“Oh, I bet you are—fuck. Add a finger inside. Feel yourself on the inside—out,” he coaches. I do as told and moan. He curses and his breathing is ragged as he says, “What I would do to be there—”
“Grey,” I say in a ragged voice, like his. “Shut. Up.” He laughs, but it fades off into a breath intake when I moan his name and pump my finger while rubbing myself. This feels—oh my god. I suck in my bottom lip and rub a little faster. With each stroke, his name leaves my lips. My voice doesn’t even sound like mine anymore. It’s lower. Intense.
This is nowhere near enough. I need him here. I imagine him between my legs, tongue against me, eyes black as an abyss staring straight through me, and it nearly sends me over the edge.
“I need you here, Grey,” I purr and whine, shifting.
“And I need to be there,” he huffs. “Just picture me there. Your legs over my shoulders, my head buried between your legs. Can you feel my tongue against you? Tasting you? Savoring you?”
I picture that exactly and moan loudly. “Oh, Grey…”
“Yeah, princess. Can you feel my finger driving into your tight little pussy as I taste you?” His words are getting to me.
My breaths come out shallow, and his name becomes a ghost on my wet lips. I swirl my thumb, imagining it’s him tasting me.
“F-fuck, Grey. This feels so—good.” I smile a jittery smile as I drive my finger in and out, in and out, in and—
“Fuck, are you right.” He’s touching himself too. The thought and picture of him doing so drives me overboard.
“Grey!” I mewl his name and throw my head back and sputter his name over and over.
“Jesus, a-are you coming, baby? Are you coming for me? Hmmm?” He groans, and I moan a response. “Fuck. Come for me, now, princess.” The authority in his voice makes me smile, which dims when the pleasure takes over and all I see are stars beneath my eyelids.
“Grey!” I scream his name.
“Fucking—Liv,” he pants, and I can see him getting himself off.
I grasp for air as well and listen to him laugh. “Why are you laughing?”
“Because I really want to fucking skip this lame-as-shit town and take you for myself,” he admits, and I flush and burn even redder when I raise my wet fingers. I sit up and pull on a brand new pair of panties.
“As much as I would like that, you need to do this. You said it yourself.” I place my phone on the dresser as I search for a shirt and shorts to wear. When I find them, I put them on as he speaks. I still can’t believe I just had phone sex.
“Fuck MMA—I rather be inside you. I’m feeling doggy style,” he jokes, and I blush and fall back onto my bed.
“I don’t know what that is, but it doesn’t sound healthy.” I rub my stomach under the thin fabric of my shirt.
“Fuck healthy when I can make you feel the way you just did, but even better,” he says with promise. A promise I hope he keeps.
The door opens, and Jaimie comes in, shaking snow from her pea coat. “Sup, Bam.” She nods at me with a jolly grin. She skips over to me and calls out, “Hey there, Grey!”
Grey laughs. “Hey, Jaimie.”
“Jaim’!” I scramble up, and she giggles as she falls back on Julia’s bed. “Where’s Julia?”
“Taking a test,” she informs me. “But she’ll be back in time to get ready for the party.”
“Party?” I question her.
“Yeah, a neon party down by the docks,” she tells me. “It’s to celebrate the end of the school semester. But don’t worry—it isn’t school promoted in any way. So it won’t be shitty. Thinking of coming?”
I shrug and begin to say no, but Grey beats me to the punch.
“You’re not going to any party,” he growls at me. Is he a werewolf or something?
“Excuse you?” I raise my eyebrows.
Who does he think he is? We were just coming together a minute ago, and now he’s barking at me like some sort of rabid dog.
“I said you’re not going to any party,” he says, confused, like I should always just listen to him, like he’s my father or something.
“Okay, Daddy,” I say sarcastically.
He hums. “Don’t say that, unless you want to get bent over.”
I roll my eyes and avert my eyes from Jaimie’s amused expression. “Anyway, you creep, if I want to go to a party, I’m going. I don’t exactly need your permission.”
“No, but I know you can’t handle your liquor and need my saving every time you go to a party.”
“I am not some damsel in distress, Grey,” I snap at him. He just laughs. “Screw you.” I hang up on him and dial up Mason. I wasn’t even planning on going to the party, but he just unknowingly pushed me into going. I said it myself anyway; I’m well-educated for the finals. I know everything I need to know and more.
He answers on the second ring. “Hey! What’s up, Liv?”
“Change of plans…Mase.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ignoring Grey’s texts and calls, I got ready for the party. He seriously has nothing to worry about. I’ll be fine. I have Mason and the girls; he shouldn’t be afraid of me going to this party.
He doesn’t even have any jurisdiction to forbid me from going out. Is it because we’re dating now that he thinks he can control me? If so, he should get that idea out of his mind right now. I won’t let him rule over anything and everything I do. I love him, I really do. And I know he can be demanding and a bit extreme, but I’ll be damned if I just let him choose what I can and can’t do. I’ve been at the party for a little over three hours now, and nothing has gone wrong.
“What’ll you have?” the bartender asks me in slight annoyance. Forget slight—it’s full-on annoyance. His flaming, neon red hair sparkles under the bright fluorescent lights. I eye his glowing red neon t-shirt like all the other illuminating clothing in the room. It’s a result of the lights hanging around the place. It’s actually really cool. I even sprung to buy a light-up bracelet with glitter. Some glittering neon rests on my neck and cheeks as a result of Jaimie basically chucking some at my face.
“Hey, girlie.” He snaps his fingers impatiently. “Do you want a drink or not?”
“Sorry, I’ll—uh—have the…” I trail off. I face the bartender and shyly glance down at the drink menu beneath my elbow. His lip ring gleams under the light as he scowls at me. I feel intimidated, but I choose the cheapest drink I’d actually drink. But, before I can actually order it, some guy cuts me off.
“She’ll have a gin and tonic.” I twist on the leather stool to find Sam waving his fingers at me. His shiny white teeth glow in the dark, and his blue eyes dance like electric waves. Dressed in a plaid shirt over a white t-shirt and washed-out jeans, he looks good as usual. I can’t help but wonder: What is he doing here? I haven’t seen him in a while, and I’ve been warned about him. But, as usual, I haven’t been told why I should stay away from him.
“Sam…hey.” I don’t mean to slip in my confusion through my words. He laughs anyway and throws down money for my drink. I didn’t need him to do that. I brought some money. I can pay.
“Wait, no. Come back. I can pay myself,” I call after the bartender, but he’s already moved down the bar.
“That’s all right, baby girl.” Sam waves a hand and says, “I saw you here all by yourself, and I just couldn’t not get you something to drink.”
I hesitantly shift the glass into my hands and shrug. “Doesn’t mean I couldn’t pay for it myself,” I murmur, taking a sip through the straw. “Anyway, how’d you find out about the party? What are you still even doing here? I didn’t mean to sound rude. I’m sorry,” I ramble and anxiously sip through the straw. The drink is strong and stings my nose, but I think it’ll help soothe my nerves.
He laughs. “There is such a thing as social media—word spreads fast about parties. And I’m still here because, well, I’ve found something here that has my attention…” The way he’s looking at me now makes me uncomfortable.
I just nod with a polite smile.
“That’s…okay.” I honestly don’t know what to say. I turn in the chair and face the thriving mob of glowing bodies gyrating on the dance floor. I spot Jaimie grinding against Julia and smile. Mason is a few feet behind them, dancing with some black-haired girl.
They wanted me to dance with them, but I would feel like an outsider, being a lone wolf. A lone wolf who wouldn’t be grinding against someone. I just wish that someone could be Grey and that he’d be here…but he’s acting like an ass and he is currently in Kansas, so…
“Would you like to dance?” Sam asks, and I stare at him for a while. The image of him touching me while dancing makes me squirm in the worst way, and I shudder. Literally. “Don’t worry, it’d only be friendly. You look like you could get your body moving…in the friendliest way possible, that is.” He laughs again, but it’s softer this time, and his smile is light. Hopping off the stool, he holds his hand out. I glance at it and gnaw on the bendy straw.
“No hands,” I warn.
He raises his hands. “No hands.”
I weigh the options: stay here and get glared at by the agitated bartender, miserable over being alone, or actually have fun, proving to Grey that I can be at a party without him rescuing me from anything. I’m going to go with option two.
Putting down my drink, I take Sam’s hand and let him drag me onto the multi-colored dance floor. I dance and bob to the beat of the electronic music, which means I shake like I’ve lost my mind and twist and turn and let a smile stain my face. He laughs and watches me, dancing crazy. I can feel the positive and negative charges run through me like a wildfire. My perfectly curled hair is a mess now, and my ankles will hurt in the morning, but I’m kind of enjoying myself.
He is pushed forward and grabs my shoulders, but I raise a brow, and he straightens himself, hands raised in the air. I nod appreciatively, and he rolls his eyes playfully. A giggle escapes my lips as he puts his hands behind his back. I continue to bounce around without any regard to how much I will regret this tomorrow morning.
It’s a Tuesday night, and I should be studying for the most important finals of the year. But here I am dancing in the middle of a neon party with a guy I shouldn’t even be near. Funny how things work. What’s even funnier is how much I have changed.
My pocket buzzes, and I stop dancing long enough to pull out my phone. It’s a text, but before I can see who sent it or what it says, my phone dies, leaving me staring back at myself in the black screen with the drained battery sign flashing.
“Oh, darn it,” I mutter under my breath.
“What was that?” Sam shouts over the loud music.
“I said—” I begin, trying to yell over the music, but my voice is too small.
“What?” He bends down to my ear for me to tell him what I said, but it doesn’t even matter.
Before I can even say anything, he is jerked back, and a flash of black crosses my face. I hear the faint sound of bone crunching and watch in shock and fear as Sam falls to the ground. Grey is on top of him, punching his face in—more like bashing his face in.
What the hell is he doing here? And why is he beating up Sam?
“Grey!” I shout his name over the lowered music as the DJ announces and eggs on the fight. What a douchebag! I curse him out in my mind but keep it on the back burner as I lunge forward. “Grey, get off of him!” He doesn’t listen to me. He just keeps punching and punching and punching and punching—
I do the only thing I can stop him.
I jump onto his back. How much liquor was in that drink?
He stops punching and stands. I nearly fall off, but he tenses, and I take the opportunity to wrap my legs around his stomach. I snake my arms around him and nuzzle my face in his neck. I think he giggles because of my hair tickling him, and I wonder how much he’s had to drink as well. Must have been a lot, because he just pounced on Sam without any hesitation, like he wanted—needed—to kill him.
“What is happening?” he pants and wipes his hand across his cheek.
“I have no idea. Just—” I groan and nod my head to the left. “Just go to the left—there’s a bathroom there.” I even point my foot in the direction and give Sam a more-than-apologetic look as he is helped up by some tall guys. “I’m sorry,” I mouth to him.
Grey walks to the back of the club, to the bathroom. The entire time I whisper soothing things to him when really, I want to shake him and demand he answer me three things: 1: What is he doing here? 2: Why did he suddenly just beat up Sam? and 3: What the heck is he doing here?
When we enter the empty bathroom, I hop off and lock the door behind us. I face him, and he looks away, pouting. Can he be any more of a baby right now? I try to grasp his surely injured hands. He yanks them away and crosses them over his chest. I look at him blankly with narrowed eyes. Seriously, Grey?
“Let me see your hands, Grey,” I demand, but he shakes his head. “Now.”
“No…” he says in a small voice.
“Give me your hands, Grey.” I step forward, and he steps back. Is he serious right now? “Grey.”
“Not unless you’re proposing,” he whines.
I steel my eyes, signaling that I’m not messing around. He rolls his eyes, groans like a child, and holds his hands out, palms up. I flip them around and wince. They’re nearly torn to shreds. And just beneath them are barely healed scars from his previous fights. I hate to see them like this. It pains me to even think about him getting hurt. I can see a little glimpse of a bruise peeking out from underneath the collar of his black t-shirt.
“Jesus, Grey.” I gasp and hurry around for something, anything to patch him up. I rush over to the paper towel station and crank the old machine until I have a bunch and run them under the sink water for a couple of seconds.
“You can’t keep doing this. You just came from a fighting marathon—you don’t need to do anymore of that here,” I reprimand him as I press the wad of paper against his bloody knuckles. He doesn’t wince or even react in the slightest.
He doesn’t say anything. Just stares at me with a blank face.
I look up at him through my eyelashes and shrug. “Well? Don’t go jumping down my th—”
His lips against mine cut me off. I grip the wet paper in the ball of my right hand and slide my fingers through his dark locks with my left hand. I missed his lips so much. But I can’t help but wonder: Why is he kissing me now?
I pull back and press my hand against his chest. He bares his teeth and looks at me with an unreadable expression.
“What are you—” I start, but he skillfully slices through my words.
“I came back early because I couldn’t stand being away from you any longer,” he starts. “Jaimie told me where you guys were, and when I got here…when I saw you with him…I just…I fucking lost it.”
“We were just dancing—” I start to explain. I would never do anything like that to Grey. I even warned Sam that it was only friendly. I love Grey.
“He was near you,” he cuts me off and lifts me by my hips, setting me on the sink. I gasp out of shock and keep quiet as he hisses in a large breath. “I couldn’t just let him get away with having been near you. Princesa, you are mine. You agreed to it when you said you’d be my girl. Now, let me tell you, I’m not into the whole sharing thing. Which means no fucking dancing with another guy beside me. Especially Sam,” he snarls, and I nearly gasp. Why am I getting turned on by this? Maybe because I’ve super horny? Eh, probably.
“But I love you, only you, Grey—”
“And I love you.” He brushes his thumb over my bottom lip. “Let me show you,” he whispers.
Okay.
A part of me unleashes, and I grip the back of his neck and bring his face to mine. Our mouths connect, and so do our tongues. My body sparks on fire, and he fuels it, creating a flame larger than life. I tug at his hair and tip his chin up, bringing my lips down to his neck. But he grabs my wrist and gently presses me into the
mirror behind me.
“I don’t want you interacting with him or any fucking guy in a goddamn club, understand?” he gripes, grinning when I nod rapidly, in desperate need for him. Every inch of him…
I fumble with his belt, and he chuckles against my neck as he makes marks. Sucking and licking and claiming. I take in a deep breath and unbuckle his belt. I undo his pants and kick them and his boxers off, taking a golden condom packet from his back pocket before I do. I hand it to him and smile giddily while he rips it open and slides it on his erect member. I have never needed him so much like I do in this moment. He reaches between us and does the same to my jeans. I lift my hips and shudder when my bare ass meets the sink’s cold surface. This is so unsanitary.
My subconscious is put to the back of my mind when I feel him enter me. And hard.
I am still getting used to this sex thing, but damn, does this feel…well…amazing. I smile haughtily and nip at his earlobe, bracing myself for the next thrust. My hips meet his deep movement, and I nearly howl in contentment. His length is massive and fills me whole. It’s definitely going to take me a while to get used to him, but I’m more than fine with a little wreckage right now.
“Fuck, you feel like heaven, princesa,” he mutters in his deep guttural voice as he plunges into me, over and over and over again. I meet his thrusts, and he bites hard into my neck. I feel tears of pleasure slip down my heated face. I pull back and collide my lips with his. The kiss is passionate and leaves me wanting so much more. I wrap my arms around his lower back and pull him into me every time he enters me. “I have missed you, baby. So damn much,” he admits.
“I’ve missed you too. This feels…so good.” My breath gasps in and out as I try to breathe while he thrusts into me. He fills me up, and I claw my nails up the slope of his back, dragging his shirt up with him.
Grey: The Infatuation (Spectrum Series Book 2) Page 20
