I ran my hand up the hard length of him again, and again, and again, all the while greedily eating up the sight of all his tight muscles, smooth tanned skin, and the fierce ink accentuating the sexiest body ever created.
He snapped his head forward, his mouth a fierce scowl. He flung himself off the bed, was out of his jeans, boxers, and socks in an instant, and then crawling back over the bed like a predator—with me in his sights.
I dragged my teeth along my lower lip without noticing I was doing it until his eyes followed their trail.
“I’m gonna getcha,” he growled, and fuck me, never had I wanted to be gotten more. “Now it’s my turn.”
I licked my lips, imagined them and my tongue on his cock. “But I’m not finished with you yet.”
He grinned wickedly but only repeated, “It’s my turn now, baby.”
“Griff, you home?” traveled up the stairwell, through the door, and into the bedroom.
I jerked back along the bed, eyes darting to the door. Griff kept his predatory eyes fixed on me and shouted, “Yep, I’m home. But I’m really busy right now. Catch ya later.”
On all fours, he prowled toward me even as Orson mumbled someYeah, sures, and other platitudes I couldn’t have cared less about.
Griffin was fierce and sexy and strong and gorgeous … and he was coming for me. After all these years of fantasizing about him, I’d finally get to feel him inside me. Where my own hands had been the only ones to warm my skin before, now they’d be his.
He pounced, catching my legs and tugging me down the bed until I was almost under him again. A giggle that sounded entirely unlike me escaped, and once it was out, I didn’t want to stuff it back wherever it came. Griffin was the one lover I could be my authentic self with. We were besties.
Besties who’d get to fuck. What could be better than that?
With extreme efficiency, he removed my jeans and socks but left me in my panties. “This little scrap of lace … this I’m gonna take my time with.” He circled a finger on either side beneath the waistband of my thong, pulling it out a couple of inches before letting it snap back against my skin.
A gush of warmth surged between my thighs and I bit my lip, leaning back onto my elbows.
On his knees between my thighs, and with his proud, beautiful dick at eye level, he reached for my shirt. I helped him slide it off, but when I was left in a camisole, and his fingers were reaching for the straps, I asked, “What about condoms? You have some? I don’t carry any in my bag.”
He blinked at me as if coming out of a trance before answering. “Uh, yeah … I should have some somewhere.”
He bounded off the bed with a bounce of his erection, dashed into his walk-in closet while I openly admired every inch of him on display, then came out with a small box of them, examining its contents with a frown.
“Expired.” He tossed them back into the closet without care to where they landed.
“Expired?” I asked aloud, before switching to telepathy. I wasn’t risking our stories being out of sync with the latest brainwashing.
He arched a brow at me as he sat on the bed.
I sat up.
He caught me. I sure did.
he offered anyway,
I admitted, then flicked my gaze downward to pick at a seam on his comforter.
I glanced up, allowed my hand to roam his bare knee, then to travel along his thigh as I slid closer.
