“Yes—yes,” she whimpers.
In the blink of an eye, there’s a change in the atmosphere. She stiffens, her pleasure seemingly forgotten at the sound of laughter just outside the door. I slow down but I don’t stop, watching as she stares at the closed door in horror.
“Hey. Hey, look at me,” I whisper.
“Grayson—can they—?”
“Look at me,” I demand. When she obeys, I can see the lust that clouded her eyes has now been replaced with worry. “Come back, sweetheart,” I murmur before brushing a kiss against her lips. “I’m right here.”
“What if—?”
“Who cares?” I kiss her again. “I need you to come for me, Shorty. I need to feel you squeeze my cock with that sweet pussy of yours.” I kiss the space just below her ear before I whisper, “Don’t think. Just feel—feel me. Feel how much I want you. Feel how much I need you. Feel how much I love you.”
She moans and holds me tighter. When I feel her tongue against my neck, I know that she’s making her way back to me. Knowing that she’s starting to relax, I give her what she asked for before—driving into her earnestly.
“Sonny—oh my—right there! Yes—yes. Please. Oh, please!”
I can tell that she’s trying to keep her voice down, but I want her to let go. I’m not going to last long—the danger of getting caught making this moment that much hotter. It’s just like I told her, I need for her to come. Right now.
I pound into her faster, harder; she squeezes me in response, her breaths coming in short uneven spurts. “Come for me, Avery.”
“I—I can’t—I’ll—scream. I can’t be quiet. Grayson—”
I close my mouth around hers and kiss her. Hard. Now, every thrust is a request; a plea; a demand for her to trust me and fucking let go. I manage to squeeze my hand in between us, swirling my thumb against her clit to bring forth what we both need. That does it. As she sucks on my tongue, she lets out an uninhibited groan. When she tightens around me, pulling forth my release, I drag my lips across her cheek and down to her neck. “Avery—yes—Ave. God—Avery!”
It isn’t until we’re both spent, each of us working to catch our breath, that there’s a knock on the door. Avery tenses, her arms tightening their grip around me. “Excuse me,” comes the voice of a woman. I vaguely recognize her as the fight attendant who rattled off safety protocol at the beginning of our flight. “Is everything alright in there?”
I clear my throat, trying my hardest not to laugh. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Well, I’m going to have to ask that you return to your seats promptly.”
“Uh, yes, ma’am,” I manage once more. When I look at Avery, I find her as red as a tomato. “Hey,” I chuckle, pressing a quick kiss against her mouth. “It’s okay.”
“Okay?!? Grayson—”
“Hey,” I cut her off with another kiss. “Do you regret it?” I ask, slowly pulling out of her.
“Not a fair question,” she replies, shaking her head.
“Answer it anyway, Shorty. Do you regret it?”
She pulls her eyes away from mine as she busies herself with tucking me back into my shorts and zipping me up. “No,” she murmurs. “You know that I never regret having you inside of me.” I can tell that even though she means what she says, she’s still upset over having gotten caught. I expect nothing less from my bashful bride. Nevertheless, I don’t want that to take away from what we just shared.
“Hey, gorgeous.” I slip my finger beneath her chin to lift her head up. I wait until her eyes meet mine before I speak. “I don’t regret it either.” I kiss her sweetly. “Now we’re officially part of the club and we can go cross number twenty-seven off of our list.” I rest my forehead against hers as I squeeze her hips between my hands. “Don’t worry about them.”
She inhales deeply and exhales slowly. “Can I have my panties back?”
“I love you,” I say, determined to reclaim this experience.
“I love you, too. Now, my underwear?” she holds out her hand, looking at me expectantly. I shake my head, somehow knowing this is the perfect way to bring back my daring girl. “Grayson?”
I slide my hands up her legs before gripping her ass and pulling her against me. She sucks in a breath as she holds onto me for balance. “I think I’ll keep them.” I press my cheek to hers and whisper in her ear. “It turns me on just thinking about you sitting out there, naked and ready for me under this dress.”
Another knock sounds at the door before Avery has a chance to respond. I’m quick to reply. “I need a minute, please.”
“Sir, we cannot allow—”
“Ma’am, we just need a minute, okay?”
Avery buries her face in my chest, but the woman on the other side of the door goes silent. I take that as a sign that she’s unwilling to argue with me and she's acquiesced to my request.
“Hey.” I squeeze my hands and Avery gasps, bringing her eyes to meet mine. “You ready to get out of here?”
“I can’t believe you won’t give me my panties back.”
“It ensures me that the second we walk through our front door, I can have my way with you.”
She shakes her head at me. “Sonny, you have work in the morning. You’re not going to—”
I interrupt her with a kiss. When I pull away, my lips still graze hers as I speak. “For the next hour, I’m going to be sitting next to my wife, knowing that she’s got nothing on underneath her dress. It’ll be such sweet torture knowing but not being able to touch. By the time we get home, sweetheart, I’m going to have no choice but to lose myself in you. I won’t be able to sleep until I do. You know one time is never enough—I can’t ever get enough of you, Avery. Never.”
As I speak, I can feel her melt against me. When I’m finished, she whimpers before pressing her lips firmly against mine.
“You drive me crazy,” she mumbles. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too, Shorty. Now come on. Let’s get out of here.”
I expect to find the flight attendant just outside the door waiting for us, but there’s no one there when we finally make our exit. I can see Avery’s shoulders relax in relief before she hurries her way down the aisle and into her seat. After we’re buckled up, she sticks out her hand. At first, I’m unsure what she’s asking for. Then she speaks.
“Your phone. I want to cross it off.”
A smirk tugs at the corner of my mouth as I reach into my pocket and retrieve my device. “The honor is all yours.”
“Oh, come on Avery. You know you want to come out with us,” Tiffany goads me as we all pack up our instruments. It’s late on a Friday afternoon and we just finished with rehearsal. There’s a garden party we’re playing for this Sunday and we wanted to perform some new selections. We’ve been sight reading and tweaking our sound for the last couple of hours. It’s been a productive and cathartic afternoon. I needed to get lost in music for a while.
“You’ve got to eat, right?” Clifton pipes in.
“I can’t tonight, guys. Grayson has a work thing.”
“What? Lame!” Paul scoffs.
“Tell the ball and chain that it’s Friday night, you’re awesome friends are going out, and you’ll just meet him at home after his work thing,” says Tiffany with a grin.
I huff out a sigh as I zip my cello case closed and stand. I know they’re just teasing. I know they mean well. We spend time together outside of rehearsals and gigs quite often. Sometimes Brenna will bring her boyfriend, Clifton will bring his girlfriend, and I’ll bring Sonny to join in on the fun. It’s safe to say that there’s never a dull moment with our bunch. However, tonight, I really do have to get home. I’m also not in the mood to argue about it.
“He’s not a ball and chain, Tiffany. He’s my husband,” I snap.
“Whoa. I was just kidding,” she mutters, lifting her hands up to signal her surrender. “Who pissed in your cheerios?”
I inhale deeply and exhale slowly, closing my eyes as I force myself to re
lax. It’s been a long week and I feel like I’m completely on edge. I’m disappointed that the peace I felt just a moment ago, when my hands were busy creating music, has suddenly vanished. Nevertheless, that doesn’t mean that I should take it out on my friends.
“I’m sorry,” I apologize, my gaze meeting hers. “I just can’t tonight, okay? I’ll see you guys on Sunday.” I grab my cello and my purse and I’m heading out the door when Brenna stops me.
“Hey, wait.” I pause when I feel her light touch on my shoulder. “Is everything okay? It’s not like you to lash out.”
“I know,” I reply with a shrug. “I just have a lot on my mind right now. I’m sorry. I promise I won’t be a total grouch on Sunday.”
“Alright,” she says with a kind smile. “Well, if you need anything, just let me know.”
“Thanks, Bren. I’ll see you.”
It takes me almost an hour to get home. When I hurry inside, I note that I’ve got approximately forty minutes to freshen up before Sonny arrives to pick me up. Tonight we’re having dinner with his boss and a couple of the other interns that are working in his department. This won’t be the first time that I’ve attended a work event with him and my experience has prepared me for what I’m in for. They talk shop very little, which all of us guests appreciate, and it’s actually a very social affair. I say a prayer as I hop in the shower, hoping I can calm down enough to be charming.
My shower is a quick one, as I skip shampooing my hair, and I waste no time picking out a dress for the evening. I decide on a strapless blush number that hugs me snuggly until just above my knees. I zip it up as far as I can and then leave the last inch for Sonny as I head back to the bathroom. I have time to apply a bit of makeup and add a little bump of curl to my long, black hair. It’s a quarter after six when I’m sliding into my heels.
I take a few things out of my purse and shove them into my clutch as I make my way out of the bedroom. I peek out the front window, which overlooks the street, and I’m surprised to spot that Sonny has yet to arrive. I check my phone, just to make sure I haven’t missed a call or a text, and find no notifications. Feeling too anxious to sit while I wait, I pace back and forth across our small living room.
My thoughts are all over the place. With every minute that passes, the knot in my stomach grows. I suddenly hate that I’m alone. Alone and waiting. I grow frustrated with every lap I make, my heels clicking against our worn hardwood floor. I try not to get consumed with the worries of this week and the secret I’m carrying, but it’s inescapable. Once again, I find myself beseeching God. I need to relax. I need to calm down. I need the peace that I know He can provide—and I need it now.
“Hey, Shorty,” greets Grayson cheerfully as he emerges through the door. I’m startled out of my thoughts at the sight of him, which does nothing for my nerves.
“You’re late,” I mutter in reply. I turn my back to him and sweep my hair to one shoulder.
“I know. I’m sorry,” he says as he makes his way towards me. He pulls my zipper up the rest of the way before lowering his lips to my shoulder. “You look beautiful. Are you ready?” he murmurs.
I shrug away from his touch, wishing I wasn’t so irritated with him. “You could have called.”
He stops me as I make my way to the door, circling his arms around my waist as he pulls me back against him. “Hey, why are you mad at me?” He kisses the side of my neck as he tightens his grip.
I sigh, leaning back against him, needing his love to help me shed my poor attitude. “I’m not mad at you. I didn’t mean to snap. I’m just having a day.”
“Didn’t you have rehearsal today?”
A small smile pulls at my lips and I embrace it.
I love this man. I love that he knows how much music means to me; how my playing brightens any day—whether it’s already unbearably happy or horribly sad.
I nod, tilting my head so that I can see his eyes. “I just have a lot on my mind.”
“Do you need to talk about it?”
“Not right now.” I reach for his lips with my own and he leans down to meet me for a quick kiss. “I’ll be fine. We should go.”
“Okay.” He kisses me once more but doesn’t let me go. Instead, he studies me for a moment. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Hottie.”
He smiles at me and his barely-there-dimples calm me down. I know that this moment is an answered prayer—Grayson being the hands and feet of the Lord as he showers me with love and affection. He kisses me again before he finally frees me from his grasp. He offers me his hand and I take it as we head for the door.
By the time we make it out of the restaurant and into the Mustang, I can hardly stand it anymore. Something is wrong with Avery and she's making me worry. She put on a good show at dinner. Like always, my boss and his wife went on and on about how much they adore my girl. It happens a lot. She's sweet, charming, intelligent, engaging, and gorgeous. She'll talk to anyone about almost anything, and she's so endearing that people eat up everything she says. But I know her. She can't fool me. Something is wrong.
“So, are we going to talk about it?” I ask as I pull out of the parking lot.
“Talk about what?”
“Ave…”
She sighs, shifting her gaze to stare out the passenger side window. “I don't want to talk about it, Sonny. Not right now.”
“Avery—”
“Grayson, I'm not—” She starts and then she stops. From the corner of my eye I see it as she shakes her head. “Not now.”
When she folds her arms across her chest I know that the conversation has been shelved. Now I'm not just worried, I'm annoyed. We don't keep things from each other. We learned that early in our relationship. When we hold back the truth, we get in trouble with one another. I hate the tension that fills the car. There's a part of me that's pleading with my mind to let it go. My irritation is a choice that I don't have to succumb to.
So is her reluctance to tell me what's going on.
The remainder of our ride seems to drag on as we sit in an uncomfortable silence. As soon as we're home, she's out of the car before I even have the chance to pull the key from the ignition. Her blatant avoidance pushes me too far and I make up my mind that the truth will come out—tonight. I don’t rush as I trail behind her, hoping my frustration won't get the best of me. When I've shut the front door, closing us in, I take a deep breath and follow her into the bedroom.
“Avery, you need to tell me what's going on. I can't read your mind, sweetheart.”
“I'm not asking you to,” she replies, tossing her handbag onto the bed as she steps out of her shoes.
“Well, you've got to give me something. You're not even speaking to me.”
“Sonny, I just sat through a two-hour dinner with you. I was polite and I spoke to everyone at that table. I don't know what more you want from me right now. I'm tired, okay? Can we just drop it?”
“No,” I state matter-of-factly. I yank my sports coat off, her first clue that the moment has shifted. The only clue she needs. She catches on to my intentions in an instant and her eyes grow wide in anger.
“Seriously?” she asks, pressing her fists against her hips.
“Seriously.” I cross the room, loosening my tie as I close the distance between us. When I've reached her, I turn her around and unzip her dress before sliding my tie from underneath my collar.
“I don't want to do this,” she grumbles, letting her dress fall to the floor.
“Then start talking.” I watch her closely as I begin unbuttoning my shirt. It isn't until I've shrugged the garment to the floor that she refuses me once more. “Fine. Lose the rest,” I reply as I drop my pants.
“Why are you turning this into a fight?”
“Why won't you just tell me what's wrong?”
Her strapless bra hits the floor the same time as my tank. We drop our underwear in unison.
“Why can't you just be like a normal guy and take the out I'm giving you?” she d
emands to know, her voice rising. “I don't want to talk about it. Aren't guys supposed to be good with that?”
“Dammit, Avery—” I growl. “I’m not other guys. I'm your guy!”
In a split second, I watch as she crumbles right before my eyes. She gasps, her face falls, and she chokes out a sob. I stand frozen—naked, shocked, and completely and utterly frozen. Then she launches herself at me. I catch her against my chest, her warm, naked body pulling me from my stunned state. When she kisses me, I feel hesitant to reciprocate.
“Kiss me, Grayson,” she mutters, her lips still pressed against mine. “Kiss me. Hold me. Love me. I need you. My guy—my love. I need you.”
The struggle is real—I’ve got two heads at war with each other. My brain is telling me that this is not normal behavior while my dick is reminding me that my woman needs me. Her tears have me flipping out while her sweet lips leave me yearning for her touch. I’m so confused right now.
“Sweetheart—”
“Please? Show me. Show me how you’re mine. I need you. Please. Please?”
Something tells me if I hesitate a moment longer, whatever’s the matter will get worse. I have no clue what’s going on in her head, but I’ll be damned if rejection gets added to that mess. With both my dick and my brain on the same page, I carry her to the bed and lay her down. When I prop myself on top of her, she lifts her hips—a speechless request. I know now that there will be no foreplay. This moment is for her. She can have whatever she needs.
“Take what you want, Shorty. I’m yours.”
Her eyes bore into mine as she reaches down for my cock. She traces the tip along her entrance and up over her clit, coating me in her arousal. I flick my tongue out, tracing my own path around her parted lips. She whimpers before she guides me to where she wants me. I ease my way in, pressing forward until every inch of me is consumed. I then pull out even slower.
She frees an airy moan as I continue my slow pace. When she reaches up to sink her fingers into my hair, I follow her gentle tug until my lips are flush with hers. She devours my mouth and I know she’s trying to tell me something.
The O'Conners: A Made for Love Novella Page 4
