Moaning at his words, I move on top of him slowly, breathy gasps escaping me as I get closer to what I know will be an orgasm I can feel in every molecule of my body.
His whimpers come out one after another, bringing me closer to the edge. The pained look on his face remains, but the sounds he makes are saying he’s enjoying it. His whimpers turn into moans, but I long for the others. I want to come to those.
“Whimper for me, Grayson,” I whisper against his mouth in a seductive voice.
His eyes widen for a fraction of a second as if not realizing what sounds he was making. Then I ride him a little faster.
“Oh fuck.” Another whimper makes me tremble.
My clit keeps rubbing against him. “I’m close.”
“I’m gonna come,” Grayson says quietly, squeezing his eyes shut as pain and pleasure take over. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. “Fuck, I’m coming.” A mix of a groan, growl, and moan rips out of him and echoes through the room. The sound of him coming causes me to do the same. I muffle my screams in the crook of his neck, feeling my mind go completely blank with pleasure. I put all my weight on him, still trembling from the aftershocks of my orgasm.
“Fuck, Emma,” he says into my hair as he calms down. “That hurt, but I enjoyed the pain. I’ve never done that before.”
I laugh and slowly pull him out of me with shaky hands, until my face rests on his shoulder, and he runs his fingers through my hair.
“That was…”
“The best sex we’ve ever had,” he finishes, still in awe of what happened. I giggle, and he pinches me. “You demanded for me to whimper.”
“And you liked it.” Silence follows. “Go on, tell me you didn’t.”
His hand lifts my chin, making me look at him. “I’ve only ever done that for you. You’re the only one who’s been able to make me lose control. No one else has made me feel the way you do.”
And with that, he kisses me, as if my entire world hasn’t been flipped upside down.
Chapter Thirty-Four
GRAYSON
Lainey swings her legs and sings “All I Wanted” by Paramore, playing from the speakers in the living room. Wesley mashes the potatoes, since mashed potatoes are the only thing he’s good at making, and I take the turkey out of the oven, sticking the thermometer in now that it looks about ready.
“Is Marina in the city?” Lainey asks, then pops a piece of cheese into her mouth. I’d tell her she’s going to ruin her appetite, but it takes appetizers, an entrée, sides, and dessert for her to get full.
“Yeah.” The thermometer tells me the turkey is at the perfect one hundred and sixty-five degrees. “She’s at her place downtown with her grandkids.” Marina is staying in the apartment I bought her five years ago, when I’d finally gotten enough to buy her a nice place, where she lives four days a week, and spends the other three here in the soup kitchen at another place I’m renting for her.
My parents set aside some money for Marina when they passed away, but not enough to last a lifetime. Their money was enough to get us through college and our young adult years, split among three kids: one pursuing a medical career at an IvyLeague school, another at a top culinary arts school, and the third studying something she disliked before switching to music, which wasn’t exactly cheap. But we all still have money left over, along with what we’ve made throughout our careers.
“I was hoping we could see her,” Wesley says from my left.
“You guys can always visit the city on your days off when she’s there.” I give Lainey a pointed look. “Move to a chair by the breakfast nook. I need the extra counter space.”
She lets out a grunt and hops off her spot, moving behind the breakfast nook and humming along to the song that’s ending.
“Feeling Good” by Michael Bublé plays, and I dice the last of the salad ingredients, whistling and bobbing my head. I throw the sliced pears on the chopped greens and start shaving the pecorino I picked up at the farmers’ market earlier this week.
“Ummmm.”
“What?” I ask Lainey, and when she doesn’t respond, I look toward her. Her eyes are wide with surprise, and a huge grin is splattered on her face.
“You were singing, G,” Wesley says from my side, where he’s stopped mashing, with an equally surprised expression.
I raise an eyebrow. “Why are you two looking at me like I’m insane? I sang. What’s the big deal?”What is the big deal?It’s a good song, and I sometimes sing when I’m cooking.
Lainey laughs. “I haven’t heard you sing while cooking since…” She pauses, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes. “Since I visited you in London around your two-year anniversary. You were happy with Chloe at the time and had just gotten your first investment toward your restaurant.”
Fuck, has it really been that long?
