Chapter Twenty
Holly
“Baby,” Grayson groans as his hand leaves the steering wheel to roam up my thigh. I reach over and wrap my fingers around his large hand, squeezing softly. I slide us higher, and higher, until I take the curve of my inner thigh and bring him to my center, his hand cupping my pussy over my shorts.
“Hmmm?” I ask, not even caring to open my eyes as I place wet kisses along his neck. I nip at his ear lobe, relishing the satisfied grunt he releases.
“I need you in my bed right now,” he growls, and I rock my hips against his hand.
I can’t remember the last time I’ve been this needy, this turned on.
I’m a woman in my thirties who started dating as a teenager.
I was engaged for Christ’s sake. I’ve considered myself to have had decent sex over the years, but I’ve never been this hot for someone. This turned on simply by a kiss.
The truck comes to a skidding stop, dust and gravel flying up as Grayson kills the engine. He whips open the driver’s side door, and once his feet are firmly planted on the ground he turns, reaching for my legs and pulling me out of his side of the truck with a squeal.
I fall into his arms, pulling him in for another kiss, and once I let my hand travel down to grip him over his jeans, he turns feral.
I’m suddenly upside down, flipped over his shoulder as he’s carrying me into the house the same way he carried me out of the field.
“Grayson!” I cry out, my laugh carrying over the still night.
“Let me down!” I playfully slap his thick butt, my palms hitting only pure muscle.
He slaps my ass, hard, and I scream. Once the sting wears off, a pooling wet heat gathers between my legs.
“Again,” I moan, and his hand cracks down once more against my backside.
I bite down, holding back a curse, and then his front door is kicked open.
He delivers another smack to my butt before pulling my shoes from my feet, letting them fall to the floor with a thud.
He shuffles his own off on the short walk from the kitchen to his bedroom, but not before spanking me once more.
“She’s not so cocky when my handprints are burning her ass, is she?”
With a toss, I’m flying through the air, landing on his bed with an oof and a happy squeal.
I take a second to look around his bedroom, noticing that it’s simple but well taken care of.
An antique-looking dresser matches the large king-sized bed frame.
A singular window is open, and a perfect cool breeze filters through the screen.
A lazy ceiling fan spins above us, and I stare at it, wondering if I’m drunk even though I haven’t had a sip tonight.
And it’s all because Grayson Hart is kneeling between my spread legs.
He uses one thick leg to usher mine apart, and I open them further. I reach for the hem of my tank top, arching my back as I bring it up and over my head. I toss it somewhere to the side, and make quick work of my bra, discarding it just the same.
Grayson watches with full admiration as I slowly unbutton my shorts.
With an exaggerated side-to-side shimmy of my hips, I bring the shorts down my thighs, over my knees, and let them fall around my ankles.
Grayson doesn’t even break eye contact as he reaches for them, tugging the denim roughly over my feet and dropping it to the floor.
I lie back on the bed, letting my legs drop open once again, this time a little wider, and I feel the fabric of my drenched thong pull to the side.
He reaches a hand down, his thumb swiping over the damp fabric, and he lets out a low, ragged groan. “You’re so desperate for my cock, baby, you’re soaked right through.”
He stares down at me, scrubbing a hand over his face and looking exactly how I feel.
Drunk. His half-hooded eyes drink me in, mouth hanging open, his hair mussed from raking my hands through it.
My nipples pebble under his heated stare, and I try to control my breathing as my chest rises with heavy pants.
“Fuck,” he grits out, low and guttural. “I must have died at some point today. My body is still lying in the dirt on the fairground and I’ve made it to heaven because there’s no fucking way that you are real.”
I rise to my knees, reaching for the hem of his shirt and pulling it up and over his head.
When I see his bare chest, I gasp, eagerly running my hands over it.
He’s so strong; his thick muscles honed from a lifetime of hard work.
A dusting of brown hair covers his chest and thick stomach, and I run a palm over it, tracing the path that disappears into his jeans.
When my hand grazes his stomach, he flexes the muscles, sucking in a bit.
My eyes flick to his, and I see an unexpected insecurity in them, one he’s never let on before.
A man like him should be proud of his size, of his strength, of the things he can do with this gloriously thick body.
With the back of my hand, I playfully slap his stomach.
“Don’t you dare do that. Don’t hide from me.” I smooth my hands up his chest and over his shoulders, linking them behind his back. “You are the sexiest man I have ever seen in my life, I swear. Don’t you dare feel like you need to hide your body from me.”
“You’re a literal angel,” he says, leaning down to kiss my shoulder.
I rub my bare chest against his, whimpering at the feeling of his hair against my nipples.
“Did I ever tell you that’s what I thought the first time I saw you?
” He presses his mouth to mine. “The street lamp was shining behind you through your blonde hair, and I thought there’s no way this woman is real.
You’re an angel, and I’m a beast. I’ve done nothing to deserve you in my bed right now, looking at me like this. ”
I grab the sides of his face with my palms and pull him to me. “Shut up,” I murmur playfully, nipping his bottom lip. “I’m right where I want to be, doing exactly what I want to be doing." I let my voice soften a little. "I swear there's no where else I want to be."
He chuckles, warm and deep, causing his chest to bump against mine as he does. His hands roam my back and down to my ass before coming around to grip the sides of my underwear. I’m begging him to tear them off, to rip them to shreds and throw me down across his bed.
He lies me down, my back hitting his rumpled comforter, and he covers by body with his weight.
I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him flush against me.
The scrape of his jean-clad legs against my thin underwear offers a delicious friction, and I start to rock myself against him, searching, begging for more.
The feel of his body pressed against mine, the scrape of his chest hair, of his beard as he trails kisses down my chest has embarrassing, needy whimpers escaping my mouth.
Grayson takes his time exploring me, moving from my lips to my neck and back up to my chest. He nips at my hips and the sides of my thighs, following my body as I squirm with delight.
His broad palm stretches over my thigh, fingertips digging deep into my flesh as he pulls my leg around him. My hands roam his back, his shoulders, before I bring them down to rip his belt open.
His hot breaths pant against my neck as I lower his zipper, shoving his jeans over his round ass just so I can get my hand inside his briefs.
And then I’m squeezing him, my fist wrapped around his hard length as I pump.
This man is six-foot-five, and judging by the feel of him in my palm, he's proportionate everywhere.
That knowledge both exhilarates and terrifies me.
A raspy “baby” falls from his lips, and I smile into his next kiss. “I need you to fuck me, Grayson,” I whisper, tugging at his ear. He practically growls as a fist comes to rest on the mattress near my head.
He rises, and we both study the space between us, watching his hard cock rock against my soaked underwear.
All it would take is one finger to snag the fabric, one second to pull it to the side and he could guide himself inside of me.
A rush of heat fills my chest at the thought, and he must feel the same because he leans on his elbow, the opposite hand sliding over my stomach to curl around the band of my underwear.
He gently pulls it away from my skin, tugging it down one side and clearing my hip bone, when he pauses.
His movements freeze. A few seconds tick by before his hand unfurls from my panties and his fingertips smooth the stretched fabric down.
Grayson lowers his head to brush a soft kiss against my stomach, his lips nuzzling against my skin briefly before he rolls to the side, leaving his arm draped over my hip.
“What? What happened?” I push up on my elbows, wondering what could’ve caused such an abrupt change in mood.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, my mind immediately imaging the worst. I've grossed him out somehow, or maybe he doesn't want this.
I try to tell myself there's no way I've mistaken his need, but it doesn't help my frazzled mind.
I inhale a sharp breath through my nose, begging the anxious tears to pause.
He runs a hand through his disheveled hair, exhaling heavily. “Nothing’s wrong, baby, nothing. I just…” He licks his lips and looks up at me, and the insecurities slowly start to creep in.
“I like you, Holly,” he finally says, eyes darting back and forth between mine.
“I like you a hell of a lot more than I should after only knowing you for what, a month? For only getting to be with you in person a handful of times. We’ve spent a few days together, really fucking great days, and believe me, I want nothing more than to strip you down, turn you over with your ass in the air and watch as I pound into you.
I want your screams to echo off the walls of my house, believe me. ”
I suck in a breath at the mental image of that, and my thighs instinctively rub together.
Grayson doesn’t miss the movement, and his hand drops from my hip to my thigh, curling his fingertips around the inside of my leg.
“Fuck, don’t make me regret trying to do the right thing here.
” He chuckles softly as his eyes stay focused on the spot between my legs where his fingers are dangerously close to touching.
“I like you,” he says again. “I like you to the point that I don’t want our relationship to start off with sex, or to have sex be the main point.
I want to take my time with you.” His eyes meet mine, gauging my reaction.
“I want us to take our time together. When the time comes, I want to make sure that we’re both ready, that it’s not just some heat of the moment act. ”
I swallow a ragged breath, my throat working around a scratchy ball of cotton. “Is this the friendship speech again?”
His grip on my thigh tightens, pulling my attention. “I’ve already told you, baby, you’re more than my fucking friend. I don’t bring my friends into my bedroom. I don’t want to fuck my friends. All I’m saying is, it doesn’t have to happen tonight.”
“Yeah, I get it.” He’s right, I guess, that our relationship is new, but shit, this is incredibly embarrassing considering I’ve been practically dry humping his side since we ran out of the fireworks show.
But he has a point, and as much as my body doesn’t agree with it, my heart knows what he’s saying makes sense.
Thankful that the shadows from the dark room are hiding my disappointment, I sit up, looking to the floor for my clothes when a heavy palm drapes across my stomach, pulling me back.
“Don’t mistake what I’m saying, Hol.” Grayson's baritone voice brushes against my ear, and he wraps his other arm around my waist, pulling me roughly into him. My back melts against his chest, and when he drifts a hand down to palm me over my underwear, I can’t help but roll my hips against him.
“When I say I don’t think we should fuck tonight, it doesn’t mean that I want you to leave.
” He brushes his thumb over my underwear, managing to find my clit, and my head drops back to rest on his shoulder when he starts to rub slow, firm circles.
“It doesn’t mean that I don’t plan on stripping off this flimsy piece of fabric you call underwear.
It doesn’t mean that I’m not going to beg to taste what I know is going to be a perfect pussy.
I’m dying to taste you, baby, to see if your cunt tastes as good as your lips. ”
“Grayson,” I moan, reaching a hand up to grip the back of his neck. He bites down on my shoulder, and I hiss.
“I want us to take our time, sweetheart. We don’t have to fuck tonight, or the next time we’re together.
Or the next. There’s no rush because I’m not going anywhere.
In my mind, we have all the time in the world.
I want to touch you, taste you, learn you.
I want to feel your orgasm against my mouth, and then I’m going to take you in the kitchen and cook you dinner.
And after that, I’d like to pull you into my bed and have you stay the night with me. ”
Well, hell. When he phrases it like that, how on earth am I supposed to resist?
He pulls me back, and I let him lie me down on the bed, and this time when he climbs over me, there’s no hesitation.
He starts with my mouth, brushing soothing kisses against my lips before he moves down my body, to my chest, pulling one aching nipple into his mouth.
His hand comes up to the other, and he pinches it, rolling my nipple between his thumb and pointer finger.
“Grayson,” I whine, needing more.
“I’ll get you there, baby. I don’t want to rush this and lose you. When we take that next step, when I take you and claim you, there won’t be any going back for me. So, when that day comes, you need to be ready.”
Holy hell, this man may actually kill me.
“And if you decide that you aren’t sure,” he continues. “That you want to wait, or you need to think and you want to go home alone tonight, that’s okay. I promise I’m still going to call you tomorrow and ask to see you again.”
Grayson is the dichotomy of every man I’ve ever met.
He lets his heart rule his actions. There’s consent, there’s respect, but Grayson takes that to another level, and it’s something no one has ever offered me in the past. I reach one of my hands up to gently push against his shoulder, and he lets me move him until he’s lying on his back.
I swing a leg over him so I’m straddling him, rotating my hips slowly over his still-hard cock before leaning down to take his mouth in another kiss.
I nip his bottom lip, pulling back to briefly lick the area before I whisper against his mouth, “Enough talking, cowboy. How about you show me what else that mouth can do.”