Page 113 of PR Stunt

Soaked through, the fabric clings to his body, leaving no room for imagination. It hugs every powerful inch of him, the hard, unmistakable outline of his arousal pressing against the wet material. He’s gorgeous. Devastatingly, unfairly gorgeous.

His voice drops lower, rougher. “I knew you’d like me on my knees. Worshipping you.”

He doesn’t move right away. He stays there, kneeling before me and staring as if he’s trying to memorize every inch of me, seconds from losing whatever restraint remains. In one fluid motion, he rises, towering over me, the heat of his body sinking into mine. He doesn’t look away as he strips off his pants, his boxers following with a wet smack against the floor.

He holds my gaze the entire time, steady and unblinking, like letting go of it would break whatever spell we’ve fallen under. Now he stands before me, completely bare.

His body is all sculpted lines and restrained power, every part of him carved and commanding. My gaze trails lower. He’s hard, thick, and undeniably impressive, and the sight of him sends a slow, molten ache through my core.

Need rises, flooding me from the inside out. He lifts me up, and my legs wrap around his waist once again as his lips crash onto mine, swallowing the soft gasp that escapes as I cling to his shoulders. He tangles his fingers in my hair, tugging to tilt my head back so he can kiss me deeper.

The cool marble of the bathroom vanity meets the backs of my thighs as he sets me down. My bare chest grazes his. A sharp, aching rush of desire shoots through me at the contact. Skin to skin, heat to heat. My nipples pebble against the hard planes of his chest, and a broken sound escapes before I can stop it. His length brushes against my core, thick and hot, and my whole body tenses in response. He goes still, breath hitching against my mouth.

He lifts me again, strong arms banding around me like he never intends to let go, and carries me through the steam toward the shower. The water runs, hot and inviting, but all I feel are his hands on my body, his mouth on mine, and the certainty that there’s no stopping this now. It’s game over, Charlie.

My back presses against the cool tile as he cages me in, his hands still tangled in my hair, his lips still owning me like he refuses to come up for air. His mouth slows. His tongue sweeps against mine, coaxing, teasing, and a quiet moan slips from me again as I tighten my legs around his waist.

Grayson groans, rough and guttural. His lips break from mine, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down my jaw and along the curve of my neck before he sucks at the spot just beneath my ear. I tilt my head back, breath shaky, body arching into him.

“Fuck,” he breathes against my skin, his voice wrecked. He cups my breasts, thumbs circling my already-tight nipples before he dips lower, dragging his tongue across one and then the other. He sets me down gently, and his mouth finds me again. He lightly clamps down on one nipple, and I gasp, the sound sharp in the steam-filled air. He soothes the sensation with a quick, teasing lick, and my knees nearly give out.

“Grayson,” I plead.

He pauses and braces one hand above my head against the wall. His gaze remains locked on mine, pinning me in place with a stare so intense that it steals the breath from my lungs. His other hand slides between my legs, fingers brushing over my already aching core. A sharp gasp escapes me.

With two fingers, he strokes once and then twice, teasing. A broken sound rips from my throat as he keeps going, slow and torturous, and I grab onto his shoulders, desperate for something to hold on to as pleasure consumes me.

“Grayson,” I breathe again, squeezing my eyes shut for a fraction of a second. The sound is different now. Needy and demanding.

“I know, love. I know.”

He presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth and then slips one finger inside me. A strained sound rips from him. The sensation is instant. Deep and dizzying. My breath stutters as I cling to him, hips tilting toward his touch, chasing more.

“Tell me you need me,” he commands. His gaze remains locked on mine as he slowly moves his finger in and out of me.

I whimper, the pressure building too slowly, not enough. I need friction. More of him. My nails dig into his shoulders, grounding myself as the ache grows sharper, hotter, impossible to ignore.

His lips graze my ear. “Say it, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice like gravel and sin. “Tell me you need me, Charlie.”

I bite my lip, dragging it out, teasing him the way he’s been teasing me. I shift my stance, grinding more from him. Even in foreplay, this man is infuriating.

His answering hum is a warning promise. “That’s cute, baby,” he murmurs, voice heavy with control. “But I don’t think you’re the one in charge here.”

He pulls his finger from me abruptly, leaving me empty for a breathless second. Then his hand moves higher, and he finds that bundle of nerves with maddening precision. He circles it once and then again, the pressure light and deliberate. My hips jerk, but he holds me still, teasing that spot with slow, unrelenting focus until my whole body trembles. Heat spikes through me like an electric shock. I cry out. He groans, the sound full of need, as if my reaction feeds something in him.

I break. “I need—” My voice shakes, uneven. My stomach tightens. I squeeze my eyes shut.

“Look at me,” he growls.

My eyes open of their own accord. I might need control in every other aspect of my life, but in here with Grayson, he’s in charge, and…I’m happy to give it. With him, control isn’t taken. It’s coaxed from me, breath by breath, until I’m aching to obey. My body responds before my brain can catch up, core tightening, breath caught in my throat. He says it like a command, and I love following his orders.

I pant, my body fighting between pride and pleasure, stubbornness and surrender.

“I need…you.”

His patience frays, and he crashes his lips onto mine again, no longer teasing, no longer soft. He grips my ass, pulling me against him and pressing me harder against the cold tile as his cock is trapped against my stomach. Desperation and need thrum between us, woven into every frantic touch, every ragged breath.

He rolls his hips against mine, the wet friction sending shockwaves through me. “Tell me you want this,” he growls, voice barely controlled.