The tension he’s carrying visibly drains from his stiff shoulders, and he literally appears to breathe a sigh of relief, as he runs his hands through his hair. It’s a little longer on top now, his chin area a little scruffier, but the effect isn’t one that makes you think “homeless guy.” With his hair all tousled on top, like bedhead on a male model, he looks positively fuckable.
I can’t help it, I still want him.
I’m not stupid though. He’s been avoiding me for weeks, will hardly acknowledge my presence, and even goes so far as to make a point not to speak to me when Lyra tries to converse with us both at the same time. He’ll answer his sister, and not even look in my direction. It used to be that he’d take any opportunity he was given to ask me a question, to get to know me better. Now, not so much.
I thought it was hard to seduce him before, but if I want to do it after all that’s happened between us, I’ll have to put on the act of my life and pull out every trick in the book… and then some new ones. At least I know the attraction is still present from his side. It’s evident in the way he tracks my every move when I walk into a room and thinks I’m not paying attention. It’s evident in the way he still cares about my wellbeing. It’s evident in the fact his hardened cock pushes against my leg as he stands here in front of me, impossible to ignore.
For whatever reason, though, he got angry over me having a hand in the whole Grace set-up, followed by Lyra’s announcement that Miles and I were going on a date. And then, he got scared, causing him to shut down and push me as far away as he possibly could. My next moves must be chosen wisely, have got to give me the inability to be refused, need to turn him on so much that he can’t stand the thought of taking the time to remove all our clothes first. So, what do I choose to do?
I push my mug further down the counter, away from us, and then lean back so he has a better view of me, letting my hands splay out as they run across the surface behind me for support. Despite not making a single noise and standing stone cold still, the look on his face is transparent in showing his curiosity. Leaning most of my weight onto one hand, I bring the other to the hollow of my throat, slowly tracing an invisible line across my collarbone and then dragging my fingers down the curve of my shoulder. As I do, I bring the spaghetti strap of my yoga-bra with it, my breast springing free. I quickly do the same with the other side.
“Sloane,” Gray reprimands as if I’m being warned of an eminent danger. “We shouldn’t be doing this again.” His words nearly cause me to chicken out, but here I am already halfway stripped, so, what the hell? Go hard or go home, right?
“The crime’s already been done. I think how many times it occurs, in this instance, is pretty insignificant, don’t you?” I reply, practicing bringing out the throaty quality of my voice.
Lips set in a thin line, Gray rolls his shoulders as if warming up for a fight.
“I like you Sloane. You’re funny. You’re beautiful. You’re smart. You’re witty. You’re sexy as hell, and you’re a good friend to my sister. I’d be straight up lying if I said I didn’t want you right now. You’re sitting here in front of me like a goddess, and my eyes can’t even help but to drink in those luscious tits. You and me, though, we’re a bad idea. It’s not smart.”
I lean in, so close that I could swipe my tongue out across his lips if I wanted. We’re breathing the same breaths, sharing the same air. I can taste him with each inhalation.
“Your point?” I ask, before I close the distance, and I really do swipe my tongue across his lips playfully, before fusing them together. He kisses me back like he’s been just as starved for me. I open for him more as his tongue expertly teases my own, before he breaks away to nip and suck on my bottom lip.
Oh my god.
That nip causes a throbbing at my core, a desperate neediness that aches to be satisfied.
Gray runs his hand up the back of my thigh, sliding underneath my ass to cradle it in his over-sized palms. His fingertips brush against my sex causing me to moan into his mouth. It’s me who breaks our frenzied kiss, but only so that I can place feathery soft kisses up and down each side of his neck as my palm dips into the front of his pants and slides into his boxers, grabbing his thick cock in my fist and pumping it slowly.
“This feels right to me, for it to not be a good idea, for it to be so wrong…” I mumble against his skin, before licking and sucking there.
“Fuck,” is his only reply, before pushing away from me to roughly yank down my shorts, the slight pain of the act only adding to my excitement. In the back of my mind, I tell myself that my plan is working, and I’m elated, but I also know that it needs to be failsafe. Before he has the opportunity to take me, I slide off the edge of the bar and kneel before him. Gripping the front of his pants in my fist, I swiftly slip them down his muscular thighs, watching in fascination as his length springs free at eye-level.
I know what I’m going to do, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m not completely sure of the how part. The only knowledge I have, are the videos I watched on YouTube a few weeks ago, when I searched “How to Give a Proper Blowjob.” I decided to look into the matter after I lost my virginity to Gray, even though things went bad rather quickly afterwards, and I didn’t really think I’d ever get to put my study material into action. The videos made me blush, and they made me laugh. They usually used fruit for the demonstrations, but some parts were informative. Now, here I am, needing to pull that information back out of the vault in which I placed it, the quicker the better. Confidence and enthusiasm were both big pointers, so, we’ll stick to those at first.
I gaze up at him, seeking courage from his full force smoldering stare. He’s watching me with fascination and interest. With a tentative flick, I first, roll my tongue along the velvety flesh of his swollen head. Circling. Tasting. Bobbing my head slowly up and down, I relish in the way he grabs by hair and squeezes at the roots, the raw pain of his reaction so wicked, I’ve never felt more powerful than I do in this moment.
His hand on the back of my head continues to guide me, and when he elicits a low guttural growl followed by a string of expletives, I know I’m doing something right. I take him deeper, so deeply that he’s hitting the back of my throat, and I still have a third of his length in my fist as I pump. My eyes are watering but I love it all, the taste of him, his reactions to each and every thing I do. Most of all, I love the fact that I’ve never felt so alive.
Maintaining my current rhythm, I lock eyes with him again, scraping my fingernails along his inner thigh and witnessing the molten looks he’s giving me turn primal and savage.
“Fuck, Sloane…” My name falls off his lips in a desperate plea as he throws his head back, pumping forward two more times before ordering, “you have to stop. Wanna be inside of you,” as he pulls himself out of my mouth with a pop!
Gray helps me to my feet, and then spins me around to face away from him. The string of my thong snaps with the flick of his fingers, the thin fabric floating to the floor. His hot mouth finds my throat, sucking gently at the same time his left hand snakes around me, rolling my nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
His other hand lays flat against my stomach, anchoring me against him before dropping lower, seeking the pulsing spot that needs him most. Expertly, Gray pulls my earlobe between his teeth and sucks at the same time the heel of his hand pushes against my clit, grinding with just the right pressure there as his fingers delve into me. First one, and then two. I gasp as he continues working me. His erection presses against my back and I instinctively roll my hips impatiently over it.
“You’re already ready for me. Did you get this wet just from doing that to me?” his hot breath against my ear causes an eruption of goosebumps, and my nipples to become impossibly harder.
“Mmmhmm,” I whimper. He could ask me to do anything right now, and that would probably be my answer.
Finally, his hand moves from my chest to his cock positioning himself at my opening, his hardness to my softness. He pushes me flat against
the countertop, my breasts flattened against the cold surface and my back arched. Dragging the head of his erection from clit to entrance, I shudder, my body wrought with anticipation. But he pauses.
“Fuck,” he curses, “I don’t have a condom.”
“I’m on the pill, and I’ve only ever been with… you,” I offer, blushing.
“I’m clean, but I’ve never had sex with anyone without one.” He pauses to mull it over for a whole second, before driving into me, all the way to the hilt.
“Been wanting to take you like this since that first day in the hallway,” he grunts. “That pretty ass was raised high in the air as you struggled to regain your footing.” His hands dig into my hips as he continues to thrust. Leaning forward he kisses down my spine and I shiver.
“Touch yourself,” he orders.
Is it normal for men to order women around during sex? I sure as hell wouldn’t be okay with it in normal interactions, but now, it’s like I need it, his guidance. His commands only add to the frenzied pleasure overwhelming me. I follow his directive, and it’s only about thirty seconds later that I’m crying out so loudly, he has to cover my mouth so the sounds don’t carry upstairs. I bite down on the skin of his palm as I ride out the last lingering spasms of my orgasm, eliciting a curse from him as he pounds into me harder for a few beats.
Just when I’m sure he’s about to come, he pulls out of me so fast it’s dizzying, whirling me around to face him as he cups my ass and lifts me back onto the counter. He aligns himself with my slick entrance before slamming into me unceremoniously, picking up right where we left off.
“Need to see your face.”
His explanation moves me somewhere deep inside, somewhere it shouldn’t, so I shove it away for further exploration at a later date. I can’t be distracted right now, not when all I can focus on are the way his abs contract each time he drives forward. Or the sweat glistening down his broad chest. Or the way the veins pop out on his forearms when he grips my hips harder. Those are all distraction enough.
My fingers wrap around his biceps to steady myself. “We’re going to come together this time. Wanna see your pretty face when you come for me, because of me. I own that.” He leans in and gives me a searing kiss, and then whispers against my lips how perfect I am.
I would probably laugh at that sentiment, but he chooses that exact moment to spread his fingers out so that his thumb reaches my sex, putting just the right amount of pressure on my bundle of nerves. I’m over the edge instantly. His muscles tense up, taut and wiry, at almost the same time, and he moans against my lips, emptying himself into me.
He doesn’t pull away immediately. Instead, he kisses me sweetly on the lips, almost reverently as he cups my face and gazes into my eyes. The power he yields over me is unnerving, and to be honest, a little frightening. He holds the capacity to obliterate all my carefully laid out rules, all the things that keep my family’s identity anonymous, and my life orderly. And what’s worse?
I want him to.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Gray
“You’re not going on any more dates with Miles. You’re mine.” You’re mine. Those two words explode between us with an air of authority I can’t contain.
“Oh?” She asks, raising her eyebrows in surprise and pretending it’s merely a suggestion. It’s cute that she thinks it’s up for discussion.
“I’m serious, Buttercup.” I try to give her the most determined and commandeering look I can muster, but soften the blow by giving her a quick peck on the lips. She narrows her eyes, lips set in a thin line.
“Why on Earth do you keep calling me that atrocious name?” she questions in clear disdain.
“I’d figure that one would be obvious.” Her raised eyebrows are the only indication that she doesn’t get it. I sigh.
“Because Buttercups are a flower…”
She chooses to interject with, “more like a weed than anything.” Clearly she’s displeased with my opening argument. Time to pull out some poignant and poetic words and impress her.
“Maybe. But weeds thrive. They pop up where you least expect them, and then they flourish on their own accord, kinda like you. Plus, they’re yellow like the sun. I could call you sunshine, but that’s too common an endearment for you,” I openly admit. “This is the honest to God truth, no matter how wrong it is… You’re not just a ray of light in my life,” I continue, trying to find the right words, “You are the Sun. And you’re the moon too, Sloane.” I lay it all out there, subsequently being the most vulnerable I’ve ever been in my entire life, and scared as hell too.
“Valentina,” she proclaims softly, “but you can call me Valley.” Her eyes grow rounder than I’ve ever seen them, as she realizes her own admission.
“Explain,” I order. I already know the answer. I had an inkling during just the first week I spent around her. She moves around a lot. She doesn’t realize it, but sometimes, it takes saying her name more than once before she even responds. She acts apprehensive around new people. She avoids direct questions about her life.
When my mom was alive, I spent some time with her helping out in the women’s shelter, so I know what a woman hiding from her past looks like. Not to mention, that night I held her while she had a bad dream, she said a few things in her sleep. I’ve put most of the pieces together on my own, but I need her to fill in the rest. I’ve avoided pushing her because I knew she wasn’t ready, and more importantly, I wanted her to trust me. I wanted her to tell me on her own. The fact that she just did, makes me so damn happy I can hardly contain it.
She gulps and then takes a deep breath as she braces herself. “I told you I was from New Jersey, which by the way, that information right there is already more than I’ve ever told anyone else. I also told you once that my Dad was dead. That’s not true. My Dad, he’s a bad man. He’s got money, and more importantly, he has a lot of resources at his disposal due to having influential people in his pocket.
“He deals in shady businesses, I’m not really sure what all he does, Mom has never said. But he kept my mom and me pretty much locked away in our apartment, watching our every move, and whenever we left, he always had someone escorting us. I think that was more to watch my mom, than to keep us safe. The things I told you about him not wanting me, those are true too. He never wanted kids, it may have been better if I would have been a boy, but who really knows? Before I was born, Mom was his arm candy. Afterwards, she lost her usefulness in his life. Most men fall more in love with their wife after she has bears their children, but with my parents, my dad practically grew to hate her because of it.
“My mom fled with me when I was about six years old, and the only way she got away was because of my uncle, my dad’s brother. There’s some weird dynamic between them that I don’t understand. She goes and meets him every now and then and he gives her details about what my dad’s been up to. Unbeknownst to my father, he keeps his ears open for new information on our whereabouts and if my dad has any new intel on us. It works because he’s about the only person my father actually trusts, and the only person besides me that my mother trusts. Ironic huh? It’s not too farfetched to say that my father would use me as a pawn, a way to hurt my mom, if given the opportunity. Hence the reason we use fake names and never stay too long in one place. He’s nicknamed The Dom of Jersey, by his associates and his enemies, Dom being a play on his name, Dominic, and the way he dominates and handles everything in his life with an iron fist. It’s almost like a way for even the people who fear him, to acknowledge and respect him,” she remarks in a whispered rush.
“If I ever meet the bastard, he’s fucking dead. I’ll kill him with my bare hands and enjoy doing it,” I growl out, fantasizing about watching the light leave his eyes. What kind of fucker treats the mother of his kid, and his own flesh and blood like that? What kind of man would even be able to bring his own daughter harm, just to get back at his wife? Not a man at all, that’s for damn sure. He’s the reason my girl has had the life she has,
missed out on so many things.
“Don’t say things like that. You’d go to prison and I’d live the rest of my life depressed and moping about because of it. It would be worse than the life I live now just knowing I was the reason yours was ruined. Not a fair trade, Gray. If you want to help me, then help me live my life to fullest while I’m in this town,” she pleads, worry filling her features. “And please, swear to me you won’t tell this stuff to your sister. For her protection, and for mine.”
“This stays between us,” I agree. She pulls me into a kiss, lingering, sweet, and full of hope.
“I’ve got to get back to bed before your sister realizes I’m not there. But out of curiosity, what were you doing up so late?”
“Santa Clause needed to eat his cookies,” I shrug.
Her face lights up. I’m happy my simple statement helped fight her demons.
“Goodnight Gray,” she discloses, giving me one last peck on the lips before heading back upstairs.
It hits me, as I watch her retreating into the darkened hallway and out of sight, as I watch her walking away from me: I only have her for a few months. A surging pain of loss ignites in my chest. I know from personal experience how difficult it is when someone you care about walks out of your life, by choice and by death. I’ve know them both. The old me would try to push her way immediately, and for good, to sever all ties.
It’s because of her, though, I feel like a changed man. A better man. And most importantly, I feel needed. She needs me, and I will do everything in my power to be worthy of her, everything in my power to make her life the absolute best while I have her.
XoXo
Christmas morning is an event. It’s the best Christmas we’ve had since Mom’s passing, and I can’t help but think that it has everything to do with Sloane, correction, Valley’s presence. Her finally telling me her real name, despite the fact that I already technically knew it, that was the best present she could have given me. She gave a piece of herself to me that no one else has had, and then she gave me her given name? I’m feeling cocky as hell right now.
Love on the Run Page 25
