Southern Gentleman: A Charleston Heat Novel

by Peterson, Jessica

  “It made me hot. So hot for you, Grey. Your openness, too. Your vulnerability made me want you in ways I’ve never wanted anyone else. Ever.”

  “Fuck—Jesus Christ, Julia, you gotta let me have you. I want to be inside you. I want to feel you. You make me beg, and I’ll make you pay. I’ll punish you.”

  I bite my lip, allowing my fingers to amble back to my clit. Sensation winds tight tight tight in my core. I’m grinding against the wall, my skin burning.

  I don’t care.

  Grey’s eyes are hot and hard on my body. His nostrils flare as he tugs at his cock, running a thumb up the seam on the underside of his head.

  “Maybe I want to be punished.” I glide my fingers around and through my folds. “Show me the villain. Be the bad guy. And I’ll show you how much I like him.”

  He growls, bolting to his feet. My eyes flick up to meet his.

  He’s enormous. Breathing hard.

  Angry. Cock and eyes and muscles, drawn taut with frustration.

  “How much bad do you want?”

  My legs fall all the way open. I arch my back, offering him my tits.

  My everything.

  “All the bad you’re willing to give me.”

  He takes a step forward. Nostrils still flaring.

  “Take your fingers. Touch your clit,” he bites out. When I hesitate, he takes another step forward. Towering over me. “Do what I fucking say, Julia.”

  I shiver. Shake.

  I love this game. Switching up the power dynamic. I lead. Then he does.

  I take charge.

  Then he takes charge of me.

  I meet his eyes and touch my clit. Both fingers. Pressing, pinching.

  A tremble moves through my left leg. I’m close.

  “Open your mouth,” Grey says, taking his cock in his hand. Taking a step forward. “Wider.”

  I do as he tells me and open wide.

  Without preamble, he puts himself inside my mouth. Sinking on a slow, deep thrust that induces the tiniest gag, making my eyes water. Lewd and lovely, all at once.

  He lets out a pant.

  Need spears me right through my middle. I moan, too, and Grey must feel the vibration, because he slams a palm against the wall above my head.

  “Stay still,” he grunts. “And don’t you dare come. Your turn to wait, pretty girl.”

  Gliding a hand through my hair, he gives it a little tug. Tugs my head back so that my eyes meet his as he glides in and out of my mouth. In and out.

  “That’s it,” he says softly, pulling out until his head is at my lips. “Play with me, sweetheart. Taste me. Show me how much you want this.”

  I wrap my lips around him, tugging and sucking and licking him. I taste the salt of his pre-cum, and use my tongue to smear it across my lips.

  “Aw, fuck,” he says, gently pushing my hair away from my face. “Fuck, you like that. You like the way I taste.”

  In reply, I swirl my tongue over his head and give the underside a long, lingering lick.

  His control snaps. He jacks his hips and howls, this gravelly roar that makes my nipples tighten painfully.

  Before I know what he’s doing, Grey is wrapping a hand around my arm and yanking me to my feet, his cock bobbing as it falls out of my mouth.

  “Can you stand?” he asks roughly.

  “I—”

  One of my legs gives out, but he’s there to catch me. He hikes me over his shoulder, making me laugh. Then he sets me on the bed, the fluffy duvet sinking beneath my weight. The fabric feels cool and silky against my back.

  My pussy is throbbing.

  “Please,” I say.

  “Still want the villain?”

  “I just want you. Whatever that looks like.”

  In reply, he takes my knees in his hands and parts them. Ducks down and licks my pussy with the broad flat of his tongue. Back to front, ducking inside my cunt before pressing against my clit.

  I feel my orgasm rising up to meet me. I gasp. He growls.

  “You’ll get the villain,” he says, and grabs a condom on the bedside table. “By the way—I’d really like to stop using these things. How about we get tested? Make sure it’s safe before we...”

  I bite my lip. “Fuck without them? I love that idea. I got tested when I found out I was pregnant—they test you for a lot of stuff to make sure you don’t pass it on to your baby. I’m clean.”

  “I will schedule a new test first thing tomorrow.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Greyson

  I flip her over onto her stomach. The skin on her ass and back shines in the low light of the room. I lean down and kiss the outside of her neck, the underside of her ribcage. I kiss her ass cheek, giving it a playful smack.

  I straighten, tearing open the foil packet.

  “Get on your knees,” I grunt, rolling the condom on. “But keep your head down.”

  She does as I tell her, ass up, head down, face turned to the side so I can just make out her features. Hair everywhere, pink lips swollen to a bright shade of red.

  She’s watching me, eyes bright with arousal and curiosity.

  Scooting toward her, I nudge her legs wider with my knee. Ducking down, I sink my teeth into her ass cheek. Her muscles there tense.

  “You’re good,” she says before I can ask. I cup her ass in my hands, kneading her cheeks before I use my thumbs to part them.

  I love seeing her. All of her. Pussy, asshole.

  She’s trusting me with all this.

  Pulling her ass cheek a little wider to spread the lips of her cunt open, I guide myself inside her. Sensation in my balls spiking as I sink into her tight heat.

  “Fuck, you feel good,” I groan.

  “Grey,” she pants. Pleads.

  Wrapping my hand around the back of her neck, I pull my hips back. Roll them forward. Do it again. Harder this time, our bodies slapping when they meet.

  She cries out with delight.

  I reach around and play with her clit while I thrust deep. She’s crying out again, her pussy just barely fluttering. I feel sparks at the base of my spine. I grit my teeth. I’ve always managed to get her off first. Not about to break that tradition.

  I may be a villain, but I’m not a selfish bastard.

  “How bad do you want?” I repeat, rolling the pads of my middle finger right where she needs it.

  “Bad,” she breathes.

  I thrust into her at the same time I gently pluck her clit between my thumb and forefinger. I’m sweating with the effort to hold back. She’s so wet. So soft. Clearly turned on by this side of me.

  A tremor moves through her legs.

  She’s close.

  Perfect.

  I swipe my thumb across her clit one last time. Get it nice and wet.

  And then I pull back.

  “What the fuck?” she cries.

  “You asked for bad,” I say, drawing my thumb across her ass cheek. “So that’s what you’re gonna get.”

  I dip my thumb between her crack. Just above her pucker. I tug at her ass cheek, spreading her some more.

  Carefully, I press the pad of my thumb to her asshole. Still pumping into her.

  Her pussy contracts forcefully, once.

  “Grey,” she’s saying. “My God, yes.”

  “Bad enough?”

  “More.”

  I press a little harder. “Play with yourself, baby. It’ll make the bad real good.”

  I play with her asshole and fuck her from behind while she reaches down and plays with her pussy.

  I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from coming.

  She starts to moan. Legs trembling, cunt fluttering. Hips rolling against me, seeking more.

  My heart swells. She doesn’t just like this.

  She fucking loves it. She’s playing along. Letting me in.

  Showing me just how much she likes my dark side.

  She comes and I come, a burst of light and feeling. I dig my fingers into her sides, holdin
g her tight. She reaches back and grabs me by the wrist. Holding on for dear life as she clenches around me. Crying out my name.

  I love it when she says my name.

  I fall to my side and pull her down with me, curling her into my body so that we’re face to face. She’s shaking. Smiling.

  “You’re so beautiful,” I murmur, kissing her lips.

  “See?” she pants, brushing my hair out of my eyes. “Like you said—the bad is good.”

  “You mean that?”

  “So fucking good. Dirty doesn’t equal bad.”

  “Well, yeah. But it is a little taboo.”

  “Clearly I don’t mind, Grey.”

  I grin. “Clearly, Jules.”

  She grins. “You’ve never called me that before.”

  “You like it?”

  “I love it when you say my name. Any version of it.”

  I grin, too. “I noticed.”

  I kiss her. Keep kissing until we’re making out like teenagers, right down to the dry humping.

  We make out until the dry humping turns to real humping.

  When we’re done, we stay up talking. I get the answers to the questions I had before.

  Where she comes from—born in Atlanta, moved to Charleston when she was a teenager.

  Where was she in that picture of her with her dad at Hogwarts? She got a graduate degree at Cambridge.

  The travel—she mostly travels with colleagues, but would love to travel with me. Maybe on a babymoon somewhere.

  What about historical romance does she find so comforting?

  She loves the reminder that no matter how difficult life can get, or how hopeless your story can feel, we all deserve our own happily ever after. And that sometimes, the more difficult the story, the happier the ending.

  Underwear—does she wear it with those yoga pants? Or does she go commando?

  Commando, always.

  That alone has me rolling on top of her for one more round.

  * * *

  Julia

  I wake up in Greyson’s bed.

  This time he’s in it with me. Sleepily scrolling through his phone, running a hand over his face.

  “Hi,” I say.

  He blinks, turning his head on the pillow. His face creases into a smile, and my heart does a back flip. Pussy pulses.

  I’ve been awake for all of five seconds, and already I want him.

  No time for bathroom or toothpaste. I need.

  Now.

  “Mornin’, baby,” he says, leaning over to press a scruffy kiss to my neck. My blood warms. “How’re you feeling?”

  We look at each other for a beat. Then another. I’m feeling all squishy and happy inside, and I kind of can’t stand it.

  I can’t stand him. His smile and that cute fucking cleft in his chin and the goodness, the intelligence, of his heart.

  Wordlessly I roll on top of him. His smile broadens, his hands gliding up my thighs.

  “That good, huh?”

  I shimmy down a little and reach for him. Grin when I find him rock hard.

  “Uh-huh,” I reply. I duck down, using my elbow to keep my face out of my hair.

  I take his head in my mouth. Kiss it, tease it. Taste him. Just how he likes it.

  His hands are in my hair. On my tits. I open my lips wider and take him deeper.

  “Aw, baby,” he says, voice still gravely with sleep. “Aw, Jules, I like this, but I think I’d like to make love to you more. Up, sweetheart.”

  He gently guides me up from his dick. Then he’s reaching for his nightstand.

  “Make love to me? That’s new.”

  “It’s what I want. That gonna be a problem?”

  I’m grinning so hard my eyes start to water. “Not at all.”

  Open wrapper. Quick hands.

  He curls one hand around my hips and the other around his cock. I lift up onto my knees, helping him settle himself between my legs.

  I sink down onto him slowly. Quietly. Both of us rocking into one another. I’m sore and I’m tired and I probably have terrible morning breath, but this feels so nice. No rush, no madness.

  His hands trail up my sides to cup my breasts, and he rubs the pads of his thumbs over my nipples.

  I moan at the bolts of sensation that move between there and my clit. Reaching down, I play with myself, and Greyson’s eyebrows come together. Like he’s in pain.

  “You take what you want,” he says. “You know what you want. I love that about you. I can’t—I can’t fucking stand how much I want you, sweetheart. Let me—”

  And then he’s flipping me onto my back. Guiding one of my legs over his shoulder as he rolls on top of me, the weight of his body delicious and warm.

  His smell is all over me, that masculine, clean scent I can’t get enough of. I want to bite him. Devour him whole. Crawl inside his skin and live there for a week.

  I reach between us and wrap my fingers around him. I guide him to my center and roll my hips a little. He sinks into me easily. This new angle with my leg over his shoulder allows me to take him deeper. He hits me right there, and my mouth falls open. Shit I’m sore.

  Shit this feels lovely.

  His eyes are locked on mine as he strokes into me. Slow, deep, muscular thrusts that I feel in every corner of my being. We watch each other, breathing softly. My hands marvel at the way the muscles along the sides of his torso ripple and bunch as he moves. I glide my fingers up his arms, catching on the nicotine patch on his shoulder. His brows curve upward, his gaze steady. Same as his thrusts.

  He sees me.

  I see him.

  The soft, almost sticky sound of our bodies moving together fills the space between us. It smells like sex now. Sex and sheets and shared everything.

  The wiry hair on his chest grazes my nipples. They’re sore, too, but when he leans into me a little more, the heat of his skin feels nice pressed against them.

  He reaches between us and thumbs my clit. I gasp. He replies with a low rumble that echoes in the barrel-sized cavity of his chest.

  The moment is quiet and unbearably sweet.

  This feels so good. So real and so right. Like I’m at home. Welcome and comfortable just as I am. I can’t explain it. I just know there’s this feeling that fills me. This fullness inside my chest and throat.

  He’s loving me.

  This man is actually loving me. The one who was cold and cruel.

  The one who was hurting. He’s healing now.

  Healing both of us.

  My eyes blur with tears. I feel them leak out of the corners of my eyes. It’s such a cliché, crying in the middle of sex. But I don’t care.

  Neither does Grey. He just silently wipes away my tears with his free hand and brings me to orgasm with the other. The muscles in my legs pull taut as the wave hits me. Rushes through my skin, flooding me with more feeling.

  So much feeling I’m positive I’m going to burst. I close my eyes, overwhelmed.

  “Grey,” I plead, pulsing around him.

  “I got you.” He wraps a hand around the back of my neck and curls me into his body, thrusting through my orgasm. “I’m here.”

  He comes a thrust and a half later, letting out a low growl. His body going still above mine.

  I don’t know how he manages to hold himself up so he doesn’t crush me. Maybe it’s because he clings to me, same as I cling to him. The echoes of our orgasms leaving us sated and breathless and sweaty.

  Grey pulls out of me with a wince and rolls onto his back. He takes care of the condom, and then he pulls me against his side. Kissing my forehead. I snuggle up against him, running my fingers through his chest hair.

  “All right?”

  “I liked that.”

  “Me too.”

  “Last night was good bad. This morning was just really, really good.”

  His lips curl into this cocky little smirk. “I’m good all around.”

  “What’s my line again? The one about not stroking your ego?”


  He laughs. Moves an arm across his torso to cup my breast, gently drawing his thumb across my nipple. “How’s sex when you’re pregnant? Any different?”

  “Oh yeah. My orgasms are insane right now. One of the few perks so far.”

  “Well. Let’s make you come a lot then. Try to even the score.”

  I grin. “I like the sound of that.”

  “I really am sorry you’ve been having a rough time,” he says.

  I snuggle a little closer. “Not gonna lie, this first trimester has really sucked. But now that the worst of it is over, I’m starting to feel the excitement everyone talks about. Seeing our baby on that ultrasound screen—that was pretty damn cool, wasn’t it?”

  “I just can’t wait to meet this baby. Who is she going to be like? What will she love? Will she have a love/hate relationship with me the same way her mom does?”

  I smile. “You think it’s a she?”

  “I do.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugs. “Just have a feeling.”

  “I have that feeling, too.” I glance up at him. “Do you want to find out? The gender?”

  He looks down at me. “I’m down to do whatever you’d like. But if I had to pick, I’d like to be surprised.”

  I pull back. “Really? You, the control freak, really want to be surprised?”

  “Maybe you’re rubbing off on me,” he says with a grin. “In every way.”

  “I like the sound of that, too.”

  Grey is quiet for a moment. His hand moves from my tit to my arm, where his fingers rove over my skin.

  “I know you shot down the idea of us getting married,” he says at last, making my heart skip a beat. “Which was the right call, by the way.”

  “I agree,” I say slowly. “Don’t get me wrong. I love love, and I love weddings. I can’t wait for Olivia and Eli’s. But why rush it, you know? If I’m with the right guy, in the right relationship, it will just feel…right. Whether or not a ring is on my finger.”

  He’s quiet again. My heart is pounding. I glance up at him to see him looking at me intently. Softness in his eyes.