9. Grayson
9
GRAYSON
B rian is the only man I’ve ever slept with.
Our sexual relationship started long before he ever thought to claim me publicly. I was tutoring him in algebra. He and Noelle were on a break, and it just kind of happened. And it kept happening, never turning into the outward facing affection and intimacy I craved until our sophomore year of college when Noelle cheated on him and he came crawling back to me, claiming he wanted something more.
The sex we had that day was amazing, probably our best work to date, but I already know it won’t hold a candle to what’s about to happen between Xavier and I. The energy between us is different. The way he touches me and looks at me and talks to me is different. Everything he does oozes passion and power and control. Nothing like the refined disinterest Brian would give me no matter what I was wearing or doing.
“Stop thinking about him,” Xavier growls into my mouth, following my naked form down onto the plush, dark comforter covering his king size bed.
“I wasn’t?—”
“You were, and I get it, but you’re with me right now, Hart, so be here with me,” he says, shifting all of his weight to his hands so he’s hovering above me.
There’s no anger or annoyance in his eyes, only understanding that stems from his knowledge of my history. I start to question the wisdom of this, of making the first man I’ve slept with since my divorce the man I had to lay my soul bare to over the course of months, but before I can decide if I should try to change my mind, Xavier comes down, pressing the hard planes of his bare chest into my breasts and kissing me.
His kiss is firm, but his lips are plush perfection, and his tongue. My God, his tongue is a weapon he’s far too adept at deploying. He strokes it in and out of my mouth, coaxing moans from me that he laps up with earnest while his hips rock into my core. His hardened length gliding through the slickness coating my pussy lips.
“C—condom?” I gasp, pulling back to break the kiss.
Xavier’s pupils are blown, his eyes two black holes of desire that threaten to swallow me whole. No one has ever looked at me like he’s looking at me right now, and I don’t know what to do with that information or the rush of warmth it sends through me, trickling down from my pounding heart to my throbbing sex.
He comes back down for another kiss, this one shorter but no less intoxicating before lifting off of me completely. “We’re not there yet, Hart,” he chuckles, sliding down the bed until his head is between my thighs. “I haven’t even tasted you.”
My eyes go wide with surprise and a little fear as he takes my thighs in his hands and places my legs on his broad shoulders. “Oh, no, you don’t have to do that,” I gasp, trying to close them.
Both of his brows fall together in a line of confusion. “You don’t want me to?”
“No. I mean, I don’t know—I’ve never. No one’s ever—” Heat floods my cheeks, and I throw my head back on the bed, wondering how the hell I thought I could sleep with this man when I can’t even tell him I’ve never been eaten out before.
“Never?” Xavier asks, incredulity threaded through the warm breath passing over my skin. There’s still no judgment in his tone, but there’s no understanding this time, either. When I gather the courage to lift up and look down at him, he looks genuinely confused. “ Never , Hart?”
I answer his question with a quick shake of my head, and his fingers flex against the outside of my thighs as my head hits the mattress again, questions about the likelihood of dying of embarrassment bouncing around my skull.
“Because you didn’t want to or because he didn’t?”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I force my breathing to even out. “He didn’t. He always said it was… gross .”
He also always gave me the most disgusted looks when I would ask for it in the early months of our sexual relationship. Eventually, it got to the point where I felt disgusted with myself for wanting it. I don’t tell Xavier that, though.
“What a fucking loser,” he groans the words into my skin, his head rocking from side to side like he’s physically pained at the idea. “You were wasted on him.”
I don’t respond. I don’t think I can respond because I’m too focused on the heat from his mouth on my overly sensitive skin and the growing wetness pooling in places I’m sure he can see.
“ Grayson ,” he murmurs, the syllables of my name stretched and torn over the sharp edge of desire. “You’re getting wetter.”
“I know.”
“Let me taste you, Hart. I promise you’ll enjoy it.”
The confidence in his tone, coupled with his concern about my pleasure, is almost enough to make me scream yes, but I manage to hold it in, knowing I need one more thing before I give in to him.
“Will you?”
“It’s mostly about your pleasure, but, yeah, Hart, I’ll enjoy it. If I’m being honest, I’ll probably enjoy it a little too much. You might have to pry my mouth off of this pretty ass pussy because once I experience you coming apart on my tongue, I’m going to want to make it happen again.” He nuzzles against the inside of my thigh, the hairs of his beard tickling my flesh and making me squirm. “And again.” He nips at my mound, then plants a soft kiss over the freshly abused spot. “And again.” He nudges my clit with his nose, sending a jolt of pleasure through me.
My entire body is burning with anticipation, alive with the desire to have the experience Xavier is promising, so neither of us is surprised when my lips part and a breathless, “Yes,” slips past them.
Xavier wastes no time. As soon as I give my consent, his head dips down, and he’s French kissing my pussy. His moans of satisfaction vibrating against my clit, radiating through my body as I arch up and grab hold of his head with both hands, the tips of my nails disappearing into the thick, black waves hugging his scalp.
“ Fuck, Xavier. ”
I feel rather than see his answering smile. It grows bigger when he lowers my hips back to the bed and brings his hands to my core, making them complicit in his bid to devour me. He holds me open with his left, two fingers parting my lips to expose my most intimate parts to him, and drives into me with a finger on the right. It’s the most exquisite intrusion. I rock into the shallow thrusts, silently urging him to give me more, screaming my overwhelming pleasure when he obeys, adding another thick finger to the mix while his tongue assaults my clit with long, laving licks that are precise and messy all at once.
His timing is perfect. His touch awe-inspiring. He doesn’t need any help from me, but I still find myself holding his head in place, unable to let go for fear that he might change something and cause the pressure building inside of me to retreat. And I can’t lose it. Not when it’s this strong and coming on this fast, not when it’s the first orgasm I’ve had in almost two years that wasn’t a result of my own efforts, not when it’s Xavier giving it to me.
More than I’ve ever wanted anything.
That’s what he’d said to me that night, and if I didn’t believe him then, I damn sure believe him now because this ? This is how you eat a meal you’ve been desperate to have for longer than you’d care to admit.
It’s that thought that sends me careening over the edge of control and into a pool of pleasure I’m content to drown in. True to his word, Xavier keeps his mouth on me long after I’ve come back up for air. He suckles on my clit, raw, reverent groans of pleasure pouring from his throat as he coats his mustache, his lips, and his beard in my essence.
“No more,” I whimper, feeling the beginnings of a second orgasm unfurling low in my belly. It’s not that I don’t want to come again, I just don’t want to come without him. I want him inside of me, his weight pressing me into the mattress, his lips at my ear while he talks me through it.
The entire bottom half of his face is glistening when he finally pulls back, a proud smile curving those sinful lips. He climbs up the bed, covering my body with his, and kisses me long and hard.
“ Now , I can get the condom,” he says, arching his body over mine to reach the nightstand to his right. While he’s digging through the top drawer, I busy myself with tracing his sides with my hands and laying a kiss on the side of his pectoral. It’s a stupid, intimate gesture that has no real place in a one-night stand but feels right between us. Xavier seems to agree, the evidence of his approval shining in his eyes when he’s back between my legs, resting his weight on the back of his heels as he makes quick work of putting on the condom.
Then he’s back on me, gentle hands shifting wild curls out of my face as he studies me. “You okay?”
I lift my legs and clamp them at his sides, linking my ankles behind his back to keep him close. “Perfect.”
“That you are,” he says, reaching down to align himself with my entrance.
The first inch of him is enough to let me know I’m going to be sore for days after this. The stretch is almost painful, almost too much, but it’s so good I don’t dare ask him to stop.
“More?” Xavier asks, planting a kiss at the corner of my mouth. I turn my head, catching his lips in a slow, nasty kiss laced with my scent and taste while my hips rock up, taking him deeper. Now it’s his turn to curse and moan and beg, and he does all of those things with his mouth still attached to mine, all of it a silent inference I make while his dick slips further and further into my soaked channel until he reaches the end of me.
And then we curse together, we moan together, we beg each other for relief and release and something we can’t put words to but is satisfied by the wet glide of Xavier’s dick retreating from my walls and pushing back in.
“Jesus, Hart,” he rests his forehead against mine. “You’re gripping my shit so tight.”
Panic rises in me. That old fear of being wrong twisting my stomach. “Sorry, I didn’t…”
He rears back and drives into me again, turning my apology into a helpless moan. “Don’t you dare apologize, Grayson,” he growls into my ear. “This pussy is perfect. You’re perfect. ”
And just like that, the panic is gone. Melting into the back of my mind as pleasure arrives at the forefront. Its presence inspired by Xavier’s mouth at my neck, kissing, sucking, and biting while he drills into me over and over and over again, fucking me up the bed and, when my head hits the headboard, flipping me over.
His hands go to my waist, pulling me back onto his dick. “Look at that fucking arch,” he moans, fingers digging into my hips as I start to move, taking over the rhythm to keep him where I need him while pleasure from his praise makes me wetter.
Xavier comes down, partially covering my back with his front and laying reverent kisses along my spine as his hands move from my waist to my breasts, fingers toying with my nipples and heightening the sensations that are already rolling through me.
Needing more, I rise up on my knees, forcing Xavier back so we’re both kneeling. His teeth find the lobe of my ear, and his every breath harsh, heavy pants that challenge me to drive down harder, faster, taking him deeper with every fierce stroke while moans pour from my lips.
“Give it up, Hart,” he whispers, meeting me thrust for sinful thrust while my walls tremble around him. “I can feel it coming,” he says, one hand leaving my breasts to apply pressure to my lower belly, making everything more intense.
One of my arms goes up, looping around his neck. “ Xavier. ”
I can’t keep the rhythm, can’t speak a word that’s not his name, can’t do anything but feel the weight of his hand on my stomach and the strength of his presence at my back and obey the simple command that he keeps repeating while every part of him works to help me do so.
“I want it, Grayson,” he says, using his knees to spread me out further. His other hand abandons my breast, skating over my ribs to make a home between my thighs where he pets my clit with soft strokes of his fingers that make my eyes roll into the back of my head. “I want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything.”
And it’s those words that do it.
That cause me to fall apart around him, that triggers the unholy echoes of staggered orgasms that leave us both shattered, and one of us wondering what the fuck she’s done.
“What do you mean you left?!” Kendra whisper-shouts, her face wrinkled in disapproval and confusion while A’ja, Chantel and Amina all give me variations of the same expression.
We’re sitting in the middle of Refrain, the restaurant Jax and Amina opened in New Haven, a small city about forty-five minutes from Fairview, a few years ago. The space is big and bright and warm, a far cry from the cold, modern look of his first restaurant, Arcane, which was the brainchild of Jax’s failed home-wrecker of an investor, Cassidy Marks. When the realtor, Luca Adler, first brought me to this spot, I knew it’d be perfect for the communal eating, farm-to-table vibe Jax wanted to go for. I also knew the large, open space at the back of the building would be great for hosting events.
I didn’t, however, know that one of those events would be a fashion show to re-launch Elysian. For months, this brand and my divorce have been my sole focus. Now, the divorce is done, and the launch is a few weeks away, and suddenly, everyone wants to hear me talk about other things in the middle of what’s supposed to be brunch with a side of business.
Personally, I blame Amina for asking how my divorce celebration went. Her inquiry led to everyone pressing me for information about Xavier and what we did after we left Luxe. Unfortunately for me, the strong ass mimosas Jax keeps sending to the table gave me loose lips, and I ended up spilling my guts about my night with my divorce lawyer, sparing no detail. Not even the one about tip-toeing out of his apartment in the wee hours of the morning after falling asleep in his arms.
“Why would you leave, Grayson?” Amina asks, copper eyes filled with confusion as she hands a crayon to Maya, the beautiful, almost two-year-old she and Jax conceived not long after their reconciliation.
“Gwayson no leave, Mama,” Maya exclaims, pointing a finger sticky with syrup in my direction. “Gwayson, right there.”
Kendra throws her head back and groans. “She’s too cute, Amina. My ovaries can’t take it.”
“Yes, they can,” A’ja retorts, rolling her eyes. “You already have your hands full with Crew.”
“I mean, I know that, but look at her, A’ja! Look at those cheeks.” Kendra reaches over and pinches Maya’s cheeks, making her giggle. All of us swoon, even A’ja and Chantel, who, as far as I know, have no interest in being mothers.
Pride shines in Amina’s eyes as she looks at her daughter. “Thanks. I made her from scratch.”
“Umm, excuse me, you had some help,” Jax says, sauntering up to the table with a dish of something delicious smelling in his hand. He sets it down in the middle of us and scoops Maya up out of the booth, raining kisses down on her face while she giggles and tries to hold him off with two tiny hands on either side of his face. Jax makes a big show of acting like she’s actually holding him back, chomping at the air between their nearly identical faces.
Amina watches them, and there’s love evident in her expression even as she waves them off. “Help me out right now and take her in the kitchen with you so I can have some adult conversation.”
Jax honors her request with a dramatic dip of head and a faux curtsy. “As you wish, my liege.” We all wave goodbye to him and Maya as they make their exit, her happy giggles lingering in the air long after they’re gone.
“Okay,” Amina says, clasping her hands together and sitting up straight to indicate how serious she is. “Now, tell me, why did you leave?”
Stalling, I lean forward and grab the serving spoon from the dish Jax just brought out. “I wonder what this is,” I muse aloud, and they all groan. Chantel snatches the spoon from my hand, doling out a hefty helping of the food onto everyone’s plate.
“It’s a Spanish omelet, Gray. Now, tell us why you left that man’s bed,” she orders.
From the moment the conversation shifted to Xavier, I’ve been trying, and failing, to fend off thoughts of last night. The way he touched me, the way he fucked me, the way he held me until we both fell asleep. The way his brow furrowed when I slipped out of his arms, like even in his sleep, he could sense that I was gone.
“Because,” I offer lamely.
Unsurprisingly, no one at the table appreciates that answer, and they stare holes into the side of my face while I push eggs, potato and chorizo around on my plate. Not bothering to eat any of it.
“Because what?” Amina asks, eyes wide with recognition, with knowledge of what someone looks like when they’re running away from something, or rather someone, they should be running toward.
I sigh and drop my fork, pushing my plate away. “Because I didn’t want to spend my first night as a single woman in anyone else’s bed but mine. I got divorced to regain my independence, not give it away to the first man to show interest in me after Brian.”
Never in my life have I seen so many sets of eyes roll at once.
“Grayson.” Chantel puts a hand on my arm, her tone soft. “I mean this in the most disrespectful way possible. That’s some bullshit.”
My mouth drops. Chantel hardly ever uses curse words, so for her to just be casually dropping them in the middle of this awkward, but lighthearted, conversation has surprised the hell out of me.
“It’s not!” I protest, looking around the table to find support and coming up empty.
“It is,” A’ja says. “You’re talking like spending the night was going to result in him putting a ring on your finger or something. There is a such thing as casual, extremely gratifying sexual relationship with no strings attached.”
“This is true.” Kendra picks up her glass and holds it in A’ja’s direction, proposing a toast. “I fuck Cash every now and again when my other dudes ain’t acting right.”
A’ja, who was just preparing to reciprocate the act of camaraderie, frowns at her sister and sets her glass back down, silently gagging. “You need to stop that immediately.”
Amina and Chantel laugh as the two sisters start to argue, both of them tossing out things that the other should stop doing. I tune them out, thankful that the conversation has shifted so I can be alone with my thoughts. Immediately, they wander to Xavier, to what it might look like to have something with him that won’t require me to offer parts of myself I’m not quite ready to give, parts that came rushing to the surface when I was in his bed last night.
Now that the option has been brought to my attention, I know that it’s something I want. Something that feels safe for me. Something that would allow me to have more of what we shared last night, but at no risk to myself.
The only question is: would Xavier want that with me?