I can’t wait to get to that fucking bra.
And then I can’t wait to get her out of it.
As my cock nudges against her, Greer responds with a little moan of pleasure that ricochets through my chest. Every piece of this dance feels exactly perfect—entirely us. Even when we break apart, we’re both grinning, breathing heavy but smiling ear to ear.
“I’ve waited a long time to do that,” I admit.
Her eyes sparkle back at me. “I’ve waited a long time for you to do that, too.”
Jesus Christ.
I pull away long enough to scoop up the ice cream and throw it back into the freezer, and then I’m kissing her again, tracing my fingers along her jaw.
“Cold!” she yelps, but she laughs and wraps her arms around my neck, and then somehow, without talking about it, we stumble out of the kitchen toward her bedroom like our bodies are dragging us.
Like gravity.
Greer’s room is a secret chamber, but I’m too busy kissing her and feeling her tremble under my touch to notice much more than the unmade bed and the clothes stacked haphazardly on top of her dresser. Her room’s a mess, but in the perfect chaos we fit together exactly right. I feel like Indiana Jones, about to plunder and pillage, make out with precious treasure like the luckiest bastard on earth. But she’s offering herself up to me willingly, her breathing ragged and her cheeks flushed. There’s no doubt that we’ve been leading to this moment for a lifetime. We were always going to end up here.
I slide a hand down the front of Greer’s soft sweater, tracing her perfect curves and the plane of her stomach before unbuttoning her jeans and dipping into her underwear.
She sways under me with a gasp as my fingers explore her perfect, slick secrets, learning her with a touch.
“You’re so wet, Greer.”
She swivels her hips to tantalize me, then responds with a throaty purr. “You make me feel so good.”
And that’s exactly the point. All I ever want to do is give her whatever she wants.
I stroke a finger inside her and try to read her. The way her eyes darken and then flutter closed. The way she bites her lower lip with a moan.
Her breath grows shallow, and her hair spills down her back in this gorgeous wave, and then I can’t wait anymore. I pull my hand out of her underwear and feel my way back up her stomach until my hands brush the silky edge of her sweater.
Greer gives a little whimper of protest at the absence of my touch, but I need her naked. To not just feel but to see.
The soft fabric of her shirt whispers promises in my palms as I tug it slowly up her stomach to reveal her bellybutton and smooth, luscious curves.
Of all the seasons, autumn is the perfect time to fall in love. You have to work for skin, and the anticipation is its own kind of pleasure. Tonight, undressing her feels like a game where everyone wins.
I slide the sweater higher until I spot the edge of Greer’s lacy bra. Higher still until it’s up and over her head, and she’s taking off her glasses and lifting her hands to help me.
I lob the sweater away and gape at her for a minute. She’s everything—beautiful and fresh and real. The sheer lace of her bra reveals perfect pink nipples on lush, round breasts. Curvy, inviting hips clad in her unbuttoned jeans. And a heart that knows me. Greer’s the one woman who’s seen the biggest part of me, and she’s still here, smiling at me like I’m everything she wants too.
“See something you like?” she teases, an echo of the kitchen.
This time I don’t pretend I’m after anything but her.
“Hell yes,” I growl.
I close the distance between us, and her grin dissolves into giggles. I nudge her back on the bed and she falls with a gasp, then lifts her hips to help me peel the jeans from her skin.
Her underwear is the same lacy coral fabric as her bra. Also see-through.
A matching set.
Lord, help me.
I lower my head to her stomach, kiss a circle around her bellybutton. Then lower still until I’m hovering just above the lace. I hook my fingers under the skimpy fabric and relieve her of the underwear, and then she’s mine and she’s here and she’s so fucking amazing that I need my tongue on her, now.
In her.
I bury my head between her legs, hook one of her legs over my shoulder to hold her open to me. Then I lavish her sweet pussy with attention—long, slow licks down her center and short, fast sucks on her clit.
With a moan, Greer drops her hands to my hair and holds me there while I feast. While I memorize the salty-sweet taste of her, the feel of her clit in my mouth, the way she shudders and trembles at my touch.
“So good, Locke.”
Her hips buck for me, circle shamelessly, and I grin against her skin. Pulse a finger inside her, beside my greedy tongue.
“Wait,” she gasps. She levers herself onto her elbows and tugs one hand through my hair, spiking giddy pleasure through my veins.
I pull away and rest my chin on her stomach to catch her eye.
Greer’s gaze is wild and filled with lust, her perfect hair mussed and her chest rising with unsteady breath.
“You okay?” I ask.
Her cheeks turn even pinker. “I just…” She glances away and then brings her gaze to mine. “I want to come with you.”
What did I do to end up here? How did I get this lucky?
“Oh, you will, babe. Trust me, you will.”
She shakes her head at me with a grin that makes me feel like I’m fucking ten feet tall. “You’re incorrigible,” she whispers, then flops back on the bed with a happy sigh.
“At your service.”
I resume my pursuit, chasing her orgasm along with her. I suck her and fuck her with my mouth until she arches her back and clutches the bedsheets and shakes under my touch.
“Oh my god, Locke,” she pants. “That feels so good. Just like that. Just like… yes.” Her breath hitches higher and higher, and her legs stiffen. I push another finger inside her and don’t dare slow down my relentless pace. “I’m gonna come,” she gasps. “Don’t stop. Don’t—ah!” My touch renders her wordless, mindless, and she shudders—fucking explodes—and the moan that pierces me makes my cock harder than I think it’s ever been.
I grin against her skin, kiss a trail back up her belly, pulling down the cup of her bra to suck one perfect nipple into my mouth. Then I brush my lips over her collarbone and breathe her in. She smells like sex and perfume and Greer. God, how could I not love her?
I rest my head on the pillow beside Greer, and she smiles at me. It’s a whole body smile, even though she’s still breathing heavy. I expect her to need a minute to recover, but she shoots me a dangerous, seductive grin and rolls from her back onto her arms.
“You’re still dressed,” she considers. She steadies herself with a palm on my chest and swings a leg over me until she’s straddling me. Only the thin fabric of my boxers separates her naked body from mine, and that barrier is nothing. The head of my cock nudges her slit, and she closes her eyes for a second and rubs herself along me with a moan.
If it feels like this now—like every nerve in my body is alive and shimmering with electricity—what’s it going to feel like when I’m inside her? I feel like I’m going to die, not being inside her, my balls heavy and my skin aching.
“Greer,” I rasp, trying to keep it together.
Her eyes fly open, and she sinks her teeth into her lower lip. A crease of concentration forms between her brows as she unbuttons my shirt with shaking hands. Her look is so breathlessly focused that I groan under her touch.
She feathers a hand over my chest and then further down until she’s teasing me through my boxers, her hot hands stroking me into a frenzy. Then, with a smile, she tugs the fabric off of me.
“This okay?” she asks. She studies me with big eyes, the hard, heavy proof of all my desire out here in the open, bobbing between us.
“God, yes.”
Her returning grin lights up my chest.
She snaps a ponytail holder off her wrist and bundles her hair on her head, and it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen because I can guess what’s coming. But when she bends to work me, I realize how lacking my imagination’s been all this time. Greer—with her hot, wet mouth around me—is better than any fantasy I could have dreamed.
She fucking lights me up from root to tip, sucking me into her mouth until I’m jerking in her grip. She cradles my balls with one hand while the other follows the trail of her mouth, her satisfied hum reverberating down the length of my shaft.
“Jesus,” I hiss. “Greer, stop. I’m gonna—God.”
My head falls back on a groan of pleasure, but I make myself pull open my eyes and look.
Her wet, pink lips feel so good on me, her mouth filled with my cock. She makes this face of absolute enjoyment, her eyes closed in pleasure. But I’m not going to finish like this. Not without bringing her what we’re here for. I told her she was going to come with me, and dammit, she will.
I gently pull away from her and flip her down onto the bed. We’re both skin and breath and heart as I cover her body with mine. I kiss her like I’m never going anywhere because I can’t imagine ever being anywhere but here, and Greer parts her legs for me, opening until we’re aligned and touching but not all the way there.
I lower my head, holding her in my arms, and nip her earlobe. “Condom?”
“Bedside drawer,” she pants.
I rip open the wrapper with my teeth and slide it on, then brace my arms beside Greer’s head and hover over her.
She strokes her hands over my biceps with an appreciative grin.
“What’s that smile for?” I ask. Her damp heat is there, so close that my mouth waters and my body shakes, but I need to know she’s okay before we cross this line. Not that we didn’t already cross so many lines, but there’s always another line somewhere. This one feels like the biggest line. There’s no coming back from here, but I’d never want that anyway. Not when she makes me feel so fucking turned on and wanted and loved.
I feel loved.
She doesn’t have to say anything, but it’s some truth that echoes in my chest along with my thumping heart.
“Everything.” Greer’s blue eyes sparkle like the ocean. “Your arms.”
I laugh and align our bodies. “Pushups,” I say, and then I slide into her and lose my mind.
Greer’s laugh ripples into a moan of absolute pleasure, and I feel it too. It’s not just her body, tight and wet around me, it’s the way it feels to be right here in this moment. Our bodies fit so perfectly that I need to slow down for a second to regain a semblance of control. But then Greer clenches down around me, milking me, and my cock swells inside her. Hunger rips through my body and I need to move, can’t hold back anymore, and I push inside her until I’m balls-deep and heart-deep and so far gone that I couldn’t possibly find my way back.
I thrust into her, in and out, slow at the start but faster and faster as everything strips away except for us on this bed, in this room, together. I rain kisses over her whole face, stroking into her the whole time, some primal energy propelling me forward.
Breath flies out of us, and we’re both panting and sweaty in the best possible way. Our teeth bang together as we kiss, our tongues tangling, our mouths and bodies happy.
Greer kneads my ass in her hands, coaxing me, urging me deeper, harder, and I indulge her, thrusting so hard her headboard bangs against the wall in a rhythmic thump.
“Good thing your roommate’s gone,” I pant.
“Very good,” she agrees, and it’s the understatement of the year because she’s loud and I’m loud and it feels good to be vocal and guttural and to let this energy rip through our bodies and release somehow. Because there’s so much energy, so much pleasure that I can’t possibly contain it inside.
Greer wraps her legs all the way around me, tightening so there’s no more space between us.
“You’re going to make me come, Greer. I’m so close.” I’m losing control and she has my heart in her hands and I can feel the heat taking over and right now it’s about holding it back just long enough to make sure she’s here with me.
“Me too, Locke.” Her voice is shaking apart, we’re both shaking apart, and then coming together.
Heat boils through me, my balls tightening, and I come in a blaze of sensation, the pulse of my cock so strong that it sets Greer off, too.
Her moan is wordless and loud, but I feel her grip me, her pussy rippling around me. And with the last bit of sense I have left, I open my eyes in time to watch the orgasm grip her, roll through her—this thing that I gave her. That we made.
I thought I knew Greer before, but I didn’t realize what I was missing. How much I needed this part of her to belong to me, to know that I’m the cause of her pleasure, her deepest desire.
I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than the look on her face.
I sink down beside her and roll onto my back with the biggest smile of my life. We lie together and stare up at the ceiling while our bodies come back to earth.
Then I brush a stray strand of hair behind Greer’s ear and kiss her forehead. “We should have done that ages ago.”
“I know.” She nestles against my chest with a contented smile. “That was the best tahini of my life.”
17
Greer
“Is it me, or are you really feeling the holiday spirit?” Eden asks, sweeping her eyes over my outfit with a smile.
I bounce on my toes for effect, and the fifty jingle bells sewn to my green boatneck shirt jingle on cue. “How could I not wear my ugly sweater to our gift exchange?”
Technically, the monstrosity is a sweatshirt, and in addition to the jingle bells, the shirt bears photos of six horrified-looking animals—a couple of cats and dogs with bows tied to their fur and a standout sloth who contrasts with all the domesticated animals. The sloth wears a humiliated look on his face like he knows he’s being exploited.
I’m really covering all my bases.
Eden taps a finger to her lips. “I don’t know. I think the shirt’s only part of the whole holiday thing you’ve got going on.”
“What do you mean?”
She gives me a knowing look and hooks her arm through mine to lead me toward the conference room where our party’s being held. “Well, your smokin’ hickey, for one.”
“Oh, crap.” My cheeks flame, and I tug the neckline of my sweatshirt higher. “I thought my makeup covered it.”
Last night, Locke snuck out of my place around eight p.m., assuring me he had to finish up his Secret Santa gift. I fell back into my bed, which still smelled like him—like us—and didn’t climb out of it until my alarm blared this morning, so I didn’t notice the hickey on my neck until I was already running ten minutes late to work.
The mark makes me feel like I’m fifteen, embarrassed but also wickedly proud. The evidence of Locke’s lust is right here on my neck, and it feels so good to know he’s been feeling everything I’ve been feeling right along with me.
“Just take your hair out of your ponytail,” Eden whispers. When I comply, she grins at me. “Better. And for the record, it’s okay. You look really happy.”
I glance over my shoulder, but no one else is around to hear. “Thank you. I am.”
“You deserve it.”
I don’t actually know what’s going on with me and Locke, but after last night, I don’t really care about having a name for it. All I know is that what happened between us smashed all my doubts and I’m totally okay with that.
The halls fill with more of our colleagues, and Eden and I turn the conversation toward conjecture of who everyone’s Secret Santas might be. As the organizer of the event, Eden already knows who’s been matched with who, but she indulges my guesses with a grin.
When we arrive at the conference room, I stop short with a gasp just inside the doorway. “Oh my gosh, Eden. You did all this?”
She gives a humble nod, but transforming the conf
erence room into this winter wonderland must have been no small feat. The four huge tables normally scattered throughout the room have been pushed together to form one large square. A wintry blue tablecloth covers the white tabletops, and miniature Christmas trees cluster in the middle of the table, while drifts of fake snow decorate the centerpiece. A counter in the back of the room boasts an assortment of cakes and hors d’oeurvres, along with a row of alcohol bottles, and the bench beneath the picture window holds everyone’s mystery gifts. Even the conference room video screen has been put to use, playing a video of Ron Swanson sipping Lagavulin whiskey in front of a crackling fire.
“This is incredible,” I say.
“I have to agree. Nice work, Eden.”
I turn at the sound of Damien’s voice as Eden dips into a mini curtsey and the room fills up around us. My ex stands beside me in a crisp blue button-down shirt that matches the decor perfectly, and I have to admit he looks good. With his neat hair and his clean-shaven skin that shows off his square jaw, he’s every bit the model of the successful tech mogul. But now that I know what it’s like to have Locke’s stubble beard rasp across my most sensitive skin, now that I know what it’s like to have his talented tongue play my body like a piano—the sparkling high notes, the crashing lows—Damien holds none of his former appeal.
He’s not a bad person, he’s just not my person.
Damien’s eyes drop to my neck and his jaw tightens, his blue eyes darkening from sky to storm in an instant.
Crap. Did he see, too?
I sweep my hair forward over my shoulder to hide my hickey, wishing I wasn’t close enough for him to have noticed.
When I signed up to this agreement with Locke, I thought I’d want Damien to react like this. I wanted him to care about leaving me, or at least recognize what he’d lost. But none of that matters anymore. All that matters is Locke, picking his way through the crowd with two glasses of holiday punch, his eyes so warm on mine that it feels like I’m holding the sun in my chest.
The Fake Date Agreement (Awkward Arrangements Book 1) Page 10
