chapter THIRTY-SIX
Reese
G ray's mouth trails down my neck, leaving fire in its wake. Every touch, every kiss, every brush of his fingers against my skin sends another wave of heat crashing through me. I arch against him, desperate for more contact, more friction, more of everything he's offering.
"Patience," he murmurs against my collarbone, the word incongruous coming from a man whose own control is visibly fraying.
"Patience isn't really an option right now," I gasp as his teeth graze the hollow of my throat. "In case you hadn't noticed."
His laugh is dark and rich, vibrating against my skin. "Oh, I've noticed."
He unclasps my bra with unfair ease, tossing it aside before sitting back on his heels to look at me.
The hunger in his gaze is almost tangible, his steel-gray eyes darkened to storm clouds.
There's something raw and possessive in his expression, something I've never seen from our perfectly controlled captain before.
"You're beautiful," he says simply, no artifice or pretense in his voice.
Heat floods my cheeks. "You don't have to flatter me, Gray. I'm already in your bed."
"Not flattery. Fact." His hands trace up my ribs to cup my breasts, fingertips brushing over my nipples with deliberate pressure. "I don't say things I don't mean."
Another thing I know to be true about Gray Lockwood. He doesn't lie, doesn't exaggerate, doesn't waste words on false praise. His honesty is as much a part of him as his precision in the boat.
His mouth replaces his hands, lips closing around one nipple while his fingers tease the other.
But where Bo was gentle and reverent, Gray is demanding.
His teeth graze the sensitive peak, just enough edge to make me gasp, his tongue soothing the slight sting before he moves to lavish the same attention on my neglected breast.
I thread my fingers through his dark hair, holding him against me as pleasure spirals outward from each point of contact. When he pulls away, I nearly whimper at the loss.
"Gray," I breathe, already knowing where he's headed. "You don't have to—"
"Stop telling me what I do or don't have to do," he cuts me off, voice firm with an edge of command I've never heard directed at me outside the boat. "I want to taste you. Properly this time. Not standing in a bathroom with your dress hiked up."
The memory sends another rush of heat through me. "That was pretty hot, though."
"It was a preview." His mouth moves down my stomach, tongue dipping briefly into my navel before continuing lower. "This is the feature presentation."
He positions himself between my thighs, hands gripping my hips with possessive strength. Unlike Bo's careful exploration, Gray's approach is territorial. He kisses and nips along my inner thighs, marking me with small bruises that will remind me tomorrow exactly who I belonged to tonight.
When he finally reaches my center, he doesn't start gently. His tongue licks a broad stripe from bottom to top, making me cry out and arch off the bed. He groans against me, the sound vibrating through my core.
"Fuck, you taste incredible," he growls, diving back in with single-minded intensity.
Gray eats pussy like it’s his job–with focus, determination, and an absolute refusal to accept anything less than perfection. His tongue works me relentlessly, drawing gasps and moans from my throat as my thighs shake against his shoulders.
When he slips two fingers inside me, curling them deep, I grab his hair and pull hard enough to make him groan.
"Look at me," he commands, lifting his head just enough to meet my eyes. "I want to see your face when I make you come."
The direct order, delivered in the same tone he uses to command the boat, sends a streak of heat straight through me.
I prop myself up on my elbows, looking down at him between my thighs.
The sight alone nearly pushes me over the edge—Gray Lockwood, perfect captain and Alpha heir, his mouth glistening with my arousal, eyes burning with possessive hunger.
"The bedroom is the only place you get to command me like that," I gasp, needing to maintain some illusion of control even as he systematically dismantles me.
"We'll see about that," he says, the devil in his eyes, before sealing his mouth over my clit and sucking hard.
The combination of his fingers pumping inside me and his mouth working my clit with ruthless efficiency tears a scream from my throat. He doesn't ease up, doesn't give me a moment to adjust or breathe. His free arm loops over my hips, holding me in place as I try to buck against his mouth.
"Gray," I pant, feeling the pressure building, coiling tighter with each skilled stroke of his tongue. "I'm going to—"
He increases his pace, adding a third finger and curling them perfectly while his tongue flicks rapidly over my clit. The wet sounds of his mouth on me fill the room, obscene and intoxicating.
When the orgasm hits, it's like being struck by lightning. My body convulses around his fingers, pleasure exploding outward in waves that leave me shaking and gasping his name. Through it all, his eyes hold mine, watching my unraveling with fierce satisfaction.
He doesn't stop until the last aftershock fades, then presses one final, possessive kiss to my center before rising up to cover my body with his. His mouth finds mine in a kiss that tastes like me and him and pure claiming. The intimacy of it makes something in my chest tighten.
"Better?" he asks, voice raspy with his own need.
"For about thirty seconds," I reply breathlessly.
Gray's eyes darken with determination. "Then I better make sure the next one lasts longer."
He rises from the bed just long enough to shed his boxer briefs, and I take a moment to appreciate the view. Gray's body is a work of art sculpted by years of rowing—broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, muscular thighs, and the impressive length of his cock standing proud between them.
When he returns to the bed, he kneels between my legs, sliding his length between my folds without entering me. The tease makes me whimper, still sensitive from my orgasm but already wanting more.
"You sure about this, Reese?" he asks, eyes meeting mine with surprising tenderness beneath the hunger.
In answer, I sit up and wrap my hand around the back of his neck, pulling him into another desperate kiss. "Very sure. Now stop talking and fuck me, Lockwood."
A grin flashes across his face, transforming his features from merely handsome to devastating. "As my coxswain commands."
He lifts my right leg over his shoulder and slides into me in one smooth thrust, filling me completely.
We both groan at the sensation—the perfect stretch, the heat, the connection that feels more intense than it has any right to be.
For a moment, he remains perfectly still, letting me adjust to his size.
Then he begins to move, and all coherent thought flees my mind.
This isn't like last night with Bo. Where Bo was gentle and responsive, careful and protective, Gray is commanding and intense.
His rhythm is relentless, each thrust precisely targeted to draw the maximum response from my body.
He braces over me, controlling my leg over his shoulder and pressing me into the mattress with his solid weight.
"God, Reese," he groans, his pace quickening. "You feel incredible. So tight around my cock."
Words fail me as pleasure builds too quickly for language. I cling to his arms, nails digging into the hard muscle as he drives into me again and again.
A particularly deep thrust hits something inside me that makes my vision blur. "There," I gasp. "Right there."
"Like this?" He repeats the motion with unerring accuracy, hitting the same spot over and over.
"Yes," I whimper, already climbing toward another peak. "Don't stop."
"Wasn't planning to." His voice is strained, control visibly slipping as his thrusts become harder, faster. "You're mine tonight, Reese. Say it."
The possessive demand should annoy me, but instead it sends another wave of heat through my core. "Yours," I gasp out, beyond pride or pretense.
"That's right." His hand slides up my body to wrap around my throat, not squeezing but claiming. "Mine to fuck. Mine to make come. Mine to mark."
The pressure from him inside me and the weight of his hand at my throat is overwhelming. My body tenses around him, another orgasm building impossibly fast.
"Come for me," he commands, his thumb brushing over my pulse point. "Let me feel you fall apart on my cock."
The orgasm slams through me like an earthquake, shattering me in the best possible way. I arch beneath him, crying out as pleasure consumes every nerve ending. He doesn't slow down, fucking me through it with deep, grinding thrusts that extend the sensation until I'm sobbing with overstimulation.
"On your side," he commands once I've caught my breath, already moving to position me before I can fully comply.
I roll onto my side, too pleasure-drunk to do anything but follow his lead.
He lifts my leg, settling behind me as he slides back inside with no resistance.
This angle is different, deeper, more primal.
His chest presses against my back, his hand gripping my thigh to hold my leg up, his breath hot against my ear as he establishes a new rhythm.
"You like being controlled like this?" he asks, lips brushing my ear as he slides his free hand around to cup my breast. "Being taken exactly how I want you?"
"Yes," I admit, past shame or pretense. "God, yes."
"You're perfect," he groans, his pace increasing. "So fucking perfect for me. Made to take my cock."
The praise combined with the dirty talk sends me spiraling again. This position hits different spots, stretches me in new ways, makes me feel completely surrounded and claimed by him.
His hand slides down from my breast to my clit, fingers circling the sensitive nub in time with his thrusts. The dual stimulation is too much, building me toward another climax faster than should be possible.
"Gray," I pant, reaching back to grab his hair. "I'm close again."
"Me too," he growls, his control finally, completely shattering. "One more time. Come with me, Reese. Let me feel you squeeze my cock when I fill you up."
When it hits, it's like nothing I've ever experienced. Pleasure explodes outward from where we're joined, consuming every nerve ending, short-circuiting all thought. I cry out, my body clenching around him as he drives deep and holds, his own release triggered by mine.
I feel his knot swelling, locking us together as he pulses inside me. The pressure of it, the fullness, the knowledge that I'm completely claimed and filled by him triggers another aftershock that has me whimpering in his grip.
"That's it," he breathes against my neck, hand splayed possessively over my stomach. "Take it all. You're mine, Reese. All mine."
When we finally come down from the high, we lie joined, both of us breathing hard, skin slick with sweat. Gray's arm wraps around my waist, holding me against his chest like he's afraid I might disappear.
Eventually, he shifts us to a more comfortable position without breaking our connection, spooning me from behind with his face buried in my hair.
"I think I understand why Kinsley is so desperate to get you back," I murmur once I can form words again.
A shocked bark of laughter erupts from his throat. "That's what you're thinking about right now? Kinsley?"
"Just an observation," I say, unable to hide my smile. "You've got skills, Lockwood."
He presses a kiss to my shoulder, his arm tightening around me. "I never fucked Kinsley like that," he says, voice low and serious. "Never knotted her. Never felt anything close to what I just felt with you."
The simple honesty in his voice steals my breath. "Gray—"
"It's true." His hand splays over my ribs, thumb brushing the underside of my breast. "What we just did was better than any woman I've been with before. And not just because of your heat or my rut."
I twist carefully in his arms, needing to see his face despite the discomfort of moving while knotted. His expression is open, vulnerable in a way I've never seen before.
"What is it about, then?" I ask, needing to hear him say it.
He studies me for several seconds, those steel-gray eyes seeing more than I'm comfortable revealing. "It's about you, Reese. Just you. The way you challenge me, the way you see through my bullshit, the way you never back down even when faced with eight Alphas twice your size."
"So it's about you liking that I'm difficult?" I tease, trying to lighten the sudden weight of the moment.
He shakes his head, not allowing me the easy escape. "It's about me liking who you are. Difficult, challenging, brilliant parts included. I want to possess every piece of you."
Something warm blooms in my chest, something deeper than heat or desire, something entirely about the man holding me. I reach up, tracing the strong line of his jaw with my fingertips.
"I like who you are too," I admit quietly. "Even the controlling, perfectionist parts."
His smile transforms his face, softening the hard edges I've grown accustomed to. "Good," he says, capturing my hand and pressing a kiss to my palm. "Because the perfectionist in me is already planning round two."
I laugh, the sound free and genuine. "Let me guess—you have a detailed strategy with multiple positions and optimal hydration breaks."
"Mock all you want, Callahan." His knot has begun to subside, allowing him to shift us into a more comfortable position. "But I haven't heard any complaints about my attention to detail so far."
"No complaints," I agree, settling against him. "Just wondering if you can maintain that level of performance for the rest of the night."
His eyes darken with renewed hunger. "Is that a challenge?"
"Would you respond to anything else?"
"From you?" He leans in, lips brushing mine in a surprisingly tender kiss before the possessiveness returns. "Probably not. And Reese? By morning, you're going to know exactly who you belong to."
As his mouth captures mine more firmly, I surrender to the knowledge that whatever Gray and I are becoming, whatever is developing between us beyond designation biology, it's not something I want to fight anymore.
For tonight at least, I'm exactly where I want to be. With exactly who I want to be with.
Tomorrow's complications can wait.