18. #5
His hand finally found my center, the contact sending a sharp breath through my chest.
"You're so wet," he groaned softly.
He pressed a kiss to my shoulder as his fingers began to move in slow, deliberate circles, and a louder moan slipped out of me before I could stop it.
Every small movement felt amplified, like my skin was too aware of him—of everything.
My fingers curled into the cushion beneath me, my head tipping back slightly as a quiet sound slipped free before I could stop it.
I couldn't hold the sounds back anymore.
My breath caught in my throat.
Grant's voice brushed against my skin.
"Do you ever play with yourself?" he murmured near my ear.
I could barely think.
"Talk to me."
My answer came out breathless. The sound that left me barely sounded like a word. "No."
His mouth lingered at my neck, his lips dragging slowly along my skin before his teeth caught lightly, just enough to make my breath stutter.
"Do you like how it feels when I touch you?"
His movements quickened slightly, and the shift pulled a louder sound from me before I could stop it.
I tried to respond, but all that came out was a breathless, broken hum.
"What did I say about using your words?" he murmured.
"I like it," I managed, my voice catching on the words.
His free hand returned to my breast, his touch tightening just enough to make my breath stutter again, while the other kept its steady rhythm.
"That's it?" he said softly. "You just like it?"
"I love it," I gasped. "Fuck—"
The tension building inside me tightened suddenly—
My body tensed.
My eyes squeezed shut.
My hand caught his wrist instinctively.
Grant immediately stopped.
"Why'd you stop?" I asked weakly a moment later.
His hand slid slowly along my inner thigh instead.
"I want to make you feel good, Naomi," he said gently.
"You were," I whispered, almost pleading.
Grant studied me for a moment before asking softly,
"Has anyone ever tasted you before?"
I shook my head automatically.
"Use your words," he said quietly.
"No," I managed quickly. "No one has."
His thumb brushed lightly against my hip.
"Can I?"
I almost shook my head to answer but quickly stopped myself. "Yes."
Grant smiled faintly.
"Good girl," he murmured.
The second I realized what he was about to do as he lowered himself, my breath caught hard in my throat.
He settled his head between my thighs, his lips pressing soft, lingering kisses along the inside of each one.
A shiver ran through me instantly.
My gaze drifted up to the ceiling, my chest rising unevenly as I tried to steady myself for what was coming—what it might feel like.
"You gonna let me make you feel good?" he calls against me, flicking the tip of his tongue over my sensitive spot. "Hm?"
"Yes," I moan. Tipping my head back even though it couldn't push into the couch anymore.
He starts slow, pressing a slow opened mouth kiss right where I'm aching. He then drags his tongue over my clit slowly.
He finds a rhythm between soft sucks and gentle flicks, paying attention to every reaction my body gives.
One of his fingers slipped lower sliding into me while he kept his mouth on my clit. Curling gently until he finds the spot that causes me to cry out. I fought through a whimper as he repeatedly worked that spot.
The feeling built faster than I expected, tightening low in my stomach until it was almost too much.
My grip slipped, then tightened again, my body reacting on instinct as everything started to blur together. Grant doesn't slow down if anything it makes him quicken his pace.
A broken sound slipped out of me—barely more than a breath.
"I—"
I didn't even know what I was trying to say.
I didn't even have time to catch my breath before it hit.
The world seemed to tilt beneath me.
My back arched against the couch as the sensation hit, sharp and overwhelming, crashing through me all at once.
For a second I couldn't breathe—like my body had forgotten how.
Everything went tight, then weightless.
Then nothing. Grants tongue doesn't stop until I'm completely still.
I collapsed back against the cushions, chest rising and falling unevenly, my limbs heavy and unfamiliar.
Dazed.
It took a second for the room to come back into focus.
Grant was above me again, his expression softer now, his hand sliding gently along my side like he was checking in without saying it.
"You okay?" he murmured.
I nodded, even though my body still felt like it was catching up.
"Yeah," I breathed.
He leaned down, pressing a few slow, grounding kisses to my lips—nothing rushed, nothing demanding.
Then he shifted beside me, guiding me with him until I was draped across his chest again, my head settling over his heart.
His arm wrapped loosely around my back, his hand moving in slow, absent patterns—up, down, up, down—like he was smoothing everything back into place.
I let myself sink into it.
"But what about you?" I asked quietly after a moment, my voice still a little unsteady. "Aren't you going to—"
He shook his head, brushing his fingers gently through my hair.
"Don't worry about me."
There was no hesitation in it.
No pressure.
Just certainty.
The room had gone quiet now.
The TV screen was dark, the apartment lit only by the soft glow spilling in from the kitchen.
His hand kept moving along my back, slow and consistent, and little by little, the tension in my chest started to loosen.
For the first time all night, my body didn't feel like it was bracing for something.
I focused on the steady rhythm beneath my cheek.
Grant's heartbeat.
Even.
Calm.
Safe.