35. Graciella
THIRTY-FIVE
GRACIELLA
“MAKE IT NO CONDOMS! I’M A WHORE, LEAVE ME ALONE.”—@READWITH.ARI
“Holy fuck.” Monroe’s head fell back, eyes closed. “This is better than my dreams.”
God, same.
I’d lied when we were in that closet. A man on his knees wasn’t my favorite sight. Monroe, completely at my mercy while I sucked his cock, was my favorite.
I was fucking dripping and achy, but god did I love taking him to the back of my throat. He was heavy and thick on my tongue. Monroe tugged on my hair with his long fingers, leaning back to get a full view of himself in my mouth.
“That’s fucking perfect, baby. You’re fucking perfect.”
His words dragged a moan from me, and Monroe growled. He rocked his hips forward, fucking his cock in my mouth.
I was addicted. Totally and wholly addicted to him. To his control.
To the way he got lost in the pleasure I was giving him.
I hollowed my cheeks, fondling his balls with the hand not wrapped around his base.
“Good fucking girl,” he whispered, voice strained. “Just like that. This mouth is the only fucking mouth I want. No one else.” He tipped my head up, locking eyes as I swirled my tongue around his tip before taking him back down my throat. “You’re mine, Graciella.”
I moaned around his cock at the praise, at the possession, letting myself believe it, to not overthink it, if only for this moment. I relaxed my throat, taking him deeper. Fuck, I loved him fucking my mouth like this.
“That’s it, I can’t take it,” he said, hauling me up. His cock slipped from my mouth with a wet pop.
My lips felt swollen, tingling from the stretch of him. I could still taste a salty bead of precum on my tongue.
God, I was soaked, my thighs slick and aching, but the way his eyes burned into mine, dark and possessive, made me forget everything but this. Us.
“Fuck, Graciella,” he growled, voice rough like gravel, as he spun me around and bent me over the marble countertop. The chill seeped through my skin, a stark contrast to the heat pulsing between my legs.
His hands were everywhere. Rough palms sliding up my thighs, ripping down my spandex shorts. “Look at you, dripping for me. This pussy is mine, isn’t it? Say it.”
I braced my hands on the edge of the counter, my heart hammering. He was going to ruin me, and I wanted every second of it.
“Yours,” I cried out.
He slapped my ass, a delicious sting that shot straight to my core.
“Louder, baby. Whose pussy is this?” Another smack, the sound echoing through the kitchen.
“Yours, Monroe! Fuck, it’s yours!” I arched back toward him, desperate and wanton.
He let out a dark chuckle and pressed his body to mine, his hard cock nestling against my ass, making my clit throb.
“Good girl.” Dropping to his knees behind me, he spread my thighs with strong hands.
His hot breath hit my pussy, sending another thrill shooting down my spine.
“Gonna eat this sweet cunt until you’re begging.
” His tongue dove in without preamble, lapping from my clit up to my entrance in one long, deliberate stroke, before placing an open-mouth kiss on my pussy.
I moaned, the taste of him still lingering in my mouth while he devoured me like a starving man. Every flick of his tongue sent sparks through me, building that coil in my belly tighter. He sucked my clit between his lips, humming his approval, and the vibration made my knees buckle.
“Taste so fucking good,” he muttered against me, shoving his tongue inside like he needed more. One hand gripped my hip, holding me steady, the other moved to tease my entrance, two fingers circling before plunging deep.
“Fuck, Monroe, yes, like that,” I panted, rocking back onto his face, needing more. More of his fingers, his tongue.
More of him.
Rough stubble scraped my inner thighs, heightening every sensation. The wet sounds of his mouth and fingers fucking me tangled with my ragged breaths and his occasional grunts. It was obscene—filthy—and I loved it.
He owned me, claiming every inch, and I was powerless to stop him. The possession in his touch, the way he growled like he couldn’t get enough, made me feel desired—powerful in my submission.
He added a third finger, stretching me, pumping in rhythm with his tongue.
“You gonna come for me, Trouble?” His free hand reached around to pinch my nipple through my jersey, twisting the barbell just enough to make me whimper.
The edge was building, sharp and insistent, but he slowed, pulling back to blow cool air on my heated skin.
Edging me, the bastard.
“Not yet,” he chuckled. “Remember, you need to beg for it, baby.”
“Fuck you, Monroe, I need it. Just make me come.” My voice cracked with desperation. He was toying with me, and it was driving me insane. I pushed back, trying to find relief, but he held me firm.
He laughed, the gruff sound vibrating through me. “Come on, I know you can do it.”
“Please, Josh, please let me come.”
He dove back in, fingers curling to hit that spot inside. “That’s my good girl. Come on now, give it to me.” His tongue lashed my clit relentlessly.
I shattered, crying out his name as waves crashed over me, my pussy clenching around his fingers. The room spun, scents of sex and sweat overwhelming my body, trembling from the intensity.
But he wasn’t done. As I came down, gasping, he stood, flipping me around to face him. His cock was rock hard, veins pulsing, slick from my earlier attention.
“There’s one. How many will you give me?” He stroked himself slowly, eyes locked on mine, challenging.
“Can you keep going, old man?” I taunted, hopping up on the counter, legs wrapping around his waist. He didn’t hesitate, thrusting in deep with one brutal stroke that made us both groan.
So full.
So perfect.
I trailed a finger down the patch of dark hair dusting his abdomen, mesmerized by him sliding in and out, glistening with my release.
“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he hissed, hands gripping my ass as he pounded into me, the slap of skin on skin turning me on further. “This is what you do to me, Trouble, make me lose control.” His mouth crashed onto mine, tasting of me.
I clawed at his back, nails digging in, urging him deeper.
“Harder, Monroe. Own me.”
He was mine, too…even if just for now.
His hips snapped forward, fingers sliding between us to rub my clit. “Come with me, baby. Milk my cock.”
The tension built again, faster this time, and when he growled, “Now,” we exploded together, him pulsing hot inside me, and he filled me. My walls squeezed around him. Bliss rolling through my body in waves.
Fuck. That was better than anything I’d ever had. Anyone I’d ever had.
We stayed like that, breaths syncing, bodies slick with sweat. Monroe pulled back, cupping my face, looking at me with an expression that had my heart picking back up in speed.
“You’re fucking everything, Graciella. You’re mine.”
And in that moment, with the aftershocks still rippling through me, I let myself think that could be true.
There was something impossibly warm beneath my cheek. I groaned, trying to shake off the last tendrils of sleep.
“You snore in your sleep, you know.”
I froze at the sound of Monroe’s voice. Memories of last night came whirling back. His mouth. His fingers. His cock.
Heat pooled between my legs, bringing my attention to the fact that I had one slung over his body, resting on something very hard.
“Good morning,” he said against my shoulder, pressing it with a kiss.
The warmth that looped through me at that had nothing to do with sexual attraction, and that realization was like a bucket of ice water.
“Morning.” I tried to sound normal, like I wasn’t having a complete breakdown at the fact that not only had we had sex, but we’d slept together. Again.
I tried to push off and slide out of bed, but he clamped an arm over me, holding me to his chest.
“Oh, no you don’t.”
“Oh, no I don’t what?” I asked, regretting peeking up at him through my lashes. He was just as good looking first thing in the morning. Messy hair, slightly puffy eyes that were crinkled in the corners, and the most devastatingly handsome smile.
“You’re not going anywhere.” Lazily, he trailed the tips of his fingers up my leg. “I see it written all over that gorgeous face of yours. You’re tryin’ to run, but you’re not going anywhere today. Your cute ass is stayin’ in my shirt and in my house.”
Alarm bells blared. That was not detachment.
Hell, I was tangled up in the sheets of the one man I should have never gotten involved with. The one who made my heart beat a little too fast by just being around him.
“Monroe.” I sat up. “I have to get home. Isn’t Goldie going to be coming home soon? Do you really want me to be here when she’s dropped off?”
I was desperate, grasping at the one string I was sure would convince him to let me go. I slid from the bed, missing his warmth the moment my feet touched the hardwood.
“That’s the way you’re going to play this, Trouble?”
Monroe trailed his eyes over me, corner of his mouth tugged up into a smile. The protective barrier around my heart went into overdrive, trying to dodge the feelings threatening to take hold.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I played dumb, tugging on my shorts, keeping his shirt on. “This was fun. And now that we’ve gotten it out of our system, we can go back to working together like normal.”
It sounded like bullshit, even to me.
Monroe let out a hum, studying me as I moved around his room, collecting my things. I hated it. It felt too observant, like he could tell I was trying to erase my existence from his space. Like he knew I liked seeing my things mixed with his a little too much.
Like he could see through my carefully curated facade to the truth that lay beneath. The truth I wasn’t ready to acknowledge.
“I’ll text you about work stuff later,” I called over my shoulder, eyes glued to the floor. My gut was a mess of contradicting feelings I couldn’t begin to make sense of.
“Graciella.”
I stopped in my tracks at the command in his voice, my back going ramrod straight. His hands gripped my shoulders, and I melted back into him. The opposite of what I was supposed to be doing.
“You’re getting your cute ass back into that bed. Because this isn’t over with. We aren’t over with.” His tone brooked no argument.
I turned in his arms, searching his face. “How could this ever even work, Monroe? It’s better if we just cut this off now.” I extended my hand. “Friends?”
He pushed my hand away and then slapped my ass. “No, Graciella, we can’t be friends. You literally tasted yourself on my fingers before I filled you with my cum, and you think I want to be your friend?”
My pussy throbbed at his crass words as he walked me backward.
“What do you think we’re doing, Trouble?”
“We’re having fun. This is…nothing,” I stammered out, trying to swallow down my emotions. To stuff them where they couldn’t get to me or my fragile heart.
“Wrong answer, Trouble,” he warned, still stalking me down.
A thrill zapped along my spine at being chased. “Friends with benefits then,” I rushed out as my back hit the wall.
Monroe nuzzled my throat, gathering my hands and pinning them above my head in one hand. “So I am like all the others?”
There wasn’t any anger in his words, only a sharp challenge.
The wall scraped against my scalp as I nodded, stomach twisting, knowing I didn’t want to say it out loud.
His rough fingers dug into my hip, and my heart thrashed against my ribcage, a moan falling from my lips, only to be swallowed up by him. His tongue plunged into my mouth. It was as if I were being consumed.
Claimed.
“Say it. Say that I’m like all the rest. That this...” he growled between kisses, motioning between us, “means nothing.” He rested his forehead on mine, our chests heaving in rhythm with each other. Synced in a way that made my heart ache.
My pulse stuttered, the words catching in my throat. “It means nothing.”
The lie was clunky and putrid, as if my body were physically rebelling against it. Those oceanic eyes I knew so well narrowed, the slash of his mouth opening.
“Liar.”
His lips slammed down on mine again, hands finding purchase in my hair. I was drowning. Sinking further and further into the emotional abyss that was my feelings for him.
I was a liar. I knew I wanted him. Knew we’d be good together.
Same way I knew it could ruin our careers…and my heart.
Salt coated our tongues, and I realized hot tears streamed down my cheeks.
Monroe pulled away, resting his forehead against mine.
“It’s okay, baby.” He cradled my face with his palms. “You can run. I’ll chase after you.”
My heart seized. Is that what I wanted? To run?
His tender lips pressed to the apple of my cheek right over a stray tear. He repeated the act for every salty droplet. The quiet tenderness shredded the last of my restraint.
“You already caught me, Josh.”