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When he had his fill, he pulled back, allowed his eyes to roam over my face, and smiled at me. Then he hoisted me onto the bed before climbing up and joining me.
Our heads hadn’t even hit the pillow before we went back at it. I was lunging forward for Griffin, and he was reaching out for me. His arms came around me as he fell to his back, taking me with him.
While our tongues dueled, our hands explored. I felt the gentle brush of Griffin’s fingers on my skin just below the hem of my shirt. He’d barely touched any skin, and there was no question I wanted more.
Not only that, but I also wanted to give him more.
If having him touch me like he had caused that reaction, I wanted him to have the opportunity to feel the same.
So, my hands drifted. With my legs straddling his body, I crawled my fingers down his sides and began bunching his shirt up. Once I’d captured the hem of it, I flattened my palms against his skin.
Griffin groaned into my mouth, indicating I’d succeeded in what I set out to do. Wanting more of that, wanting more of everything, I slid my palms up his torso, sending the shirt in the same direction, until he had no choice but to lift his arms over his head and take it off.
Then it was no longer only my hands doing the exploring. As they continued to touch, my mouth started its own journey—across his chest, down his abdomen, and up his sides.
Unfortunately, my exploration was short-lived, because I thought I was just getting started when Griffin rolled me onto my back. He whipped my shirt over my head, immediately dropping his face down between my breasts, his hands holding them in place.
He inhaled, squeezing, and ultimately pressed a soft kiss to the top swells of each. His hand on one side shifted slightly, yanked the fabric down, and forced my breast to spill out. Griffin’s eyes heated at the sight, and he didn’t hesitate to capture it in his mouth.
Within seconds of having his tongue flicking and teasing, I was writhing and panting, my nails digging into the skin on the top of his back.
“Griffin,” I breathed, that single word sounding like a plea.
God, I was desperate. Frantic.
He pulled my bra down on the other side, moved his mouth there, and groaned when I rolled my hips against him.
I loved what he was doing. It felt spectacular. But it still wasn’t enough.
“Please,” I begged.
He sucked my breast in deeper before releasing it and taking my nipple between his teeth. He bit down gently, sending another shot of desire between my legs.
If he didn’t stop teasing me, I was certain I’d combust.
“What do you want, sugar?”
“I already told you. Please make love to me,” I pleaded with him.
Unwilling to waste another second, Griffin swiftly removed my pants and his own. He’d grabbed a condom from the cabinet just above the head of the bed, and he had it on before I could even manage to take in the sight of him naked and appreciate it for all that it was.
Positioned between my parted thighs, Griffin’s eyes came to mine. There was something dark and intense sparkling in them, and it mixed with something else, something sweet and tender.
I loved it.
I loved that look and wished I could have taken a picture of it.
But then he slowly pushed inside, and my lips parted. He felt incredible. Every inch of him was perfection.
“Indy,” he said, his voice deep and husky.
That was even better. Hearing him say my name like that, like I was something special, made my heart melt.
And once he started to move, my body did the same. I melted deeper into the mattress, my legs circling his hips while he thrust himself into me at a steady pace. He dropped his mouth to mine, kissing me, and didn’t hold anything back.
The sounds of our moans filled the air around us as the pleasure built between us. While there was a part of me so consumed by the physical aspect of what was happening between us, there was another part of me consumed by what this connection to him meant.
After months and months of not wanting to entertain the idea of a relationship, I was here, just like this, with Griffin.
