20 - Avery
Avery
The door barely makes it shut before Grayson’s mouth is on mine. The slam echoes through the suite, swallowed immediately by the rough sound he makes against my lips when I fist my hands into the front of his shirt and drag him closer.
Weeks of tension. Weeks of pretending we hate each other more than we want each other. Weeks of avoiding whatever the hell this is.
Finally.
Heat sparked beneath my skin when he touched me on the dance floor, burning hotter with every step back to the hotel. Now, his hand grips my jaw, hauling me against him until I can feel exactly how badly he wants me.
“God,” he mutters against my mouth. “You’re going to kill me, looking like this all of the time.”
“Is that why you kept staring at me like you wanted to bend me over something?”
His eyes flash, and then he does exactly that.
Everything crashes to the floor as he clears the desk in a single sweep before pinning my chest against it.
His thigh wedges between mine while his mouth drags down my neck.
One palm settles against my lower back as the other works the zipper of my dress down.
I press my ass harder against him, earning a groan so deep it shreds the rest of my control.
The moment he’s done, he spins me around. Momentum carries us across the room until his back slams into the wall beside the door hard enough to rattle the framed artwork.
“And here I was, thinking you were going to be boring,” I whisper between open-mouthed kisses against his neck.
“Don’t start pretending you want boring now.”
A laugh escapes me, turning into a moan when his teeth scrape the sensitive spot beneath my ear.
For weeks, I convinced myself that the last time meant nothing. Just one reckless lapse in judgment fueled by irritation and far too much unresolved tension. It was a mistake that we could both forget ever happened. Except nothing about the way he touches me is forgettable.
Every brush of his mouth is slow enough to make me ache and rough enough to make my pulse jump. He kisses me as if trying to brand me with a permanent reminder of him. I don’t want him to stop. I’m desperate for the tight grip of his hands on my waist and the scrape of his teeth against my throat.
There was never any real mystery about how tonight would end. Every decision I made led right here: the dress, the missing underwear, the dance floor. Avoiding him for weeks only delayed this inevitability.
Greedy hands trail down my body, bunching the fabric of my dress higher until cool air brushes my thighs.
Another shove sends him harder into the wall.
In response, his fingers dig into my ass before lifting me effortlessly from the floor.
My legs wrap around his waist as he turns us, the wall meeting my back at the exact moment his mouth finds mine.
“Did you have fun teasing me out there?” He asks roughly against my mouth.
“You seemed to enjoy it.”
“Yeah, well, we both know how wet you were for me.” His hips drag against me deliberately.
This side of Grayson is addicting.
Composure seems woven into him. He’s the kind of person who seems incapable of losing control for even a second.
If anyone had told me a few months ago that he’d slide his hand under my dress in the middle of a club, I wouldn’t have believed it, which makes it even hotter.
Grayson may be restrained with everyone else, but it’s so damn tempting to see all the ways I can make his restraint crack.
I yank his shirt off impatiently while he pins me to the wall with his hips. The sight of his bare chest makes my mouth water. Dark ink stretches across one side, drawing my eyes lower as I take in every inch of him.
“Are you done staring?” He asks, an arrogant smirk tugging at his mouth.
Rather than deny it, I lift an eyebrow. “Definitely not.”
A low chuckle vibrates through him, creating the most delicious friction between us. I grind against him, his belt buckle pressing against my clit. The amusement vanishes from his expression, replaced by something darker.
When his mouth finds mine again, the kiss is slower but no less brutal. Somewhere along the way, the room disappears entirely, and only when my back hits the bed do I realize he’s carried me across it.
Hovering over me, Grayson breaks the kiss and trails his mouth down my shoulder. Fabric slips lower with every touch. He tugs off one sleeve, following it with wet kisses before repeating the process on the other side. Goosebumps rise everywhere his fingers touch.
Moving down my body, his breath is hot against my nipple before sucking it into his mouth, teasing the bud into a point.
“Did you give me your only bra and panties?” He asks, moving to the other breast and repeating the same torturous motions. “Or did you just want to be bare for me under that dress?”
The blanket twists beneath my fingers, my back arching when he trails lower. “Oh my God.”
“Did you show up bare under that dress for me?”
His words barely register. All my attention is trapped on sensation, heat, and the desperate need for more.
“You wish,” I lie.
“I do wish,” He admits, kissing the inside of my thigh. “Thinking you were hoping that you might end up just like this, spread out for me to taste.” Another kiss lands on my other thigh. “Showing up at the club, your pretty pussy already drenched with anticipation. Yeah, I really fucking wish.”
The answer sits right there. All I’d have to do is admit it. Admit that I wanted him. Admit that I’d wanted him since the last time I had him. But he already made me beg last time, and this time, I can’t stop my defiance from winning out.
“I didn’t want the lines to show in my dress. That’s all.”
The teasing look in his eyes tells me he doesn’t buy it, probably because my voice is still shaky.
Get it together, Avery.
“What a shame. I guess we should stop.” His lips tilt up as he stands, clearly expecting me to crack first.
“Or,” I start, following him up and stepping toward him. “You could stop asking me to stroke your ego, and start asking me to stroke something else.”
My fingers trail over the lines of his tattoo, his skin tightening against my touch as I trail my way down to his belt.
A shallow breath leaves him when I slide to my knees.
Heat crawls over my skin under the weight of his gaze while I tug his jeans and boxers down.
Only inches from my face, his cock springs free, and my breath hitches.
Holy fuck.
A quiet chuckle slips from him, drawing my eyes upward to find amusement glinting in his.
Of course, he’d have a stupid perfect dick to go with his stupid perfect everything else.
“Well?” he asks, his hand moving through my hair with a gentleness I don’t expect.
Remembering exactly how he made me beg last time, I let my annoyance fuel me. “I don’t think you’ve earned it yet.” Wrapping my hand around his cock, I stroke him once.
“You want me to beg for you?” he asks, voice low.
I stroke him again, and he actually whimpers, his grip tightening in my hair.
“Yes.”
Last time we were together, getting off was all I cared about. Getting over my inability to be with a guy that way had been the goal. Now, though, the thought of having him desperate for me is far too tempting to ignore.
“You need to hear that I want you?”
“Yes.”
“I want you, baby. I’ve been dreaming of that sassy mouth wrapped around my cock all month.”
Precum beads at his tip, and I use it to stroke him again, reveling in the way his body goes taut with anticipation.
“Oh, is that what you want?”
I’m drunk on him wanting me like this. Drunk on being wanted with this kind of intensity.
“I need it. Pretty please.” His thumb trails along my jaw and lips. Opening my mouth, I suck it in, and he groans. “You’re so fucking good at using that mouth. Use it on me. Show me.”
Keeping my eyes on him, I drag my tongue along the underside of his cock before swirling around the tip. Then I take him into my mouth.
I suck gently, sliding my lips further down his shaft. He hisses, so I repeat the motion. More of him disappears between my lips with each pass, my pace quickening as curses tumble from him under his breath.
Soon, his hands are gathering my hair, pulling just enough to sting with every movement. His hips move with me, thrusting gently into my mouth.
“Fuck,” He says while I work him harder with my tongue. “I’m going to come.”
When he tries to pull away, my hands clamp around his thighs, holding him in place as he comes in my mouth. I swallow every drop before I finally pull back.
“Now, we’re even.” I stand and smirk, thinking about how he didn’t let me do that last time.
“What have I told you about getting even?” Grayson saunters toward me. “And we’re not close to being done here.”
I glance down to find him still hard. He can’t actually be ready to go again. Can he?
“Don’t you need time to–”
A devilish look crosses his face as he stalks toward me. “No, Chaos, I don’t.”
I squeal when he pounces on me, his mouth crashing into mine with the same heat as before.
Together we tumble onto the bed. Desperate for friction, I grind against him while tugging his hair back and pressing kisses along his jaw.
His teeth catch my lower lip the moment our mouths meet again.
It stings so deliciously that I wrap my legs around his waist, flipping us until I’m on top of him.
I sit up, straddling him while his hands slide up my side.
“You are so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs. “It’s confusing.”
“What’s confusing about it?” I ask, sliding myself against him.
He slides two fingers through my wetness slowly. “Wanting you like this.”
Something inside me fractures at the roughness in his voice, especially because he looks just as affected as I feel.
“Tell me about it.”
Using his shoulder for balance, I grip tightly while he slips his fingers inside me.
The moan that leaves me is obscene. He already knows exactly what I need after learning my body way too fast the first time around.
He turns his head, pressing a kiss to my wrist while his fingers curl inside me.