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He’s been asleep for hours, his hair roughed out of place and his long eyelashes touching his cheek. I take the time to study him, to appreciate him without that cold glare of his forcing me away. He actually looks adorable sleeping, innocent and untroubled, like blood has never touched his hands or tainted his skin. It takes me a while to realize that I’m touching myself. My finger slowly slipping through my pussy lips and stroking gently. I wonder how it would feel to have him touch me there, or if he’s ever even touched a girl there before. I don't understand how Grimm gets his kicks out of just watching, he doesn't even touch himself, and the need to feel his hands on me grows painful while I stroke myself harder.
“Grimm,” I whisper his name, but he doesn't stir, so I push my panties off my hips then slowly reach out and take the hand he’s got resting on the mattress beside me. I guide it over my thigh, his limp fingertips brushing over my skin and setting it on fire. Then I make it cover my clit, pulsing against him, begging to feel movement, tension, anything. I rub myself against his hand, holding him firm against me, and keeping my eyes on him, scared for him to wake up and catch me.
I need to come before he realizes what I’m doing. Even without his response, his skin feels good against my sensitive flesh, and I close my eyes and imagine how good it would be to feel him inside me.
“Rogue.” His whisper sounds rugged and raw and when I quickly open my eyes back up, he’s watching me. He looks unimpressed, one of his eyebrows raising, but giving no indication of how he’ll react. He moves his glance down his nose to where I’m using his hand to touch myself, and when his teeth graze over his bottom lips, a shudder of my pleasure sparks straight to where his fingertips touch. He props his head up in his other hand, bringing his face closer to mine so we’re almost touching. I can feel his breath on my skin and I swear I hear a low growl escape his throat
He must feel how wet I am, I'm practically soaking his finger, and when I feel him apply a little pressure against me, my toes curl into the mattress. He’s staring at me now. His eyes so intensely holding mine that I feel like he’s crawling inside me. Grimm says nothing, but his long slippery finger rubs against me and my hips buck for more of it.
He’s in control, he’ll decide if I come or not, and it’s hot as sin. I have to remind myself to breathe when his thumb takes over rubbing my clit and two of his fingers curl inside me. He watches, intrigued as I come apart for him, the same way he’d watched me in the truck a few nights ago. Only this time he’s the one coaxing me to the brink, his hand moves so slowly that I get to savor him. I feel like I’m gonna detonate and as he pushes deeper inside me, I feel myself tighten around him.
His expression remains unmoved, and I wonder if he’ll kiss me again. It feels weird that he isn't kissing me. God, I want him to kiss me. I want to…
“Holy shit.” I come hard, my whole body tensing and my thighs closing to clutch him inside me. I’m not ready to lose him yet. I like the feel of him there, it's as if he has the power to cleanse all the bad that came before him.
His thumb continues to rub circles into my clit, and I pulse against him as he slowly winds me back down to earth until I relax enough to loosen my legs.
Tearing my eyes away from his, I watch his tattooed hand as it travels up my body, his fingers leaving a wet sticky trail over my skin as he moves under my shirt, sliding between my tits and making me want to come all over again.
Then I feel him under my chin, his thumb and hand holding my jaw while he feeds the two fingers he fucked me with between my lips.
I suck them hard and watch his jawline tense as I lap the taste of myself off him, hoping that there will be more. He draws me closer, taking up that small amount of space between us. His lips touch mine and his tongue invades my mouth, stealing the last traces of my orgasm for himself.
“Now sleep,” he whispers, pulling his soaked fingers from my mouth and tapping them against my jaw.
“There’s a storm coming in, town’s been hit with a red alert, high ground is looking set to get hit hard. I want everyone in, bitches and family included.” Prez’s eyes home in on Nyx in particular as we sit around the club table and take in his instruction. While all I can think about is Rogue coming on my fingers last night.
“Everyone stays at the clubhouse tonight, the place is on lockdown until the bad weather passes.”
“Already sent Marilyn out with the Prospect to get supplies, let's just hope this storm doesn’t cause too much damage,” Jessie adds.
It ain’t often we get hit with a red alert, but that doesn’t mean I’m prepared to spend a whole evening holed up with this lot. Just the thought of it has my palms feeling clammy. Prez ends church and we all filter outside. I light up a smoke and look across to the garage. Rogue is talking to the guy who owns the abattoir on the outskirts of town, and I notice how he checks out her ass as she reaches up to grab the keys to his truck off the hook. It makes me want to punch his teeth into the back of his skull.
Rogue’s reason for keeping a gun in my cabin has haunted me ever since she confessed. I’ve always known she had issues. I can't judge her on that one, but to think about ending her life, that shit makes me angry. Skid would never cope if he lost her. I don’t know what I’d do either. And that's the part that fucking petrifies me.
I charge over to the garage and eyeball the sick bastard who’s stripping her of her clothes with his eyes. I swear I’ll scoop them out of his head and squash ‘em if he keeps it up.
“Oh hey, honey,” Rogue greets me with a wide smile. The guy probably thinks we’re a couple. Good. I want him to.
“Terrible thing what happened to the deputy,” he nods his head at me, trying to make polite conversation, but I give him no response. He quickly retreats, smiling at Rogue before he raises his bushy eyebrows and hops into his truck.
“You really aren’t a people person, are you?” Rogue giggles, throwing an oily rag at me. I watch it drop to the floor and fight the urge to pick it up. This isn’t my space, this is hers, and judging from the disorganization and mess, she likes it this way.
“So, what's going down? I saw you all coming out of church.” She pulls open a drawer from her toolbox and takes out a sizable wrench, swinging the thing in her hand as she moves toward the open hood of the car she’s working on.
“We were just preparing for the storm.” I clear my throat when I recall her riding my fingers last night. There’s nothing more perfect than the sound of Rogue coming.
“Pass me the rag.” She holds out an oily hand, keeping her head buried into the job. I ignore her, remaining still. How the fuck can the girl make something dirty so appealing.
“Grimm, pass me the damn rag.” She looks up at me impatiently. There's no way I’m gonna pick up a dirty rag off the floor, especially since she threw it at me in the first place.
“Christ.” She rolls her eyes and abandons what she’s working on to come toward me, and when she crouches on her knees to pick it up, I feel the urge to fist her hair and force her mouth onto my cock. Rogue’s hot mouth taking me inside it would be incredible.
She takes the rag in her hand and slides back up so her face is aligned with mine, her eyes aren’t sad like they were last night. Now they’re daring and so enchanting that I don't notice her other hand move to my face, not until it’s too late and I feel the long greasy swipe of her finger against my jawline.
“Imperfection looks good on you.” She cocks a smirk on her lips and I step forward, grabbing a fist of her blonde hair and slamming her back into the car she’s working on.
It would be so easy to take what I want, to pull down those jeans and fuck her into the chaise of the car. The garage doors are open, half the club could see us and know that she belongs to me. No one would think about touching her then.
