Page 58 of Never Your Valentine

“I’m offering clear expectations.”

“Got it.” She pats my chest with her free hand. “I can have your body, but not your heart, because you don’t have one.”

“I was going to talk about healthy consent, but I think we covered it.” My fingers on her wrist are moving in little circles. She’s soft under my touch. Warm. Lovely.

“Do I need to sign another waiver?” she asks.

“I’m wondering if I need to sign one.”

She’s pressed against me, her face tilted up for a kiss. Her hand is at my back, untucking my shirt. There’s so much unspent energy in the room, we’re on the verge of ripping off each other’s clothes right here.

“Now,” she says. “Since we’re setting expectations, I expect orgasms. Plural.”

I almost laugh. “Orgasms, plural, is the lowest bar. You can get orgasms from a battery-operated toy. I want to make you moan and writhe and call my name. I want you to feel like every nerve ending is made of starlight. I want you to come on my face and come on my dick and not stop until you feel like you’re floating in a cloud. I don’t want you satisfied. I want you undone. Are you okay with this?”

There’s a pause that lasts only a second, maybe half a heartbeat, but seems to stretch for hours. Then she smiles and positions my hands under her ass so I can lift her. I do.

She brings her lips to my ear. Her whispered wish is as loud as a shout.

“Undo me, Grant.”

Chapter 23

Annabelle

I’m not sure how we make it up twenty-three stairs to my apartment. There’s running, and carrying, and a lot of giggling on my part. I’m high on adrenaline and eager for more of Grant and so horny I could burst. Grant detours to his apartment for a condom but he’s back at my side as soon as I get my door open.

We kick off our shoes and leap into each other’s arms. He presses hot, open-mouthed kisses to the side of my neck. My hoodie is in the way, so much in the way, and I kind of hate winter at this moment, because it’s going to take forever to get undressed. I push Grant and he falls back onto the couch. I pull my hoodie over my head and then claw at my long-sleeved t-shirt, finally getting that off too.

Grant’s gaze drops to my lace-covered breasts. His breath hitches, and my nipples harden in response to the desire in his eyes and the chill in the air. I’m grateful that I wore one of my nicer bras today, but judging by the way Grant is looking at me, I could show up in a bread bag and he’d still like what he saw.

I join him on the couch, straddling his lap, facing him. He traces my shoulder with his forefinger, then lets it dip between my breasts. Heat races through me and I grab the back of his neck, bringing him in for another kiss. His hands slide upward and he brushes his thumbs back and forth across my nipples, raising goosebumps on my arms. Then he tugs the bra cup aside to free my breast and take the aching tip into his mouth. It feels like heaven. It also feels like there’s still too much clothing between us.

I pluck at his flannel, pushing it off his shoulders. We twist and free him from it, and I pull off his t-shirt, throwing it on the floor like it’s personally offended me. I place both hands on his muscled chest and pause there for a moment, admiring his smooth skin and six-pack abs. I rake my gaze upward, over the strong column of his throat to his stubbled jaw and kiss-swollen lips, and then to his eyes which are dark and intense, the pupils blown out with lust.

Damn, he’s hot. It’s even hotter when he stands up, bringing me with him. My legs are around his waist and I can feel the hard bulge of his erection. Pleasure spears through me as he carries me to the bedroom. I can’t ever remember being this desperate for a man.

He could drop me on my bed. He doesn’t. He lowers me gently, not letting go until I’m settled on the blankets. And then one tug of my legs. Two. I’m on the edge of the bed and he’s working my leggings off, followed by my underwear. Bra, socks, it’s all gone and I’m naked under his gaze.

He lets out a hum of admiration that seems to vibrate through me and land at my center. He kisses his way down my body, starting at my lips and moving across my neck, then to each of my breasts in turn. Lower, lower, until he’s kneeling beside the bed with his head between my legs. I gasp and tug at his hair as he works his magic.

There’s no other word for it. It’s magic. It’s wild and feral and coming from a deep, mystical place. He’s not just giving me oral sex. He’s discovering me, learning me, maybe even worshipping me. Desperate whimpers escape my throat as I strain toward pleasure, toward relief. The pitch increases in harmony with his tongue and fingers.

He’s promised me more than one orgasm tonight, and thank God for that because my first one is on its way. My toes curl and my back arches off the bed as pleasure flows over me. I’m lost. I’m falling. I’m floating away from Earth and back again.

I catch my breath, happy, limp, excited to be here. “Holy shit,” I breathe. “I’m speechless.”

His proud grin is the stuff of my filthiest daydreams. He should be proud. That orgasm was exceptional. But I’m still hyped up and horny, and I want more. I tug at his waistband. “These need to come off.”

“Obviously.” Grant strips off his jeans and boxers before joining me on the bed. His thighs are thick and muscular and so is his cock. Yum.

“Wow,” I whisper. I take it in both of my hands and guide him toward me. I lick my lips and then pause, quirking an eyebrow at him. “No comeback?” I ask. “No stupid remark?”

“This is serious,” he says. “Besides I can’t—” His voice skids upward on the last word and disappears as I take him in my mouth.

“No words,” he chokes out. “Oh God, you’re so good at that.”

I let out a pleased hum and keep going.