Southern Gentleman: A Charleston Heat Novel

by Peterson, Jessica

  I need—

  I reach down and pluck at one nipple, then the other.

  My orgasm rips through me, the release so powerful it flirts with the line between pleasure and pain. I buck against his face, but he doesn’t stop, slipping his hands onto my ass cheeks and holding me steady as I come.

  My legs are shaking and my pussy is contracting and I’m chanting his name over and over again. Waves of sensation roll through me, knocking down every defense, every warning, every fear.

  I’ve read somewhere that pregnant women have increased blood flow to the genital area.

  Maybe that explains why this orgasm is to die for. It’s the existential kind. The kind you remember. That makes you grateful to be alive.

  It’s that damn good.

  It’s happening with Grey.

  When I’m finally able to catch my breath, I open my eyes. He’s looking at me, expression all soft and sweet, and my heart goes soft, too.

  Lord above, I’m in deep, and I’m not even sure how I got here.

  All I know is I want more.

  “I’m impressed,” he says, voice husky. “I’ve made you come before. But never quite like that.”

  I give his hair a tug. “Get up here.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I grin as he climbs over me, placing his palms on either side of my head.

  “This is a fun little role reversal,” I say, gliding a hand up his chest. He’s got a nice smattering of dark wiry hair here that stands out against his pale skin.

  Grey ducks down and kisses me. I taste myself on his mouth.

  It turns me on all over again.

  “Julia,” he says, taking my bottom lip between his teeth, “you’ve always been the boss. You’ve always had the power.”

  Now it’s my heart that’s dipping. Our lashes tangle as he tilts his head and kisses me more deeply. A hungry kiss. One I’m starting to know well.

  “That’s not true.”

  He pulls back. Searches my eyes.

  “Think about it, sweetheart. When have I ever not been at your mercy?”

  “Uh. The Rodgers’ Farms project, for starters.”

  He shakes his head. “Maybe I won a battle here and there. But you won the war. Honestly, it was over before it even began. You had me under your spell from the beginning. I was enthralled by you from the start. You had the better ideas. The better vision. And you had the better of me.”

  I swallow, hard. Running my fingers down his arm. The muscles there harden and bunch as I move.

  “Then why were you always such a dick? Why’d you fight me at every turn?”

  He sighs. A sigh he catches with a small grunt.

  “I’m sorry.”

  I look at him. “I know. And I appreciate the apology. But I think it’s fair to say you owe me a real explanation. I admit I’ve been fighting this sense of whiplash—how you went from the prick in the power suit to the softie charmer who makes dinner and also makes me come so hard I forget my own name.”

  “I know, Julia. I’m trying. I’m trying.” He looks at me for a beat. He’s got this pleading look in his eyes.

  He’s asking me for time. Patience.

  He’s opening up to me. Slowly, yes. But he’s still moving forward. And maybe for someone as locked up and uptight as he is, that counts as real progress.

  Also. It’s not like we don’t have time. Like Gracie said, I’ve got the rest of my life, literally, to get to know this man. This baby isn’t going anywhere, and neither are we.

  “Keep trying.” I reach for him, wrapping my hand around his hard length. A flare of heat erupts in his gaze. “In the meantime, lemme make you feel as good as I do right now.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Greyson

  I just might be in love with this woman.

  Granted, my rational mind probably isn’t working with Julia’s hand wrapped around my dick.

  But she’s giving me time. Giving me the space I need to gather myself. Gather my courage and my thoughts.

  I am not a patient man. Especially not with myself.

  The fact that Julia is being patient with me makes me want to change that.

  She’s making me want to change everything.

  Which is a scary fucking prospect.

  A groan erupts in my chest when Julia gives me a tight tug. I’m so hard right now I’m the size of a goddamn tree trunk. Making her come like that—seeing her surrender to me, to sensation—was the sexiest thing I have ever, ever seen.

  The taste of her cunt is all over me.

  I’m going to come in three seconds if I’m not careful.

  Julia twists her wrist as she tugs, curling her palm over my head before moving back down.

  Just how I like it.

  Closing my eyes, I draw a sharp breath through my nose. My arms shake a little.

  “Grey, baby, lay down,” she says, her accent thickening. She gives my cock a squeeze. “Let me take care of this.”

  I love it when she calls me these things. Grey. Baby.

  Shiiiiiit this is happening fast.

  Who am I kidding? It’s been happening all along.

  And I’m too far gone to stop now.

  Ducking my head to kiss Julia one last time, I roll over onto my back, the mattress dipping beneath my weight.

  She props herself up on her elbow beside me. Then it’s her turn to climb over me. Her mouth is on my chest, lingering on my nipple before heading south. Her hair, a wild blond halo, is everywhere, tickling my skin as she moves.

  My cock throbs as she gets closer. And closer.

  Tucking an arm behind my head, I prop myself up so I can watch.

  Julia giving head is a sight to behold. I’m not gonna last long, so I want to make the most of every moment.

  Straddling my thighs, she shoots me a look.

  Leans down, the hardened points of her tits brushing my thighs.

  Kisses me, running her tongue along the crown of my dick.

  Too. Much. My. God—

  Parting her lips—parting her knees, sinking lower—she swallows my head into the soft heat of her mouth. Careful not to get me with her teeth.

  My balls tighten. I bite down on the inside of my cheek. Reach for her, holding back her hair so it’s out of her face and I can get a better look.

  “Julia.” It comes out as a moan. A plea.

  I am at her mercy. Vulnerable and open and needy.

  She’s wrecked me.

  I’m fucking wrecked.

  She takes me all the way to the back of her throat in reply. One smooth, steady motion.

  Can’t help it. I jack my hips. She pulls back.

  Immediately I sit up, terrified I’ve, like, suffocated her or something.

  “Julia. Baby. You don’t—”

  She puts the flat of her palm to my chest and pushes me back. Hard. My blood spikes. Cock throbs inside the warmth of her mouth.

  I bite back a smile.

  This is a game I like.

  This is a question I know the answer to.

  “See?” I say, gently pushing her hair out of the way. “See who has the power here?”

  My cock in her mouth, she looks up. A wicked gleam in her eye.

  Oh, yeah.

  Yeah, she gets it.

  She bobs down. At the same moment I lift my hips and thrust up.

  Julia gags. I feel her soft palate contracting around my head. I go still.

  But then she burrows down again. More.

  She wants more.

  I don’t know up from down.

  She takes me deep and then I thrust deeper. She’s caressing my thigh, my fingers are tangled in her hair and pulling. She moans, the wrist on her other hand working as she tugs at the base of my dick.

  Every time she bobs down, I can see the long, lean lines of her back. She’s strong. Beautiful. Completely naked and completely at my mercy.

  Same as I’m at hers.

  “I’m five fucking seconds from coming,” I grunt. “I
f you don’t stop now, I’m doing it in your mouth.”

  That’s never happened before. I always finished in a napkin or condom. Too eager—too stupid—too rushed—to do it any other way.

  Now that we’re actually taking our time, and doing this right, I want to change that.

  Julia’s eyes flash with heat when they meet mine one last time. And then she sucks. Curls her tongue around my head when she pulls back, then goes deep.

  “You want that, don’t you?” I say, fisting her hair in my hand.

  She sucks harder.

  “Swallow,” I pant. “All of it.”

  And then I come.

  I come so hard I roar, a sound I’ve never made before.

  Julia keeps sucking, swallowing my hot pulses of cum. My whole being pulses in time to my release.

  When I’m done, she carefully pulls back. Eyes on mine the whole time.

  Reaching down, I run my thumb over her swollen lips.

  No trace of cum. She did exactly as I told her. And from the look of it, she enjoyed it, too.

  She smiles. This lewd, dirty, amazing little smile.

  I take her by the arm and pull her up to me. Kiss her mouth, her neck, her tits.

  Kissing her is just as fucking sweet as I thought it’d be. No surprise she’s passionate. Soft. Willing to try new things.

  “I wish we could do this all day,” I say, drawing her up into a deep, warm kiss. The kind that has her rising to meet my strokes, that sweet tongue of hers tangling playfully with mine.

  I can taste myself in her mouth. But I also taste her. That knowledge—how she tastes, how she moves, what she likes in a kiss—feels more intimate than our backseat screwing ever did.

  We kiss until I’m dizzy. Then I curl her body into mine. The little spoon to my big one.

  “Why can’t we? Do this all day, I mean?” she murmurs.

  “I’m booked solid from ten onward. Meetings, two site visits, and then dinner and drinks with a potential investor.”

  Julia lets out a breath through her nose.

  “Wow. You really do work a fuck ton.”

  “Well, yeah. When you own your own company, there’s no such thing as work-life balance. A lot of people are trusting me with a lot of their hard earned money. I can’t fall down on them. Same as I can’t fall down on my family.” I slide my hand to her belly. “I’ve got mouths to feed.”

  “I bring home the bacon, too,” she replies. “I don’t need you to feed me or Charlie Brown. Although we definitely don’t mind it when you cook.”

  “You have, what, five jobs? Three careers? Work is your life, too.”

  She laughs. “Greyson—”

  “Grey. I like it when you call me Grey.”

  “All right, Grey. I have one job, and a side gig I do every so often because I’m obsessed with design and it helps me feel connected to my dad. I love my work, but it’s not my life. My friends are my life. My books. I travel. Walk. I love antiquing. Music. Dancing I really love. Experiences are important to me. I need to do stuff and see stuff to stay inspired—which means getting away from my laptop on a regular basis.”

  I keep my lips in her hair. Inhale the scent of her shampoo.

  “It shows. You’re pretty damn inspiring yourself.”

  “Speaking of getting away from my laptop—I’ve started looking into maternity leave. When I’d take it. How much I’d take. I’ve met with my department head and the HR team at C of C to figure out how to make it all work. Have you given any thought to the time you’ll take off when the baby comes?”

  My heart clenches. To be honest, I have no idea how I’m going to take any time at all off. I haven’t been on vacation in years. Never take a sick day. I’m always in the office because I have to be. Maybe Julia and I can, I don’t know, hire some help. My parents are retired, and I know they’ll be around and willing to help out.

  “We’ll figure it out,” I say, burying my face in the crook of her neck. “God you smell good.”

  “That’s not very comforting—the ‘we’ll just figure it out’ part. I’d like to have a real plan.”

  “Trust me on this. I always come through, don’t I?”

  She takes a breath. Lets it out. “Except when you’re late for doctor’s appointments.”

  “Hey, we still made it, didn’t we? I’ll get better, Julia.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “I’m sure.”

  Another breath. Another sigh out.

  Then she arches her back, the curve of her ass pressing into my groin. My dick responds immediately.

  “All right.”

  Lord, this woman is turning me into a monster. An insatiable, hot-blooded, horny monster.

  What I would give to spend the day naked with her. Fuck her fifteen times and make her come fifteen more. Every way I could imagine. Me on top, her on top. From behind. In the shower. On the kitchen counter. I’d fuck her ’til we were both too sore or hungry to keep going. Then I’d make her food—pimiento cheese sandwiches, maybe, on fluffy rolls from Gracie’s bakery—and we’d watch an episode or two of The Sopranos before running back up to bed again.

  My God, do I want that. Can’t remember the last time I spent a Saturday just dicking around. Having fun.

  But I want to take care of my family more. Now, more than ever, it’s important that I keep a steady hand and dedicate myself to my work. I’m a provider. It’s what I do.

  It’s who I am.

  “So what is it I’m inspiring you to do, exactly?” she says, her voice an octave lower as she reaches back and glides her fingers through my hair.

  Damn it I love when she does that.

  “You’re killing me, sweetheart,” I groan. “I don’t know how late dinner will go tonight, and I won’t keep you waiting. But what if you come over tomorrow night? After dinner? My mom usually serves supper on the earlier side. I’ll pick you up at five. Can’t let you walk into the line of fire alone.”

  Julia turns to face me. Lips pulled into a grin that touches her eyes.

  “Sounds perfect. And Grey?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Can you wear tight pants again? I liked how those stretchy pants looked on you. Maybe you have, I don’t know, a pair of jeans or something that are just as…fitted.”

  I lean in and tilt my head and kiss her. Long and soft.

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Her taste lingers on my mouth the rest of the afternoon.

  * * *

  Between meetings—in addition to having coffee with a couple potential clients, I meet with my realtor to go over some options she put together for a new house—I manage to squeeze in an appointment with my brother at Brumley’s, our favorite tailor. The place is a Charleston institution. Located at the very end of King Street, the city’s bustling shopping district, it’s been around since my dad was having his first suits made back in the seventies. Ford and I have been customers for as long as I can remember.

  Ford is picking up a couple suits he’d ordered, and I’m having a new tuxedo made for Eli and Olivia’s wedding (Eli’s restaurant was one of my very first projects, and he and I have become close.) Recycling the one I wore for my own wedding seemed like bad luck. Plus I want to do something a little different this time around, style wise, after hearing Julia’s thoughts on my sweatpants.

  Ford holds Bryce in his lap while I step onto a podium in front of a three-way mirror. Rollins, the same tailor I’ve been going to for years, gets to work on fixing the pants I’m trying on.

  I catch Bryce’s eye in the mirror. Wink at her.

  She blinks both her eyes and smiles. She hasn’t quite figured out the one-eye wink yet.

  “Whatcha watching?” I say, nodding at the iPad in her lap.

  “It’s your favorite,” she replies with a giggle.

  “Oh yeah? What’s my favorite? I forget.”

  “Tiana, silly! Because you love New Orleans.”

  Be still my beating heart. She says New Orleans w
ith an accent now. Nawlins.

  We’ve taught her well.

  Ford laughs.

  “That is one of Uncle Grey’s favorite places.” He meets my eyes in the mirror. “He loves the food. And the casino.”

  “What’s a casino?”

  “A place where grown-ups go to do…math,” I reply, lips twitching.

  Ford cocks a brow. “So that’s what we’re calling it now. Math.”

  “Hey. I’ve always been good with numbers.”

  “Among other things.”

  “So.” I clear my throat. “Julia’s coming to Sunday supper tomorrow.”

  Ford’s eyes pop. Mouth curls into a disbelieving grin.

  “Lawdy, you’ve done it now.”

  “Lawdy,” Bryce repeats, not looking up from her iPad.

  “How does this look?” Rollins glances up at me as he gives my pants leg a small tug.

  I narrow my eyes. “Little tighter.”

  “You sure?” He gives me a look in the mirror. “This is already a much…er, riskier look than what we usually do.”

  “I’m down to try something different,” I say, carefully adjusting the lapels of my jacket so I don’t smudge Rollin’s chalk marks. “Do you think we could make a satin lapel work here? Maybe in black?”

  Rollins and Ford just stare at me for a beat.

  Sweat breaks out along my collar.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” Rollins replies. “You just haven’t changed the cut or the color of your suits in…”

  “Years,” Ford says.

  “Ages.”

  “Since you were born,” my brother continues. “I swear you came out of the womb wearing a navy blue Brioni suit.”

  Ford’s eyes are narrowed now. He knows something’s up. But what am I supposed to tell him? Hey, Julia liked my sweatpants so much she tore them off me this morning and gave me the best head of my life. Not only that, she’s making me want to take chances and try new things. I think I’m falling for her, and even though I know I should keep my distance I’m going to get more tight pants made because…

  Because I want to look good for her.

  Because I want to turn her into the lust-crazed reprobate that I am.