Chapter 25 #2
“Off,” I muttered against his lips. “Everything off.”
He didn’t need telling twice. He rolled off the bed and shoved the material down his powerful thighs, taking his boxer briefs with them. He kicked them away, revealing a thick, heavy cock, flushed dark and straining upwards against his stomach.
My gaze raked him hungrily, from the sweat-slicked planes of his chest, down the defined ridges of his abs, to the thick base of him. Need coiled tight in my belly again, liquid heat pooling even after the intensity of my release.
“Condom?”
He paused, eyes searching mine. He opened the nightstand and pulled one out.
My brows rose. If he wasn’t planning on hooking up in Singapore, why bring condoms? Had he been hoping for this all along?
“I’m an optimist,” he said gruffly.
He tore it open with his teeth, his gaze never leaving my naked form sprawled on the bed. He sheathed himself and my throat went dry watching him.
He moved back between my thighs, his hands spreading me wide as he knelt. The blunt head nudged against my still-throbbing entrance. I was slick, swollen, exquisitely sensitive from his attentions, already clenching in anticipation.
He leaned over me, bracing on his forearms, caging me again.
He pressed forward slowly, stretching me inch by burning inch.
His gaze locked with mine with an intensity that stole my breath.
The raw hunger in his gaze made me dizzy, desire flooding every nerve ending until rational thought dissolved completely.
I gasped, fingers digging into his hips as my body adjusted to his size. He stilled completely, jaw clenched with restraint, muscles trembling beneath my hands.
“Okay?” he ground out, jaw clenched, muscles trembling as he paused, fully seated, buried to the hilt inside me.
I nodded, unable to form words, overwhelmed by the fullness, the intimacy, the sheer rightness of him inside me. “Yes. Move, Griffin. Please.”
He withdrew agonizingly slowly, pulling almost entirely out, letting me feel every inch sliding against my sensitized flesh, before driving back in with one sharp, powerful stroke that knocked the breath from my lungs.
“Fuck…”
He repeated the motion, setting a rhythm with measured, deep strokes that stretched me wide, that pressed against every sensitive spot inside me with unerring accuracy.
Each thrust dragged over that perfect place deep within, sending sparks flying behind my eyes. Each retreat built an ache that demanded relief.
My hips rose to meet his, grinding against him, seeking more friction, deeper contact. His breath came in harsh pants that mingled with mine.
He kissed me hungrily, swallowing my moans. I raked my fingers down his sweat-slicked back, needing to anchor myself as he drove into me with increasing intensity.
“So tight,” he gasped against my mouth, his hips snapping hard. “So fucking deep for me… Feel that? Feel how you take me so well”
My response was a choked cry as he hit a particularly deep spot. My inner muscles clenched around him involuntarily, pulling another ragged groan from him.
“Yeah, like that.” His hand slid between our bodies, thumb circling my clit in time with his thrusts, the dual assault pushing me rapidly toward the edge again.
Pleasure built, terrifyingly fast, an unstoppable wave gathering force.
“Griff… I can’t…”
The words were lost in a gasp as he shifted his angle, the head of his cock dragging directly over that rough spot inside me with each thrust now.
The sensation was too good, too sharp. My nails dug deep into his shoulders, my legs tightened around his waist, holding him deep as I writhed beneath him.
“Look at me,” he said, his voice guttural.
My eyes flew open, meeting his. The green was almost swallowed by black, raw need etched onto every line of his face. “Come.” He thrust hard and deep. “Come hard on my cock.”
The pure need choking his words shattered me. The climax tore through me with volcanic force.
My body locked around him, convulsing, a silent scream tearing from my throat as white-hot pleasure exploded through every nerve ending. I clung to him, milking his length as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed through me, blinding me, deafening me.
I saw stars, heard white noise, felt nothing but the exquisite clenching and the deep pulse of him inside me.
His rhythm disintegrated into hard, erratic thrusts. “Fuuuck, Vi…!”
He slammed deep one final, shuddering time and held himself there, as his hips jerked. I felt the pulsing throb within me as he came with a low groan that vibrated against my skin.
His forehead dropped to mine, his harsh, panting breaths hot against my lips, mingling with my own gasping sobs as the aftershocks continued to ripple through both of us.
His weight settled fully on me, pressing me into the mattress, a solid anchor in the floating aftermath. Sweat slicked our skin. His heart hammered against my chest in a frantic rhythm that slowly, gradually began to steady.
I drifted, boneless and utterly sated, cocooned by the heat of him, the scent of sex and sweat and Griffin filling my lungs. Reality—Hazel, Julian, the races, the consequences—felt like a distant shore, impossibly far across a warm, still sea.
His thumb brushed a tear from my face, a surprisingly tender gesture in the wreckage of our passion.
Something cracked open inside me at the gentleness of it. This was someone else entirely. Someone who looked at me like I mattered beyond the moment. Not the man who dominated tracks and headlines, who’d spent years annoying me with just his arrogant, cocky presence.
I should have been panicking. Calculating damage control, exit strategies, how to spin this to Julian if he ever found out.
Instead, I felt oddly peaceful. Like standing in the eye of a hurricane, knowing destruction circled but finding impossible stillness at the center.
He pressed a kiss to my sweat-damp hairline, then to my temple, each touch a slow, lingering brand.
What’s done is done.
He shifted his weight, but didn’t pull away. Instead, one big hand drifted lazily down my flank, over the curve of my hip, coming to rest possessively on my ass.
I’d spent my life refusing to be owned, claimed, controlled. I should hate the possessiveness. Yet his touch felt like an anchor, not a chain.
Minutes bled into each other. Our breathing gradually synchronized, deep and even. My racing heartbeat settled into a slow, contented thrum.
His lips traced a slow, idle path along my shoulder blade, his breath warming my skin. His hand on my ass squeezed gently, kneading the muscle.
It was madness. Beautiful, reckless madness that would have consequences. But right now, with my body humming with satisfaction and his heartbeat steady against my back, I couldn’t bring myself to care.
I floated in that perfect, weightless space where only sensation mattered: the rasp of his stubble against my shoulder, the tickle of his breath against my spine, the heavy warmth of his arm draped over my waist, anchoring me in place.
Julian. The team. Hazel. All of it hovered on the periphery of my consciousness, problems for future-Violet to handle.
“Be back in a sec,” he whispered.
I could only hum in response, too boneless to form words. The bed dipped as he moved away, taking his heat with him.
I heard the whisper of the condom being removed, tossed aside. Then a cool cloth wiped gently between my legs, cleaning away the evidence of our coupling.
He lay down beside me, pulling me roughly back against his chest, his front to my back, his arm banding like steel across my waist. He pressed a damp kiss to the bite mark on my shoulder.
The dichotomy of him fascinated me. Gentle then rough, tender then demanding. The Griffin the world saw versus the one currently tracing idle patterns on my skin.
We lay there in silence, the air thick and fragrant. Exhaustion pulled at me, deep and tempting.
Yet, even as my limbs grew heavy, I felt the slow, steady throb between my legs, the echo of pleasure, the insistent heat radiating from him pressed along my spine.
I should suggest we sleep. We should talk about what this means. We should establish boundaries.
But the sensible Violet who made lists and followed rules seemed to have abandoned me entirely.
His fingertips traced idle patterns on my belly, drifting lower, ghosting over my still-sensitive mound. He shifted subtly. The renewed hardness nestled firmly against my tailbone was unmistakable.
A voice in the back of my mind warned that this was only making tomorrow more complicated. But that voice was drowned out by the liquid heat pooling between my thighs.
“Vi,” his low murmur was rough as sandpaper against the back of my neck. His fingers dipped lower, finding my slickness again, gathering it. “You’re still dripping.”
I should be embarrassed. Should pull away. Should remember all the reasons this was dangerous.
But I was so sick of shoulds. Of being the dutiful daughter who did as she was told.
I pressed back against him, silently seeking more. Consequences be damned. I’d face them tomorrow.
Tonight, I’d allow myself this one reckless indulgence.
His fingers slid lower, slipping easily through my swollen folds, circling my clit with practiced laziness that made my breath hitch.
He pressed a kiss to the top knob of my spine. “One more.”
Fatigue warred with the liquid heat already pooling again at his touch. The soreness was there, a low throb, but it was easily overshadowed by the insistent spark reigniting under his fingers.
He shifted his hips, the thick head of his cock nestling against the crease of my thigh, nudging insistently.
My body answered before my mind could catch up, pressing back against him, seeking the friction, the familiar heat.
His low chuckle was pure triumph. “I thought so.”
His arm tightened around me, his lips brushing my hairline as his fingers continued their deliberate torment.
“Tonight’s a long way from over.”
And strangely, impossibly, I was glad. Let tomorrow bring what it would. Tonight belonged to us.