“Grace,” I protest. “You don’t–”
“What?” She pulls away, insulted. “You don’t want me to?”
“No that’s not what I meant, at all. It’s just what happ–”
Cutting me off, she attacks my mouth with hers, stopping the rest of my words before they can even fall from my mouth. “What happened with that asshole is not what’s happening with us.” Her voice, so strong and assertive, lets me know not to fight this.
Shaking my head, I realize I may be the only man in the history of men to ever say, “You don’t have to,” to an offer on a blow job.
Her fingers work at the button and fly of my shorts as her lips work against my neck. Growing impossibly hard, my body aches for her touch, but she doesn’t give it to me. “Gracie,” I beg as her tongue traces heated lines up and down my neck.
“What?” she teases, running her hands under my shirt. Lifting it up over my head, she tosses it to the floor.
Grinding my dick into her hip, I pull her body hard against mine. “You know damn well what,” I mutter into her ear.
“Oh, so then you’ve changed your mind.” Arching a brow, she looks up at me, mischief dancing in her eyes.
Holding her face in my hands, I stroke my thumbs over her jaw. “I never didn’t want it. I only wanted to make sure you were ready.” Our mouths come together in a soft, passionate kiss before I add, “And I’m also an ass.”
She laughs, slapping a hand to my bare chest. “Yes, you are. But you’re my ass.”
“Oh, I like the sound of that.”
“What? Being called an ass?” she jokes.
“No.” I kiss her once more. “Being called yours.”
Her lips pull up at the corners and I’m gifted with a warm, beautiful smile. Lacing her fingers with mine, she pulls us away from the door, down the hall, and into her bedroom. It’s a mess, boxes tossed all over the place and clothes sitting in piles on every surface imaginable. Her mattress is sitting on the frame, a sheet loosely draped over it.
Even if there’s a need for them, there’s no room for any words. The only thing there’s space for is the heated need brewing between us. With our eyes locked together in a force that would rival the gravity of a star, we stumble toward the bed. Wrapped in each other’s arms, we fall to the bed. She rolls us so that she’s straddling my hips.
So slowly that it’s bordering on torturous, she glides the tank top over her head, letting it drift to the floor. As if drawn to her body by some kind of magnetic force, my hands move to her breasts. “No hands. No touching,” she demands, reaching behind her to unhook her bra. For the briefest of seconds, I question if she’s had too much champagne, but the brightness in her eyes tells me this is all her.
It’s all Grace.
Leaning her body down onto mine, her soft skin brushes against mine. Pressing her lips to my ear, she whispers, “I want to take care of you, like you’ve taken care of me.”
Moving to kiss her, I’m more than frustrated when she pulls back. Laughing softly at me, she says, “I told you. I’m taking care of you.” To prove her point, and test my control, she licks the seam of my lips, forcing them to part. Her tongue dives into my mouth, demanding kisses in return. Fisting the sheet at my sides, I exercise as much restraint as possible in not touching her.
But the lush curves of her creamy, soft skin are taunting me, teasing me. With every move, her skin sets mine on fire. Trailing kisses down my neck and chest, she licks a path down the center of my stomach, smiling up at me when my muscles twitch. Lifting my hips as she tugs on the waistband of my shorts, I give her the help she needs to rid me of the rest of my clothes.
“Your body.” Her inhale is ragged as she searches for more words. “It’s beautiful,” she says, moving her lips once again across my stomach.
As she moves further down my body, she wiggles out of her shorts, adding them to the pile with mine. Clothed, she’s the ideal image of beauty, but naked, and poised between my legs, looking at me with passionate hunger in her eyes, it’s like being sent an angel directly from Heaven.
A flash of uncertainty mars her serene face. Throwing away her no touching rule, I pull her up into my arms, letting her head rest on my chest. “Shh,” I whisper, kissing against her temple.
“I just want to make you happy,” she admits. “And I started to get worried it would suck.”
“Aww, sweetheart,” I laugh. “It’s supposed to suck.”
She looks up at me, confused. Then she gets it.
Yes, I totally just made a ‘suck’ joke regarding a blow job.
Slapping a hand to my chest, she laughs.
As our laughter subsides, sparks of electricity race over my skin where her hand is. Covering it with my own adds to the feeling. Angling her head, she looks up at me, innocence and eagerness mixing in the ocean blue depths. With one last kiss to her forehead, I guide her hand down my body.
When her long fingers under my own wrap around my dick, my body trembles. Pushing up into our grip, I have to bite my lip to keep from coming in her hand. “Like this?” she asks, knowing full well that everything about the way she’s touching me is fucking perfect. All she gets is a low growl of approval.
Within a few strokes, we catch a rhythm and I remove my hand, letting her find her own pace. Watching her look down at my cock disappearing under her hands, I see the fire and passion in her eyes. Her tongue licks at her lips, hunger pulsating from her body. The whole thing is too much for me to take. Moisture trickles over her fingers, trailing down to the base of my cock.
Staying on my side, she slides down my body, kissing along my ribs as she moves. Hooking her leg over mine, I feel her wet heat on my leg, making me harder than I’ve ever been in my life. With her hand wrapped around my dick, she inches closer with her face.
A flick of the tongue is all it takes to make me writhe next to her. “Did that hurt?” she asks, worry pulling her brows together.
“Seriously?” Combing my fingers through her hair, I kiss her head. “The only thing that hurts right now is that you stopped.”
Encouraged and emboldened by my words, she climbs between my legs, keeping my dick in her shaking hand. With a few more strokes, I’m dripping all over her hand. “You’re so big, one hand barely does anything.” Adding the other only pushes me closer to the edge.
“Grace,” I growl her name, biting my lip. “I can’t take much more. Your hands. Oh, fuck . . .”
“So then I better stop,” she teases, rearing up on her knees. “I mean, if I want this to last and all.”
With one hand lazily stroking over my ready-to-explode dick, she moves the other over her body. Up her stomach. Between her breast. Through her hair.
Pinching a nipple, her hips roll, near shaking. She slides her legs open, making room as her hand moves back down her stomach. Watching her fingers disappear into her slick pussy, I lose another piece of my restraint.
For someone who was told they didn’t know what they were doing, Grace is proving right here and now that she’s a master of seduction. Moving her fingers over her clit, she grinds against her hand, letting the one on my dick slow.
And thank fucking God she does because if she keeps touching me while she touches herself, I’d shoot my load all over my stomach.