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“You think this is the first time I’ve gotten bruised? I’m fine.”
“You don't need to snap at me—I'm just looking out for you. Isn't that what fake girlfriends are supposed to do?"
This earns me a smile and a nonchalant shrug. "I guess it is."
“Then come here. Sit down and let me take a look at those bruises,” I say, motioning towards the bed. He complies and even allows me to apply some antiseptic cream to his bruises, his muscles tensing under my touch.
"I'm not used to someone else doing this for me."
"What, are you too tough to be pampered?"
He looks at me, eyes softening as a warm smile graces his handsome features. "And what am I going to do after our little deal is over, huh? Go back to tending to my bruises?”
“I’m sure the big ex-Navy SEAL guy will manage.”
He stares deep into my eyes with such intensity that I feel tempted to avoid his gaze. I can’t, though. Those ice-blue oceans hypnotize me.
“And what if I don’t want to?”
I can sense a shift in the air, something unspoken hanging between us. I swallow hard, trying to gather my thoughts and maintain composure.
"You'll get tired of hanging out with just one woman soon enough."
He leans in closer, his breath warm against my skin, sending shivers down my spine. "Don't think so little of yourself, Tyley. You might be the girl who changes my mind."
"I'm not thinking little of myself; I'm thinking little of you," I tease him, trying to dissipate some of this tension building up with humor, but it only serves to exacerbate it further. My heart does a hand flip as he leans in closer, and despite my better judgment, I lean in, meeting him halfway.
He wraps those massive, muscular arms around me, pinning me against his chest. He's like an unmovable boulder, holding me in place—but I feel safe, protected.
His kiss is hungry and demanding, and I let myself melt into him. Every touch, every kiss, sends a jolt of electricity through me, and I hum against his lips as he lays me down on the bed and starts to caress me with no rush or over-eagerness. Some guys try to jump right into fucking, but not Grayson, oh no. With him, foreplay isn’t a snack. It’s a full meal.
He's close to undressed already, and Grayson doesn't take long to help ease me from the pesky clothes keeping us apart.
Grayson's touch is intoxicating, his kisses leaving me breathless and wanting more as my dress, my bra, and my panties all hit the floor. He abandons my lips, leaving me wanting more, but soon, he begins peppering nibbles down my neck, down my collarbone, and toward my breasts.
“Grayson!” I moan as he lavishes them with his undivided attention, sucking, kissing, flickering his tongue over my breasts, my erect nipples, and increasingly flushed skin.
“More?” he grunts, his breath tickling me in a sensual whisper that only serves to enhance my desire. Those calloused hands roll down my stomach, and I tense from head to toe when they reach that sweet spot between my legs. He’s teasing me, and I love every minute of it.
“More, yes, please.”
Where’s my pride? Not in this bedroom, not when I’m lying underneath his powerful body, his erection rubbing against my thigh with unspoken promises of ecstasy.
Grayson complies with my plea. His lips continue their way south, further and further, and he rolls his tongue over my belly. He knows where he’s going, and I can hardly wait for him to reach his destination.
“Oh, fuck yes!” I moan all over again, arching my back as his mouth discovers my soaked folds. I can feel him chuckling against my skin, but before I can scold him or try and come up with a witty banter, he brushes his teeth against my clit, then sucks at it with an expertise that leaves me wordless and breathless.
My hips thrust up against him in a mad need for friction—he’s driving me wild, and my body’s too desperate to listen to me. Grayson places his strong hands on my hips and pins me down on the mattress.
“Stay still, gorgeous. I’m going to make you see the stars.”
It’s a promise his mouth doesn’t take long to fulfill. There’s something so sensual about the way his calloused palms keep me from bucking, how his arms prevent my legs from flailing, leaving me no choice but to surrender to his touch.
His tongue is a magic wand casting wonderful spells over me, and with each flick, each swirl, each suck, he sends me soaring. I’m a mess of moans and whimpers, my fingers tangling in his hair, as I urge him to keep going, to please, oh dear God, please not stop.
And Grayson complies, relentless in his pursuit of my pleasure. His fingers join his mouth, stroking and teasing me in all the right ways, pushing me closer and closer to that moment of no return. Tension coils inside me, pressure building further and further as I scream out his name over and over again. And then, with one last flick of his tongue, one final press of his fingers, I shatter.
"Grayson!”
