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Two Months Later
Quinn
Grey is spread out on the table, completely naked except for those thin-as-fuck boxers, the outline of his dick taunting me, and it is making it hard to concentrate. I’d paid the owner of the studio a hefty fee to use the space after hours for this project, and holy hell, I am not regretting it.
What I am regretting, however, is letting Grey wear boxers while I try and sculpt him.
“Take them off,” I blurt, my hands coming off the clay and pointing shakily toward his groin. “Take off the boxers.”
Grey’s eyebrows lift, and he blushes prettily.
“But you’re in the middle—”
“Don’t care,” I interrupt.
“What if someone sees?”
“No one is here,” I say, adjusting myself in my pants. God, they’re too tight. I should have worn sweats, not these damn jeans. They’re like a damn compression sleeve, but I like the way Grey looks at me in these pants, so I thought I’d suffer through. Well, I’m suffering now. “I locked the door. Take them off. I want to suck your dick.”
Grey looks suddenly shy and I groan, moving toward him and grabbing on to the fabric covering the good bits. I yank it down roughly and the waistband gets caught on his delicious ass.
“Hips up,” I mutter, and he does as I say. Thank god. I don’t think I’m strong enough to actually rip the fabric. It would be far too embarrassing to try. Now, Grey, on the other hand, could rip shit apart. He has. He’d been so desperate at one point last month that he tore me out of my clothes, literally. Buttons had gone flying, seams ripping. I almost came on the spot with how hot it was.
I made sure he screamed that night as a thank-you.
Tossing the boxers onto the floor, I run my hands up his hairy thighs, feeling the muscle bunch underneath my palms.
“God, I wanna fuck you, right here on this table.”
Grey lets out a low moan, and I lean forward and kiss him. “Yes, be as loud as you want. I want my ears to ring with your screams.”
My hand moves to his straining cock, and I pump it, feeling it jump in my grip.
“I’ve imagined this,” I say as I glance down and see my clay-caked fingers encircling his dick. “I’ve imagined you being here, just like this. God, Grey, you’ve made all my dreams come true.”
He moans as I lean over and pull him into my mouth, savoring the taste of him, the feel of him on my tongue.
He’s crying out now, panting and groaning, his hands clutching my hair roughly as he fucks into my mouth. And it’s all too much. I reach down with a free hand and pull myself out, emptying myself onto the floor of the studio just as Grey explodes down my throat. We both just collapse, my cheek on his thigh, his hands still in my hair.
“Goddammit, Quinn,” he huffs, his words shaky.
“I couldn’t help it. You looked so sexy. You’ve been torturing me for hours.”
And he has, I haven’t gotten enough of him. I knew it would be like this. I knew it. I am insatiable when it comes to this man. My man.
I glance up at him, and he swipes some of the mess from my cheek. Some ofhismess.
“I love you,” he mutters, and my heart picks up in my chest. We haven’t said those words yet, even though I’ve wanted to. I’ve wanted to say them for years. But I’ve been waiting for him to say it first.
I needed him to say it first.
“You do?” I ask, pushing myself up and leaning into him.
He nods his head, his cheeks flushing an even darker shade of red.
I run my lips across his jaw, feeling almost faint. “Since when?”
“Since…for a while. I’ve known for a while.”
