This one was louder from me. “Oh.”
Grant’s grip tightened in both places, and he directed me to move faster. And faster. Until I was pumping my body on the table, fucking at the tempo he demanded from us. His dick was nestled between my ass cheeks, sliding in the valley there, and I balled my hands into fists on the tabletop, fighting against the sensations.
Because it all felt so good. The slick slide. His rough hand pinching my nipple. His hot mouth sucking at my neck.
As we fucked, my knee squealed against the veneer and the table leg hammered on the hardwood floor. Other sounds rose above it. The wet stroke of my pussy, our gasps of satisfaction, and my whimpers of pleasure. I reached a hand up and behind, fisting the hair at the nape of his neck, which was already damp with sweat. It caused me to arch my body as I clung to him, my chest angling upward, my breast high and undulating with reverberations as I rode the table.
His words were raw and aggressive. “You like it deep inside you?”
“Yes,” I gasped.
He grunted his enjoyment and forced me down farther, right to the edge of discomfort. It was a challenge to take it, but I did, and after a few more pumps, I grew accustomed.
We fucked until my supporting leg shook and I was hopelessly out of breath, becoming a sweaty, panting mess. Moans mixed with whimpers and sighs.
“Would you like it,” Grant asked, “if he fucked your pussy while I fucked your mouth?”
“Yes.”
And then his fingers were there, two of them sliding past my lips, pulsing in my mouth. It made it so easy to imagine. To picture Silas beneath me and Grant standing beside me, his dick buried so deep down my throat he would feel each swallow. I wanted to ask where Regan was during this fantasy, but his fingers kept my tongue still, so I imagined her facing me while straddling Silas’s face, her tits in my hands.
I nearly came from the idea of it.
But I wasn’t one of those girls who could orgasm from penetration alone, so I wrapped my hand around Grant’s wrist and guided him to pull his fingers from my mouth. “I want to come,” I whined. “Please, Sir. Make me come.”
He knew exactly what I needed, because those wet fingers instantly went down between my legs, searching for my clit. I shuddered, letting him know when he’d found it. The pads of his fingers flicked over me as his hips pressed to mine and forced me to fuck faster. Harder. Pleasure welled up, threatening to spill over. My heart skipped beats. My breath cut off as everything focused inward, then was sent flying out in all directions as I fell over the edge.
I cried out as I came, trembling so hard the table vibrated. His arms locked around me, holding me steady, and he feathered kisses in a line down my neck and the curve of my shoulder.
The orgasm rolled through in waves. The first peak was so strong, I couldn’t feel anything but acute bliss. The second wave wasn’t as powerful, and now I sensed the toy lodged deep inside me, giving my body something to clamp down on and throb against.
On the third wave, my heart started again. I was able to inhale new air into my lungs, bringing me gradually back to Earth. Jesus, that orgasm had been epic.
His kisses slowed to a stop as he sensed I was nearing the end of my recovery, and in the quiet, there was only our hurried breaths, synced as one, our chests heaving together.
Grant lifted me in his hold, raising me up off his cock, and backward until I had both feet flat on the floor. His dick was still hard, stabbing me in the small of my back, but he seemed content not to do anything about it right this moment. I turned my head blindly to him, seeking his mouth on mine.
Our kiss was a song, and the first verse was restrained and deliberate. Our lips moved, restlessly shifting to find the right angle and maximize our connection. We found it as we hit the chorus. The intensity picked up with the tempo, leaving me dizzy and struggling to stay matched with him. His tongue invaded, dominating the kiss, and just as my weak legs buckled, Grant was there, sweeping me up into his arms.
He stepped out of the clothes puddled around his ankles and carried me into my bedroom, depositing me on the bed, and switched on a lamp. I was naked, as was he, and I couldn’t help but stare at all of him.
His dick was rock hard, protruding toward me. Physically, it wasn’t that different from the one out on the dining table, but it was different in all the ways that mattered, because it was a real part of him. My hands ached to touch and stroke. I wanted to know what he tasted like.
But as much as I longed for those things, I also desired staying ob
edient, and in the haze of lust, it was hard to see anything beyond instant gratification.
“I’m worried I’m going to break a rule,” I admitted, rising onto my knees on top of the bed. “I want to touch you.”
He smiled softly as he touched himself, gliding his hand down his length. “You are.”
I understood how he meant, that he was imagining my hand in place of his own, but . . . “No, I’m serious. I really want to touch you. May I?”
He stilled. A war waged in his eyes. He wanted this, but also to follow the rules. Was he stronger than I was? It wasn’t a test, and I hadn’t consciously meant to tempt him, but subconsciously, perhaps I wanted to know. How strong was his self-control? And if it was the same as mine . . . would Regan and Silas discipline us for breaking the rule?
I placed my hands on his shoulders and ran them down his arms, following the flow of his muscles, but he abruptly stepped back. His expression gave nothing away as he turned and disappeared into my dark bathroom. What the hell?
My eyes went wide, and a shiver raced up my spine as he returned, the satin sash of my robe in his hands.