Page 62 of Mister Gregory


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"Hi," I whisper, opening my eyes to look at him when he steps up beside me. He's wearing a blue t-shirt and jeans today. His shirt stretches over the muscles beneath, leaving nothing to the imagination. His thighs look massive in his jeans. His hair is as messy as ever, those dark locks falling all over the place. He hasn't shaved today. The shadow on his jaw makes him look a little dangerous, even more scary-hot than usual.

He kneels beside my chair and reaches out without saying a word, tugging my hand from my panties. His eyes meet mine, holding my gaze captive as he brings my hand to his mouth and wraps his tongue around the two fingers I just had buried inside of me. He moans as he sucks my juices from them.

I moan, too, squeezing my legs together as more wetness spreads between my thighs.

There's something so fucking hot about the way he licks my fingers clean while holding my gaze, daring me to look away. I don't have to ask how much he saw. The truth is right there on his face, blazing at me like the sun. There's something dark and wild in his eyes. I think he's as ready to explode as I have been.

He releases my fingers with a pop and places a soft kiss on my wrist.

"You were thinking about me," he says, still watching me. "You cried out my name when you came."

As If I'd fantasize about anyone else. He's the only one I ever think about when I come. It's been him for four damn years. Even when it shouldn't have been him, he was the one I thought about. And I'm done feeling guilty about that. Maybe it was wrong, but I never acted on them. I never crossed a line.

"Was I fucking you?" Roman slips his hand between my legs, cupping my pussy. "Were you coming on my cock, baby?"

"N-no," I breathe when he flicks open the button of my shorts and then pulls the zipper down, giving himself more room.

"Was I eating your pussy?"

He slides his hand into my panties, pulling a gasp from my lips when his thumb zeroes in on my sensitive clit. I spread my legs to give him even more room to work with. Two thick fingers fill me, making me cry out.

"That's not it either, is it?" he asks.

I shake my head, biting my lip to stifle my cries as he fucks me with two fingers, stroking against my G-spot with every thrust. I swear, he knows exactly how to touch me to make me crazy.

"You were sucking me off," he guesses, reaching up with his free hand to pluck and pull at my nipple. "I was fucking your mouth when you came, wasn't I?" He doesn't wait for me to answer him. "Christ, Mila. You fucking love having my cock in your mouth, don't you? You live for it."

"Yes," I pant, unable to lie to him. Even before he was mine, I fantasized about having him in my mouth. I knew he'd blow my mind while I blew him. I wasn't wrong. Having his cock in my mouth, in reality, is even better than it always has been in my dreams. I fucking love it.

"Are you going to let me fuck your mouth right here?"

"God, yes," I whimper. I think I'd probably let him do it in the middle of a packed football stadium if he asked. There's nothing hotter than watching him unravel while he's in my mouth.

"Pull your shirt up and let me see your tits, Mila," he says in that bossy and demanding voice that drives me wild. Every time he uses it, I know he's as worked up as I am. He can't stop himself from taking what he wants from me.

I love knowing I do that to him.

I hesitate, glancing around again. Getting myself off with my clothes on is one thing. Even letting him fuck me out in the water offered a little privacy. But getting naked when any of his neighbors might wander out is something else entirely. It's midday, and we're outside, completely exposed to anyone who happens to look over here. Still…I want it.

I think he's turning me into an exhibitionist.

"Now, baby," he says, curling his fingers up to hit my G-spot again.

"Your neighbors," I protest weakly.

"Fuck my neighbors," he snarls. "Show me your tits, Mila. I'm not fucking playing." He's losing control. A little of that wildness spills out, turning his eyes a piercing, predatory hazel. His cheeks are flushed, his chest rising and falling in a hard, steady rhythm.

I pull my shirt up and yank the cups of my bra down without another word.

He rewards me by rolling his thumb over my clit again.

"Lift up," he murmurs, tapping my hip to let me know what he wants.

I bite my lip, nervous, but do what he says anyway. I want this as badly as he does. More, maybe.

As soon as I lift my hips, he rips my shorts and panties down my legs.

"Oh fuck," I whimper, writhing again. My heart pounds as a wave of desire floods through me. This is so different than letting him fuck me in the water. I'm completely exposed, unable to cover myself. If any of his neighbors look out their windows, they're going to see me spread eagle on a lounger.

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