24. #2
He sat without breaking the kiss, pulling me with him so I ended up half in his lap, one knee pressing into the mattress as I steadied myself against him.
I shifted forward on my own, closing the last bit of space as I kissed him again, slower, more certain, letting my weight settle into him instead of holding myself back.
His breath caught slightly under me.
"We don't have to rush it. I can be gentle with you."
For a second, I stilled.
Not because I didn't understand what he meant but because something in me resisted it.
Gentle felt too close to careful.
Too close to the version of me that had been handled instead of asked, adjusted instead of considered.
I didn't want to be eased into this.
I didn't want to think through every step or second-guess what I was allowed to feel.
I didn't want to be aware of everything.
I didn't want to think through every reaction before I had it or brace myself for what came next.
I just wanted to feel it.
Fully.
Messy, if it needed to be.
My hands pressed more firmly into him, grounding myself in the moment instead of pulling away from it, my gaze lifting to meet his.
"I don't want you to be gentle with me," I said, quieter than I expected—but steady enough that the words still landed exactly how I meant them to.
Something shifted in his expression at that.
Like he understood there was more behind the words than just sex.
His tongue briefly caught against his bottom lip before he nodded once, guiding me off his lap and onto the bed.
The mattress dipped slightly beneath my weight.
He reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head in one smooth motion.
My breath caught before I could stop it.
The soft lighting in the room dragged across every sharp line of him—broad shoulders, defined stomach, the flex of muscle through his arms as he tossed the shirt somewhere behind him without looking. There was something unfair about how composed he still looked when I felt anything but.
His attention shifted back to me almost immediately.
He stepped closer until his knees brushed against mine, his hand sliding slowly along my thigh before moving higher, deliberate enough that I felt every inch of the movement. The cool air in the room only made me more sensitive to him, my body reacting before I could stop it.
My fingers curled against the sheets as his hand settled against me again, warm and steady, his touch unhurried in a way that made everything feel sharper instead of softer.
The sudden sting against me through the fabric of my leggings made my breath catch, a small sound leaving my mouth before I could hold it back.
Heat rushed low through my body almost immediately after.
"Grant," I breathed, and his mouth curved slightly against my skin before his lips moved from mine to my jaw, then lower, kissing slowly enough that it made my head feel light.
His hands settled at my hips before pulling me closer to the edge of the bed, his fingers hooking into the waistband of my leggings and underwear at the same time. He dragged them down slowly, his gaze staying on me enough to make my stomach tighten all over again.
The air hit my skin instantly.
So did the realization of how exposed I suddenly was in front of him.
His hand slid back up my thigh, slower this time, and the second his fingers brushed between my legs, a low sound left him that made my entire body react.
I shifted instinctively at the feeling, my breathing uneven now, my hands gripping tighter against the sheets beneath me as heat rushed through me all over again.
Grant noticed everything.
The way my thighs tensed.
The way my stomach pulled in every time he touched me.
The way I kept trying to hold onto composure that had already started slipping away.
His eyes lifted back to mine briefly, calmer than I felt.
"You still with me?" he asked quietly.
I nodded too fast.
"Yes."
Something softer moved through his expression at that, almost like approval, before he leaned down and pressed another kiss against my stomach.
My breath caught.
Grant kneels between my legs, hands smoothing up my thighs.
"God, Naomi." His voice is wrecked. "You're perfect."
His hand slides between us, fingers finding my clit, stroking gently. I gasp, hips rolling into his touch.
"So wet," he murmurs, almost to himself. "So perfect."
He works me slowly feels almost methodically.
Then his mouth found me, and every thought I had disappeared anyway.
A shaky breath left me immediately, my head falling back against the mattress as my fingers twisted tighter into the sheets beneath me. He wasn't rushed with it, wasn't trying to overwhelm me. If anything, it was worse that he took his time.
Every reaction felt noticed.
Every sound.
Every shift in my breathing.
He's gentle at first—tongue soft, exploratory. The pressure building low in my stomach came faster than I expected, my thighs tightening instinctively as heat rushed through me harder.
"Grant—"
My voice broke around his name.
I thread my fingers into his hair and when he slides one finger inside me, curling it perfectly, I come apart. I can feel the orgasm start to roll through me in waves, stealing my breath, my voice, everything except the feeling of him working me through it with his mouth and hands.
He looked up then, just for a second, his hand smoothing along my thigh while he watched me carefully, like he was reading every part of my reaction.
"You're close already?" he asked softly.
The question alone made heat rush into my cheeks.
I nodded anyway.
His mouth curved slightly, not mocking—just pleased.
Then, before I could fully process it, the pressure disappeared. He stands up body now towering over me.
"Don't stop," I breathed immediately, my eyes opening as he pulled back slightly.
The loss of it hit harder than I expected.
He noticed that too.
I sit up fully, the intense feeling of needing home coming in stronger than ever.
I reach between us, palming him through his pants. He's hard, straining against the fabric, and when I stroke him, he groans.
"Naomi—"
"I want you," I say, clear and certain. "All of you."
Grant pulls back, eyes searching mine. "Are you sure? I know you're stressed?—"
I reach for his neck pulling him into a kiss. I taste myself on his lips as I cut off the protest. "I'm sure. Please, Grant. I need this. I need you."
He nodded, his throat tightening slightly as I helped him pull the rest of his clothes off. They landed somewhere on the floor beside the bed while he reached toward the nightstand, fingers briefly fumbling with the drawer before pulling out a condom.
He leaned back over me afterward, pressing another kiss against my mouth. I hear the plastic tear and I can feel when he rolls it on.
My breath caught when I felt him settle between my legs, the heat of him at my entrance making my stomach tighten all over again. A second later, the head of his cock nudged into me.
I was humiliatingly drenched, but he was so big, and it'd been so long, that his initial push made me tense with discomfort.
"Breathe," Grant murmured, his voice gentle. "You can take it."
He was only halfway in. I felt like I'd already reached my limits, but I gritted my teeth and tried to relax as he sank deeper inside me.
"That's it." He groaned. "You got it."
A shudder rippled from my head to my toes. Long, easy strokes morphed into faster, harder ones, and pleasure eventually eclipsed pain as he set a punishing rhythm.
He fucked me to the hilt, his balls slapping against my skin. I cried and bucked, too delirious to do anything except give in to my body's needs.
My nails clawed at him hard. Instead of deterring him, it only made him more feral. His teeth closed around my nipple and tugged.
The sharp sting wrenched another cry from my throat. The helpless sound hanging in the air. The headboard banged against the wall, and my body trembled and shook with each thrust.
My arms were weak, and my elbows finally bucked when he hit a spot that made me see stars. My body attempted to collapse further into the bed. Grant took advantage of the new angle and lifted my hips higher.
Sex with Rodney wasn't even satisfactory in the early days and especially not recently. But this? This unraveled parts of me I hadn't known existed.
"Oh, God. Yes!" I moaned when Grant reached down to play with my clit.
My pleas dissolved into something softer, more broken when he finally gave me exactly what I'd been asking for and more.
The pressure that had been building low in my stomach tightened so suddenly it stole the breath from my lungs, my fingers gripping onto him as his mouth crashed against mine again.
The kiss was messy now.
Possessive.
Nothing careful left in it.
And somehow that only pushed me closer.
My body gave out before my mind could catch up, the orgasm hitting me hard enough that I had to break the kiss just to breathe through it. A shaky sound left me as I buried my face against his shoulder, my entire body tightening around him while wave after wave rushed through me.
The feeling so intense as he continued to pound into me, "Grant, I can't."
"You're doing so good, baby. Keep taking it," Grant breathed against my skin, his voice rougher now, less controlled than I'd heard it all night. His hands tightened at my waist, his rhythm faltering for the first time since we'd started.
I could feel it—that he was close too.
The realization sent another wave of heat through me, weaker this time but enough to make my body react all over again.
"Grant—"
My voice barely sounded like mine.
He groaned softly at the sound of it, his forehead pressing against mine for half a second before he lost the rest of his composure completely. His grip tightened, one last sharp breath leaving him as he buried his face against my shoulder, holding me there while he came undone too.
Afterward, neither of us moved right away.