erotically exposes the shadows of her lacy panties. She’s wet enough to stain the delicate material, and I’m too desperate to taste her to consider the pleas of my cock.
“Need to taste you. I’ll die if I’m denied a second longer.”
As her chest rises and falls, I slip my fingers beneath her panties and circle her clit with my thumb. It is so responsive to my touch that her thighs tremble as a red hue creeps across her cheeks.
Her moans deepen when I delay tasting her for a few minutes so I can marvel at how much her features change when she’s turned on. She isn’t an agent or a mom right now. She’s a woman—my woman.
Macy writhes against the sheets when I slip two fingers inside her. I pump them in rhythm to the frantic beat of her clit, which hardens more when she slicks my palm with her wetness.
“Oh… Christ, Grayson. That feels so good. I can’t wait until you replace your fingers with your cock.”
“Are you sure you’re ready for that, freckles? You’re already struggling to take my fingers. Do you think you’ll be able to handle my cock?”
Pre-cum leaks from my crown when she asks with the utmost certainty, “Have I ever backed away when challenged?”
“Never.” I tug her down the mattress, my fingers never leaving her pussy. “But there’s no harm in ensuring you understand exactly what you’re getting yourself into.”
After kneeling, I use my free hand to snap off the damp material hiding the wonderment of her pussy from my eyes before I blow a hot breath over her slicked slit. She moans. When my mouth finally lands on her delicious-smelling pussy, I barely hear her over my thudding heart.
I don’t remove my fingers from her pussy while eating her like I’m starved of taste. While lavishing her clit with the full attention of my mouth, tongue, and teeth, I finger-fuck her greedily.
I eat her hungrily. Desperately. I can’t get enough, and before she can warn me, an uproar of devastation rips through her body.
Macy’s moans when she comes are lyrical gold, and the way her thighs hug my ears assures me I need more than one of her orgasms coating my face.
Her pussy tightens around my fingers when I talk over her pulsating clit. “One more.” But she doesn’t reply. I don’t believe she can.
I like that a lot.
As I swivel my fingers, stretching her in preparation to take my cock, I tap her clit with my thumb before slowly rolling it. My fingers are still pushing in and out, but I slow down when she tries to hide her ecstasy-riddled face with a pillow.
I want her to watch me like she has in the shower multiple times, and to see how my body reacts to her excitement.
Pleasing her is enough to make me come, and I need her to know that.
Regardless of Cameron’s lies, Macy was never a project for me to fix.
I don’t want to fix her. She’s flawless as she is.
I just want to be with her and admire her.
To love her as she should be loved. And although I could do that with words, actions always speak louder.
In addition, I crave her eyes on me. The need is as perverse as my cock’s wish to sink deep inside her.
Don’t mistake what I’m saying. Our connection is about more than lust. Even if doctors prohibited me from touching her for eternity, I’d still stay by her side, supporting and loving her.
That’s what love is.
It isn’t an infatuation that dies down in a couple of months. It’s years of yearning, even when your soulmate is in the room with you. Months of deceit while trying to convince yourself that they’re not who you want, and decades of commitment.
My knees throb when my obsession with Macy’s taste sees me bringing her to climax again and again. I don’t stop until she soaks the bedding under her fantastic ass, and I can’t help but notice how much more she enjoys my hands on her than her own.