Page 11 of One Shade of Gray
She finished there and stripped the shirt away to join the vest on the floor. When she encountered my T-shirt she stopped. “Really? How much clothing is necessary for a fewdrinks?”
I shrugged. “I have to protect myhonor.”
She rewarded me with a snort chuckle that warmed me to my toes. Then she yanked the hem of my shirt out of my pants hard enough I almost stumbled for balance. “I can remove my ownclothing.”
Another sexy grin. “I know, but I like undressing a man. It’s like opening a Christmas present to find Santa brought you everything you wanted andmore.”
Next, the white cotton was up and over my head faster than I’d have been able tomanage.
As she bee lined for my belt buckle, I halted her fingers before they could work the brass closure. “This entire situation is severelydisproportionate.”
She laughed this time, a loud guffaw that echoed off the hardwood and granite of my home, before stepping back and kicking off her heels. With three less inches of height she stared up at me now. And she made sure to lock her eyes to mine as she twisted her camisole off over her head to drop it on thefloor.
And in a microsecond, the raging inferno relit. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Standing in my entryway with only a pair of denim blue jeans between her wet flesh and my body, I knew I wasn’t going to be able to stopmyself.
I reached out and tugged her to me by the waistband of her jeans. She came easily enough, going straight for my belt buckle again. She opened it before I got her button and zipper down. Why were women’s fastenings backwards? A fact I’d forgotten, or overlooked, in the last tenyears.
She let my trousers go and shimmied out of her jeans to reveal a black lace pair of boy shorts. I froze and stared. When she cleared her throat, I finished taking off my trousers to pool in the minefield by thedoor.
I pulled her into my body and wrapped my hands around her waist. Her skin was so soft and warm, the faint scent of peaches let loose by her clothing. As naked skin met naked skin, I stopped thinking again, my mind going blank to everything but thesensation.
I was about to drop to my knees in front of her, but she beat me to it and pulled my cock from my black boxer briefs before I could utter a word to stopher.
“Why, Mr. Gray, you were holding out on me,” she joked before situating herself to take the length of me into her mouth. Watching it was an out-of-body experience. I could see the way her tongue lapped at the underside of my sensitive flesh while at the same time feeling the heat and pleasure that accompanied the action as if from faraway.
Then I slammed back to my body, and the sensations were brighter, harder, stronger than before. Her mouth with its oh-so-wet heat gripped me, tight and demanding. She used her hand to cup the wet flesh as it left her mouth to continue thepleasure.
The carnality of her fucking me with her face broke a control inside me I didn’t think I’d be able to mend. I reached out and gripped the soft bit of hair I could fist in my hands at the nape of her neck. She gave me a moan of approval, and it was all the permission I would seek. I held her head tight and took the pleasure she had been offering formyself.
She wrapped her hands around my hips and held onto me. The tips of her sharp little nails dug in. I watched the scene still so far in the moment, I couldn’t force my brain to take over and releaseher.
I fucked her face hard, fast, brutally, and there wasn’t a bit of me that could stop it, even as hot wet tears sprang from the corners of her eyes, spreading her mascara in a black swath down hercheeks.
Seconds, minutes, hours, days. I didn’t know how much time passed. It was only me and her and the pleasure of her mouth gripping me. My climax surged forward like the last firecracker in a barrel. It sparked, and I broke free from her, pulling away to milk my seed into my own hand. I shuddered and shook and shattered from the force of it. Now clear of my body’s demands, I straightened again, and my brain went into overdrive as I faced her, expectingcensure.
She stood against the wall in her black lace boy shorts, mascara and tears streaming down her cheeks. Her hair stood up in little spikes and whirls all over her head, and lipstick ran down her chin and smeared up to her nose. Every part of her pale skin had a pink flush I wanted to trace with myteeth.
She’d been on her knees for me seconds ago, and now she stood like she owned the world and me withit.
I grabbed the T-shirt and wiped my hands of the mess I’d made. She watched me, never moving to wipe the marks of me from her skin. My mind warred. Did I sink down and return the favor, or grovel and apologize for using her socarelessly?
I was in the middle of the second option when she stepped across discarded clothing and gripped the back of my neck to pull me down. It was a clear sign as to what she wanted, and enough to entice worship from a man likeme.
It wasn’t smooth or graceful or perfect as I’d trained myself to be for over 150 years. I yanked at her panties and they stuck at her knees. She had to help me pull them from her feet. Then I tried to taste her standing, and I couldn’t get enough of her wet heat in mymouth.
I stood, picked her up, and tossed her onto the chaise end of my black leathersectional.
“Comfy,” she commented before spreading her legs wide. I dragged her by the hips to the edge and got my first good look at everything I hungeredfor.
“Oh, Sibyl,” I whispered before leaning in for my first truetaste.
Izzy’s hand caught me by the forehead, her flat palm pushing me away. The error I’d made hit me with the force of a brick wall, squeezing the air from my lungs and pressing my heart into the tight closure of my throat. Shit. Fuck. Damn andhellfire.
She closed her legs and tucked them around me to stand. I reached out and caught nothing but air. “Izzy,” Iwhispered.
I didn’t have experience with this. How did a man fix such awrong?
She dressed with impressive speed and pulled flat shoes from the depths of her purse. I didn’t speak as she removed a tissue and cleaned her face. I watched, fearing a rebel tear might spring forth. In sadness or humiliation, it didn’tmatter.
