Chapter 36 Gracie #2
“H-holy shit.” His whole body shudders with the whispered curse, and I’m drunk on this power. He’s barely holding it together, his breath coming in sharp staccato bursts as he says, “Just a little deeper, sweetheart. That’s… that’s it— Fuck you take it so well.”
I moan around him, his words urging me past the threshold of personal comfort. I want him so deep I can’t breathe. My eyes are streaming, my hands and face sticky with frosting, but I can’t get enough. I want to be his—to show him how much I’m willing to give if he’ll just love me the way I love—
“Gracie.” My name is a groan as he lets go of my jaw to quickly grasp the side of my hair. He pulls me away, leaving me empty and panting.
“God, just look at you,” he breathes. “Such a fucking angel on your knees for me. Come here.”
With his help, I stand on wobbling legs, grateful when he pulls me against his heaving chest. He cradles my face between his hands and groans again, eyes mapping the tracks of my tears and swollen lips.
“So gorgeous,” he whispers, bending to lick stray frosting from the side of my mouth.
“So giving.” He sucks my sticky lips and tongue, kissing me so deep, my insides liquify.
“Please,” I whisper, my hands shaking as I undo his bow tie. His top shirt buttons. If he doesn’t touch me soon, I’m going to weep.
He caresses my cheek, and his eyes are so tender, so sympathetic, that I think he understands. “I know it hurts,” he says. “Turn around, and I’ll make it better.”
Shakily, I turn, and he repositions us so that I’m facing the door. With a firm and steady hand between my shoulder blades, he urges me forward until my cheek and hands are pressed against the cool wooden surface.
“Okay?” he asks, sliding his hand down my spine in a well-meaning caress. But nothing is soothing right now—nothing is going to ease this ache except feeling him inside me.
I nod fretfully, arching my spine. “Need you now,” I breathe, wanting him to go quicker.
But his hands are skimming the sheer mesh of the garter belt, fingers tracing down to the straining clips holding up my stockings.
I feel him slide his fingers beneath them, pulling the garter straps out before snapping them back against my ass.
I gasp at the small sting, and he grunts his approval.
And then his thumb brushes the hot, liquid center of me—just a whisper of pressure against my panties, and my knees nearly buckle.
“Oh God,” I exhale, squeezing my eyes shut.
“Shh. It’s going to be okay,” he promises as his fingers slip beneath the soaked fabric. For long moments, all I can do is writhe against his touch, pressing my hips back, wordlessly begging for more.
“Goddamn,” he whispers over the wet sounds filling the pantry. “It’s going to be so easy to stuff you full tonight, isn’t it?”
I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, nodding fervently as he slides my panties down to the tops of my stockings. The cool air makes me feel even more exposed, but then Jude presses himself against me. I moan at the feeling of his broad underside sliding against me, side to side. Smacking me wetly.
“Jude,” I whine, moving my hips in a desperate wiggle.
He groans and finally—finally—pushes his way inside.
I gasp, fingers turning to claws on the door as he mutters an inarticulate curse.
He was right—I’m so ready for him that he’s able to push in most of the way, but the intrusion is still a shock to my body.
I lift onto my toes with a squeak, panting as Jude covers my hands with his own. His head drops beside mine.
“I’m sorry,” he pants, peppering the side of my face with kisses. “You okay?”
“Yes,” I exhale, weaving my fingers through his on the door, relishing their comforting warmth. My body quickly adjusts to the unbelievable feeling of being joined with him, and soon, the ache that’s plagued me all night begins demanding friction. “More,” I beg against his mouth.
He makes a noise like he’s dying and flexes his hips against me.
Carefully. Gingerly. Working himself in with short, rough exhales until I feel his crisp white button-up against my fevered skin.
His hands are crushing mine against the door, every vein articulated, and for a moment, all I can do is try to breathe around the slight burn and ear-ringing pleasure of being this full.
Until slowly, he pulls back, leaving every inch he fought for so hollow I’m crying out.
When he presses back in with one smooth push, my eyes roll back, spine arching.
But soon enough, his slow, cautious pace goes from being nearly too much to just a tease.
“Harder,” I whine, pressing back against him.
He shakes his head, his hair a caress on my cheekbone. “I’ll hurt you.”
“I’ll like it,” I promise.
“Fuck,” he growls. Grip tightening on my hands, he drives into me like he’s needed this, too. My jaw falls open, and I want to tell him how good it is, but I have no breath. He rolls into me again and again, his movements so fluid and demanding, I feel like the water he loves to lose himself in.
“So perfect for me,” he says, panting and desperate. “How’d I get so fucking lucky? Tell me how to deserve you.”
Tears well in my eyes as the relentless, delicious pressure builds inside me, his sweet words crystallizing in every chamber of my heart. “I love you,” I cry, squeezing my eyes shut as the naked truth accidentally rockets out of me.
“God, Gracie,” he pants as he quickly pulls out and spins me around so that my back is against the pantry shelves.
In a moment, his hands are dropping low, and he’s ripping my panties to get them out of the way.
They dangle in tatters above one stocking, trapped by my garter straps, but it seems good enough for him.
He quickly shucks his jacket, letting it crumple to the floor.
With his bow tie loose and his hair falling into his wild eyes, he looks as undone and desperate for this as I am.
Lifting me quickly, my thighs wrap around his hips while my elbows shove backward onto the shelf.
A stack of metal mixing bowls close to the edge fall to the ground, clanging and scattering wildly, but I barely register the sound as he pushes into me again.
I cry his name, eyes squeezing shut, and it’s all I can do not to come apart.
“Look at me,” he demands, grinding his hips in a way that makes stars pop behind my closed eyes. Dazed, I lift my lashes, and it’s worth the effort to see his miracle of a face staring at mine.
“It was never casual for me,” he confesses, voice threadbare. “It was never just hooking up. It was never anything but loving you. Even before I knew what to call it, I loved you, Gracie.” He exhales hard, lashes shuddering. “You have my trust. My everything. Anything I have to give is yours.”
I can’t respond with more than a sob as he drags his hungry mouth down my neck, pushing me to my limit with every rolling thrust. This love we’ve found is rushing in, filling every hollow part of me until I’m a dam on the edge of bursting.
He kisses my gasping mouth, salt and sugar, and I want it all.
The dark and the light, the spoken and the unspoken, as long as it’s with him.
His hand finds my tipping point, stroking me past the point of all control.
I break open with a strangled cry, and he follows, growling his release as a conduit opens between us.
An irrevocable feedback loop of trust and knowing.
Knowing that if everything else falls apart, there will always be this.
The feeling of being chosen. Of being loved beyond all reasonable doubt.