My heart breaks for this beautifully fucked-up man I am holding protectively. I just want to throw a blanket woven from my love and admiration over his body, head, and soul, and shield him and protect him from the storm of doubt and fear and disease. I just want to keep him safe. Forever and always.
“You are not alone, Grey. You are never alone…you have me.” I want this to be engraved in his mind and heart. It already is on his skin, written in ink. He just needs a mirror to show him. He needs to touch it and close his eyes and remember. Remember his head on my stomach, him splashing me at the stream, us admitting our feelings after our first time together—every moment. They’re all there in his memory; he just needs to visit them every once in a while to help him.
He doesn’t say anything, just sucks in a deep breath…then exhales, his body relaxing and hands tensing.
“Promise?” he mumbles into my hair. His mouth moves round, round, presses…
“Forever and always, Grey Wyler,” I promise with my heart, mind, body, and soul. He has it all. Can use them all. As long as he promises to give them back with his trust and love.
Round, round, then pressing.
“Forever and always, Olivia Westerfield.”
***
We went to his doctor. We were lucky to have caught him before he left his office. It’d be closed the rest of the weekend since Thanksgiving is two days from now. I spoke on Grey’s behalf because he told me he never felt comfortable talking about his disorder or medication, about how the medication wasn’t doing its best job at helping him. How negative thoughts crept past the medicine’s barriers. So he increased the prescription; and if it didn’t work, then he’d switch and switch until we found the right ones.
Grey hugged me outside of the office.
He didn’t say anything, nor did I. We didn’t have to speak for me to understand what he meant to tell me.
“Thank you, princess. For being here and just…being you.” His snug hold, roaming lips on my head, and slow, calm chest falling and pushing against mine said in a mere whisper over the light snow falling around us, stars doing their dances above our heads.
Now, we’re home and warm and close to each other. As I read one of my favorites, Pride & Prejudice, Grey watches his fighting show, arms cradling me, holding me close to his chest. My head is laid against his chest, and I can hear the soft thump of his calm heart beneath my ear. He weaves his fingers through my hair, kissing the tips every so often. I smile every time he does.
“Knock, knock,” a voice cuts through the peaceful atmosphere.
I look up quickly, frightened. Grey looks up, too. We both break out into gleeful grins as we watch our intruders enter the apartment.
David and Holly.
Holly is so…very pregnant.
I laugh and literally run over to them. I hug her first, careful not to squish the little bug between us. “How’d you guys get up here?” I did not expect them, nor did Grey tell me they were coming. I hug David next, then step back as Grey hugs them…David a little longer. His eyes glisten, but he tries to maintain his stoic façade. Such a fake. I merely roll my eyes and let him hug his friend.
Holly answers, “David still has his key.”
“And never giving it up,” David declares, and we all laugh.
“What are you two doing here?” Grey pulls away and pulls me into his side, rubbing my side feverishly, silently telling me he’s going to hug me to death later. Best death ever.
“Told her we should have Thanksgiving with my family first,” David says.
I blush beet red and hold my chest. That was the sweetest thing for David to say. I know it means the world to Grey, considering he confessed to me about how he feels like he has no family, feels lonely sometimes. This is a great thing for him to have the man who practically shaped him into the person he is today. The love of my life.
I look up at Grey. His face is blank, but I can clearly see the tears of joy and heart-crunch underneath the slow rise of his chest. I smile up at him and kiss his arm, rubbing his chest. Holly steps back; we’re preparing. I step back and tug on her hand, seeing Grey sustaining that stupid manly bravado.
“You two must be hungry,” I tell her in a soft voice, gently tugging on her hand.
She rubs her stomach, grinning at her fiancé. “Trust me, we are.”
I guide her into the kitchen, open the fridge, and wait a few seconds, then look over my shoulder.
Grey’s holding the closest tie to family, and that tie is winding its way around him. Never to let go. Ever.
I look away to give them privacy, glad for Holly’s chattiness as she takes out peanut butter and jelly, so it doesn’t look like we just moved to spy on them from a distance.
A few seconds…then I look over my shoulder again.
This time, Grey’s eyes catch mine, and I smile as he tells me, “You are my family too. Forever.”
I nod and tell him, “Always.”
Chapter Nineteen
Grey
Liv is a crazy person who loves to have everything perfectly matched with how she planned it. I’ve always known that. Knew it the moment I saw her. She woke up, saw me, and her meticulous plans to study her little heart out and iron her panties swirled down the drain. She planned every single day. I’ve seen her planner. Poor girl didn’t see me coming. If she had her own way, she’d plan her own death—which will be by my own hands, as I fuck her to infinity and beyond. So glad I finally got that fucking cast off. Now I can actually grip her ass, which I have missed so much.
Anyway, back to the point—Liv’s crazy.
For the next two days, she cleans the apartment until every surface is so shiny it could blind you, and the air is infused with sea-breeze and lemons. According to her, the place has to look immaculate before she invites anyone over for Thanksgiving.
I told her I wanted to cancel the whole thing and sweep her away so it’s just her and me, and she doesn’t have to worry herself.
“You can’t just cancel Thanksgiving,” she’d told me with an incredulous tilt of her head.
I’d tilted her head straight, tipped it back, and promised her, “We can if we fake our deaths and run away. I’ve always wanted to ride a convertible through the desert in Arizona.”
“For the rest of our lives?” She looked at me like I was a crazy person, but her lips still held a little smile. I may think insane, but she still loved me. And I loved her because of it. No one had really been able to handle me. Not as well as she does.
“Yes.” She was understanding, as usual. My girl.
“How would we live without a roof over our heads? And money. It doesn’t just grow on trees.” The side of her that overthought until her brain fries was beginning to act up. Sometimes I just want to reach into her head and turn off that little switch. Get her to not think so much. Be like me.
“Motels have roofs. Money technically does grow on trees. And we can get money the old way: rob banks and steal from the disabled. We’ll even snatch candies away from little kids in strollers.”
She’d laughed at my ridiculous idea, and I’d admired her. “You are bad.”
I’d slung my arms around her waist, and she’d sunk into my embrace, as usual. I’d smiled and held her hand as we slowly waltzed around the immaculate living room, our personal song of choice being my tattooed heart thumping loud enough.
“Bad for you?” I’d whispered.
She shook her head and smiled. “Good for me.”
I want to be good for her now and do as I so crazily suggested. I watch her as she curses and drops the pan of turkey on the counter.
“Fuck,” she curses and runs her little fingers through her hair.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” I hold her from behind and kiss her on top of her hair. She likes it when I do this. She doesn’t answer me. I squeeze her a little, as if squeezing for the answer. “Tell me what’s wrong so I can destroy it.”
She laughs a deprecating laugh. “You can’t ruin this any
more than I already have.” She nods at the burned turkey. It’s not even that bad, just a little burned on the side of it. I bet you could rub it right off and it’d still taste delicious.
I can feel the stress running under her smooth skin. Can see it under her heavy blue eyes that usually rival the tropical waters but now look cold as ice glaciers in Alaska. I don’t like her like this. I know it’s how she is naturally, but I fucking hate it. She doesn’t need to be stretching herself thin just because some people are coming over and eating her food. They should be fucking grateful she’s feeding them in the first place. Not maybe criticize her choice of table cloth. Even though I don’t even think the people coming will have an issue with anything. It’s just her friends.
“Don’t do that.” I cup her face and force her to look into my eyes. “You are doing amazing, babe. Look at all you’ve done already.” I gesture to the array of foods lining the counter. She’s cooked everything: mashed potatoes, turkey, macaroni and cheese, pie, ham—and so much more. It’s enough to feed a small country. Twice.
She looks around, but that dot of self-hatred sparks. “I only did pumpkin pie. What if someone’s allergic to pumpkin? I’ll kill someone on Thanksgiving!” She gasps and bites her lip. “I’ll be known as the pumpkin-killer.”
I laugh, not at her, but because she isn’t making any fucking sense.
She looks up at me and whines, tears glazing over her rich blue eyes. “You’re laughing at me because you know it’s true. We may as well go along with your stupid plan and ride in a convertible and rob banks and steal candy from little babies.”
I shake her out of her little meltdown. “You’re thinking too much again. You need to stop it before you explode like a stressed robot.”
“A robot can cook better than me,” she claims.
I laugh.
“It’s true! They have a cooking robot named Marie in China!” she exclaims.
“Stop being crazy. Please. It’s my thing, and we both can’t be crazy because what will I have?” I shrug, and she lifts an eyebrow, making a face that says, “Shut up, you know you’re not crazy.” “But for real, you need to stop worrying yourself.” Her face falls from playful to grim in the blink of an eye.
“I just have so much to do,” she exclaims and pulls away from my hands. I watch as she rushes over to the pumpkin pie that’s cooling down. She snatches up a whipped cream can and just goes crazy with spraying it on the pie. “I have to wait for Holly and David to come back with a few things, like the stuffing for the turkey. I have to sweep the house one more time. And I have to call my mother and make sure she isn’t coming, so I can set up the table. And then—”
I strut over to her and grab the can. She stomps her foot and prepares to complain, but I lean down and kiss her. I swallow her words, and she clams up, like she’s going to pull away. But then I push her hair over her shoulder and pull her closer to me with my hand cupped around her neck. Flush to me, I glide my hand down her side until I find the treasure: her plump little ass.
“Grey.” She gasps as I smack her ass.
“If you won’t stop worrying yourself, I guess I’ll just have to stop you myself,” I say. My voice becomes low and raspy as lust takes over.
She doesn’t protest as I pick her up and swiftly put her on the counter, pushing the pie to the side. She wraps her arms around my neck and tugs at my hair. I let out an animalistic growl, and she smirks against my lips. She knows how much I love when she tugs my hair like that. Such a little tease…
I begin to cup her ass with my hands when I realize I’m still holding the whipped cream can. I start to put it down when an idea pops in my head. It’s naughty, kinda dirty, and very sensual…and I want to do it to her.
“Where are we going?” she asks breathlessly as I pick her up.
I don’t answer her.
Entering our room, I drop her on the bed. She stares up at me with those big blue eyes…they stare at my growing boner.
“Take off your shirt and bra,” I demand.
She looks hesitant but does as told.
I bite my lip and rake my eyes across her chest. Big, but not too big, enough to fit perfectly in my hands when I hold them. Her waist is small, and her hips are wide. Curvy and soft and mine.
“Close your eyes,” I command next, taking off my shirt. Her big blue saucers for eyes scan my stomach and tattoos. I flex a little, and she rolls her eyes.
She looks confused, and I smirk. “What? Why—”
“Don’t ask questions. Just do it.” I slowly pull my belt off, and she watches with ravenous eyes. She shifts a little, squirming her little legs together. Trying to hide how much she wants me.
Finally, her trust in me wins, and she closes her eyes.
I pull my boxers off before walking over to the headboard. “When I was younger, I was in the boy scouts…for a day, and just for the snacks they sold—but still. I learned a thing or two about,” I tighten my belt, cuffing her frail wrists to the headboard, and she gasps, “tying knots.”
“Grey, what are you doing?” She begins to panic.
I press a finger to her pursed lips. She bites them, and her legs squirm against my legs as I stand on my knees in between her legs. “Do. You. Trust. Me?”
A second passes, then two, then a little sigh and a brief nod.
“Then shut up…and let me taste you.”
“What do you—oh my!” She gasps out as I spray whip cream on her stomach. She whines as I lap my tongue against her creamy skin. I swipe my tongue over my mouth.
“Tasty,” I grumble.
“Grey, what are you doing?” she asks quickly, her chest rising and falling fast.
“Shush, princess.” I push her legs apart roughly. She inhales sharply. Slowly, teasingly, I kiss her right inner thigh. Spray a little cream. Lick. A little more…lick…until I am front and center. I put the can down and slowly drag her black panties down. She’s panting heavily. Lower, lower, lower…
“Grey.” She gulps loudly, and I laugh a booming laugh. She gasps at my cruelty as I go as slow as possible. But I know she’s secretly eating it up, like I’m about to do with her…
“Don’t be selfish. I want a taste.” I mock pout and smirk, because she stiffens, knowing what’s coming next. Her.
I pick up the can, shake it a little, then spray it on her pussy. She gasps at the coldness. I watch her squirming and writhing, tugging at her bound wrists. I laugh because she can’t do anything but bask in what I’m going to do.
I admire the image of her writhing pussy. It’s sweeter than ever. Literally and figuratively.
“You’re going crazy, and I haven’t even tasted you yet,” I joke.
“Fuck you,” she hisses.
“Not yet,” I grumble.
I cut her off as I glide my tongue up her pussy. She cries out my name, and I smirk. I swirl my tongue around, eating the cream and rubbing it all over her. My taste buds are going fucking nuts, exploding at the sweet taste. I lick until all of the cream is gone, leaving her natural tastiness. I swirl and swirl and flick her sensitive clit; all the while, she moans and screams her head off.
“Grey, that feels so…oh, please,” she begs, tugging on the belt.
I smirk against her and slowly insert two fingers. She yelps and clenches around my fingers. So fucking tight. I push and pull, push and pull, lick and push and pull and suck. She squirms and pants heavily. I know she’s close, but I am not ready for her to come. Not just yet. I want her to last just a bit longer.
Me, on the other hand…I look down at myself. Erect and pained. I want to fuck her sweet little pussy already. But I have to pace myself. This is about her. To de-stress her. I’m her stress ball she can squeeze and fuck all she wants.
I move my kisses upward. I continue pumping my fingers in her. Her stomach is soft against my lips. I kiss both of her hip bones. They jump under my mouth, and I chuckle against her stomach. She giggles at the tickle sensation I ignite in her. I kiss slowly, sucking lightly a
t some parts, leaving behind a little pink mark that’ll darken over time.
Finally, I reach her chest. Jack-fucking-pot.
I pick up the can, shake a little, then spray a big amount on her left tit. She curses at the coldness but melts into a shriek of pleasure as I cup my mouth around her breast.
“Oh, Grey…” she moans and tugs at her hands. She wants to hold my hair and tug.
I moan against her, pumping my fingers at a faster pace. Her stomach and chest are basically heaving as I flick my tongue around, swallowing the delicious cream. I get to her rock-hard nipple and suck, lightly grazing my teeth along it. Her breathing stutters, and I smirk, swirling my tongue around. I slowly lift my mouth and do the same to her other breast.
“Please. Grey.” A gulp, a shuddering breath. “I need you,” she pleads, voice wavering and slow.
“Not yet, princess. I need you to do one thing for me,” I tell her, curling my fingers inside of her tight pussy. I hit her G-spot, and she cries out, tugging on the belt. By the time I’m done with her, her wrists are going to be redder than her ass that I will claim in a few seconds.
“W-what is it?” she whimpers. Her skin is becoming pink, cheeks red, and knuckles white. So colorful. Like a fucking kaleidoscope. My beautiful girl.
I spray cream on her neck, and she gasps as I slowly swirl my tongue. “Come,” I whisper ever so softly. I clamp my mouth around her earlobe, tugging, biting, sucking.
“Oh…fuck! Grey!” she screams, her body spazzing as she reaches her climax.
I smirk and suck on her skin until all the cream is gone.
“Please,” she begs, and I slowly withdraw my fingers. I undo the belt wound into the headboard and fling it to the side.
The minute her hands are free, she grips my hair and smashes her lips on mine. The kiss is wet, passionate, steamy, and so fucking tingling. Her hands glide up and down my back, scratching at my tattoo like she went through an intense withdrawal.
Grey: Everlasting (Spectrum Series Book 6) Page 14
