Chapter 35 #2
“Yes, Angel.”
I lean in, my lips at his ear. “I think I want you to fuck me like this.”
I feel his muscles tense against me. “Like what?”
“Like a man who loves me.”
He pulls away from me, shaking his head slightly. “What do you think I’ve been doing, Angel?”
My stomach does a full barrel roll at that. Then again, when he slides our beer bottles off the counter and into the sink, where they crash and clunk and fizz. I don’t remember putting mine down.
“But for you?” he says, low and rumbly. “I’ll do it again.” In one easy move, he hoists me up on the counter, setting me down hard enough I gasp.
“Here?” We haven’t done it anywhere except the shower and the bed. Oh, and once on the back porch late at night in one of the Adirondacks. That wasn’t easy, but we figured it out.
Heat rips down my body as his hands slide my dress up my thighs. “You have a better suggestion?”
“No,” I say. “Actually, this is perfect. I want to dream about you railing me every time I make a sandwich.”
His laugh is a low chuckle, and while every nerve ending is focused on his fingers curling over the top of my underwear, I can’t help but think how much I love that I can make him laugh.
“You know, I had a boyfriend once,” I breathe into his ear as he tugs the elastic down.
He freezes, meeting my eye. “Sasha.”
I laugh. “I have an important point.” I curl my arms around his head, resting my elbows on his big shoulders, my eyes on his. But still, my hips inch forward on the counter toward him. “That guy, he didn’t think I should be funny.”
Griffin screws up his face. “What?”
“He said women are supposed to laugh at men’s jokes, not make them.”
“But not all of us are good at making jokes.”
“Exactly. Though you do make me laugh.”
His hands are still bunching up the top of my underwear, his thumbs circling the sensitive flesh on my lower belly.
“All I’m saying,” I continue, a little breathy now, “is when you laugh, Griffin, it turns me on. When you smile, it turns me on. Hell, when you do your little grunt thing, it turns me on.”
“What grunt?” he grunts.
I laugh, tipping my head back involuntarily, and he descends on my neck with hot kisses. “Okay, I see why that asshole wanted to make you laugh.”
I groan as he reaches my ear, breathing warm air into the sensitive shell, but I’m still smiling. I suddenly understand what people mean when they say they’re deliriously happy. That’s what I am right now.
Griff’s hands, still at my thin cotton underwear, slide around to the sides, working the elasticized fabric down my hips. I lift myself off the counter to help, and he slides them down my thighs.
My dress is still pulled up high.
I groan as he grabs my ass and slides me fast to the edge of the counter, and I cry out when his fingers find my wet heat.
“Fuck, baby. You feel so good.”
“I want you like this,” I breathe, already melting under his touch. “I want you inside me first.”
He works my clit, and I moan, bucking my hips.
“I need to get a condom,” he rasps.
I shake my head. “Don’t.”
Griffin’s eyes snap up to meet mine. He pulls his hands away, gripping my thighs.
“I’m protected,” I say. “And tested…”
I hesitate, disappointment at the ready. I know his past relationships were short and to the point. But we’ve never talked about it.
“I’m clear,” he grunts. “I never have sex without a condom. It’s not a risk I’m willing to take.”
I shouldn’t be hurt. But I get it. “Then go get a condom,” I breathe as his hands bring my dress up around my hips. Now I really am bare-assed on the counter. We’ll have to sanitize it later, I think asininely.
“No,” he grunts.
“I don’t mind waiting, Griff.”
“No, I mean I’ve been having sex since I was a teenager, and I’ve never fucked anyone without a condom.
I’ve never wanted to. But now, with this fucking beautiful pussy ready for me”—he brings a hand over my center and strokes his thumb against me once more—“your beautiful pussy, so ready for me, Sasha.”
I whimper as he presses circles into my clit with his thumb, shockwaves of pleasure jolting through me.
“I want to feel you,” he says. “I want to know how you feel bare against my cock.”
I thought I was weak with pleasure. That I was dialed all the way up. But when he says those words, a liquid heat spreads hot all over my lower abdomen.
Griffin makes a groaning sound, almost like he’s in pain. “Did you just fucking squirt for me, Sasha?”
“I don’t know.” All I know is I’m losing it with him talking like this while administering those soft wet circles on my swollen clit. All I can manage is little pants until he takes his hand away, dipping his thumb into his mouth. “Fuck,” he groans.
I shrug out of my jacket, then slide the thin straps of my dress down over my shoulders. I free my tits for him, arching my back. “Put your mouth on me.”
He obliges, bending down and pulling my nipple into his mouth.
He teases me, toying at the tight bud with his tongue.
First one, then the other. Then back again.
He dips his fingers into me, tugging at my G-spot, and after a moment of increasing pressure, I feel myself teetering at the edge. “Coming!”
This time I feel the release of liquid onto his hand as I cry out.
Griffin lets out a loud groan as I writhe under his touch. “Fuck yes, Sasha. That’s so fucking hot.”
Waves of pleasure have me rocking on his hand, greedy before I’ve even finished for more. I slide my legs wide. “Fuck me right now. Just like this.”
“You’re sure?” His voice is a low, perforated rumble.
“I’m sure,” I breathe.
I close my eyes, wanting only to feel.
I hear the zip of his pants and sense his heat as he leans over me.
For a moment, there’s only air glancing off my wet nipples, the sound of his breathing intertwined with mine.
“Beautiful,” he says. His hot tip brushes against my wetness, and I inch myself forward. I run my hand up over my breast with one hand, bracing myself against the cupboards with the other.
Griffin teases me, his tip stroking my entrance. “Say you want it.”
This is the only place he loves talking, and I eat it up. “I want it. I fucking want it so bad.”
His hand clamps around my hip, and a moment later, he fills me up in one smooth, jaw-dropping movement. “Fuck,” he breathes.
He doesn’t move for a moment, just pulses inside me. “Fucking magic,” he breathes.
I whimper against him, and he starts to move.
“More,” I insist.
He doesn’t hesitate. He begins to thrust with the urgency I need, harder and faster each time, until he has to cup his hand behind my head to protect it from hitting the cupboards.
“I can’t—I’m sorry,” he says, like he wants to slow but can’t.
“Keep going,” I grit, feeling heat building once more.
He doesn’t slow down. He brings a hand between us, touching my sensitive clit once more.
It’s like a tiny push over the edge. Just a few quick strokes along with his thrusts, and I’m tumbling, toppling, falling into open space as his body tightens.
“Jesus, Sasha, you feel like—” But he can’t continue.
I feel him emptying himself inside me, and it’s so sexy I can hardly breathe.
For a moment we stay clinging to each other, our breathing short and shallow.
Finally he brings his lips to my ear, kissing my lobe with infinite tenderness, before whispering, “You feel like everything.”