by Lucy Smoke
I let Grayson take the lead, moving me around him as he slid those muscles over me. He gyrated a bit, pushing himself against me and I giggled—feeling ridiculous and a little bit giddy. His arms tensing as he picked me up and sat me back on the chair. My eyes went round as his fingers moved to the placket of his jeans and popped the button. I shook my head furiously and he smiled, a wicked grin that deepened the corners of his mouth. He leaned forward and captured my mouth.
I froze as his lips moved over mine in a familiar way. It was familiar to me. I'd lost count of how many times Grayson had kissed me, but somehow it never got old. My mind went blank as I leaned up against him, forgetting where we were, forgetting about the club and the crowd and the stage. I pressed my breasts to his front and wrapped my arms around his neck and let the kiss take over and consume me.
The music was drawing to an end, the song coming to a fever pitch and then descending. I couldn't be sure if Grayson was still moving or not. He was blocking my sight of the rest of the room, but the curtains were closed, blocking off the back half of the stage from the rest. The screams of the women grew louder once more as the song changed. I assumed that more dancers—real dancers—had gone out to keep them entertained. I didn't care. I wanted to spend the rest of the night in Grayson's arms. I wanted him to keep kissing me until I couldn't remember what it was like not to kiss him.
"Oh my goodness! I am so sorry!" A short woman in all black approached us with a horrified gasp. Grayson pulled his mouth away from mine and I whimpered, causing him to flash me another one of his devastating grins as he cupped the back of my head and pressed it against his chest. I inhaled against the slightly sweat-dampened skin. "I didn't realize you weren't one of our dancers, I'm sorry for the mistake. You, of course, will be compensated and, miss, we'll have your tickets refunded immediately."
"Don't worry about it," Grayson said lightly as he helped me to my feet and bent to pick up his discarded shirt.
"But I'm sure we could—I mean after all that you've gone through—I know it's not—" she stumbled through more apologies, her face red with shame and guilt.
Much to my displeasure at seeing all of his flesh covered, Grayson tugged the shirt on over his head. "You've nothing to worry about, this will be a bachelorette party to remember," he laughed.
The woman's eyes went round as she looked from him to me. "Oh my goodness..." she breathed like a frightened bull, her nostrils flaring wider with each inhale and exhale.
I put my hand up to ward off more of her fumbled apologies, but before I could assure her myself, Grayson pulled me closer. "Like I said," he repeated, "there's nothing to worry about. No harm was done. I think my fiancé is more than happy with how the night turned out, isn't that right, Babydoll?" I elbowed him in the gut as a fresh wave of warmth crept over my cheeks. Instead of being angry, though, he merely laughed again and urged me off the stage. "I think we’ll call it a night, however," he called over his shoulder. “Thanks for the dance.”
I let Grayson lead me out from behind the curtains and through the backstage area. I didn't know how he knew where to go and I didn't ask. I was still half-under the spell he had woven on stage. The way his chest had shone under the lights, the quiet strength of his dancing movements. I felt heat pooling in my stomach. I wanted to shove him into the nearest alcove and jump his bones.
“Grayson.” His hand found mine as I spoke his name, but still, he didn’t look back. He pulled me through the dark, moving faster than my legs could keep up until I had to half-run just to keep pace with him. “The girls—”
“I texted Lizzie when I got here to let her know you wouldn’t need a ride back,” he said sharply.
I blinked at the rasp of his voice. He’d sounded so at ease with the woman, but as we moved through the backstage, his steps grew more firm, and on more than one occasion, I saw someone move to stop us. Whatever expression he had on his face, though—that I couldn’t see—made them think twice and we weren’t interrupted as he yanked me along until we slammed out of an exit stairwell door, the red sign glowing in the darkness.
I squinted as the lighting of the stairwell nearly blinded me. After residing in near darkness for the past hour or so, even the dim fluorescent bulbs made my eyes water. I didn’t have a chance to say anything though or ask him to slow down because in the next breath, Grayson dropped my hand and whirled around, pressing me back against the wall as his mouth came back down on mine.
I gasped and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue inside as his hands found my sides and he urged one leg up to hitch over his hip. That wasn’t enough for me. Sliding my hands around the back of his neck, I clenched my muscles and jumped. With a quiet oomph, Grayson caught me and slapped a hand out against the wall as his other hand went under my ass as he leveraged me between his chest and the solid white brick at my spine.
“Baby…”
I kissed him to silence any unwanted protests. I’m sure he hadn’t meant to take this further than a heated make-out session, but after what he’d just pulled on stage—having to watch the way his hips had gyrated and moved… Well, suffice it to say, the actual dancers hadn’t done anything for me the way he had.
I nipped at his lower lip as I claimed his mouth, eliciting a groan from deep within his throat. And when I felt the rough fabric of his jeans brushing against the soft skin of my inner thigh, I had never been more thankful for Lizzie’s pushiness in all my life.
Dresses are for going out, she had said. You have to wear one.
I fumbled as I reached down trying to find his button, but my hand made contact with smooth skin and I realized he hadn’t had a chance to button up his jeans. They stayed up around his hips but the front sagged slightly open, covered by the soft cotton of his t-shirt.
“Thank God,” I mumbled, tearing my mouth away from his at once as I slid a hand beneath the elastic waistband of his boxers and heard the telltale sound of his rough intake of air.
“No, Jesus, God, no, Harlow.” He moved to let me down, but I squeezed my legs tighter.
“Yes,” I urged, letting my hand grip the length of him and start to stroke.
“Fuck.” He hissed out another breath as I pumped, my fingers squeezing him relentlessly. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he said.
I laughed, the sound echoing in the cavern of the stairwell. “I will be,” I assured him, “if you don’t give me what I want.”
Grayson pulled back slightly—just enough so that he could truly look at me without being too close. My eyes met his and I saw the glitter of love in them. It made me bite my lips. "I'll always give you what you want, Babydoll," he said, keeping his voice low as he lifted his hand from the wall and let his fingers trail down my cheek to my neck.
I shivered and shook my head. "Not always," I persisted.
He lifted a brow. "Whenever it doesn't put you in danger," he clarified.
I rolled my eyes but couldn't stop the grin that shone through my faux-irritated expression. Grayson dipped his head and I tipped mine back, meeting him halfway. This time when our lips melded together, it was more than a ravaging need. It went far deeper. I moved my hand inside his pants to the waistband of his boxers once more and pulled them lower, squirming as he kissed me to get his jeans down as well. He broke off with a chuckle.
"Fine, fine," he said quickly. "You win."
"Hurry," I said, wiggling in his grasp. The heat he'd stoked inside was about to boil over and I wanted him to be inside me before it did.
Withdrawing a condom from the wallet he kept in his back pocket, he tossed the leather folds to the side as he put plastic to his teeth and tore the side. My eyes widened with the intensity in his gaze as he slid it on and lifted me up higher, reaching beneath the skirt of my dress to feel for my underwear. Putting the fabric to the side—I silently thanked Lizzie once more for talking me into wearing one of those stretchy thongs—he settled the head of his cock at my entrance.
I shifted my hips, waiting, but still, he held
there. I grunted in frustration. "What are you doing?" I snapped. I could feel the warmth of him against me, but not where I most wanted it.
His teeth flashed as he smiled at me. "I just like seeing you squirm in my arms," he said just before shoving in all the way to the hilt.
I gasped, my back arched away from the wall. A moan bubbled up out from between my lips. After a moment, I started to urge him on with my hips and he responded accordingly. Grayson pulled back and powered forth. Thrusting in and out of me slowly at first, he began to gain traction.
"Grayson..." I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed my thighs as he slid in once again. His muscles clenched. I felt like a bowstring strung too tightly. I gasped and moaned, my lips pressed to his ear. I could tell every sound I made drove him further and further from rational thinking. He lifted me higher, the strength of his arms making the veins bulge as they rarely did as he leaned his head down until his forehead pressed against my shoulder and he thrust harder.
A moment later—without even lifting his head or breaking stride, his fingers found my hips and canted my lower half slightly up until I could feel the brush of something against my clit. I gasped out and this time, I didn't stop. I continued to get louder and louder as he pushed me into the wall. The warm boiling heat I had felt before grew larger until it became a volcanic explosion and on an inward thrust, it erupted. I cried out, my skin pulled taut as I threw my head back.
I knew even before it connected that I was about to brain myself against the wall, but the pleasure was too great. I couldn't control my movements any more than I could stop the tunneling wave of euphoria that was already sliding through my veins. Almost as if he had expected the movement, however, one of Grayson's hands shot up from my hips and clasped the back of my skull. Then with the same stiffening, he stilled and shuddered against me.
We stayed like that for a while afterwards, until a sharp, jarring ringing noise startled us. He groaned as he let me slide my feet back to the floor. Reaching into his back pocket, he withdrew his phone and sighed, handing the phone to me. "Answer it," he said, removing the condom and tying it off. I watched as he straightened his clothes and moved back towards the door. "And don't move, I'll be right back," he called over his shoulder.
I turned back to the phone and clicked the green button when I saw who was calling. "Hello?"
"Harlow? Where are you? Where's Grayson?" Bellamy's voice came clear through the speaker as I bent down and retrieved Grayson's discarded wallet. As I picked it up, a card slid from one of the folds.
"He's throwing something away. Why?" I picked up the card and turned it over with a frown. There was no symbol or anything. Just a business name and a phone number. I wondered where it had come from.
"Tex and I are waiting outside," Bellamy said. "I can't believe Lizzie took you to a strip club—actually, yes, I can." I could picture him shaking his head with confused horror.
I tucked the card back into Grayson's wallet, resolving to ask him about it later. "We'll be right out—"
"Hey, give me the phone! Spider-Monkey? Where are you?"
I laughed as I heard Texas wrestling the phone away from Bellamy on the other end. "We'll be right out," I said by way of answering as the door behind me opened and Grayson appeared once more.
"We're in parking lot B," Texas said. "In the—"
Grayson took the phone from my hand. "I rode here with you," he snapped. "I know where you're damn well parked."
"Well, Harlow doesn't!" Even though his voice came through a quiet phone speaker, it reverberated in the enclosed space of the stairwell.
Grayson rolled his eyes, his free hand going to the small of my back as he urged me towards the stairs and down them. I reached down and adjusted my skirt and panties as delicately as possible and he shot me a pleased grin that didn't quite match the caustic tone he spoke to Texas with. "She's with me, dumbass. We'll be there in five." He ended the call and swung his arm over my shoulders.
"Brothers," I said lightly. "Can't live with them, can't kill them and bury them in the backyard."
Tossing his head back on a laugh, Grayson readily agreed. "It's a damn good thing they're not blood related to me," he said. "Or else I'd be worried for my mental health."
“Tomorrow, you’re going to get married. Believe me,” I said, “you should already be worried about your mental health.”
His eyes glittered with amusement. “Babydoll, it’s been a damn long time coming. A year and a half was about as much as the rest of us could take. Any longer of an engagement and I’m pretty sure Texas would have convinced us to kidnap you and elope to Vegas. Please tell me you’ll actually show up to the altar.”
Warm summer air filtered over my shoulders as we exited the building. “Guess you’ll just have to wait and find out tomorrow, huh?” I said laughing.
Chapter 5
“Are you ready?” Lizzie popped her bright fuchsia colored head into the dressing room. Just beneath the top layer of eye-burning pink was an underlayer of soft sky blue. The underlayer matched her bridesmaid dress almost perfectly.
I looked down at the white lace covering my legs and torso. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” I shot back with a wry grin.
Lizzie took one look at my face and stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. "You're not getting cold feet, are you?"
I shook my head. "No, of course not. I'm just..." I glanced up at the mirror, taking in my reflection. I didn't even recognize myself. The makeup. The hair. The big fucking rock on my finger. It all felt so surreal. Lizzie bounded up behind me, her brightly colored hair popping up at my side in the reflection.
"You're just what?" she asked.
I shrugged. "Ready to get all of the pomp and circumstance out of the way. I wish we were already on our way to Key West."
She made a face. "Why you'd want to go to Key West instead of one of the many countries Marv and Grayson suggested, I'll never understand. Who gives up Ireland?" she asked. "It's Ireland!"
I put my bouquet on the cushioned stool beside me and chuckled lightly. "Where we go isn't important," I replied.
"No, of course not. It's not where you go, it's who you go with." She shook her head in mock disgust. "I can't stand how fucking happy the lot of you are. It's sickening. I'm gonna need my prince or princess charming to arrive for me sooner rather than later or I fear you'll turn me into a bitter old woman."
My mouth popped open on an unexpected laugh. "You're barely twenty," I reminded her.
She pouted. "Which makes you having champagne at your wedding all the worse," she muttered. "I can't even indulge. There are adultier adults present. The shame if I were to get shmammered in front of them."
"It wasn't my idea," I said. "It was—"
"Marvs," she said with me at the same time. We paused for a moment, staring at each other in the reflection of the mirror before we burst out in giggles.
"Stop," I gasped as I put a hand to my stomach. "This dress is too tight—I can't breathe!"
"You stop!" she replied just as quickly. A knock on the door interrupted our girlish enjoyment and I half turned towards it, wiping tears from beneath my eyes. Before I could reach for the handle, Lizzie stepped in front of me and shot me a look of faux outrage. "Don't you dare," she hissed. "It's probably one of them and I'm not letting them see you in that dress before the ceremony."
I put my hands up in defeat and nodded for her to go forward. Eyeing me with suspicion, she reached for the handle and cracked the door just a bit to see who was on the other side.
The deep baritone of Knix filtered through the negligent space she allowed. "Is she ready?" he asked.
Pursing her lips, Lizzie looked back at me and I shrugged with a nod. Sighing, she turned back to one of my soon-to-be husbands. "Yes, she's ready. We'll be out there in five minutes." He said something else, lowering his voice so that I couldn't hear and it made Lizzie's lips twitch in amusement. "I'm sure you and the guys can wait another five minutes," she replied. "You'll ha
ve a friggin' lifetime after that."
"Tell her I love her," he said, louder this time.
I smiled, a flush stealing across my cheeks.
"She knows," Lizzie replied tartly, snapping the door closed.
I chuckled again and reached for the bouquet I'd set aside earlier. I turned back to the mirror and smoothed out the fabric of my dress as Lizzie approached from behind. "I'm ready," I said, feeling more confident than I had a moment before.
"Moment of truth," she replied. "I hope you are because otherwise, it might be a little difficult to get away. I'm pretty sure Marv is waiting to walk you down the aisle and he'll catch you before you can make it to the front door of the church."
I shook my head at her irreverence. "Let's go."
The doors opened and I held my breath for a moment as a pair of gunmetal gray eyes met mine. Marv held out his arm and I moved forward reaching for it.
"You look beautiful, Sunshine," he whispered as Lizzie took her place in front of us. The wedding march began and she looked back once before starting forward. Through the French door windows that had been pulled to the side, I watched as people I'd come to know so well over the last few years stood in preparation.
I reached up and fingered the lavender colored tie Marv wore, frowning when I noticed a scratch on the side of his neck. I touched it lightly and sent a questioning glance up. Grinning, he took my hand in one of his and brought it to his lips. "Cleo," he murmured.
It was impossible to resist a smile. "I'm sorry," I said.
A smile spread his lips. "You can make it up to me later," he offered lightly.
"How much later?" I asked.
"Whenever you want, Sunshine," he replied. "We've got the rest of our lives."
My heart thudded rapidly against the inside of my ribcage. "Promise?"
