It wasn’t that my place was messy or embarrassingly small. It was just…minimalistic. I hadn’t had any desire to move much from my old life into my new one, so I’d commandeered my favorite recliner, an end table, and then bought an entertainment center to hold my TV. A lot of my stuff was still at my old house. Down the hall, there was a bedroom with a queen-size bed and thankfully fresh sheets.
“It’s not much,” I muttered as I ran a hand over the back of my head.
She walked over to the wall that held the only hint of my former self—the only indication of pride I still allowed myself to boast.
“These are beautiful,” she said as she looked at the array of photographs I’d taken over the course of my career.
Joining her, I looked at my work and tried to imagine what she saw. Despite wanting my future to look different from my past, it still floored me to see the places I’d been able to go, the images I’d had the opportunity to capture. But it was also awkward as hell to accept praise for them.
“Thanks.”
She studied me for a moment before turning back to the wall. She continued to appraise the framed photos but didn’t comment anymore. I wasn’t sure if my unease had been clear on my face or if she simply wanted to keep this train moving toward its intended destination.
Looking around, she made no mention of my sparse living space. Instead she merely said, “Show me the bedroom.” It was a quiet command that gave me insight into the lawyer beneath the beautiful, demure surface. Which was why I couldn’t contain my next words.
“What type of law do you practice?” It seemed a silly thing to ask, but an even sillier thing not to know. We hadn’t shared a ton of words, but I was about to see her naked. It seemed only right to know a little more about her, though I could admit my timing perhaps needed work.
She looked taken aback at first, which made sense since my question had seemingly come out of thin air. “Family law.”
Now it was my turn to be surprised, though I had no idea why. I’d known a lot of lawyers over the course of my life, and she didn’t bleed arrogance like many of the high-profile ones who talked of mergers and acquisitions over every meal. But still, I guess I’d pictured her in that world, my mind automatically going there when she’d revealed she was a lawyer. But now that she’d told me, I could see that more easily.
At my silence, she continued. “I like helping families find out what’s best for them and then helping them get to that point.”
Her words could have sounded like a canned response—a reply she’d been trained to give so that she came across as sympathetic. But the genuineness couldn’t be denied, and I found myself wanting to know more about this assertive do-gooder who wanted a sex practice dummy.
She was a lesson in contrasts, but I had to remind myself that I was the teacher in this scenario. And like all good teacher-student relationships, this was best kept as impersonal as possible. Well, as impersonal as fucking each other senseless would allow.
“I can see that being a good fit for you,” I said because I felt I needed to say something. And it was the truth, despite my being unsure how I could truly know such a thing.
Isla offered me a small smile in return and moved closer, her breasts pressing against my upper abdomen.
“So, about your bedroom.”
Her proximity…did things to me. My body perked up as if it were an obedient dog being offered a treat.
“Right this way,” I replied hurriedly, grabbing her hand and leading her down the hall at a near gallop.
Her laughter behind me let me know I’d done a good job breaking the weird moment we’d found ourselves in. My door was already ajar, and as we passed over the threshold, I reached for the light switch. The bedroom was as bare as the rest of my place, but it was functional for our purpose. I even thought it might be better this way—no personal touches or personality. It was a blank canvas that could easily be made into whatever we needed it to be for whatever scene she wanted to create.
I tracked her as she moved through my space, setting her bag down on a chair in the corner and taking a quick look around before settling on the bottom edge of the bed.
She leaned back on her arms and asked, “Is this awkward?”
I moved closer but didn’t crowd her. “Does it feel awkward?”
“Yes and no. I think it more feels awkward because my mind thinks it should be.”
“What does your body tell you?”
“To stop talking and get you naked.”
Deciding that more action was necessary, I pulled my shirt over my head and let it drop onto the floor.
“Then maybe that’s what we listen to.”
A slow smile spread across her face as she fingered the bottom of her light-green tank top before slowly working it up her body and dropping it next to my shirt. Then she stood and unbuttoned her white shorts and let those fall to the ground with a gentle push. Her white bra was see-through, as was her matching thong.
I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted her to take either article of clothing off, because she looked fucking fantastic in them. The soft swell of her breasts, which weren’t overly large but enough to get a handful of, and her flat stomach that led down to a pussy with only a thin trail of hair was arousing in every conceivable way.
I was lost in staring at her when she spoke. “This works better if you’re naked too.”
Smirking at her, I undid the button of my jeans. “Does it now?”
She didn’t reply, but she didn’t need to. We both knew, as the sexual tension radiated between us, that no matter how we were dressed, this would work for both of us just fine.
ISLA
Taking a deep breath through my nose, I tried to keep myself in place when all I really wanted to do was leap at him. Because holy shit was Gray hiding a phenomenal body under the T-shirts he always wore.
Granted, some of them had been tight enough to hint at what was beneath, but there was nothing quite like seeing the smattering of dark hair spread across a muscled chest. And his abs…he had abs! Well, four of them, but I was pretty sure if he dropped to the floor and did some sit-ups, the other two would come out to play as well. He was lean and trim, and I said a silent thanks to whatever deity handed out hot bodies, because I definitely hit the jackpot.
He pushed his jeans over his hips and down his compactly muscled legs before stepping out of them. He wore dark-blue boxer briefs that clung to his thighs and did nothing to hide his arousal. His impressive arousal. Not so big that I feared for the safety of my vagina, but certainly big enough to get the job done.
I moved my hands to my back so I could unclasp my bra, but he stepped forward quickly, putting his arms on my forearms.
“Let me,” he said.
Truth be told, I’d let him do almost anything he wanted in that moment. Almost. Because I still wasn’t sure about the anal or nipple clamps.
I let my arms drop as he slid his underneath mine and skimmed them around my ribs to my back, where he grasped the clasp and unhooked my bra. It slackened but didn’t fall away, for which I was thankful because it caused Gray to grab the straps and slide them down my arms seductively. My skin was hypersensitive, and the soft fabric gliding over it made pinpricks burst across my skin.
My nipples hardened as they hit the air, and the fact that I was naked in front of one of the sexiest men I’d ever seen in person had heat radiating down my entire body, stopping only to linger on some of my more sensitive areas.
Grayson stood in front of me, close enough to press his erection against my abdomen, which thankfully he did before wrapping his arm around me and running his fingers up my spine softly.
“What do you like?” he rasped against my ear, making me tilt my head to the side so I could submit to him.
“This is working,” I said, referring to the way his lips ran over my neck so lightly, it practically made me shiver.
His response was a low groan against my skin, and all I could think about was wrapping my hand
around that cock that was pressing hard against me. I inched my hand closer, running it over his side and around his abs before making its descent.
Scratching my nails lightly just above his boxers, it took me a moment to get the nerve to touch them. He seemed to sense my hesitancy, because his hand found mine and helped guide me under the elastic waistband. Sliding my hand lower, I heard his breath hitch as his abs contracted. The realization that I was clearly doing something right had me wet and wanting.
“Feel good?” I uttered, needing to hear a verbal confirmation.
Letting out a long sigh as his hand skirted down my skin, he moaned an “Mm-hmm. So good.”
We’d barely even touched each other and both of us seemed ready to explode with desire. It was all so slow, so careful, as I put my hand around his cock and he lowered my thong enough to reach my clit. But I needed more—needed faster, harder. Suddenly his gentle touch wasn’t enough.
“Put your fingers inside,” I said, and I felt him smile against my lips before he deepened the kiss.
I was caught off guard when he spun me around and placed me on the bed without warning, but I loved how he took control without asking permission—how he leaned next to me on one arm and used the other to remove my panties in one rough tug. They caught on my foot for a second, but he managed to free them and toss them to the side of the bed.
And just like that, his fingers were inside me, his thumb swirling over my clit with the same rhythm he used inside.
So lost in the sensation, I almost forgot I was supposed to be touching him too. But I quickly went back to his dick, freeing it fully as he shimmied out of his boxers to give me an all-access pass to the throbbing length of him. I moved my hand over him steadily, wondering if this was how he liked it but too self-conscious to ask.
I shut my eyes tighter as my body responded to his touch. Part of me was embarrassed by how wet I sounded. I could hear it—how slick his fingers were as they practically dripped with my need to come.
“God, you’re sexy,” he said. “Look at me.” It was more of a request than a command, but that didn’t make it any less hot. And when I looked into his eyes, I found myself unable to look anywhere else. “Tighter,” he said, and this time it was an order. He wanted me to grip him harder, and I was more than happy to comply.
I brought my hand to his shaft, and he choked out a groan at the change in contact.
“I’m trying so hard not to come right now.”
“You can if you want to.”
“Ladies first.” He added another finger to the equation, and I nearly lost it. Wanting the feeling to last as long as possible, I managed to hold on for another minute or so while he stroked me.
I made a mental note to ask him exactly what the hell he was doing so I could try to replicate it on my own sometime. But I knew it wouldn’t feel exactly the same, because his fingers were thicker, his touch rougher than mine would ever be.
Not to mention I wouldn’t have access to his scent. It made me want to buy a case of the soap, shampoo, deodorant, aftershave, and whatever else he used so I could bottle up my own concoction of Grayson cologne. I was pretty sure if I inhaled deeply enough, I could get off with only his smell. And as I nuzzled myself against his skin and breathed deeply, letting my chest rise and fall, I finally let go. I shook with my release, thoroughly enjoying the loss of control as I relinquished all of it to Grayson.
I hadn’t realized how quickly I’d been jerking him, and by his heavy breaths and how thick he felt in my hand, I knew he must be close. He let me move over him for a few more seconds before abruptly grabbing my hand to stop it. His palm was large over mine, and it wrapped over the head of his cock, like he was trying to use his hand to stop the come from squirting out.
He choked out a harsh “Stop” before flipping over and setting me on top of him in one swift movement.
“Oh, this is like a thing, right? I forget what it’s called, but I read about it.”
“What’s a thing?”
“Like when you stop right before you come.”
He laughed, but it sounded more like a frustrated groan. “It’s called edging.”
“Yeah! Is that what you’re doing?”
“I was actually just trying to stop myself from coming all over your stomach, but sure, we can go with edging.”
I laughed too, and it made me even more relaxed than I already felt around him. “You’re that close, huh?”
He nodded as I ground slowly over his erection, letting my own wetness lubricate him in a way that brought me quickly back to the aroused state I’d just come down from. “And if you keep doing that, I’ll come all over my own stomach.”
“I think I’d like to see that,” I replied before I could censor it. I wasn’t used to being this open with a man, but there was something about Grayson—or maybe our arrangement—that made most of my inhibitions disappear temporarily. I was sex drunk and enjoying every moment of it. Especially when he grabbed my hips and halted any possible movement.
“Let me get a condom,” he said, reaching over to the table next to his bed.
I was surprised when he handed it to me, but I didn’t hesitate to sheath him, taking my time as I rolled the latex down his shaft. I could tell he was straining as my fingers moved over him. I wanted to impale myself on him, take all of him inside me at once. But the bastard didn’t let me.
He teased me—placing his head at my opening but not pushing inside. Instead, he moved it over me, bringing me closer and closer to another release. I had to remind myself how he must be feeling under me, waiting for his own relief, which I hoped would be an explosion so epic, I could feel his cock pulse inside me as he came.
“Please,” I whimpered.
“You want this?”
“God, yes. In…side…now.”
“You’re so demanding,” he teased, but thankfully, he finally filled me. Neither of us were going to last long, and it made me kind of sad until I remembered there would be more of this. More of Grayson, more of his dick, more of these orgasms that had us both shaking in the other’s arms.
I wanted to go again when he finally came because it was beautiful and sexy and dirty all at once. He muttered a few soft curses and squeezed my ass in a way that seemed more reflexive than intentional. Yup, I’d definitely need more of this.
I was so sated and spent, I didn’t even notice him get up. I only realized he’d gone to the bathroom when he came back. He slid back into bed beside me, and both of us lay on our backs, our eyes on the ceiling, as we listened to the silence.
Grayson was the first to speak. “So, was that…good?”
“Good, great, incredible,” I answered.
“Really?”
I was suddenly self-conscious. Wasn’t it that good for him? “Yeah, I mean, I’ve had better,” I lied, “but it was a solid start.”
“You’ve had better?” he said, his head falling to the side to look at me. “Tell me how to improve.” His voice was urgent, as if he needed immediate feedback—some constructive criticism.
I turned my head too so I could look at him. “I’m kidding. You made me come twice in like ten minutes. I can’t really ask for much more than that.”
Grayson smiled. “Maybe next time I’ll go for the Triple Crown.”
“Did you just use a horse racing metaphor to describe our sex life?”
“I guess I did.” He thought for a second and then said, “Hat trick?”
Nodding, I gave him a small kiss before I realized that might be strange.
Did people in this situation kiss or cuddle? I had no idea. How long do we lie in bed together before it seems weird? Do we sleep over? Or does our postcoital routine consist of a quick exit without so much as a goodbye?
This might be more complicated than I’d anticipated, and I wished I’d thought it through more thoroughly—established some ground rules before we got down to business, so to speak.
We were quiet for a few more moments before he asked, “Wh
at did you like? Or…not like?”
I wasn’t sure there was anything that I didn’t like, other than when it was over. And even though it was good—fucking fantastic actually—I hadn’t given any thought as to why.
“I liked how you teased me,” I said. “Had your fingers in me before your…” I placed my hand on his penis because for some reason, in my socially inept mind, that was less awkward than saying the word.
He laughed and asked, “What else?”
“The talking,” I answered. “It felt…comfortable. And it turned me on.”
Grayson smiled and ran a hand over my arm. “What else turns you on? In the past with other guys?”
“I’ve liked when they pinch my nipples and when guys go down on me.”
“What else?”
“I’m not sure. I think that’s kind of what you’re here for.”
“What about by yourself?”
“By myself?” I felt my cheeks heat up.
“Don’t tell me you don’t do that. I’m not falling for that bullshit. Every healthy adult with any sort of a sexual appetite knows how to get themselves off. Even women.”
“I wasn’t going to say I don’t do that.” I sounded defensive, and I almost laughed at the fact that I was assuring him that I masturbate instead of the other way around. “I just don’t do it…a lot.”
He gave me an amused smile. “Hmm…what’s a lot?”
“I don’t know,” I replied quickly. “How often do you jerk off?”
“Depends on my schedule. Four times a week minimum, two times a day if I have more time on my hands.”
I laughed at his pun, sure that it was intentional. “You’re very honest,” I said, though what I was thinking was, That seems extremely time-consuming.
His dimples became more defined with his smile. “Well, you should probably know I usually don’t talk about my masturbation habits with just any woman.”
Misadventures with a Sexpert Page 6
