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And when I turned around, I took in the living room decorated in shades of beige and gray. The centerpiece was the stone fireplace, closely followed by the wooden furniture. He probably had crafted them himself, and the two gigantic couches were bought to complement them perfectly. A blanket hung over the armchair, a bouquet of flowers stood on the table, and right next to the fireplace, slightly set back was a ceiling-high bookshelf.
Gray lived in his own personal paradise. And I wondered what it would be like to live with him.
I pictured nights shared, where my body fit perfectly against his. Followed by a slow morning before the rest of the day unfolded and the adventures we would experience running the bed-and-breakfast.
As far as I could see, he didn't even own a TV, which meant we’d spend every evening engaging in something deeply fulfilling for both of us. I pictured us cooking together, dancing in the kitchen like we had under the moonlight a few nights ago. How we'd sit together on the couch, each engrossed in our own book. Maybe I'd share with him scenes that quickened my pulse, leading to yet another night that involved more than just sleep. And then we'd repeat it all the next day…
My heart strangely tightened at the thought. I longed for just this kind of life, rather than the one I had left behind in Toronto. Clearly, I was in deeper than I cared to admit.
When Gray entered the living room, the first thing I noticed was the deep furrow between his eyebrows. He looked disturbed—but his gaze softened the moment he spotted me on his terrace. Right after, I melted at his sight once again.
I couldn't believe I had actually been intimate with him.
The resolve with which Gray now approached me already had my knees going weak again. Apparently, he hadn't bothered with dressing when he had gone searching for me. My gaze, once again, caught on the tattoos that covered almost every inch of his upper body.
Why did my brain always fail to function when he looked at me that way?
Without hesitation, he came up to me, placing his hands on the railing to either side of me. I automatically pressed against him, but at that moment, he pushed back, trapping me between him and the wood.
"When I woke up alone, I thought you had just disappeared," he told me in that irresistibly husky morning voice. A desire grew within me to kneel before him once more. Something about it gave me the urge to please Gray, to see how he slowly let go of his iron control and watch another side of him emerge.
"I'm not going anywhere," I replied before I could think about my choice of words. "And I didn't want to wake you just because I couldn't sleep."
"Usually, I'm the one with sleep issues," he observed, seemingly unable to believe he had slept longer than I had.
"Maybe I pushed you too hard last night."
He immediately diverted his gaze from the view over the valley and fixed it on me instead, raising an eyebrow. I could feel his arousal stirring. "Does it feel like I've worn myself out?"
Slowly, I tilted my head, reflecting the energy surrounding him. "No. But I might need to see for myself.”
"Turn around, sin." The way he used that newly found nickname made my heart clench.
"I think it's time to establish the very first rule," he continued, his hand reaching for my hair to toss it over my left shoulder, allowing him to press his mouth to the side of my neck.
As his stubble grazed my skin, a delicious shiver ran down my spine. Memories of last night ignited, causing me to close my eyes. Just for a second, until I remembered what he had whispered.
"Rule?" I gripped the railing tightly so I could press back against him with more force; feeling him so close made me even more comfortable.
"If you're raiding my wardrobe…" he began. His hands wrapped around my hips and his shirt—the one I was wearing—and pushed it up a bit, only to reveal that I had been too lazy to also put on a pair of his boxers. "… then you're giving up your right to object. You're mine—and I decide when and how I use you. Standing on my terrace in my shirt?I will absolutely fuck you against that railing and hear your sweet moans."
He didn't give me time to brace myself mentally that he would put his rule into effect immediately. Instead, he took one hand from my hip, wrapped it around my neck, and bent me forward, making me nearly push myself onto his erection.
It had driven me wild last night and even now. I forgot how to breathe as he entered me slowly and fully, not missing any of those sensitive spots inside me he had come to know so well.
I contracted around him so tightly, causing him to twitch as my body reacted to him.
I was already liking his new rule—and if he thought I wouldn't use it to my advantage, he would be disappointed.
Each time Gray pulled me onto his cock, my backside pressed against his hips, reminding me that I was trapped between his body and the railing.
I gasped as his tip hit that certain spot, making me curl my toes from the overwhelming pleasure.
After last night, after the sex and our talks, after I had assured him I could handle what he was offering, he no longer used caution. As he fucked me, I felt not only the pleasure behind it and his desire to satisfy me but also his own craving—the urge to claim me and ensure I knew exactly who I belonged to.
In the haze of my desire, I recognized that it was already over for me—I would never be able to get close to another man without thinking of Gray. How could any other man satisfy me the way he did?
God, had anyone ever fallen in love with a cock and what it did to them? Was I the first one to feel this way?
