ELIZA #2
“Your intent was pretty clear. And while I really fucking want that, you’re gonna have to save it for later, ‘cause this one’s all about you.”
Ignoring him, I reach for his pants, only for him to catch my hand and place it back on the bed. The ridges of his abs are inches from my nose, and I’m hit with the absurd urge to open my mouth and lick. Maybe it’s a good thing, then, that I have an argument to make.
“I’m not the one who had a tough week. I want to do this for you. It was part of the planning I did.”
He lightly laughs as he shakes his head. “Too bad, Boston.”
Too bad?
His hands snake to my waist, lifting the hem of my tank top and resting on my skin. “You just accepted a hard-earned job offer, and I want to celebrate that.” He secures his grip as he smirks. “And even before you shared that news, I’d already made some plans of my own.”
With that, he propels me back on the mattress, momentum carrying him with me.
I gasp, a disbelieving laugh dancing from my lungs as he shucks off my top.
My cotton shorts and underwear go next, and he shoves me up the bed a little more, making room for his bulk as he swings my legs over his shoulders and locks them in with his hands.
So this is what he meant by celebrate.
Instinct has me tensing against him. His smoldering gaze meets mine, an eyebrow lifting. “What do you think you’re doing?” His breath skims my inner thighs, and my core clenches, despite my apprehension.
“Um…lying here?” I answer weakly. What am I going to say? That I’m bracing for my least favorite position? I’ve only done this with Kyle and one other guy, and both were lackluster enough to turn me off forever.
Grayson taps one of my thighs. “Relax this.” When I do, he pats my other leg, tensed beside his head. “Now this one.”
Slowly, I comply, his soft authority making my body thrum with need.
“Just like that, gorgeous. Now rest your head back.”
I study his face between my thighs, his easy confidence and calm intent. The look of a man who knows what he wants—and knows he’s capable of getting it.
I sink back into the mattress.
“So good at following instructions,” he murmurs, his hot breath drawing closer to the juncture of my thighs. His praise unlocks a new wave of tingles, a rush of wetness behind it.
I jolt when his lips press against my inner thigh, his whiskers scraping my skin.
“You work your perfect ass off, Eliza.” His low pitch reaches me as another kiss lands, this one inches from where I’m suddenly throbbing.
“But right now? You don’t need to do a thing.
” Another kiss, with a gentle scrape of teeth. “All you’re gonna do is relax, baby.”
That baby alone, in that self-assured baritone, sets off another sparkler in my core.
I expel a breath. He hums his approval, then dips his head.
He teases me, softly kissing and licking everywhere but the place I need it most. Building anticipation with a patience that has my hands curling into the comforter in frustration, my nerves tightening with need.
I lift my hips to encourage him toward my clit, but he just pushes me back down into the mattress with a chuckle that vibrates through my thighs.
When he finally moves where I need him, minutes later, I’m strung as tight as a crossbow, my body quaking beneath him.
With all his preparations, it doesn’t take much.
He flicks his tongue over my clit, and my hips surge up against his hand, which refuses to let me move.
The little show of strength sends me to the edge, then he slips his other hand off my leg and fills me with his fingers, thrusting sternly as he sucks—
His name spills out of my mouth as the orgasm rolls through me.
Sensation still rocking me, I’m vaguely aware of him placing my legs back on the bed and crawling up my body. When he kisses me, I taste myself on his mouth and more need bolts through me. I’ve never been so turned on, so in need of another person, in my life.
Without a word, he draws back to reach for his nightstand. Recovering, I catch his arm. His eyes collide with mine.
“It’s up to you,” I breathe, “but I don’t need it.”
I don’t want it—any other flimsy barriers between us.
He inhales sharply. “I’m clean. Birth control?”
I nod.
Grayson returns, and I lower back down as his body cages mine. Gaze on mine, he whispers, “I’ll never get enough of you.”
Then he captures my mouth in a searing kiss, and enters me with a shudder.
He keeps kissing me, our moans caught in each other’s throats, even as his hips pulse faster, deeper. Even when he shifts my legs to one side and slides a hand down to touch me. Even as his skin grows damp beneath my palms, and his breathing uneven.
Everyday Grayson is hot as hell, but this Grayson is intoxicating, branding me with his body and mouth and hands that can’t seem to get enough of me. With every strong sweep of his tongue, every unsteady breath, every intentional roll of his hips, he’s both savoring and devouring me.
I’ve never felt so cherished in my life.
I’ve never cherished someone else so much in my life.
Only when I tip over the edge does he draw back, jerking out of me to come across my stomach in thick, hot ropes.
His head hangs above me as he catches his breath, and I trail my fingers through his sweat-slicked waves. My throat thickens with emotion as I breathe him in, relishing in his closeness.
He takes his time leaning back, muscled chest still expanding on big breaths. His palms trail up and down my sides, his thumbs brushing across my breasts before he pulls back and takes in the state of my torso.
“Let me get you cleaned up.” He winks. “I want to get to those cinnamon buns before Dave does.”
“Cinnamon bricks,” I correct with a wince.
This doesn’t deter him in the slightest. If anything, it makes his whole damn night, because a devilish grin lifts his lips and he says, “I actually hope they’re as bad as you say. ‘Cause if they’re really inedible, I’ll just have to have you again. For dessert.”