Down By Contact - SR Grey

by Grey, S. R.

  Maybe we’re trying not to move forward too fast and fuck things up, but the time is coming to go for it.

  I mean, we’re not kids.

  And fuck, I’m ready.

  I’m tired of jacking off all the time behind a closed door.

  I think she feels the same.

  I sense urgency in her kisses lately, and she’s been moving the goalposts.

  Just last night, she shoved my hand down so I could feel her heat over the thin sleep leggings she had on.

  I almost lost control.

  But I didn’t.

  I caressed her core through the flimsy material, but only for a minute or two so as not to push us to a point where we couldn’t stop.

  I then slid my hand up along her side.

  She didn’t fight me on that.

  I think she was unsure how to proceed, as well.

  But damn, enough is enough.

  I’m ready to make her come so fucking hard.

  Maybe it’ll happen tonight?

  That possibility consumes my thoughts throughout the rest of the day and into the evening.

  Even once nighttime finally arrives, and as I’m brushing my teeth, readying for bed, my mind is still on Morgan and moving forward with the physical side of our relationship.

  If she allows it, tonight will be the night.

  I’ve decided on that.

  I’ll be making my usual stop in her bedroom to kiss the crap out of her…and now maybe more.

  There’s a stirring in my black lounge pants at the thought.

  Damn, I want her so fucking much.

  I’m prepared for the possibility too.

  Before I came into the bathroom, I slipped a condom into the pocket of my pants.

  “I think you need to give her a little encouragement,” I whisper to my reflection. “Maybe profess that love you’re feeling in your heart? She knows what we have is real, but she should hear it from you.”

  I have on a white T-shirt and tug it over my head.

  Let’s see how our kissing session goes with me half naked.

  Yeah, I’m pulling out all the stops.

  To my surprise, and delight, when I finally step into Morgan’s bedroom, I see she is too.

  I have to laugh.

  I love how we’re always on the same fucking page.

  “Damn, woman,” I say smoothly. “You look hot.”

  She’s leaned back against propped-up pillows, wearing her shortest pale pink silky sleep shorts and a thin cream-colored camisole that leaves almost nothing to the imagination.

  Smirking, she pats the bed. “Get over here, Zane.”

  Ooh, feisty.

  There’s a mischievous glimmer in her pretty green eyes that I love.

  “You got it,” I reply, smirking.

  As I make my way over to the bed, she eyes my wide chest and sculpted abs appreciatively.

  “No shirt?” she asks as I sit down on the edge of the mattress.

  I shake my head. “Nah, it’s pretty warm up here tonight.”

  This is by design and all my doing. I turned the AC off so it wouldn’t come on and freeze us out.

  That’s happened before and it’s put a real damper on a few make-out sessions.

  Not tonight, though.

  I’m going all out.

  But clearly I’m not the only one.

  Morgan is upping her game too.

  Smiling at me slyly as I turn to face her, she says, “You’re right. It is kind of hot. Maybe I should ditch my top too.”

  Holy crap, what?

  I guess I said that out loud just now because she replies, “You heard me.”

  Before I can utter another word, she lifts her camisole up and over her head and tosses it aside.

  I’m pretty much left with my mouth hanging open.

  “Fuck” is all I can say once I recover some sort of composure.

  I’ve felt Morgan’s beautiful breasts so many times when we’ve been rolling around on my bed or hers, making out.

  But I’ve never seen them.

  Shit, they’re amazing.

  I can only take so much temptation. Instinct takes over, and I lean down and suck one pink pert nipple into my mouth.

  “God, Zane, yes,” Morgan gasps, giving me the go ahead.

  She arches up into me and winds her fingers into my hair.

  Damn, she’s as delicious as I always suspected she’d be, urging me to mumble around one soft mound, “I can’t wait to taste the rest of you.”

  “So do it,” she breathes out.

  Shit, I don’t need to be told twice.

  Shifting next to her, I run my hand down her stomach. I stop when I reach the top of her sexy sleep shorts and raise a brow.

  She exhales a stuttered breath and nods once.

  Before I go any further, I make a point to lean forward and kiss her deeply.

  I want her to know this is about so much more than just lust.

  She responds, our tongues engaging in a soft dance.

  But then I break away and slowly kiss my way down her beautiful body.

  I stop to pay attention once more to her gorgeous breasts, then continue down, down, down—over her tummy, kissing one hip, then the other.

  When I slide her shorts down her sexy legs, she helps me kick them off.

  Now it’s just beautiful Morgan lying before me in tiny white lace panties.

  “God, you’re stunning,” I say as I flutter kisses from one hip to the other.

  She reaches down and caresses my stubbled cheek. “You’re looking pretty good yourself down there, handsome,” she murmurs, her voice thick with desire.

  “I’m about to make you feel so amazing, sweetheart.”

  “Zane,” she groans.

  There’s no more talking then.

  I trail one finger under the lace at the top of her panties, and she gasps. I then quickly slide her lacy undergarment down and off.

  Morgan is bare and beautiful.

  Settling between her legs, I lower my head, slowly lathing my tongue along her sex.

  She starts writhing, but I still her hips with my hands.

  I spend the next I-don’t-know-how-long tasting and kissing and making Morgan fall apart—once, twice.

  When I climb back up her body, she pulls me down to her, kissing me deeply.

  With my tongue engaged with hers, I feel her reaching down, grasping my cock.

  She breaks away long enough to demand, “Lose these damn pants.”

  “You got it.” I laugh.

  I do as she commands, but not before I slip the condom out of my pocket.

  “What do you have there?” Morgan asks coquettishly.

  “What does it look like I have?” I raise a brow and hold up the foil packet.

  Placing her hand on my chest as I settle back between her legs, she says, “Were you planning this?”

  I shrug. “Not planning, but hoping.”

  “Can I confess something?” she whispers.

  “Yes.”

  “I kind of was too.”

  “So you’re definitely ready?”

  Pulling me down to her, she rasps against my lips, “More than you could ever imagine.”

  Did I Really Just Say That?

  Zane doesn’t know it, but I’ve been ready and wanting this to happen for a while now.

  Fuck making out. I need his cock.

  When I tell him that, he groans.

  And then he plunges into me, having slipped the condom on without me really noticing.

  I guess intense lust can do that to a person, huh?

  Feeling Zane inside me is beyond amazing. He moves in ways that have me moaning his name in ecstasy.

  “So good,” I pant out at one point.

  He shifts his hips, thrusting into me from a new angle, one that sends me over the edge.

  Time blurs, and I find pure ecstasy.

  “Zane, Zane,” I murmur as a mantra once my orgasm subsides.

  But my pleasure bui
lds back up once again when he picks up the pace, pumping into me as he finds his own release.

  Together, we come…and come down.

  Zane collapses on top of me, careful not to give me his full weight.

  I wrap my legs around him and wind my hands up into his thick dark hair.

  Three little words then slip from my mouth: “I love you.”

  Holy crap!

  Where did that come from?

  Did I really just say that out loud?

  Have I made a mistake?

  I feel Zane tense, and then he eases up from me.

  I just go lax.

  As he peers down at me, his steel blue eyes searching mine—for what, I don’t know—I begin to apologize, “I-I-I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I just said that. I—”

  He cuts me off, shushing me as he lays his index finger on my lips. “Morgan, no. Don’t apologize. It’s okay.”

  “But…” I mumble.

  He raises a brow, lifting his finger from my lips. “Do you know why I’m saying it’s okay?”

  I shake my head, not uttering a single word.

  I can’t.

  I’m holding my breath.

  But when Zane says, “It’s okay because I love you too,” I release the biggest exhale of air.

  “I can’t believe it,” I marvel.

  He cups my cheek, smiling. “Believe it, baby, believe it. I was planning on telling you tonight. You just beat me to it.”

  The tears come then—tears of emotion, tears of joy, and tears of disbelief. I thought for so long that a man like Zane would never want me, let alone fall in love with me.

  Yet here we are.

  Zane wipes away my tears.

  He doesn’t question me, or ask why I’m crying. He knows the things I’ve been through. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out I have issues that I’m working through. Acceptance of oneself and what we deserve doesn’t come in a straight line.

  But amazingly this man still loves me.

  That makes the tears flow harder.

  Zane rolls off me to lie on his side.

  He pulls me to him tightly, and I hold on to my anchor.

  Eventually my tears stop.

  Placing my chin on his chest and looking up at him, I ask, “What happens now?”

  He blows out a breath. “For starters, I think you should move back into my room. We can sleep in there. Not to mention, I like my bed better.”

  That makes me laugh.

  I love that we’re starting with the small stuff. It’s exactly what I need to move away from the heavy.

  Eyeing him seriously, I say, “Under one condition will I move back into your room.”

  “Name it,” he says.

  “We need to paint it green.”

  He raises a brow. “Green?”

  “Yes, like a nice sage shade. I would lie in there back when I used to chill on the floor, looking around and imagining what changes I would make.”

  Chuckling, he asks, “And that was one of the changes?”

  “Among others.”

  “Like what? Tell me, baby.”

  “Well, I also pretended that we picked out a rug for the floor and chose artwork for the walls.”

  “We can do that,” he tells me softly.

  I don’t know why, but I feel surprised and compelled to ask, “Really?”

  “Yes, really.”

  “And the sage green walls?”

  Smiling down at me, Zane says, “I’ll get on it tomorrow. I’ll have the contractor get a painter to change the color from beige to sage green.”

  “Wow, that was easy,” I marvel.

  Sighing contentedly, he says, “It is easy with us, Morgan. That’s part of what made me fall for you. That and the fact this just feels so fucking right all the time.”

  “It does,” I agree. “It has from the start. We’ve just really connected from day one.”

  “True, and…” Smiling mischievously, Zane says, “Speaking of connecting…”

  He shifts so I can feel how hard he is once more.

  “Mmmm…” I murmur. “Let’s not let that go to waste.”

  Sighing, he gives me one bit of bad news. “I’ll have to run over to my bedroom first to grab another condom.”

  “Damn. Yet another reason to move back over there.”

  “For sure.” He laughs.

  Reluctantly, I let him go.

  As he walks away, I take in his hard, sculpted ass.

  “That is all mine,” I murmur to myself.

  Hot as his ass is, though, I have something much better—his heart.

  Progress

  I’m elated Morgan and I professed our love for each other. It comforts me to know our feelings are out there now.

  It makes it more real.

  That’s great, because, man, I adore that woman.

  I already have so many thoughts for our future, but for now I’m focusing on the immediate stuff, like having the master bedroom painted sage green.

  What Morgan wants, Morgan gets.

  I actually think that color will look better, anyway.

  The painter informs me he’ll need a day or two to get it done, so I guess we’ll sleep in her room till then.

  I let her know that, and she tells me she doesn’t mind one little bit.

  “Ha, I didn’t think you would,” I tease.

  That night, while hanging out on her bed, we search online for the perfect floor covering for the master bedroom. We end up choosing a nice coordinating area rug with a shades-of-green pattern. We also pick out artwork for the walls.

  While we wait for our bedroom to be done, there are some other things I turn my attention to, like speaking with my private eye.

  He informs me there’s still no sign of Morgan’s ex, Neil.

  Good.

  After discussing it with Morgan, we decide it’s been long enough that it may be safe for her to leave the grounds of the house. I mean, she can’t stay sequestered forever. And now I’m around to protect her.

  She agrees with me and says, “I’m more than ready to get out and about.”

  So we make a plan, a simple one to go to the local supermarket.

  Simple or not, that plan has her amped.

  “Finally!” she exclaims when we turn out of the long driveway and start down the road.

  “We’re only going grocery shopping,” I remind her with a chuckle.

  “It doesn’t matter, Zane. This is going to be the best shopping experience ever. Not just because I’m finally getting off the property, but because we’re doing it together.”

  Reaching over and placing my hand on her leg, I squeeze her knee gently. “That definitely does make things better,” I agree.

  We work like a team in the store, tossing stuff into the cart.

  It’s fun.

  Who knew grocery shopping could be a blast?

  But then again, I should know better, as doing things with Morgan is always a great time.

  Good thing we do a lot together.

  Yeah, we keep pretty busy.

  When I’m not at practice or playing in games, we watch movies, binge TV series, make dinners together, and just generally have a wonderful time.

  Since fall has arrived and the trees are absolutely beautiful, we take even more walks around the property.

  On one of those strolls, Morgan mentions her renewed desire to find a job.

  “I’d like to have something to keep me busy,” she shares as she steps over a tree limb on the trail we’re on, “especially since it’ll be getting colder and spending time out back reading won’t be an option.”

  “I could have a reading nook put in one of the bedrooms,” I offer, “maybe where that bay window is in the small room across the hall from our bedroom.”

  She looks over at me, excited. “Ooh, I like that idea. Still, I think I’m ready to get back to work.”

  “You know you don’t have to have a job,” I say softly. “I don’t want any money from you.�
�

  Taking my hand, she says, “I know, and I appreciate your generosity. But I’d like to sometimes buy some food and maybe a few other things.”

  I understand her need to feel like she’s contributing, and she’s always maintained that she wants to work again.

  So I don’t discourage her.

  Stopping and pulling her in close, wrapping my arms around her, I simply say, “I guess we better see about getting you a car, then, huh?”

  Leaning back, she narrows her eyes at me. “Just a rental is fine.”

  “Okay, okay,” I acquiesce. “A rental it is…for now.”

  She shakes her head, but I know she’ll give in. She’s already clearly going to let me rent the car. She wanted to be the one to do that the first time the subject was brought up.

  Morgan still likes to take small steps to get to a particular point.

  That’s fine.

  We all have our different paces.

  I give her a kiss, and we continue our walk through the woods.

  The very next day, I rent her an SUV.

  “It’ll be good in the snow,” I tell her out in the driveway as both of us are standing next to a sleek dark slate Range Rover.

  “It’s beautiful, but ugh.” She scowls, still looking cute as hell. “I forgot about having to drive in snow up here. In Florida, that’s never a concern. And last winter, I was in Ohio, but I didn’t have a car.”

  I assure her I’ll teach her how to navigate in the crappy weather once it arrives.

  “But for now”—I look up at the bright blue sky, a warm autumn breeze rustling my hair—“we don’t have to worry about that.”

  “Nope,” she agrees. “It’s absolutely gorgeous out today.”

  “Yeah.” I sigh. “It kind of sucks I have a game tonight.”

  Looking down as she shuffles her sneakered feet, she says quietly, “I wish I could go.”

  Whoa, this is the first time she’s expressed that sentiment. Morgan is super supportive and watches all of my games on TV. But I know she has concerns about being caught on camera if she were to go to the stadium.

  Carefully, I say, “I love that you want to come to the game, and we can definitely make that happen, but are you sure?”

  “You know what?” She throws her hands in the air. “I think I’ll take my chances. I really want to see you play in person, Zane. Not just on the stupid TV.”

  Excited, I start planning. “I can get you a seat in a luxury box, maybe a couple of rows back. The cameras don’t pick up much up there.”