His words, his reassurances, loosen some of what’s been tight inside me since I walked in on my father.
“You don’t have me yet,” I whisper, managing a tiny teasing smile.
He takes me by the hips, pulling me into his big body against the door, dipping his head until he hovers over my lips.
“Keep telling yourself that, Bris.”
Anticipation crackles between us as I wait for him to take me, to claim me. Because there’s no way I can stop him now. Despite any fear that may still linger, I don’t want to stop him, but he’s made every move for years. It’s time for me to move first.
I tip up on my toes and press my lips to his, tentative as if it’s our first kiss. I’m careful, as if he might turn me away, but he doesn’t. With a groan, he spreads one hand over the small of my back and slides the other up into my wild hair. He angles my head just the way he wants and commandeers the kiss, nothing tentative or uncertain about him pulling my lips between his. Nothing careful about the way he plunges into me, his mouth slanting over mine, his tongue sweeping against mine.
On repeat. Over and over. Avid. Desperate. Hungry.
He slumps against the door and takes me with him, searching hands venturing under the chambray shirt to cup the bare cheeks of my ass. With one foot he kicks my legs apart until he’s between my thighs. I gasp at the stiff erection pressing into my panties. Involuntarily, my hips roll into him. We groan into each other’s mouths at the heat, the hardness, the wetness of us touching. Of us together.
“Bristol.” He trails his mouth down my neck to the spot that’s basically a blank check to my body. “I want to hear the whole sordid story of why you’ve put me through all this shit all these years. I really do.”
I nod, hastily loosening the buttons of the chambray shirt and sliding my arms out until I’m only wearing the strapless bra and the thong.
“Damn, baby,” he whispers, dipping his head to nudge the sheer material of my bra down, baring my breast. He takes my nipple into his mouth, drawing on me so hard it’s almost painful, but I’m glad he doesn’t stop when I whimper.
“Grip.” I clutch his head to my breast and grind myself into him over and over, a hurricane building inside me. “Please.”
“Please what?” He paints my areola with his tongue. “What do you want?”
“You know.” I’m almost in tears it feels so good and I want it so bad. “You know, Grip.”
Without asking for more, his fingers slip into the sides of my panties, rolling them over my hips and down my legs. His eyes eat up my nudity. I feel exposed, and realize that my head may not be pounding as badly and I managed to brush my teeth, but the rest of me still looks and smells like last night. I’m a wreck from head to naked toe.
“Grip, wait.” I pull back, reaching down to grab the shirt from the floor and sliding my arms in.
“You’re going in the wrong direction, Bris.” Grip shucks his shoes off again and rips the tank over his head, revealing his sculpted chest. “Clothes should be coming off.”
“I . . . well, um . . .” My breath stutters when the jeans slide down his powerful thighs. Through his briefs, I see what he’s working with, and it’s more than I’ve ever had.
Shit.
My poor pussy may not be ready for this. I feel like I should have been in training to fuck him, the way I would for a marathon. Surely, all that dick isn’t something you just wake up one morning and take.
He hooks an arm around my waist and drags me against him, his erection announcing his intentions. He teases my lips apart and sucks on my tongue until my knees turn to rubber. For a second, my brain is gooey with desire, and I can’t think past the throbbing heat between my legs. I pull back to speak before I lose the ability.
“Remember I reek?” My lips lift at the corners with the relief of not having to hide from him anymore. “And our first time will not be with me looking and smelling like drunken debauchery.”
His eyes are so open and tender on my face, and he laughs with me, dropping his lips to my ear.
“Okay, Bristol.” His warm breath in my ear makes me shudder. “We’ll do it your way. First I wash you.”
He steps back, sweeping a smoldering look over my nearly naked body, his desire stroking me like a physical hand.
“Then I fuck you.”
Chapter 22
GRIP
I’VE HAD SOME pretty wild dreams about Bristol Gray. But in my wildest dreams, I couldn’t imagine that, not the nakedness of her body, but the nakedness of her soul, would be the thing that tempted me the most. Her eyes, so open and vulnerable—I couldn’t have known that would be what was most precious to me. I feel like the guy who ran around for years screaming that the world was round when everyone insisted it was flat. I knew I wasn’t crazy, that Bristol cared about me. I knew there was something undeniable between us. The greatest validation lies in those silvery eyes, completely unshielded for the first time in years.
“I guess I’ll shower,” she says once we’re in her bathroom, reaching into the spacious, tile-walled unit to turn on the water.