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But the way he’d touched me?My nipples pebbled at the fleeting thought, and I squirmed, pressing my thighs together to relieve the ache that hadn’t really stopped since he’d left.
Even though my last orgasm was only a few hours old, that throbbing need was back again, and I suspected only Grayson could quench it.
“Stockholm Syndrome,” I whispered to myself. “Whatthe fuckare you doing, Sloane?”
The pep talk didn’t help me, though. If anything, it made Grayson clearer in my mind. And as I snaked my hand down my stomach and under the waistband of my panties, my fingers slid through the slickness that was already pooling. I couldn’t believe I was so turned on by the mere thought of a man, but the evidence couldn’t be denied.
Rubbing my clit, I shut my eyes and pictured Grayson’s fingers there, driving me relentlessly into mind-blowing pleasure. His rough touch would send me tumbling over the edge, but it would be his thorough kisses that would keep me grounded. His mouth wouldn’t ask—it would take—demanding things from me that I shouldn’t be giving.
Impatient with how restricted the movement was, I shimmied from my panties, leaving me naked from the waist down. Sliding against my wet heat, my hips began to roll against the feel of my fingers, my head thrashing from one side to the other on the pillow. I inhaled sharply, and I could’ve sworn I smelled sandalwood. My imagination had always been good, but it had never involved smells before. I increased speed as my orgasm loomed over me, threatening to crash and take away all my senses.
“JesusChrist.”
My eyes cracked open a little, then widened when I found Grayson standing in the doorway to my bedroom. I scrambled up, back pressing against the headboard. His eyes had darkened with unbridled lust, his jaw clenched, his body coiled tight like a spring.
“W-what are you doing here?”
Menace swirling around him, he stepped into my room and shut the door. Stalking forward, he stopped at the footboard, leaned over, and gripped my ankle. With one strong tug, he yanked me down the bed. My shirt rucked up my back, exposing my stomach and the underside of my breasts.
With one arm hooked around my thigh, he pushed the other leg wide so I was completely exposed to him. His dark-as-sin eyes drifted from my face to my breasts to my pussy. He thumbed at my clit, making my back arch gracefully off the bed.
“You better have been thinking of me while you were touching yourself,” he said in a voice that sounded as if it had been dragged through glass. “Because if you weren’t, I’d have to go and kill the bastard youwerethinking about. Tell me who’s mouth, tongue, and cock you were imagining as you touched yourself.”
“Yours.” It was a whisper. A lament. Because I was grieving my self-control. Where the fuck did it go when this man was involved?
I whimpered when I felt his hot breath feather across the inside of my thigh a second before he licked through my pussy. Pleasure sparked through me, making my breath catch and goose bumps break out on my body.
He planted an open-mouthed kiss against my opening, his tongue stroking through my flesh on a slow sweep. My spine bowed, sending my shoulders and upper back into the mattress while my hips lifted. Grayson held me in place, his fingers strong and sure around my thigh and knee, where he held me open to feast.
And I was a feast for him.
He lapped at me. Sucked. Bit. Punished with lashes of his tongue. Growls of pleasure pumped out of him, the sounds so primal they made my bones quake with need.
Sliding one finger, then another, into my pussy, my inner walls clamped down immediately, sending a wave of pleasurable anticipation through my blood. Grayson swept his tongue through my folds, then used the tip to flick rhythmically against my clit.
“Fuck, Grayson,” I gasped, feeling the first hints of my orgasm. “Do that again.”
He did.
And my orgasm answered his touch. My inner muscles tightened, and I jerked away, flexing my hips upward, surrendering to my pleasure.
Grayson growled and gripped my body tighter, holding me against his face as I came so hard that I felt like I wasn’t in my body for a second. My mouth opened in a scream, and he had the good sense to smother the noise with his hand before it could reach a crescendo.
“The guards are still outside,” he hissed, licking through me and humming his satisfaction. “And I haven’t had enough of your honey yet.”
Latching onto my clit, he sucked hard, sending a shower of aftershocks through my body. The secondary orgasm washed over me gently, though. Instead of the fierce crash like the first, this one glided over me, prolonged by the slow, languid laps of Grayson’s tongue.
“Enough!” I gasped. “Enough, Grayson.” I shoved at him, my over-sensitized flesh not recognizing the pleasure anymore.
He pulled away, running his tongue across his top lip. “You taste better than I imagined you would… better than every single one of my fantasies.”
Getting to his feet, he pulled a phone from his pocket and glanced at the screen.
When he turned his head, I noticed there was blood on the side of his neck. I pointed at the offending spot. “You have blood on you.”
He touched where I was pointing, then looked at me. And I could’ve sworn I saw regret flicker in his blue gaze before he went back to giving me a hard stare. “I have to go.”
He had to go? After giving me two orgasms, hehad to go?
