30. Grace #2
“What if I did this?” He pushed down his jeans, leaving the underwear in place. With his pants and then socks off, he was as bare as he’d been in Tristan’s kitchen. Although tonight, his cock was very obviously in the room with us.
“More.”
He tucked his hand inside his underwear and stroked himself as he moved closer. “I’ve fantasized about you.”
Really?
“About what you’d taste like.” He licked his lips and stopped at the edge of the bed. “What your mouth would feel like on my dick.”
I tried to swallow hard, but my mouth had gone dry.
“How wet your pussy would be for me.”
Very wet, Garrett. Very, very wet.
He shed his underwear and holy wow. I’d felt him through his clothes.
On the train, when I’d been on his lap, and he’d been hard underneath me, I’d had a pretty good idea of what I was dealing with.
But seeing him so thick and ready, the head of his cock already wet at the tip, straining toward me like his body couldn’t help itself?
“Wow,” I breathed.
“Thanks.” He crawled onto the bed, and I filed the image away for future reference. For extensive future reference. He settled between my thighs, hovering over me. “Last chance, sunshine.”
Sunshine? I almost died again. Smartly, I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled him closer. “Stop asking questions and put the condom on.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He grabbed the strip of three, tore one off, and opened it.
Kneeling between my legs, he rolled it over his cock, his jaw tightening at his own touch in a way that made my mouth water.
He leaned over me, his cock hot and hard against my entrance, sliding through the slick of me without pushing in.
Instead of taking me, he kissed me again.
Still slow, as though he was having as hard a time believing this was real as I was. As though underneath the scowls and the glares, he’d really been fantasizing about being with me. It was just a sex thing, right? Fall in lust with your protector? Nothing more than brain chemistry, like he’d said?
When he pushed inside me, I gasped. He was thick, and the stretch was so delicious every rational thought in my brain evaporated. Nothing else in the world mattered except the overwhelming sensation of him filling me up while his forehead dropped to mine.
“Wetter than I’d imagined.” His voice was rough and husky in my ear as he pulled almost all the way out, then eased back in. “And so fucking tight.”
“Oh my god,” I groaned. “You feel so good.”
And then. He started to move.
Long, slow strokes at first, like he was testing the waters. Like he was savoring every inch of his cock driving into me.
Slow could wait until later. I dug my nails into his shoulders and pulled him closer, urged him faster, chasing the pleasure building low in my belly. “Harder, Garrett.”
“Fuck yeah.” He gave me harder. Tucked an arm under me and shoved us further up the bed on a slow stroke. He barely lost his rhythm, shifting his angle and his weight until he hit the spot that made me see stars, and then he hit it again. And again. And again.
“Tell me,” he rasped against my neck. “Tell me how it feels.”
“Good. So good. I want more.”
“Greedy.” His teeth grazed my throat. “I fucking love it.”
New noises came out of me—desperate, needy sounds that would probably embarrass me later but right now just felt right.
“Fuck, Grace. You’re so fucking perfect.”
I pulled his mouth down to mine and kissed him while he thrust into me, swallowing his groans and giving him my own. Lifting my hips to meet him. Squeezing my inner muscles around him on every withdrawal until he cursed against my mouth. “That’s it. That’s it!”
He slid a hand between us and found my clit, rubbing in tiny circles in time with his thrusts. The dual sensation was too much, not enough, everything I needed in my entire universe.
“I’m close,” I breathed. “Garrett, I’m?—”
“Let go.” He drove harder, rubbed faster. “I’ve got you.”
“Garrett!” I cried out, letting go of everything—the fear, the grief, the uncertainty—and riding the pleasure.
My whole body went taut, clenching around him in waves so sharp I felt them in my fingertips.
He kept moving through it, extending the orgasm longer than I knew was possible, and then his rhythm broke.
His movements turned erratic and deep, and he gripped my hip hard enough to leave marks.
He buried his face against my neck as he growled his own climax, an intoxicating low, ragged sound that invaded my soul.
He collapsed onto his side, pulling me with him.
We lay tangled together, breathing hard. He kept one arm wrapped around my waist, kept me tucked against his chest, as his heartbeat slowed under my cheek. I gradually became aware of the slow, satisfied sweep of his thumb tracing nothing in particular against my hip.
Eventually, he dealt with the condom, then pulled me right back against him. His mouth pressed against my hair, and we lay there, settling into the knowledge of what we’d done to each other’s bodies.
“So,” I said eventually.
“So.”
“That was amazing.”
“I think I can do better next time,” he said with a laugh.
“Better?” I shoved him onto his back and crawled on top of him, straddling his hips as I had on the train. “What was wrong with that?”
“I’m not sure.” He sat up, forcing me into his lap, so I felt how quickly he was getting hard underneath me. “But there is always room for improvement.”