9. Grayson
GRAYSON
I’m a better man than I was.
I’m stronger than this.
Then why the fuck was I jerking off in the shower for the third day in a row ever since arriving at the safe house with Scarlet?
Closing my eyes, one hand against the wall, I released a deep groan while my hand slid up and down my rigid shaft.
I could almost see her in front of me, imagining her silky hair sliding through my fingers while I guided her head up and down.
I could feel her plump lips wrapped around me, her mouth hugging me, her tongue flicking the bundle of nerves under my head.
Yes, yes, faster. My fist tightened, my strokes quickening as I sank deeper into my fantasy.
I imagined her head between my hands, held still so I could take control and fuck her pretty face.
My blood hummed at the idea of using her, controlling the pace, the depth, and dragging choked, gagging sounds from deep in the back of her throat.
And she would look up at me, our eyes meeting. I could almost hear her moans ring in my ears along with the rapid drumming beat of my heart. She would love it, wouldn’t she? Having my cock in her mouth, letting me use her. She would work hard to make me come.
That wouldn’t be enough. It never was, not even in my fantasies, not even when my heavy balls were so ready for release.
No, I would need her pussy, and it would be wet, so fucking wet.
My body trembled as the feeling intensified while thoughts almost too filthy to imagine played in my head like my personal porn.
Her eyes were wide and dazed. Her tits bounced with every sharp, punishing stroke.
What color would her nipples be? Dusty rose, I decided, my strokes quickening.
I would bend, lower my head, take one between my lips while she scraped her nails down my back and screamed my name.
So close, so fucking close. And her pussy would tighten, squeezing me, hungry for my cum which I splashed across the shower wall.
Again and again, painting the dark tile with the evidence of my desire.
I came until my knees shook and my head spun, and there was nothing left in me but regret that I’d ever gotten into an impossible situation.
After rinsing off the wall, I finished showering and stepped out of the stall.
For a quaint cabin in the woods, the interior was surprisingly comfortable, including a renovated bathroom and kitchen.
There was still only one bedroom, meaning I’d spent the past few nights on the sofa in the living room.
I preferred it that way, making it possible to hear footfalls on the porch’s creaking planks. There hadn’t been any so far.
Not that my sleep went unaffected. If only. I was used to it since Jack had connected me to old friends in the personal security business and years spent working cases like this.
After working many cases and endless nights spent sitting up the way I had lately, it had finally occurred to me that getting a group of skilled professionals together and acting as a liaison between them and the clients was a much smarter, easier, and more profitable business model.
One I implemented and has been the reason for my success.
In other words, I was out of practice when it came to this kind of shit duty.
Meaning it took an abundance of caffeine to clear the fog from my brain in the morning.
The aroma of fresh coffee reached me as I dried off in the steam-filled bathroom.
There was something nice about having the coffee already prepared by the time I finished my morning routine.
The promise of coffee and breakfast left me quickly wrapping the towel around my waist and opening the bathroom door. Scarlet’s voice registered on my awareness a beat too late when I had already begun to stride from the room. “Breakfast is almost—”
Her voice faded to a croak before she stopped dead in her tracks a few feet from where I stood.
It didn’t take a mind reader to interpret what was behind her fair cheeks going pink once she took in the sight of me.
Her mouth fell open before her head snapped to the side, her hair swinging over her shoulder.
“Sorry. I thought you were getting dressed in there.”
She thought it was awkward, catching me in a towel?
Her face would burst into flames if she had the first idea what I’d done in the shower and what had gone through my head while I did it.
“I don’t like getting dressed with all the steam in the air,” I gritted out, fighting to push those fresh memories aside or else attack her.
With my fists clenching, I muttered, “My clothes are in the bedroom.”
“Of course.” She scuffed the floor with her bare toe. “Breakfast is almost ready. That’s what I wanted to tell you.”
“Great,” I grunted, drinking in the sight of her when I knew I shouldn’t.
There were things I was much more interested in than breakfast. For starters, once she turned away and made the quick walk through the living room and into the kitchen, the sight of her lean thighs disappearing under a pair of cutoffs that cradled her ass was a vision capable of inspiring a dozen needy fantasies.
I stood still, fists tight, taking a steadying breath to hold me back from acting on those fantasies. I might have lost the battle if I hadn’t come only minutes ago. There were limits to a man’s abilities.
Rather than keep her waiting and wallowing in embarrassment, I dressed quickly in jeans and a T-shirt, then joined her in the sun-drenched kitchen.
On hearing me approach, she turned from the stove with a brief smile.
“Scrambled eggs and toast okay, I hope? We’re going to need more supplies if there’s any hope of sticking around here without starving. ”
“I’ll make sure it’s taken care of.” I poured my coffee, then sat at the table, where she’d already set out plates and utensils.
Almost like there was anything normal about this situation—stuck together, jerking off like my life depended on it, wasting hours in front of the television while waiting for others to pull plans together for me.
It didn’t help that my dick kept reminding me there were plenty of pleasurable ways to pass the time, either.
“Can I ask you something?” She scooped fluffy eggs onto my plate before adding two slices of wheat toast. Without waiting for my response, she asked, “What’s changed?”
“Excuse me?” I asked while she emptied the skillet onto her plate and returned it to the stove.
“You’re different. Don’t pretend you’re not,” she insisted before I could say a word, sitting across from me, busying herself with buttering her toast, deliberately avoiding my gaze.
“I don’t expect us to be friends, but every day it seems you’re a little angrier, and I can’t decide if you’re angry with me or what.
Did I do something wrong? Because I’ll stop whatever it is. ”
Yes. She had done everything wrong, from looking so fucking delicious in a pair of cut-off shorts to looking so eager to please me with this breakfast. Smelling as good as she did, smiling like she did when I entered the room. Tempting me, making me yearn.
Making me fight tooth and nail against going back on everything I thought I knew about myself.
About the man I was. What I was capable of.
There were times these past couple of days when I had to walk away from her, to go outside to put space between us.
I did push-ups until my shoulders burned, crunches until my abs went almost numb from the strain.
It was enough to make me keep my hands off her, but how much longer would it work?
I wasn’t angry with her. I craved her with every breath and could only fight that craving for so long before my control snapped.
This needed to end.
At the moment, those big, innocent hazel eyes stared holes through me, searching for answers I was in no way able to deliver.
“Everything is the same as it was,” I replied.
It sounded insincere to me, and she took it hard, wincing a little.
“What do you want me to say?” I asked, lifting a shoulder, pointedly ignoring her pained expression because it was better that way.
One of us had to remember boundaries existed—the kind that could never be crossed.
“I don’t know. Sorry. I ask too many questions.” Fuck, why did she have to sound so defeated before she turned her attention back to her plate?
How many times had Dominic spoken to her that way?
My skin crawled at the thought of acting like him.
“There’s a lot on my mind,” I explained, trying to be gentle for her sake.
She wouldn’t look at me, instead pushing food around on her plate with her fork while her teeth bit into her lip hard enough that I was ready for her to start bleeding any second.
“I’m a little stressed. I shouldn’t take it out on you. ”
“No, if there’s anybody you should take it out on, it’s me. I’m not trying to fish for a kind word,” she assured me. “I’m not. It’s the truth.”
“Don’t do that to yourself.” Taking a forkful of buttery, flavorful eggs, I grunted happily. “This is good. Really good.”
“I eat when I’m nervous.” She looked down at herself and snickered. “It’ll be a miracle if I don’t bust out of my clothes.”
What a shame that would be. Okay, I needed to shut that shit down immediately. My dick was going to start chafing if I didn’t stop stroking it every chance I got. I averted my gaze, taking more food, my free fist clenched under the table.