When I enter, Grey is shaking out his hair with another towel. I stop dead in my tracks and feel my heart lift and plummet back into place, like I’m on a roller-coaster ride. My palms sweat, and I raise a brow as his thick muscles constrict and bulge each time he brings the towel across his wet hair. And then I make the mistake of trailing my eyes downward…at his stack of abs and the V-line and the other towel dipping dangerously on his tight hips.
Sometimes I forget just how…hot he is. It’s at times like this that I wonder what he even sees in me. I mean, he used to go out with girls like Rose and Diana, who were admittedly very attractive, and countless other girls his type. So what the hell makes me so different? Ugh. I hate thinking like this, because I have one important thing they never got from him—his true love.
He smiles, catching me watching him. “See something you like?”
I snap back from my thoughts and scoff. “No,” I lie.
His smile widens. He’s so cocky. Right, but cocky nonetheless.
I set the things in my hand on one of the tables next to the bed. I notice that everything he smashed is no longer on the floor when I enter. I guess he cleaned up the mess when I left. But clothes are piled in one of the corners of the room and glass on the other side.
“Grey, you could have at least swept up the glass,” I whine. I begin to turn around to scold him, but I am pushed back onto the bed. I sit up on my elbows, but he pushes me back and tugs at my bottom lip with his teeth.
Oh, okay…
“What are you doing?” I freeze as he grips the hem of my shirt and pushes it up my chest. I grip the back of his hair and arch my back as a default without any thought about it. It’s like my body knows what to do before me.
“You took too long coming back,” he says, “and I missed you.”
“I was only gone for about half an hour, and you were asleep most of the time I was away,” I say incredulously but stop abruptly when he sucks on my neck. My skin tightens, and I run my fingers through his wet hair. He grabs my fist and pins my hands down above my head. I close my eyes and suck in my bottom lip, arching my back as his kisses leave my neck and trail down to my breasts, basically falling out of the V-neck top. “Your mother—”
“Is outside watching a cooking show,” he finishes and stares at me through his ridiculously beautiful and full eyelashes. “She’ll be all right.” Then he goes back to kissing me down to the skin sliced across my stomach. I writhe but am held down when he pops open my jeans and drags them down my legs.
“But she can walk in or just know what we’re doing. And I don’t want it to be weird,” I ramble. He groans, mouth perched on my dripping panties. His tongue retreats from touching my sensitive bud, and I mentally kick myself for stopping him when he was so close to it.
“It will not be weird. And if it is, I couldn’t give a shit,” he says, kind of impatient or frustrated. Sexually frustrated. And then I feel a breath of cold air hit my vagina and look down, finding him holding my panties. I didn’t even feel him take them off. Oooh, he’s good. “Now shut up, lay back, and let me have you.” He presses into my abdomen, and not liking the pressure, I lay back and feel my heart leap into my throat, as if this is the first time he’s been between my legs. It may not be, but it always feels exhilarating and makes me feel naughtier.
Yeah, because we’ve been doing some really innocent, sweet things lately…like the fucking against the window or the time we did it in a club’s bathroom—such family-friendly good times.
And I want this. My body is as excited as I am, but I can’t do this without knowing his mother can’t come in.
“I have to pee!” I suddenly exclaim, and he looks at me funny. I scoot my butt up and stand, grabbing a pillow and placing it over my bare crotch. I peck his head before zipping out of the room and down the hallway.
I come to a slow stop and peek my head around the corner. Helen is passed out on the couch, Martha Stewart showing off her pearly whites as she introduces some name brand cooking pan. Okay…now we can do this.
I rush back into the room. He’s still on the floor, jeans hanging off his wet hips. He watches me as I jump back onto the bed. I fling myself back and open my legs.
“Okay, we’re a go,” I announce.
He laughs, cups my ankles, and yanks me down. I yelp but clamp my hands on my mouth to keep from waking Helen, and he laughs some more. He is so cute.
“Fudge,” I moan when his tongue is on my clit without warning.
He chuckles, and I smack his head, because that felt too good. “Fudge? Amazing how you can find time to be innocent and still be utterly fucking sexy.”
My heart skips a thousand beats.
“You think I’m sexy?” I gulp, suddenly feeling like shrinking inside my skin when he gently kisses me. “Oh, Jesus…”
“What kind of question is that?” he mutters before swirling his tongue.
I almost scream his name at the mean but fan-fucking-tastic motion. “B-because of who you’ve, you know, been with before?” I can barely speak as his tongue moves side to side and glides around and in and out of me. I feel like I’m being driven insane, and Grey’s the chauffeur, driving me closer and closer to the dark side. But if the side has his tongue waiting for me and a side of his body, well, I just might kick up my feet and let him rub them as he drives.
“Seriously, Liv? Do you really think about that?” He stops, and I look down at him. He’s serious, his brows scrunched together and his full lips jutted out.
If I was sane, I would say no, kidding. Go back to work and act like I didn’t say anything at all. But I’m stupid and apparently want to have a serious talk while he’s trying to…taste me. God, I’m such a pussy. Why can I say it in my subconscious but not out loud?
“Liv.” He says my name, and I hum and shrug, playing with the material of the sheets beneath me.
“I’m sorry, it was just in my head earlier, and I’m there now,” I say and smile like the fool I am. I even wave a hand for good measure. “Go back to what you were doing.”
But he doesn’t move initially.
Instead, he knee-walks over to me and peels my V-neck off my body. His eyes never falter from mine, and I have to swallow because of how intense his stare is. My bra is next to go. And his lips are perfect around my left breast. I suck in a deep breath, and my chest goes outward. He takes one as well and takes it deeper in his mouth.
He sucks and laps his tongue around the hardened nipple. I sink back into the bed and grip his neck, holding him in position as he pulls back and flicks his tongue around and up and down. I hum a moan and close my eyes. He shifts onto the right one and kneads and twirls and slightly pinches the left.
And then his fingers, yes, plural, two, are inside of me. And I gasp at the sudden intrusion but then sink into his warm, wet body. “You are the sexiest girl I’ve ever known, Liv,” he says, almost encouragingly, and his teeth are lightly grazing my bud. I wrap my hands around the back of his neck and tilt my head back and stare into his eyes. They pull me in and push me and pull me against the tides of the black sea. But I don’t mind the go-around or the wreckage of myself—because this feels too damn good to care about anything else.
“Do you understand me?” His fingers are pumping easily in and out of me. His rough thumb pushes my clit each time he withdraws and plunges his fingers back into me, like he’s teasing a button. “Liv,” he says my name, full of warning, and I nod frantically and throw my head back.
“I—need you…i-in me. Please.” I don’t care if I sound whiny or desperate, because I am. I just need to feel him in me. His fingers are great, angelic even. But I need his member in me until I forget how to breathe.
And he complies.
He pushes his jeans and boxers down his thighs, awkwardly steps out of them—I laugh because how can you not laugh at a sexy man like him crab-exiting a pair of jeans and boxers?—and tosses them to the ground.
Then he is in me, and he is all in me. I gasp and wrap my legs around him. I can feel every single inch of him. He grunts, and I know that he can feel me too, maybe even more. And then he pushes my knees, and they are almost touching my shoulders, and I feel him even more; it’s almost as if he belongs in me.
“Oh my…” I can’t even finish that sentence.
“I know.” He reads my thought and slowly retreats.
We lock eyes, he quirks a smile, and he’s in me again. I almost curse him for being so big and myself for being so small, but then he does it again, and again, and again, and for a second, I do forget how to breathe. Because this feels too euphoric and we feel too close and I just don’t know how to function without breathing his name and smiling as he says mine like it’s a curse, but I know it’s a relief.
I grab his face and bring mine up. I mesh my lips with his, and he groans and grips my hair that’s spread out beneath me.
I smile, and he does too, and it’s now that I wish to never be parted from this man. I push his shoulder, and I glide against his body. His fingers dig in my skin, and I let go of his full, pink lips and gasp in pleasure and pain. I grip his shoulders and rock my hips up and down his rock-hard length. His impossible length that pricks tears beneath my eyes and twists my chest in nautical knots and makes me feel spirited.
“See? Sexy as fuck,” he says and wraps an arm around my waist and meets his hips with mine. I curse and nearly scream but let out a guttural moan of his name and rock my hips up and down. “Nunca dudes de ti princesa,” he whispers, and I nod and feel myself flush from head to toe. (Never doubt yourself, princess.)
“I love you—so much,” I mutter and bring his mouth to mine. We collide and taste and explore one another. I am on the bottom as he plunges in and out of me. I try to catch my breath but end up moaning his name and biting into his palm. It quiets my screams, and he smiles and returns my bites on my neck. I scream a muffled reply in his palm and give it an open-mouthed kiss.
“Oh, fuck,” he grunts and pins my hands above my head. He’s lost control and is rocking his hips deeper and deeper, hitting a certain spot that makes me lose my mind. “Sometimes—shit—y-you’re too sexy for your own goddamn good.”
I tear a page from his book and quirk a smile, and he emits a laugh that sits on top of his throat and smashes his lips into mine. He tugs on my lower lip, and I dig my nails in his skin. I drag my feet up his calves and drag my nails down to the two little dimples in his lower back. I want to kiss each one. Maybe after we’re done.
“Oh my, Grey,” I mewl and throw my head back, as he bites and kisses and licks my neck.
“Me too. Hold on for me, baby,” he groans, and I nod and kiss under his scruffy jaw and suck on his skin. “Fuck, stop that, or I’m gonna come right now.”
“Do it,” I whisper, eyeing him behind my lashes. And knowing it’ll send him completely over edge, I wink.
“Fucking Christ, bebé.” He rolls his eyes, and I feel him in me, laying down territory.
I scrunch my eyes closed and cup his back dimples as I climax. I arch my back, and his neck laps around mine, and he rolls his hips and holds mine down, rocking his tight, jittery hips into me.
“Fudge,” I moan like an idiot, and he laughs as he slowly pulls himself out of me. “Oh, shut up.” I flop onto his sweaty chest and close my eyes as he kisses my forehead. His fingers weave through my curly sex-head, and he inhales deeply and then lets it go even deeper. I sigh in contentment and follow a random pattern on his chest.
“Speaking of fudge, I could use something to eat.”
I laugh and look up at him, smiling. “What?”
He bounces his hip and says, “I’m hungry. Mind being a dear and getting me a snack? Preferably a sandwich? Ham? Thanks, babe. Love you.” He leans down and pecks my neck. I almost wish he’d sprained his neck in doing so, but then I remember how amazing he just made me feel, and I’m still coming down from cloud-nine. So I accept his lame kiss and push off the bed.
I slip into one of his shirts littering the ground and mildly make a stank face, because maybe it needs a wash. But at least it smells like him. He laughs, waves a hand at me, and I basically hop out of the room and into the kitchen.
His mother is still asleep on the couch, so I don’t have to worry about looking like a whore, parading around in his shirt with literally nothing on and sex radiating off my slightly sweat-coated body, even though we are together. But she doesn’t know that. Not officially, anyway.
I swing the fridge open and take out the meat, cheese, etcetera. As I make the sandwich, I sway my hips left and right and imagine him whistling from behind, tugging at that beautiful bottom lip of his. But when I finish his sandwich and am putting away the items, I don’t hear his teasing and suggestive words. I hear his mother’s.
“Hello.”
I jump when I turn around and find Helen sitting up on the couch. She somehow looks less like a robot and a tad bit more like a human. A tad. But it is there. She’s yawning and arching her back as she stretches her limbs. I quickly grab the plate and his drink, moving to leave, but she’s sitting behind the island and is smiling at me. Now I really can’t leave.
“Look, I know what you must think of me,” she says, again leaving her damn sentence in the air. When is she going to learn that doing that is a total douche move?
“Okay?” I would be polite and at least give her a slight but confused smile, but all I can do is partially scowl at her.
She takes a deep breath and taps her fingers on the kitchen island. “And I want to make you both—especially him—see that I’m not the same woman I was all those years ago.”
“You mean five?” I raise a brow, and she stiffens but keeps her smile and firmly nods. “Then you have a lot of work ahead of you. I’m not going to lie, he hates you. And I know that may hurt you, but you hurt him so much more. What I’m saying is…don’t push him. He doesn’t like it.” Take it from me, I’ve learned from experience. “Just lay low and let him come to terms with your being here on his own. It may take a while, more like a long while. But maybe after learning to trust you and being able to keep himself together, then you can think about re-building a relationship,” I tell her.
I don’t even know why I’m helping her. Maybe it’s because my relationship with my mother is completely in ruins. Or maybe I just hate seeing Grey so distraught over this woman.
She nods, tearing up, like I just gave her the best advice in the world. Or hope…either way, she nods, wipes her eyes, and says, “Yes, yes. I know—I understand.”
“Good.” I smile wholeheartedly and grab the plate and his drink and begin walking back to the bedroom. But then I am suddenly trapped in her arms, my arms held out as my jaw falls to the floor. I reek of sex, and I know she smells it. But maybe her nose is damaged and she can’t smell anything? I’m really praying for the latter. I’m frozen as she shakes me slightly, the drink and sandwich dipping left and right.
Backing away, she holds my shoulders and says, “Thank you.”
I try not to look at her weirdly and nod. “You’re welcome, Helen.”
She creases her eyebrows, and there is a slight silence; I rock back and forth on the balls of my feet. I’m a little uncomfortable…or a lot.
She seems to notice, because she backs away and nods. “Well, I’ll go back and sit now.”
“You do that,” I mumble and watch as she briskly walks back to the couches and turns the TV back on. I slowly walk back to the room, half expecting her to pop up behind me and engulf me in her arms again. She is quite strange. Well, I guess that’s where Grey gets it. I smirk to myself and use my foot to push the cracked door open. “Hey.”
“Hey, food…and the woman I kind of dig.” A lazy smile is washed over his swollen lips, his chest glistening with sweat and his eyes gleaming with adoration. For the food or me, I will never know.
“Oh, fuck you. You dig me a lot.” I get on my knees on the bed and knee-walk over to him. He rubs his hands greedily before taking the plate and glass. He sits up, sets the glass beside him, and snatches me and brings me onto his lap. I laugh and wrap an arm around him. He holds the sandwich out, and I take a bite and chew with a smile.
“You’re right,” he says and takes a bite, then adds around the chewed sandwich, “I love you loads.”
“Ewwww.” I push his face away, but he shakes his head and nom nom noms in my ear. All I can do is laugh and revel in this and realize how much I “dig” this man too.