Griffin Colson #3
“Okay?” I murmur. Every muscle tense as I wait for her answer. I need to know she’s alright with this. That I haven’t pushed her too far. It takes all I have to hold back, to let her lead the way. I distract myself by tracing soft circles on her neck with my thumb.
“Mm-hmm,” she nods lazily, riding the high.
I kiss her gently, briefly. Before leaning back on my heels to undo my belt.
The moment my pants are undone, I shove the fabric down.
My cock springs free, thick and heavy against my stomach, leaking at the tip.
She licks her lips and I nearly come on her stomach from that alone.
She impatiently pushes my pants further down my thighs.
I hiss through my teeth when her fingers brush against my thighs, my muscles flexing under her touch.
My cock twitches visibly, already so fucking hard for her it’s almost painful.
“Condom.” I roll off the bed and quickly shed them the rest of the way before reaching over into the nightstand drawer and pulling one out.
Her hips are raised by the pillow, her legs spread wide.
The sight nearly undoes me but I focus on getting the foil wrapper open, fumbling it.
I manage to look away long enough to roll it on and climb back over her.
“Gonna go slow,” I say again. More to remind myself, than reassure her at this point.
She nods again, a final confirmation that she’s okay with what’s about to happen.
I balance on a forearm beside her and use my other hand to line the head up.
I press inside, slowly, inch by torturous inch.
My muscles tremble with restraint until I’m almost fully sheathed.
She goes still, her breath catches and I lose her.
I freeze instantly, lifting my head to look her in the eye. I expected this to be hard for her. I knew there might be moments where I’d have to coax her through it. But she’s been doing so well I almost forgot.
“Breathe, I’ve got you.” I gently cup her face, my forehead resting against hers. I fight every instinct telling me to drive into her, to bury myself so deep she won’t think of anything but me. “Do you need me to stop?”
“I-I’m okay.” She places her hands tentatively on my shoulders.
I feel the moment her body relaxes and I sink the rest of the way in. We both groan. I slip my hand down and under her knee anchoring it over my hip. I watch her closely, gauging her reaction for any sign of discomfort. I press a soft kiss to her forehead before looking at where we’re connected.
“Gonna start movin’ now.” I roll my hips in a deep agonizing rhythm that has her moaning. Every drag is drawn out, as I savor the way she grips me. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”
I increase my pace gradually, making sure every second of this is hers. Even with a condom she feels fucking amazing. I let go of her leg and take her hand, lacing our fingers together and pressing it into the pillow by her head.
My lower back tenses with each forward thrust. I’m fiercely aware of every sigh and whimper I coax out of her.
Her tight heat draws me deeper with each slide.
She’s so responsive, I’m in awe of every reaction she has.
I could spend the rest of my life figuring out all the different sounds she makes.
My movements get more desperate, more urgent. She starts to clench around me, moaning low. And I falter. My balls tighten. I’m close, so fucking close. But I’m not going over until she does. I shift slightly, angling my hips to hit a spot inside her that makes her throw her head back.
She finds her release with a cry. Her back arches off the bed and her legs tighten around my hips.
Her core milks my shaft and my own release hits as she clamps down around me.
My hips stutter and I spill into the condom, my forehead dropping to her shoulder.
Grinding gently as I work to catch my breath.
“Fuck.” I plant a kiss on her collarbone, my fingers tangled with hers.
Reluctantly, I pull out, rolling off the bed to dispose of the condom and clean up.
I come back and collapse beside her on the mattress.
I drag her into my arms, pressing a kiss to her temple.
She’s still coming down and she melts against my chest. Her cheek pressed against my shoulder.
She starts tracing lazy circles over my abs causing my muscles to jump.
I thread my fingers gently through her hair while we bask in the afterglow of what we just shared.
“Didn’t know it could feel like that,” I admit quietly.
My thumb brushes over her shoulder where one of the scrapes from the brick wall lingers.
My touch is careful over the marks, silently vowing they’ll be the last ones she’ll ever bear because of someone else.
I roll slightly, to tug the blanket up and over the both of us.
I press a kiss to her forehead before relaxing completely into the pillows.
“Me either,” she mumbles against my skin, yawning.
I chuckle softly, my arms tightening around her reflexively. I can’t pull her close enough despite the fact she’s already tucked to my side with her head resting under my chin. Her yawn is infectious and I can’t help but do it too. Exhaustion creeps up on me.
“Get some sleep,” I murmur into her hair. Closing my eyes and inhaling the sweet scent of her vanilla honey shampoo.
“Does this mean you aren’t sleeping on the couch anymore?” She stops making circles on my stomach and rests her chin on my chest to look up at me. I open my eyes and look down at her, my lips quirk.
“Depends,” I rumble. “You gonna hog all the blankets?” She frowns and I chuckle. “Nah, not goin’ anywhere, Sunshine.” I close my eyes again, letting myself revel in the feel of her bare skin against mine.
She places her palm flat over my heart, where she can feel the steady beat of it before laying back down. “Okay.”
She’s quiet for a while before her fingers run over the ink on my chest. She traces the large tribal panther that stretches down over one of my pecs. “Do your tattoos have stories?”
My hand stills in her hair. “Do yours?”
“I got my owl for my grandma. She loved owls.”
My fingers caress her shoulder, brushing the length of the design. “Your wings?”
“A reminder.” She props her chin on her fist and looks up at me again. “Your turn.”
“No stories. Just wanted ‘em.” I evade answering. I’m not ready to share that much with her yet. I don’t tell those stories to anyone. Her answer about her wings is vague but I don’t push.
She studies me for a moment before kissing the rose and barbed wire design on my shoulder. Then she rolls out of bed, heading to the bathroom. She doesn’t bother with putting clothes on when she gets back. She crawls to me and burrows into my side.
She falls asleep in my arms. I’ve never seen her look this content and peaceful before.
I take in the subtle features of her face, memorizing every line and curve and freckle.
When I’m sure she’s well and truly asleep, I pull her more firmly to me.
I’m used to sleeping alone, having the bed to myself, her warmth is foreign to me.
And yet it feels right. I give in and close my eyes, my thoughts quieter than they’ve ever been.