Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Remy
The fact that Grayson’s body is so appealing to me kind of blows my mind. The chest hair, the muscles, the solid weight of him—it’s all attractive to me, no matter how different he is than anybody I’ve ever been attracted to in the past. It’s equal parts terrifying and exciting. I decide to lean into the exciting.
“You mind if I drive on this one?” I ask him. He shakes his head, like I knew he would.
“Where do you want me?”
“Well, first”—I finger the waistband on his boxers while sliding the palm of my other hand over his package—“you need to be naked. After that, can you just lie down?”
I nod toward the bed and he murmurs an agreement. We finish stripping and he does as I asked, situating himself in the center of the bed and spreading his legs slightly. I look at him, trying to figure out the logistics of how I’m supposed to get a dick that large inside me. It’s possible—I know it is— but it also looks inevitable that I’ll be walking funny tomorrow. Instead of thinking myself in circles, I climb onto the bed next to him. Knees near his hips, I plant my hands by his shoulders and lean over him.
“Do you have a preference?” I ask, confident that he’ll know what I mean.
“Top.”
I laugh. “Fucking knew it. You’re the toppiest top of them all.”
He scrunches up his nose in offense. It’s cute, so I lean down to kiss him.
“You’re right,” he tells me when we pause long enough for him to speak. “But you’re new to this. I’m not going to make you bottom just because I don’t want?—"
“No,” I cut him off. “I’ll bottom. That’s what I want to do.”
“Well…” Grayson looks uncertain.
“Really, Gray. I’d tell you if I didn’t want to do something; this is something I definitely want. This is the easiest way to do it, right?” I gesture at his prone form. “Cowgirl?”
“Yeah,” he answers slowly. “It would give you more control.”
“Great,” I say brightly. “Let’s grab the lube and get this party started.”
I glance around, pointing a questioning look at the nightstand. Grayson nods, so I sling a leg over him and reach into the top drawer. The box of condoms I pull out is unopened. He huffs a soft, slightly embarrassed laugh.
“It’s been a long time. I was kind of worried the ones I had before were expired.”
“Very responsible.” I grin, opening the box and pulling out what I need before putting it back. He reaches out a hand for the condom, but I push it away gently and slide it on him myself. I linger a little bit, experimentally rolling my hand around his shaft before dancing my fingers over his balls. He’s watching me as I do, eyes on mine.
I keep a hold of the lube in one hand and shuffle my knees forward until I can bend over to easily kiss him. It’s so different—kissing Grayson—with his scratchy face and deep moans. Even with my eyes firmly closed there is no mistaking the body below mine as anything but male.
Popping open the lube, I break away from Grayson only long enough to coat two of my fingers. I reach behind myself and start prepping my own hole, still kissing Grayson but letting him take charge of it so I can focus on the prep. It takes him a moment, but once he realizes what I’m doing, he murmurs a soft rebuke against my mouth.
“Hey, I can do that.”
“Mm,” I hum, rubbing my face against his cheek like a damn dog. Seriously, why the fuck has nobody clued me in on how amazing facial hair feels? “But if you do it, you’ll take your time, and it’ll feel amazing and I’ll come the second you’re inside me. If I do it, we’ll get to the fun part quicker.”
He laughs. I catch the sound with my teeth and swallow it down, pleased when the kiss earns me a groan. His hands, resting on my thighs, grip me a little tighter.
“Foreplay is fun,” he argues.
“Next time.”
He concedes and we spend the next few minutes kissing languidly until I deem myself ready. When I sit up and look down at his face, I can already tell Grayson is going to argue.
“Are you sure?—"
“Yes.” I reach for the lube and add a healthy layer to his dick. “I’ve done this before. I’m not a virgin, you know. ”
He gives me a disbelieving look. “You’ve done this before,” he repeats pointedly.
“Okay, no. But toys—yes.” Glancing down at his dick, which is unmistakably larger than any sex toy I’ve ever used, I sigh. “I’ll go slow. Like—really, really slow.”
“And if it hurts, stop,” he says seriously.
“You’re cute when you worry,” I tell him, smiling down at his scrunched-up, angsty face. He rolls his eyes and pats the side of my hip. I take this for the obvious move it along that it is, and start to get myself into position.
I falter a couple of times, but Grayson gently directs me into place. He’s silent and watchful, blue eyes so sharp on my face I can practically feel it. He’s watching for nerves, or panic, or pain. He’s watching for me to decide this is too much, too fast, and we need to stop. I’m not nervous, though. I’m turned on and practically shivering with anticipation. This is the feeling I’ve been chasing.
My confidence lasts all of thirty seconds. The moment I’ve got him positioned and his cock pushes past the tight ring of muscle, I realize exactly how much bigger he is than anything I’m used to. But my mom didn’t raise a quitter, so I work on slowing my breathing as I sink a little lower on him. I don’t need to guide him anymore, so I plant both hands on his broad shoulders and drop down half an inch.
The pressure is fucking insane and I can’t help the way my breath hisses out of me. Grayson, who’s watching me like a hawk, immediately clamps his hands around the backs of my thighs and keeps me from going any further. I look at him, ready to say something witty and hilarious, but get distracted by the way his face is flushed and his eyes are a bright, vivid blue.
Every single time I look at him, I question what sort of genetic lottery he won to be born looking like that.
“That hurt,” he says. “You probably need more prep. Or lube.”
“Or maybe the giant six-seven hockey player has a giant dick,” I point out. His lips twitch like he wants to smile, and his grip loosens. I’m able to sink lower on him. This time I’m relaxed enough to get enough of him inside to reach my prostate. Oh, hallelujah, I think, closing my eyes and groaning.
“Am I hurting your shoulders?” I pant, suddenly feeling a little out of breath, like he’s somehow constricting my lungs.
“No,” he answers swiftly. And thank god for that, because moving my hands to the bed would mean no longer touching him. Fuck that.
When he finally bottoms out inside me, I give myself a little break—eyes closed and breathing heavy. I swear I can feel him somewhere in the vicinity of my diaphragm. Grayson rubs his hands over my thighs, calluses scratching across my skin and catching on my leg hair. When I give a little experimental roll of my hips, both of us groan.
“Holy shit,” I gasp, moving one hand only to plant it lower down on his chest.
Grayson opens his mouth, but I cut the words off with my mouth on his and another slow rock of the hips. Fucking hell, no wonder people are obsessed with this. I feel indescribably full, stretched in the best possible way. Picking up the pace a little bit, I continue rolling my pelvis against his. He’s no longer holding my legs, but has both hands buried in my hair as he tastes me with his tongue.
When we reach the point where we need a break from kissing, I plant my hands back on his pecs and start riding him in earnest. Lifting myself almost completely off of him, I drop down unceremoniously. I can’t wrap my mind around how good this feels—every brush against my prostate is lighting me up like a Christmas tree, and the pressure that had been almost too much before, now feels incomparable to anything I’ve ever experienced. I lift myself up again, but this time Grayson follows, pegging me from below.
“Oh fuck,” I moan, gasping and dropping my head back.
Correctly interpreting that as me wanting him to rail me, he grips my hips to hold me aloft. I fall forward somewhat, locking my elbows to keep from collapsing right on top of him as he hits my prostate relentlessly. Sweat prickles my scalp, and every inch of my body feels awash with electricity and heat. I’m partially aware of nonsense words falling out of my mouth, but I’m too high on my own pleasure to care about forming them into coherent sentences.
I come without warning, gasping and falling forward as Grayson continues to pump his hips upward and stimulate my prostate. The grunting and the slap of skin on skin is so unbelievably erotic, I almost wonder if I’ll be able to rebound before Grayson even comes. I’m halfway there when he spasms through his own, filling the condom and slowly bringing us to a stop.
I want so badly to collapse on top of him. The only thing keeping me upright is the sight of him below me—hot and sweaty, with my cum in all that sexy chest hair. I lean down to kiss him, ignoring the slight twinge from my ass as I do. He puts a hand on the back of my head, keeping my face where it is and kissing me breathless again.
I shift forward enough for him to slide out of me, leaving me with a strange, empty feeling. I’m about five seconds away from collapse, so I give him one last peck, swing my leg over, and stretch out on my back beside him. Brushing an arm across my damp forehead, I take a deep inhale and smile as I let it out.
“Gray?”
“Yeah?”
“Just so you know— that’s the kind of sex people in romance novels have.”
He laughs. I turn my head to look up at his face. Rolling onto an elbow, he swings his legs over the side of the bed and walks to the bathroom to clean off. Pillowing my head on my arm, I watch the doorway, wanting to get the full-frontal view when Grayson returns since I’ve just enjoyed the view from behind. He’s gone only a couple minutes, coming over and rolling back onto the bed beside me. I grunt when he settles beside me, compressing the mattress so much that I slide into him.
Grayson is so quiet beside me it feels abnormal. It feels like he’s unsure—a silence filled with worry. I gather what little strength is remaining in my body and roll onto my side, propping myself up on an elbow so I can look at him. He’s cleaned up his chest and disposed of the condom, but otherwise looks just as debauched as he did before. His wary gaze meets mine when I rest my palm on his sternum, brushing my fingers down through the lighter fuzz trailing over his belly.
“Having second thoughts?” I ask, aiming for light and airy but only sounding worried.
“No,” he answers immediately.
“Me either.”
We stare at each other, each weighing the truth in the other’s words. Grayson raises a hand and runs a knuckle down the side of my face. My skin pebbles in response and I lean into it. When he drops his hand back to the bed, I’m disappointed.
“Fuck, Remy.” His voice is low, barely above a whisper, as though the room is crowded with people, but he wants to speak to me alone.
The desire to curl up here beside him and go to sleep threatens to choke me with its sudden urgency. I want to stay here—fall asleep on sheets that smell like us and wake up with Grayson’s big body beside me. Take a step back, Remy, don’t make this more than it is.
I slide my hand off his chest, but not before I lean down and kiss the center of his pec. Sitting up, I scrub my hands over my face and hair, trying to dispel my suddenly soured mood. How frustrating, to be so certain that another relationship is not in the cards for me anytime soon, while also being certain that Grayson is someone I could see myself being with long term.
He puts a hand on my mid-back, fingers splayed wide.
“You want to finish dinner?” he asks.
Yes. Anything to stay a little longer. “No, I’d better head out.”
He doesn’t argue, but lets his hand slide from my back as I stand and begin to dress. After a few seconds, he follows, tugging on his sweatpants and then sitting back down on the bed to wait for me. It’s awkward between us suddenly and I know it’s because of me, but I don’t know how to fix it without ruining our arrangement.
When I’m dressed and the Uber is on the way, Grayson stands. He takes a couple of steps toward his bedroom door, and I’m so close to letting him go, but I can’t. I move forward, wrapping a hand around his elbow and tugging him to a halt. When he’s facing me, I abandon the elbow in favor of his cheek. Sliding my fingers into the soft hair around his ears, I pull him down to my level to kiss him.
It’s a long time—long enough that both of us are semi-hard again—before we break away from each other. Grayson’s face is relaxed, eyes warm with a small smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. The impromptu make-out session had the desired effect; all awkwardness is gone and we’re back on track.
“Can I come back tomorrow?” I ask as he walks me to the door.
“Tomorrow as in the day we’ll be on an airplane to Texas?” he asks cheekily, grinning at me as he holds open the front door and lets me pass through. I turn on the front step to watch him. He’s still shirtless and it’s very obvious he’s not wearing underwear under his sweats. He clears his throat pointedly, when I’ve been staring too long.
“Right. Forgot about the road trip.” I chew on my lip, desperately trying to remember our damn game schedule and figure out the next time Grayson and I can bone. “Saturday, then?”
“Sure.” He smiles, hands shoved deep in his pockets and blue eyes unwavering on mine. The desire to stay is a constant, throbbing ache in my rib cage.
Turning my back, I walk down the driveway to my waiting Uber and go home to my empty apartment.