Chapter Nine
Gracie
The cool air kissed my overheated skin. But I couldn’t tell you if it was that or the look on Perish’s face as he looked down at me that made a shiver course through me.
I’d never been looked at like that before.
Like he was starved.
And I was the sustenance.
Like he was damned.
And I was his salvation.
My chest fluttered.
My belly twisted.
The need became a heavy pressure that had me shifting, wiggling, trying to find some sort of relief.
His gaze slid from mine down to my exposed chest. I’d never been more thankful for built-in shelf bras because once he yanked the dress down, there was nothing between us but the charged air.
He seemed to watch me forever, to stare and stare and stare.
Then I sucked in a deep, shaky breath, and a groan escaped him.
He lowered then, sucking one of my nipples into his mouth.
I arched up off the counter, a deep moan escaping me as my hand slapped to the back of his neck, holding him to me as he sucked and sucked and sucked before releasing me with a little pop.
He slid across my chest, repeating the process, making need ignite in my veins.
My hips rocked shamelessly, trying to find friction, trying to get relief from the clawing ache between my thighs.
But Perish seemed content to stay just where he was, his tongue flicking, circling, his teeth grazing, biting, his hands squeezing, fingers rolling.
I felt worshipped.
Precious.
Desperate.
My breath felt caught just beneath my ribs. My skin was too hot, too tight, too sensitive.
But he just kept licking, sucking.
His hands, though, started to slide, to tease over my ribs, my hips, the bare sides of my thighs since my skirt had hiked up around my waist when he’d lifted me up and dropped me down.
It was a barely-there brush, fingertips skimming, and my focus was split between his hands and his mouth.
But then his hands grabbed my knees, pulling them up, butterflying them open on the countertop.
And, yes, God, yes.
“Please,” I whimpered, too far gone to care how shameless I was being, how desperate I sounded.
I wanted this.
I wanted more.
I wanted him.
I wanted everything.
“Please,” I whimpered again, hips writhing.
A rumble moved through Perish. We were close enough for me to feel it vibrate through me as his forehead pressed to my skin, his face nuzzled between my breasts as he exhaled hard.
“Fuck,” he groaned.
There was one moment where my blood froze, where I thought he might have come to his senses and was going to pull away.
But then he was sliding down.
His hand moved between us, grabbing my panties, pulling until they ripped.
My dress, my panties, my desire—
I was in pieces.
And I never wanted to be whole again.
Perish’s arms slid under my legs, pulling them over his shoulders as he buried himself at the juncture of my thighs.
My breath was too fast, too shallow.
My head felt light.
Then his gaze cut up to mine.
Somehow, I saw my own desperate need reflected there.
For just a second.
Then his head ducked.
His tongue slipped out, slid up, circled.
Suddenly, all I was was a bundle of nerves, of need, of sensation.
A choked moan escaped me.
A deep groan escaped Perish as his hands tightened on my thighs.
My hand slipped downward, sliding over his head to hold onto the back of his neck, keeping him pressed against me even though he showed no signs of stopping.
My breath went fast and shallow.
I was hot but shaky.
Every muscle tensed.
Soft sounds became deep, ragged moans as Perish drove me up and up and up.
“I…” I started as something tightened deep inside me, twisted, started to snap.
Again, his fingers tightened, bruising into my soft skin.
And another of those rumbles moved through me.
Then all there was in the world was the pleasure that exploded through me, stealing my breath, my voice, my control over my own body as I shook, writhed, rocked.
I didn’t recognize the sound that escaped me. It was something raw and primal. Something that I didn’t think I could be.
Until he brought it out of me.
The pleasure finally released me, and I collapsed back against the counter, panting, vibrating, mindless with the aftermath.
But Perish didn’t move away.
He just shifted his focus.
His tongue leisurely slid up and down me, teasing around that too-sensitive point.
It felt sweet.
Reverent.
And yet…
And yet the ache started to build again, little tendrils of need that spread through my core, expanded through my chest, kept moving until it overtook every inch of me again.
“Perish,” I whimpered, hips rocking, my body demanding more. “Please.”
I wasn’t even sure what I was asking for right then.
But he did.
One of his hands released my thigh, slipping between us, then tapping against the entrance to my body until my fingers were curling, until they were crushing into his skull as the pressure built, as my body recognized exactly what it needed, what he was teasing but not delivering.
“I need…” I panted between shallow breaths.
But he knew.
I didn’t need to tell him.
Two thick fingers slid inside me. Slowly. Like he wanted to savor the sensation as my walls tightened around them, pulling them deeper inside.
A shudder racked his whole body at the sensation as we both seemed to have our minds on the same thing. Not his fingers, but the thick length of him instead, sliding, stretching.
Then he was thrusting. Slow at first. Then harder, deeper, more demanding.
My hips rocked, demanding more.
Suddenly, giving me what I needed, his fingers curled and stroked inside me just as his tongue found my clit again.
The pleasure tightened, coiled.
My body went taut as a bow.
My thighs crushed the sides of his head.
And finally, with a long, deep moan, the climax soared through me over and over, and just when I thought I could take a breath, more. Until I was gasping, shaking, boneless.
Perish’s head shifted when my legs released him, pressing a sweet kiss to my inner thigh as my hand rested gently on his head.
I wanted to hold onto the moment forever.
I never wanted him to move away from me.
But then, drifting down the hallway, a familiar voice had the two of us jerking apart like we’d been scalded.
“Listen, I usually believe that men just shouldn’t be allowed to buy mics with the toxic shit they are spreading with them,” she said as I clutched at my top, yanking my bodice back into place, hoping it didn’t look like it was gaping too much. “But yours is something special. I know!”
She was getting closer.
For one short second, our gazes met; the longing, regret and, yes, worry passed silently between us.
Then Perish was rushing away from me, striding toward the door as I slid down from the counter, suddenly wanting to curl up in a ball and cry.
“Alright. I’m at my door. I’m hanging up now. Go give your boyfriend a kiss for me! Love—”
Perish yanked the door open, silencing Layna.
She looked up at him with raised brows and wide eyes. He said nothing, ducked his head, and disappeared out of my line of sight.
“You,” Layna finished, ended her call, then let her arm drop down to the side. “Um…” she said, shooting that curious look in my direction.
I knew I was flushed, that the orgasms were written all over my face.
So I turned back toward the kitchen, waving a hand as I went to finish making the pot of coffee I’d started.
“My stupid car wouldn’t start,” I said, hoping I sounded natural because everything inside me felt shaky, raw, exposed. “I ran into Perish, and he insisted on walking me home.”
“Hm,” she said, closing and sliding the door locks. “Then why is he walking like he’s in pain?”
“Dunno. Maybe he hurt himself when he tackled me or something.”
“Or something,” she repeated. I could hear the dubiousness in her voice, pretended not to, and watched the first few drops of coffee fall into the pot.
“Do you want to have a pajamas and pizza night?” I asked, forcing some enthusiasm into my voice. “Then call it an early night? I’m so tired.”
“Sure,” Layna said.
I still didn’t trust her tone.
I could feel the weight of her gaze on me.
“Great. You order. I’m gonna find us both some jammies.”
Was I a coward who pretended to check something on my phone as I passed? Yep. But it was that or let her see my face.
Layna knew me too well.
And I wasn’t a very good liar.
She would read the guilt all over my face.
Then what?
Would she tell the others? Would pillow talk end up with my cousins knowing that Perish did the one thing he was forbidden to do? Put his hands on a princess.
No.
I couldn’t risk that.
He didn’t deserve that.
I’d begged for goodness’ sakes.
And all he’d done was give. He took nothing.
Guilt churned in my belly as I forced my pace to be casual while I made my way down the short hall and into my bedroom.
I closed the door with a quiet click, then rushed into my closet, laying out pajamas on the bed for Layna before rushing across the hall into the bathroom.
“PJs are on the bed. I’ll be out in a minute!” I called.
Finally, I locked myself in the bathroom, where I leaned back against the door and exhaled hard.
So.
That just happened.
If I needed proof of it, one glance at the mirror showed me my gaping bodice that had been tight just that morning. And when I stopped clutching my thighs, my ripped panties slid to the ground at my feet.
I bent down to gather them, then tossed them into the trash, burying them under tissues.
I could smell Perish all over me, that spicy scent that I wanted to breathe in all night. But I couldn’t risk Layna smelling it when she was already suspicious.
So I stripped and climbed into the shower, scrubbing him away, replacing him with my own scent.
Each inch of me still felt too sensitive, too receptive to touch. And if I closed my eyes and focused enough, I could almost feel his hands and lips and tongue still on me.
But for reasons I was choosing not to analyze, the memory made my chest constrict and my eyes burn.
So I forced them away.
As I dried off, I found there was one thing I couldn’t wash away, though.
Right there halfway up each thigh were faint, barely there bruises from where he’d gripped me, where his hands had sank in deeper when I moaned and writhed and begged for more.
A little smile tugged at my lips as I pulled on my matching pink silk pajama set, brushed out my hair, then made my way out of the bathroom.
Layna was already on the couch in the bruise-purple pajamas I left out for her, with a coffee mug in her hand.
“There you are. Pizza should be here any minute. I made an executive decision and ordered half plain and half mushroom and onion.”
“Sounds good,” I said, moving to sit down next to her.
“Perish is kind of hot, isn’t he?” she asked.
I bit back a groan.
I should have known she wasn’t going to let it slide. She wasn’t the type.
“I guess. If you’re into that kind of guy.”
“That kind of guy?”
“You know, like, big and muscular.”
I said that part because she knew that it hadn’t ever been my type in the past. For better or worse, my exes were all of the beach bum variety: tan, with sun-bleached hair, and lean swimmer’s builds from all the surfing.
Layna’s gaze studied my profile for a long second.
“I mean, sometimes the best sex happens with guys who aren’t your type. I used to pal around with this girl in Vegas who swore that skinny gamer guys fucked like gods.”
Thankfully, I was saved from that conversation by the buzzer.
After that, eating also made it hard for Layna to keep throwing pointed questions at me.
Eventually, while watching a movie, I passed out hard, curled up on the couch.
And I dreamed about Perish.
Only to wake up alone and bone-achingly disappointed.
I knew it was for the best that it hadn’t gone any further.
For both of us.
But especially for Perish, who would lose his job and his home if anyone found out he’d broken the rules.
It wasn’t worth it.
I knew that logically.
But try telling my body that.
And in just a couple of days, I was going to be at the clubhouse, trying to act like I wasn’t remembering the feel of him between my legs.
Great.
That was just great.