Page 101 of One Adult, Please

I undo his belt with shaking hands. He helps. The logistics of undressing in a storage room are not insignificant. Then he's bare before me and I realize I've been imagining this wrong. He's broader than I thought. More muscled. The gentle exterior has been hiding strength.

"Grace," he says, and his voice is less controlled. "I want to see you."

"Okay."

He undresses me slowly. He takes off my hoodie and my bra with careful fingers. His thumbs brush over my nipples and I gasp.

"You're very responsive here," he observes, doing it again. His mouth replaces his hands.

His hands slide down my sides as his mouth works my breasts. He loops his fingers in my waistband and slides everything down, kneeling as he does.

“Grace, you’re…” He exhales. “I don’t have words.”

"You don't need words."

He stands. His hands find my waist again. He walks me backward, until my shoulders meet the wall. The concrete is cool against my bare skin. He presses against me, warm where the wall is cold.

"I want to take my time with you," he says.

He starts at my neck. His mouth traces down, mapping the column of my throat. He finds the place where my pulse beats and he stays there, kissing, licking, feeling my heartbeat with his lips. I let him explore.

His hands move over my body. The curve of my waist. The swell of my hips. The soft skin of my inner thighs. He touches everywhere, touches everything.

"Grant," I breathe. "Please."

"Please what?"

"Please more. Please everything. Please stop being careful."

He drops to his knees again. His hands settle on my thighs, spreading them gently. "Lean against the wall," he says. "Let me hold you up."

I lean back. He lifts one of my legs, drapes it over his shoulder, opening me completely.

His mouth finds me. His tongue traces through my folds. When he finds my clit, he circles it gently, testing my response.

I gasp. My hands find his hair.

"There," he says against me. "That's what you like."

He does it again and again, building a rhythm based on what makes me shake. His tongue works my clit while his hands grip my thighs, holding me steady, holding me open.

I feel it rising, the crest, and he must feel it too because his rhythm maintains that same steady pressure until I'm shaking against the wall and making sounds that will definitely wake the animals.

"Grant, I'm going to come."

"Good." He maintains that perfect rhythm. "Let me feel it."

The orgasm hits me in a long rolling crash.

He holds me through it. His hands on my thighs, his mouth gentling but not leaving, his presence steady and solid while my body does things I've never felt it do before. When the wave finally recedes, I'm trembling. My legs are useless. The only reason I'm upright is the wall behind me and Grant's hands in front of me.

He rises. Kissing his way back up my body as he goes. Stomach. Ribs. The space between my breasts. My throat. My jaw.

When he reaches my mouth, I taste myself on his lips. "My turn," I say.

"Grace, you don't have to."

"I want to." I push him backward until his shoulders hit the opposite wall. "You got to learn me. I want to learn you."