"Baby? Hey, what is it?"
"I've only ever been with my ex-husband," she whispered. "I'm not – I don't – I'm worried that I won't be able to – to please you."
"You think that you won't be able to please me?" he repeated, stunned. "Is that what it was all about for him? Pleasing him?"
"Yes. And I didn't... he said I didn't. Didn't please him."
"Holy fuck." Griff was furious. He sat on the bed next to her, lowered his tone. "Look at me. Kitten, look at me. I mean now."
She did, though he could see it was a major effort for her to lift her chin. God, she seemed to feel so – what? Ashamed? Humiliated? Well, it was time for that crap to end, and Griff meant right the fuck now. This woman had no reason whatsoever to feel small or less-than, and if some controlling dickhead had gone about destroying her confidence, then Griff was going to work on turning that around, as best he could. Because this woman was hot and sweet and funny and strong – she was worth a hundred Wilbur Worthingtons; she was worth a thousand.
"First of all, I simply refuse to believe that you're not absolutely incredible between the sheets." Ignoring her blush, he carried on. "Being good in bed is all about wanting to be there with the person that you're with... if you're enjoying yourself and feeling desired, then you'll be nothing short of spectacular, baby. I know that. Second, yeah, OK... sex is about pleasing the other person, but not in a 'slave pleasing her master' kind of way. It's not a fucking chore, and it sure as hell ain't a wifely duty or obligation. It ain't about fulfiling someone's expectations – it's all about wanting to give and take, in equal measure. Because baby, if you ain't going out of your mind with pleasure, then I'm the one doing something wrong. Not you."
Claire looked down at her curvy hips, her not-flat tummy, her soft thighs. "And you – you like my body? Even though I've gained a lot of weight since leaving him?"
Griff's eyes flashed. "I fucking love your body. I want to get my hands and mouth all over it."
"Really?"
"Really really." He gave her his slow grin. "So... will you let me take you to bed, kitten?"
Claire gave a tiny giggle, taken aback at his heated teasing. He really did seem to find her attractive, and God knows, the man was nothing but all kinds of sexy. She'd be a fool to not enjoy him, even if she couldn't keep him. After all, when was a tall, muscular, blond, green-eyed sex god going to be sitting on her bed with his shirt half-unbuttoned, ever ever again? No guarantees after tonight... so why not just grab this chance? This chance to be pleasured, maybe even made to feel a bit special. Cherished.
Why are you even hesitating, girl? You need your head examined, clearly.
So in that moment, Claire decided to tell one more truth. It may be the last one that she going to be able to tell him, she knew, so she decided to just go ahead and do that.
"Yes," she said simply. "Yes, I'll let you take me to bed, sexy."
"Good girl," he said in that low growl that was already her personal kryptonite. "Now... do you remember what I said?"
"About?"
"About not making one sound?"
She gulped, hopelessly turned on at the thought of having to stay completely silent while this man was doing the-Lord-only-knows-what to her. It made it hotter, somehow, and that was incredible, because the situation was already beyond scorching.
"I remember," she managed to choke out.
"So why are you talking?"
She was about to apologize, caught herself before she spoke. He smiled at that, then nodded at her clothes again.
"Off," he said. "I want you naked, baby, and lying down on the bed for me to look at and enjoy. And don't keep me waiting... I want this now."
With a bit more confidence, Claire pulled her loose dress over her head, the moved her hands to the clasp on her cheap, saggy-from-too-much-hand-washing beige bra. She undid it with trembling fingers, then slowly, she slid her hands down her body to her simple white cotton panties. She stopped, gave herself a little talking-to... and then with an insane burst of courage, she lowered them down her rounded thighs, down her curved legs, and off. That was when she finally looked at him, and what she saw stole her breath.
He was staring at her naked body, those eyes so hot with desire, she actually felt it like a touch on her skin. He was still fully-dressed, and that made her feel strangely vulnerable – but also a bit powerful. Like she had him in her thrall, or under her spell. Like her smooth curves and silky skin were so damn tempting, and he was going to indulge in them, enjoy them, luxuriate in them.
"Lie down," he said. "Arms to the side, legs open."
Trembling harder, she did as he told her. And there she was: open and defenceless... and so ready to be touched.
He moved to her now, slowly, deliberately, holding her blue gaze the whole time. When he crawled between her spread thighs and lowered his head, Claire couldn't stop herself from jumping and crying out.
Right away, his head snapped up. "Did you actually make a sound?"
Frantically, she shook her head, then nodded, then shook it again. She knew that she'd disobeyed him, but God, was he really going to... to do that? Her ex had never done... that... and she was stunned how badly she wanted it, while also being afraid of it.
He must have seen it on her face, because he paused, his brow furrowed with concern. "Baby? You don't like this?"
Stumped, she didn't know how to answer without words. She shrugged, then nodded, then shook her head. He watched these mixed signals with utter confusion, then his face cleared.
"Did he ever do this for you?" he asked gently. "Kiss and touch you down here?"
She shook her head.
"Fuck," he hissed. "Selfish bastard. Well, hang on, baby, 'cause you're gonna love it. Just relax, kitten, OK? Just relax and let yourself feel it... this is all about you. Your pleasure. Your release." He grinned at her again, his head already lowering between her shaking thighs. "And not a sound when you come. Remember."
She nodded, but he wasn't looking at her. He was – oh, God. He was kissing her down there. He was stroking between her lower lips with his tongue, just tasting her helpless arousal, taking it into his own mouth. He lapped at her like a cat lapped up cream, and he couldn't seem to get enough of her. His lips were soft, his mouth was hot, and the man knew what he was doing with both things, that was for damn sure. He was – worshipping her. Making love to her pussy with his tongue, fucking her with it, moving in and out of her body, and before she quite knew where she was, her hands were in his hair and she was pulling him closer. Tighter. Deeper.
More, she begged silently, knowing that her body was speaking for her. Oh, God, more. More.
His finger joined his tongue now, and she stifled a gasp as he slipped one finger, then two, inside her straining, twisting body while mouthing kisses on her clit. Kisses turned to licks, then licks turned to sucking. She loved all of it, couldn't decide which way of tasting her hot little button she liked the best. His fingers were demanding and hard, his mouth was teasing and gentle, and this combination was so exquisite, so perfect, that she felt something start to happen inside of her.
This something, it was – well, what was it? It was a sort of torment, but a sweet one. It was an ache, but one that she didn't want relief from. It was a wave, sort of, or a flower opening, maybe, or an avalanche. It was wild and it was building, and she suddenly understood what all the fuss about sex was about.
Oh, my God... this is an orgasm?
She felt a cry rising in her throat, and it took everything that she had to not let it burst out. She took one hand from the back of his head, and raised it to her own mouth, literally holding in her scream of release. And it was a scream, that was undeniable. More than one, actually; it was a series of screams in time to the throbbing and pulsing that had started in her deepest core and was now traveling down the length of her body to her curling toes, along the length of her arms to her grasping fingers.
Griff felt her orgasm against his mouth, against his finger
s, and he grinned. She was gasping quietly, her hand stopping the sounds of pleasure, and he knew that this inability to let the tension out was just making it all that much more intense for her. When Claire shuddered, hard and long, and then relaxed, he knew that she'd finished, and was in that beautiful state of bliss. That was when he kissed his way up her body, taking the time to stop and pay some attention to her breasts, before moving over her curves and taking her in his arms.
Her eyes fluttered open, and Griff started. It was like the two brightest stars in all the skies had fallen to earth and taken up residence in her eyes. They'd never looked so clear, so pure, so beautiful.
My star. My Claire.
"How you doin', baby?" he muttered. "You with me?"
She nodded, exhaled with a sated sigh.
"Good." He kissed her forehead. "You enjoyed that, huh?"
She rolled her eyes mockingly at the obvious before nodding again.
"You need to take a breather before we carry on?"
Those eyes flared, and a sassy little spark took hold. She shook her head.
"No?" Griff said, his hand moving over her hip. "You all set?"
She nodded.
"Me too." He sat up, finished unbuttoning his shirt. She bit her lip when he removed it, and with a shaking hand, she traced the lines of his muscles, the cords of his shoulders, the scar on his neck. He'd removed his I.D. tags before coming over, and he felt oddly unbalanced without the cool metal against his skin – but her sweet, shy touch was a more-than-acceptable substitute.
He let her explore his massive upper body a bit, let her run her fingers through his blond hair, let her trace his collarbone and abs. Then, when he couldn't stand it anymore, he unbuckled his belt, roughly shoved down his pants and boxers.
Her mouth dropped open at the sight of him, and she blinked.
"What do you think, baby?" he asked as he stretched out again on his back. "You like what you see?"
She nodded, then hesitated. Griff knew that he was well-endowed, and he thought that might be a bit overwhelming for her. Gently, he took her hand and pulled it to his rock-hard cock.
"Touch me," he said huskily. "Get to know my body, baby. Don't be afraid of it, alright?
She nodded, though a bit hesitantly, before wrapping her fingers around him. He groaned as she started to stroke him up and down, impossibly gently and carefully, but with more confidence and strength. She let her thumb circle the tip, spreading the arousal that had pearled there, before sliding back down his length. The second time that she touched the crown, she paused, then brought her hand to her mouth. Griff watched as she greedily licked the pre-cum from her fingers, and that was it... he was going to explode if he didn't get inside her.
He sat up, found his discarded pants on the floor. He fumbled with his wallet, fumbled with opening the condom, fumbled with putting it on. Christ, he hadn't been this much of a wreck about sex in about twenty-five years, but that was the effect that this woman had on him. She made him horny beyond belief, and he reminded himself to go slow. She needed him to take control and show her what her body could do – but she wouldn't respond well to being pushed or rushed. She needed to be unlocked, to be given permission to just relax and enjoy sex for what looked like the first time in her life.
Griff gently rolled her onto her back, then he kissed her. She responded right away: she wrapped her entire body around him – her arms around his shoulders, her legs around his waist – and she kissed him back with a desperation that made him feel protective and possessive at the same time. He rubbed his cock against her pussy, watched her face as she jolted in shocked arousal. He lined himself up, then lowered his lips to her ear.
"Not one sound," he rasped as he teased her with his hardness. "You're gonna come again, kitten, and it's gonna be better than the last one, I promise you... but you do that quietly. Clear?"
Claire nodded, and as she did, Griff slid inside her.
Oh, fuck. She was so primed and ready, so hot and slick, that he encountered no resistance at all, and he just slid on into her like a hot knife through butter. She opened her mouth, threw her head back, and he kissed her throat, nibbling and teasing the sensitive skin. She inhaled sharply, and he smiled at how beautiful she was when she let go like this.
He started to move now, slow, deep thrusts. But she was moving too, moving in time with him, and it was becoming damn-near-impossible to keep the slow, steady pace. He picked up speed, just a bit, watching her closely. When she bit her lip to stifle a groan, he was sure that she was in the moment with him, that she was right where she wanted to be, and he moved faster, faster again. He took her savagely; he took her tenderly; he took her the way that he'd wanted to almost from the very beginning.
He knew when she came, because she buried her face in his chest and panted against it, open-mouthed and hot and writhing. He waited, though God only knew how, and when she'd calmed and quieted, he lifted her chin.
"Look at me, kitten," he ordered as his thrusts got wilder, harder. "Let me see your gorgeous eyes when I come."
She did as he said; she held his gaze as his climax grew, grew some more, broke, receded, left him gasping in its wake. Never before had he known such deep, all-encompassing pleasure with another human being, and Griff held himself inside her for a minute, just letting himself sink into her soft heat. He never wanted to leave it, and when he eased out, he felt nothing but cold and a bit empty after.
He rolled her again, onto her side this time, and pushed her head to his chest. He kissed her tousled dark hair, held her close to his thundering heart.
"Alright?" he said.
She nodded.
He gave a laugh. "You can talk now, kitten."
"Oh, God." It was a whimper of disbelief, of awe, of already-building fresh arousal. "Oh, my God."
"Uh-huh," he said, knowing exactly what she meant. "That's what I think too, baby."
Chapter Thirteen
It had finally happened. Someone had figured out a way to render Dallas Foreman literally speechless.
Dallas stared at Griff, his cup of coffee forgotten mid-way to his mouth, his blue eyes dark with confusion and anger. Dallas’ state was merely a temporary one, Griff knew, and sure enough, after about five seconds, the man snapped right on back to normal, which meant ‘scary-as-all-fuck’.
“You what?” Dallas snarled. “You fucking what?”
“Slept with Claire Worthington last night.”
Even though this was the second time that Griff had dropped the bomb on him, Dallas went silent again. He’d known John Griffin for four years now, ever since Griff had come back from Afghanistan and had decided to transfer his not-inconsiderable skills to personal security. In that whole time, Griff hadn’t so much as toed a line, let alone crossed one. In fact, if Dallas thought about it, every single one of his staff members had crossed at least one line – including Dallas himself – but not Griff. Not until now.
And man, this was one hell of a line to cross. Seemed that when the man decided to go for it, he went for broke. Just took a running start, and flew on over the line like it wasn’t even there.
“So.” Griff carefully set a piece of paper down on the conference room table, slid it across to Dallas. “I accept that I won’t receive any vacation pay, or bonus, or separation package. I also accept that I’m to leave immediately.”
Dallas’ eyes snapped down to the paper. “This is your letter of resignation?”
“Yes.”
Yet again, Dallas found himself blinking stupidly at the man that he considered a brother, a man that – until thirty seconds ago – he’d thought that he’d known almost as well as he knew himself. Except apparently not. Apparently, Griff had been falling for the op target for a while, and hard, and he’d never said a damn word to anyone until it was all over and in flames.
What the actual hell? Is Griff insane or is he possessed? Do I need to stage an intervention or an exorcism?
“OK, let’s take a deep breath here,” Dalla
s said quietly. “Calm down a bit.”
“I am calm,” Griff said.
“I was talking to me,” Dallas told him.
“Oh.”
“Ohhh-kaaaay.” Dallas exhaled. “Now… I absolutely accept your resignation. Not because I want to, but because I have to. You’ve broken protocol in I-don’t-know-how-many ways, and my hands are tied here, man.”
“I know.”
“Now the big question here is this: why the fuck did you decide to go ahead and sleep with the woman? Why’d you blow up the op, and your career, and your good name here, all for some damn chick?”
For the first time since entering the conference room two minutes earlier, Griff actually showed emotion. “Don’t you insult her, Dallas.”
“What?” Dallas was stunned. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. Seriously. I’d never refer to Liv as ‘some damn chick’.”
“Olivia’s my wife,” Dallas pointed out. “While Claire’s an accessory to fraud and embezzling and God-only-knows what else.”
“She’s not.”
That made Dallas screech to a halt. “She’s – not?”
“Definitely not.”
“She had nothing to do wth her ex’s scams and schemes?” Dallas demanded. “Nothing whatsoever?”
“No. Nothing.”
“And you know this how?”
“Because she told me.”
“She – what?” Dallas was dumbfounded. “She just – she said, ‘Oh, hey, Jack… my ex-husband’s being investigated by the SEC for a Ponzi scheme, but I had nothing to do with it. Cross my heart and hope to die’? And you said, ‘Cool, babe, let’s go to bed’?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“Look…” Griff stopped to collect his thoughts. He knew that Dallas was beyond pissed, and he knew that he was out the door anyway, but he also knew that he owed Dallas a full, honest explanation. The man had been nothing but good to Griff, and Griff had just betrayed his trust, big-time. He also had to let Dallas know that Claire was innocent, and that Leeza Burns had to be told that the investigation was over. Leeza was going to be devastated, but she’d have to figure out how to get on with her life – how to move on, despite the heartbreak. “Look, Dallas… she told me everything last night, OK? Everything except her real name, but that was the only thing that she kept from me. Besides that, she opened right up, and I know that she was telling me the truth. I’m not just saying that to excuse my behavior, because there ain’t no excuse. I’m saying it because it’s true. Claire had nothing to do with any of it, she hasn’t benefited from any of it, and she won’t benefit. She doesn’t even want to, man. She’s cut her ties and she ain’t looking back.”
Solid Gold (Unseen Enemy Book 8) Page 14
