“You seem to like playing with fire. Did you think I was kidding?”
Imagining that I’m the prey who’s caught and about to be devoured by the wolf, I gulp, then shake my head. My pulse is galloping rapidly in my chest, all senses heightened from the adrenaline flooding my veins.
“Uh-oh. Looks like the temptress has suddenly lost her wits,” he goads. “You think it’s funny, teasing me like that? Giving me that come-hither stare, all the while driving me delirious with the show you were putting on for me? Trying to lure me in? Guess what, it worked. I’m here. Now what’s your move going to be, Buttercup?” he asks, and I realize the next play is completely up to me.
I’m a little nervous. A little frantic. And a lot turned-on. It only takes about three seconds for me to make up my mind. I know what I want, and I’m willing to do whatever I need to, including completely humiliating myself, in order to get it.
Chapter Nineteen
Gray
It all started out with me tossing and turning, unable to sleep, and incapable of getting Sloane off my mind. Today… didn’t go how I originally envisioned, let’s just leave it at that. Those lips. That kiss lingering so that I could still taste her sweet minty flavor. How could something that was completely and one hundred percent wrong, feel so damn good?
It didn’t help that she was practically underneath me, a floor down, but still. My body couldn’t tell the difference. So, I snuck downstairs to catch a glimpse of her, stalker-ish and pathetic as it was. Maybe she was a snorer and I’d luck out. Snoring was a deal-breaker for me.
I expected to find her completely zonked out, we’d had a busy day, after all. Instead, I walked in on her whimpering and thrashing around in her sleep. It scared the hell out of me, causing my chest to tighten and grow heavy like it was filled with cement.
I had suffered from nightmares before, and I understood it, the helplessness of being unable to free yourself from the sleep holding you in place, that feeling of being trapped in your own body. So, I woke her up. Then, I attempted to comfort her. Finally, I invited her to my room for… a night cap? No. For some cake and some extra comforting. All of this in spite of the warning bells going off in my head saying “Gray this is a bad idea,” and “hey stupid, you’ve already gone and fucked up twice already.”
Oh, well. Call me stupid. I’ll agree with you there.
Once in my bedroom, everything started off sweet and innocent. That is, until it wasn’t. One minute I’m digging into some cake, the perfect midnight snack, one I hardly ever indulge in, because, hello… Six-pack. The next minute, she’s got her head thrown back, eyelids fluttering closed in appreciation like she was in the throes of passion or something. I swear, Sloane eating cake is probably the most erotic thing I’ve ever witnessed. Then she just had to let that little moan escape those lush lips. Can’t she control herself? Those noises made my dick move.
So, I warned her, thinking it would scare her into behaving herself.
Nope.
The little minx decided to play with me, abandoning her insecurities and joining in with the big leaguers.
Hot damn.
I didn’t know what I was in for when I invited her up. I thought, maybe some cuddling, talking, reassuring, all the typical things girl’s need when they’re emotionally traumatized. Now, as I hover over her, looking into her eyes, there’s only one thing on my mind.
She’s shocked at the sudden turn of the events, clearly not thinking I’d take the bait this quickly, which just goes to show her inexperience. I’m only a man, and it’s like we’ve been participating in the world’s longest foreplay all day long. Hell, you could really count it as beginning the moment we met.
“You seem to like playing with fire. Did you think I was kidding?” I ask her, dead serious.
The look on her face is the perfect mixture of lust and fear. She gulps, pulling my attention to the throbbing vein in her neck, visible due to her rapid heartbeat, another sign of how turned-on she is. Slowly and cautiously, she shakes her head. Good, she’s acting as if she’s in front of a bear and afraid to make any sudden movements that might cause it to attack.
I think I’ve accomplished what I set out to do: Scare the vixen right out of her. Because no matter how hard she tries to seduce, I know she’s innocent. There might be varying degrees of innocence, and I’m not sure where she’s at on that scale, but the point is that she IS on it. I just need to push a little harder to close, then we’ll go back to just the friendship aspect of things. That thought makes me feel like a toddler who’s just had his new shiny toy taken away, but hey, it’s how things need to be.
“Uh-oh. Looks like the temptress has suddenly lost her wits,” I tease in a cruel manner, or I attempt to, but my voice sounds husky instead. “You think it’s funny, teasing me like that? Giving me that come-hither stare, all the while driving me delirious with the show you were putting on for me? Trying to lure me in? Guess what, it worked. I’m here. Now what’s your move going to be, buttercup?”
Here’s the part where she backs down. Chickens out. Tears out of here, screaming all the while. Job well-done, Gray, I mentally congratulate myself. No more placing myself in the direct line of temptation.
Staring into her fearful eyes, still displaying my over-confident smirk, I witness a spark of mischief ignite. She quickly turns the tables on me, as she wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me in even closer until our pelvises meet, making her painstakingly aware of just how much she’s turning me on. Her eyes widen slightly, and she glances between us where we’re contacting. I can’t help but grin down at her.
That’s right, Buttercup, I’m a monster.
Pulling her lip into her mouth, she bites down, and I, for once, am anxious because I’m completely unsure of what she’s thinking. Maybe she’ll stop this, show some self-restraint where I’m doomed to fail. Then her face lights up with a new look. Determination. And I know immediately, I’m a goner.
Fighting the chemistry we share, is like swimming against a roaring current after a storm. I’m nearly out of energy. Exhausted, I’m ready to drown in it. To get swept away, allowing it to consume me. Hooking her hands underneath my arms, and pressing them to my shoulder blades, she coaxes me down to her, at first, placing a chaste kiss on my lips. But when she grazes my bottom lip with her teeth, nipping a little, it turns me into a fucking madman.
My hand snakes up her side, exposing her soft and delicate skin beneath her shirt, as I explore her. Deepening the kiss, I brush my fingers across her ribcage. She shudders in response, and releases a tiny giggle which in turn makes me smile. I wish I could drink in her laugh, as if it were a potion providing me with the constant happiness and sunshine continually emanating from her. Whenever she’s near, that same happiness transfers to me, and if I could just harness that feeling permanently, I could take on the world.
Wondering if she’s still wearing the same bra from earlier, I inch a little bit higher, eager to fondle the delicate lace beneath my fingertips once more. What I find, however, is that she’s wearing no bra at all and I’m suddenly tracing the curve of her breast. Her rushed intake of air and the fact that she suddenly scrapes her fingernails slowly on my back, spurs me on.
Breaking away from her lips, only to drop a string of kisses down her neck and across her collarbone, I brush the pad of my thumb across her satiny flesh until her nipples pebble beneath my caress. I lift back up slightly, to get a glimpse of her face and gauge her reaction, because she’s suddenly become quiet. Her cheeks are flushed. Her eyes hooded with desire, pupils slightly dilated, when she suddenly looks a little panicked.
“Gray, please, don’t stop this time… I need this,” she pleads, and it becomes apparent that her panic was due to the fear I would walk away again. Grabbing my shirt and making fists, she begins pulling it over my head. When she tosses it to the side, I do the same to her, pausing only to glance one more time into her eyes for confirmation that this is what she truly wants. Swallowing, she nods, raising
up to make it easier to get off.
She’s now naked from the waist up, and I stare down in blatant and obvious appreciation, completely unapologetic as I drink her in. Her nipples are a beautiful rosy hue, and although it wasn’t a secret that she had nice breasts, now that I can actually lay eyes on them… Fucking Hell. They’re perfect, perky, and full. The rise and fall of her chest increases as she attempts to shield herself from me. I reach out and snatch away her wrists, placing both in one of my hands and cupping her face with the other. Her eyes slam shut in… humiliation? But that can’t be, because she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.
“Sloane, open your eyes and look at me, NOW.” Her beautiful gray eyes flutter open at my command.
“Don’t hide yourself from me. EVER. You. Are. Beautiful,” I grit out, “You’re fucking perfect! So, don’t act like you, or any part of your body, are otherwise.” I skim her cheek, mumbling, “Your face, your eyes, your lips, your taste,” I continue as I rub the pad of my thumb across her bottom lip. “Your complexion, your hair,” I remark, rubbing a few strands between my fingers. I release it, and drag the back of my hand across the hollow of her throat and down between the valley of her breasts, “these… and every other part of you, including your personality… It’s all perfect,” I add. “But do you trust me? That’s the most important thing tonight.” Seconds masquerade as hours. The question hangs in the air for what seems like an eternity as I await her response. I need her answer like it’s life or death.
“Like no one else,” she admits softly. One sentence, but it’s all I need. It’s a balm to my torn and conflicted soul, and I might not be sure of where our paths are going to lead, but I am sure about tonight. She’s right. We’re both adults, and it’s unfair to make such a big decision for her, particularly when deep down, I want her too. It’s simple really, when you take away all the other aspects. Just me and her, on this night, giving in to what our bodies crave.
I peel away the remaining layers of her clothes, save for her lacy thong, my mind filling with the need to worship her body uninterrupted, no wayward thoughts, no doubts.
“Gray, a little more action and a little less… gawking,” she sweetly insists with humor in her voice. She reaches for my buckle, undoes it, and then makes quick work of unfastening my jeans. I’m stripped down to my boxers in no time.
Dipping my head, I kiss her again, greedily this time as I inch down her body pausing at her luscious breasts. I flatten my tongue, dragging it across her rosy bud, sucking gently at first, and then more forcefully. The soft whimpering sounds coming from her lips become my new favorite melody, and the thing about finding a new favorite tune, is that you want to put it on repeat. Over. And over. And over. Every flick of my tongue, every nip of my teeth, has her writhing beneath me.
Slipping my fingers beneath the band of her panties, she instantly tenses up, but as soon as I find that little erogenous spot, my finger falling into the perfect circular rhythm, she immediately becomes pliant, relaxing into the bed. Soon she’s moaning out my name, among other unintelligible words. My mouth seals to hers as I attempt to muffle her cries.
She’s so fucking sensual. It pisses me off to think about it, but in my head, I’m wondering what inexperienced and selfish bastard she’s been with before? She so responsive, squirming and gasping at my every caress. Sure, I’ve used girls for my own needs, what guy hasn’t? But I was at least courteous enough to make sure they got twice, at the very least. I might be a selfish bastard, but I’m not that narcissistic.
“Shhh…” I soothe her, as she rides out her first orgasm of the night. Yeah, she’ll be having more.
Right now, our bodies are completely in tune and I don’t miss the barely perceptible trembling as she leans into me. She smiles lazily up at me, then kisses me slowly again, allowing herself to begin a slow exploration of my body. She traces my chest, grazing my nipple with her nails in a gentle inward, outward motion. My body reacts involuntarily, my cock pushing insistently against my boxers and getting angrier with each passing second, desperate for the release I’m intending to withhold for as long as I can. Her hands slide down my sides, around to my abs, and I flex them even though I don’t really need to. I know I’m more than your average Joe, but right now, I’m hit with the same sudden onset of insecurity that she was experiencing earlier.
What I’d give to know her thoughts. I don’t know who she’s comparing me to. For me, she blows every other girl out of the water. But, what if she’s been with someone who’s Godly? Hotter than me? Has an eight-pack in comparison to my six-pack? More muscle definition? Or, by some miracle, someone with a bigger dick? (Although, I think that one might be a bit of a stretch).
Yeah, fuck all that. What really matters, is how many times I make her come.
And now… I’m determined to break records, to award her with more orgasms than she ever dreamed was possible, to make her forget about every guy before me and ruin her for every guy after.
XoXo
Valley
I’m so high on life right now, enjoying the remnants of my first non-manually induced orgasm, and relishing in the opportunity to freely explore Gray. He’s phenomenally fit, the ridges of his abs giving the impression they’ve been carved from stone for my own satisfaction. His skin is surprisingly softer than I would expect for a guy, although, his calloused palms clearly belong to a working man. I can’t imagine, especially after him, that I’d ever take pleasure in being touched by a man with soft hands. It wouldn’t feel right.
As I inch lower, my palm grows a little sweaty because I’ve never touched a man there before. I mean, I’ve never done anything like this at all, but touching his dick—it’s a big deal, pun intended.
I should have read the Kama Sutra or something. Shit! What if I do it wrong? What if he hates it, and kicks me out of his bed? Lyra could have given me some pointers, due to the fact she’s read every raunchy romance novel ever published. But, that wasn’t exactly an option. I can picture it now, “hey Lyra, how do you pleasure a man? No, I’m not wondering about Miles, I want to screw your brother.” BAM! End of friendship.
Okay, most people when embarking on a new endeavor, do so through trial and error. I guess I’ll just try some things, and ask if he likes it. Easy-peasy. But when I begin running my hand down the front of his boxers, he grabs it, and pulls it away.
Great, I’ve already done something wrong.
I look into his eyes, surprised, and confused, to see a devilish grin instead of the frown I was expecting. He shakes his head.
“Not yet. I’m not done playing with you,” he declares matter-of-factly, leaving no room for argument. Inwardly, I sigh in relief, until he begins kissing down my body. His lips travel past my breasts this time, down my stomach, not stopping. He goes so low, his hot breath seeps through the only fabric left covering me before he moves to my inner-thighs, his stubble tickling my thin layer of skin as he alternates between soft kisses and tiny nips of his teeth.
Good god. The throbbing between my legs becomes unbearable, and when he licks and kisses me through the fabric, allowing his hot breath to caress the now semi-damp material, I’m breathless. The wetness from his tongue mixed with his erratic breaths, turn arctic against my skin. Suddenly, he jerks the little strip of fabric away before I can protest, leaving me completely bare to him.
This is it, I think, I’m finally going to have sex. But I’m completely and utterly unprepared, when instead of climbing back up my body, he dips his head again.
“Gray, what are you doing?!” I yelp in surprise.
His only answer, is a quick and precise swipe of his tongue, across my folds, landing a direct strike to my bundle of nerves.
“Grrr-Gray, I don’t think…You shouldn’t…Wh-what are you doing?” I stutter in between the pants of breath I’m rapidly taking. I try to sound assertive but I’m begging instead.
He finally lifts his head long enough to give me a brief answer. “What am I doing? Tasting you,
and you taste like fucking peaches. Peach Cobbler to be precise… which is my favorite,” he says with an arrogant smirk, and when he resumes, I’ve lost all will to argue, and I’m unsure of why I was arguing in the first place.
“Oh, God,” I moan, my back arching and flattening with every flick and swirl of his tongue, completely incapable of withholding the passionate cries falling from my lips. I’m vaguely aware that I sound like someone in need of an exorcism, but too thoroughly enraptured in bliss to care. Suddenly, I’ve climbed as high as I can climb, and everything around me just… shatters. It’s almost too much to handle, much more intense than the first time. Even after that, he doesn’t stop. His demeanor indicates he’s more determined than ever.
“Too much,” I mumble-moan, not recognizing my own voice, but he ignores me. After a few minutes, I’m climbing again. Both hands find his hair, my nails harshly grating across his scalp causing him to growl, an untamed vibration that is positively tormenting. And when he latches onto my clit, sucking as he inserts his finger into me, that’s all it takes. I come undone, baring down on my tongue to keep from screaming at the top of my lungs.
Finally, he places a light and languorous kiss on my overly sensitive flesh, before making his way back up my body. When we’re finally face to face again, he gives me a look crossed somewhere between concern and complete adoration, like I’m treasured, as he cups my face and lightly rubs my cheek with his thumb. He says nothing for a few moments, just studying me, for so long that I grow uncomfortable and a little self-conscious.
“I want to make you feel like that,” I eagerly tell him. He smiles down at me.
“You already do,” he replies, before rolling off of me. The loss of our skin-to-skin contact is almost comparable to being dropped in razor-cold water… the effect comes abruptly
He pulls open the drawer of the bedside table, and comes back with a foil packet. Yes, I cheer inside, my mood instantly perking up as if I’ve just hit the lottery. He rips it open between his pearlescent teeth, but pauses, looking directly at me.
Love on the Run Page 21
