Chapter 16
Grace is half naked and sleeping on my couch.
Blanket kicked off, legs bare, my T-shirt pulled up past her waist. Lacy purple thong on full display.
Then there’s the tattoo. Black lines curl up her skin from mid-thigh to her waistline.
Flowers and vines mostly, with a long snake nestled deep in the foliage, following the curve of her ass, acting as a perfect guide, drawing my focus to the boundary of her body.
An ode to her family, maybe. The Sinner snake.
Fuck. I want to trace my tongue all over those lines, sink my teeth into that perfect, round ass of hers, taste every goddamn inch of her skin, every petal, every leaf, every scale. Bite and lick and suck until I’ve gotten my fill of her.
I haven’t had enough of Grace. I haven’t touched her enough. And fuck, do I need to.
Last night, I almost let it happen. She was topless, those perfect tits tempting me, nipples begging me to tug on them with my teeth. I walked away.
Why. The fuck. Did I walk away?
I barely fucking survived it. Barely slept because I couldn’t stop thinking about dragging her into my bed and fucking her brains out.
And now she’s on my couch. In a fucking thong.
She stirs, yawns. Stretches slowly, languidly. The shirt pulls a little higher as she reaches over her head.
I stare at it. That T-shirt. The layer of cotton hiding what I want to touch.
She cracks her eyes open, and a heartbeat later, she startles. “Are you watching me sleep?”
“How are you feeling?”
Another yawn. “What time is it?”
“Early. Just before eight.”
She tilts her head, scanning my uniform with tired eyes. “Are you going to work?”
“Soon. Any… headache? Nausea?”
Sitting up, she tips her head one way, then the other. Another small stretch, a little shuffle of her hips, as if testing her body, searching for a hint of a hangover. Then she smiles.
God, she’s fucking beautiful in the morning. Or maybe I’m just horny. I don’t know. The way the sun’s hitting her, shining on her dark hair, lighting up that pretty face. It would be a hell of a sight to wake up to.
“I seem to be hangover free,” she says.
“Ah, to be twenty-six again.”
Her lips twitch. “Can’t quite drink like you used to?”
“The amount of tequila running through your veins last night would have put me in a coma,” I tell her. “So… you’re feeling fine? Not gonna puke?”
“What do you care? Your couch is all busted up anyway.” She smirks. “You should think about buying a new one.”
“I care ,” I grit out, “because I’m gonna need you to spread your legs for me. I’d rather you not feel like you’re gonna throw up while you do that.”
Her lips part and a loud breath escapes her. Then she shifts against the couch, her thighs squeezing together. “You… what?”
The base of my spine tingles. Fuck, I need it. Her pussy on my mouth, her taste on my tongue. I drop to my knees. “Your legs, Grace. Open them.”
A Cheshire smile crawls across her face. “Now who’s the one begging?”
“You will be in a second.”
“You’re in uniform.”
“Do I need to take it off?”
“No. I think I like it.” She gives me a cheeky grin. “Big bad Officer Decker all dressed up.”
I sigh. “Don’t make me ask again.”
Slowly, she leans back against the cushions and parts her knees.
But before I can press my lips to the fabric covering what I’m about to eat, she slaps her palms to my cheeks and jerks up my face.
“No, Linc. That’s not where I want you.”
“Grace,” I growl, my blood pumping in my ears.
Laughing, she points to her stomach. “You can start here.”
With a deep exhale, I oblige, kissing the spot she’s pointing to. It’s not a delicate kiss. It’s wet and hungry. Greedy. Forceful. I kiss her stomach like I plan on kissing her pussy.
I’m going to fucking devour her.
Elbows planted on either side of her, I move down, but she halts me again, this time with her knees, trapping me between them.
“Here next,” she says, teeth sinking into her smile as she points a little higher. Her rib cage. Away from what I want.
I kiss there too.
Then the next location, just below her breasts.
She tugs off the shirt, dark pink nipples tight, tits upright and waiting, inches from my lips.
Blood rushes to my dick and saliva floods my mouth. I could spend all day doing this. Touching her. Dragging my tongue over her soft skin. It pebbles as I caress her hips, then waist, then higher. I move to take her perfect little peaks between my teeth, but she points above them.
“Grace,” I say again. This time my tone is desperate. Pleading.
She simply smiles and tilts her head back, tapping her collarbone.
I kiss there too. Another, hungry, wet kiss. When I slide my tongue up her neck, she lets out a small gasp and wraps her legs around me.
With a grunt, I clamp my hand around her throat and take her mouth with mine.
Kissing Grace is a hell of a fucking drug. Those lips, her mouth, the way her tongue moves against mine. I’ve been fixated on it for fucking days.
Groaning, I grab at her ass and pull her closer, grinding my painfully hard cock between her legs as I devour her.
Just as I’m about to push her panties to the side, she stills and pulls back, that fucking smile painted on her face again, and then points between her breasts.
“Here, Decker,” she says.
Fuck this fucking game.
Focus fixed on the spot, I don’t move, but neither does she. She simply waits. Finally, I dip low and kiss the soft skin over her sternum.
Laughing, she points a couple of inches lower. Then again, lower. Lower. Top of her thighs. The tattoo. One black flower, then another. She arches her back as I run a trail of scorching kisses over the inky lines towards the apex of her thighs, following where she directs me.
“Gracie,” I whisper, voice cracking. My fucking hands shake as I hover at the edge of her panties, my mouth millimetres from its prize. This close, I can smell her, see the wetness drenching the purple fabric. “Don’t make me beg.”
She pushes up and rakes her hands through my hair, tugging me closer, lips to my ear. “I could make you , though, couldn’t I?”
I swallow. Yeah. Grace could make me do just about anything night now. “Yes.”
“Then do it. Beg me for it. Say ‘Grace, can I please eat your pussy? Can you please come on my face? Pleeeaaaase ?’”
Without a thought, I repeat it like a fucking prayer. My fingers hooking in the waistband of her panties, tugging them down.
“Tell me you need it,” she whispers, nipping at my earlobe, her breath tickling my neck.
I push her back against the cushions and jerk her legs open.
Her smooth pussy fucking drips for me. Splayed out, ready for what I want to give her.
“Need isn’t the fucking word for it.” Without waiting for another prompt, I roughly tug her ass forward and dive between her legs.
Her whole body jerks the moment I make contact, her moans breathy and desperate, her nails scratching at my scalp, fingers pulling my hair, forcing my face against her pussy like she needs to come as much as I need to make her.
Her body shudders, her hips grinding against my mouth as I slide my tongue over every delicious part of her, twirling around her clit, lapping up her wetness.
She tastes fucking perfect. But it’s more than that.
It’s how her body responds to my touch, the way it moves, the little quiver, the moan she tries to swallow.
I’ve barely gotten started, and she’s already close, her clit needy and swollen. Like she went to bed as horny as I did.
I wanted to torture her. Tease her. Make her sob and beg for release. I wanted to savour this. But I’m starving. The need to feel her pleasure on my mouth, tongue, on my entire fucking face, is too much. I need Grace to come. Right fucking now.
I slide in a finger, and then two, curling them, searching for that perfect spot right—she lets out a loud gasp, her back arching, legs opening just a little wider—yeah, that spot.
“God, Linc,” she moans.
I pick up my pace, eliciting another moan, then another. A whole string of curses as I press my tongue harder against her needy little nub.
Tightening her grip in my hair, she grinds against my face. Rides it. Taking her pleasure. Demanding it.
Her arousal coats my lips, my cheeks and chin. It drips down my face, and I swear to god, it’s got me so turned on I think I might actually come in my pants. Just from this. Grinding against my couch while she suffocates me between her legs.
I’m dangerously close to embarrassing myself when she tenses and lets out a guttural moan.
She rolls her hips, picking up her pace until her body quakes and her muscles lock up.
As her pussy pulses against my fingers, her back bows, curving enough to lift her so high she practically arches off the couch.
She says my name when she comes, and fuck if that isn’t the sweetest goddamn sound I’ve ever heard.
“Shit,” she gasps as her body goes limp and collapses against the sunken cushions, her ragged breaths making her tits shake.
With my mouth still at her centre, I slowly lick her up and down, attention on her flushed face.
Intense need floods my system. A sensation stronger than anything I’ve ever experienced. It wasn’t enough. How the hell wasn’t it enough?
I should wrap this up. Fuck her quick and then get my ass to work. Or?—
“I’m gonna need you to do that one more time for me, Gracie.” With a groan, I close my mouth around her clit and suck.
Her hips buck, and she squeals, trying to push my head away. “Hey. Ah . It’s too much. I need a second.”
With a chuckle, I throw her legs over my shoulders and lick the length of her slit.
She closes her knees against my face, forcing me back.
“On a bit of a time crunch, babe.” I squeeze her ass with both hands. “I don’t have a second.”
She stills. And so do I. Hoping to god she’ll let that little word stumble slide.
Babe . Gracie may be a lot of things, but she’s definitely not my woman. I’m in no position to be giving her pet names.