Chapter Fifty-Five Grant
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
Grant
IT’S EARLY EVENING BY the time I look up from my laptop and realize I’ve missed lunch. I’m knee-deep in cleanup. There’s the audit report to put together and Samantha’s computer files to double-check. I’m also bolstering the systems already in place.
Rae’s desk is empty. She spent the afternoon in reception, which is no doubt as much about avoiding me as it is watching the door. It’s amazing how much I’ve been able to get through without having her right there to distract me. It’s also gut-wrenching, which makes no sense.
I should be happy to be getting out of here. Job well done. Case closed.
I stand and stretch, walking around my desk to check on Rae. Looks like she’s out. Maybe she’s gone for the day.
The printer in our office is out of ink, so I head down the hall, noting how quiet everything is for once. Most of the staff are probably at their desks with noise-canceling headphones on. Or gone, actually. They’re all gearing up for this retreat thing. And it’s after 5:00 p.m.
The supply room door is ajar. I open it the rest of the way and jolt when I see Rae inside.
She jumps about a foot in the air and drops a ream of paper.
“You okay?” I bend to pick it up and hand it to her.
She starts to nod, and then it turns into a headshake, and then—ah, hell—she’s crying. “Rae?”
Her tears are silent, her body tense, the paper pressed hard to her chest.
“Come here.” I grab the ream and set it aside, and after the briefest of struggles, she’s in my arms, shaking.
It takes a while for the tears to work themselves out from silent, racking sobs to calm to hiccuping, and, finally, a few long, shaky breaths.
“I’m okay,” she says against my chest. “Just let me…”
I tighten the hug. “Stay. Stay.”
The way she relaxes in my hold tells me she needs this.
Damn, she feels good.
“I got you,” I whisper. “Stay right here.”
“I hate crying. Sucks.”
I let out a quiet huff of laughter. “I know. I know. What do you need?”
I cradle her warmth to mine, set my cheek on her head, and listen.
“What I need? For Sam to answer my calls. And, and you know, for the company I work for not to be in trouble.” A shaky exhale. “And my dad is doing a play, which is good, right? No big deal. But he’s got this… condition. His h-h-heart.”
Dammit. I slow my breathing, soak up her shaking.
“He’s not supposed to get his heart rate up, but the app keeps beeping, and he’s acting like it’s fine, but what if he’s actually getting sicker and just hiding it?
Because the thing is, we lost Mom, and I can’t…
I can’t… I can’t do it again, Grant. I can’t lose him too.
And did you know it’s September sixteenth? ”
“It is. Yeah. It is.”
“Mom died twenty years ago today…” The last word’s basically a hiccup. “And I missed the date because of you!”
“Because of me?”
“You, distracting me with your dark eyes and big hands and the way you say my name.” The accusation warms me.
“And Dad’s busy acting, so he doesn’t care, and Otty’s working, drinking all the time, Hannah’s barely making it through with her shitty husband, the kids don’t have their father, and because of you, I forgot to buy Mom flowers. ”
“Oh, baby. Rae. Sweetheart.” I touch my lips to her hair, her temple. “Come here. Come here.” She tilts her head up, and I lean down to meet her.
Her mouth is warm against mine. So soft. So damned sweet.
She pulls away, sniffling, runs her hand across her nose, and says, “I can’t keep them all safe if they’re running around like that, can I?”
“They’re okay, sweetie. They’re safe.” I kiss her again and press my forehead to hers.
She clenches my arm and yanks at my shirt.
The stroke of her hot fingers on my skin makes my muscles jump.
My arms tighten. It’s a struggle, and I’m losing.
I’m trying to calm her, but she’ll have none of it.
I haul her up and push her back against the shelves, thinking I’ll tamp down all this wildness, give her another kiss, and help her figure it out.
But then she’s got her leg up around my waist, and what started as comfort is a frantic grabbing of hands.
Our breathing is wild, our movements chaotic. She’s undone my pants, and I’ve got her skirt up and—“No panties,” I breathe. But also, “Fuck, you’re not wet enough.”
“I’m fine, Grant.” She tears at my fly, yanking it down. “Just do it.”
Next thing I know, my cock’s pulsing in her hand. I can’t think. Can’t function with how hungry she is. How hot.
“You want this?” I ask, against her mouth.
“I need it,” she says. “Just this. Just this.”
Gathering the very last bits of my wits, I grab the supply room door and drag it shut.
It’s completely dark. Even with my eyes wide open, there is nothing but the weight of her curves in my arms, the clasp of her hand on my erection. I tilt my hips forward, give her a taste of what she wants.
“Oh, please. Please, sir.”
My breathing. The slick, intimate sound of my aching cock swiping up and down against her warmth. I scramble for a thread of control. “Keep quiet, Sunny, or we’ll have to stop.”
“Okay. Yes, that’s it. Sir.”
“Spit in your hand,” I order, my chest full of things I’m not used to feeling. “Get me good and wet.”
“Oh god. It’s big.”
“You know it fits, Sunny. Now do it. Don’t keep me waiting.”
“I… I don’t…” An awkward huff as she tries to slide me in. “Doesn’t fit.”
For a handful of seconds, there’s nothing but shaky inhale-exhales and the careful press of my cock to her entrance.
“Careful,” I whisper. “Don’t force it. Slow.”
“Don’t want slow.”
“You need slow, sweetheart.” I release a long, anguished oooh into the air when just the tip eases in. Clench my eyes, grit my teeth. “Fuck, Rae.”
She’s whimpering, high and quiet, little panting gasps that set my entire fucking world on fire. “That’s it. Let me in.”
“Y-y-y-es. Yes, god. Please.” An almost silent whine that sounds as much like pain as pleasure and then, “Please, sir, please fuck me.”
“Shhh. You’ll take what I give you. Just hold still.” Patiently, one fraction of an inch at a time, I pull back and press inside. Back, in. The sounds are absolutely pornographic. I hope to god everyone’s left for the day.
“Please.”
“You’ll get the whole thing when you’re ready.”
“I’m ready.”
I wrap a loose hand around her neck. “In my own good time, you little brat. Fuck,” I grit out, “you’re so goddamn tight.”
“Oh god.”
“Shhhh.” I put my mouth to hers to stem her throaty hums and sink in an inch, another.
I hardly notice the way she’s pressed up against the shelves, her ass in one hand, my other hand collaring her like the good little sub she is. My cock thick inside her.
“Fuck.”
“Grant?”
“Don’t talk. Don’t… move, Rae. You move, and I’m done.”
“Oh. I… Okay.”
I tip my hips back, sliding out almost to the tip and thrusting back inside, bottoming out so hard we both let out deep, guttural groans.
Too loud.
All her weight gets shifted to one side as I put my hand to her mouth and give her another deep pump. Another.
After no more than a dozen thrusts, I feel the pressure build up in my balls and the clench of her hot pussy, and she’s gasping into my mouth, “I’m coming. Oh god, I’m coming.”
It’s more than I can take, the frantic gasps, the way her body squeezes mine. I bury myself deep and let go.