Page 49 of Grip Me Tight
The raw desire in his voice is enough to make my panties disintegrate. He takes another drink and I watch him swallow, the strong line of his neck rippling. He licks his lips and I know in that moment he knows exactly what he’s doing to me.
“What do you want to pretend? That I’m a groupie?” I ask.
His lips twist. “Not that.”
“What then?”
“Pretend you’re my girlfriend.”
Our eyes meet, the vulnerability in his quickly masked as he takes another drink.
“Will you freeze me out afterwards?” I bite my lip, wanting to go to him, but unable to keep baring myself to him if I’m only going to get slapped for it later.
He shakes his head. “Let’s pretend the entire time we’re here. I’m just a guy with a smoking hot girl, in a cabin in the woods. We have no past.”
We have no future.
The words hang in the air between us. I know the rules of this game. We play the way he wants. He stretches his arms across the back of the couch, his pose all rock star, confident and casual, even though I know there’s nothing casual about this moment. I can take what he’s offering, under his conditions, or we can continue with this emotional tug of war and I can regret never feeling the way I do when he touches me for the rest of my life.
He tilts his head. “What do you say, Silver? Are you in?”
He’s a fantasy come to life. He looks like an album cover, sitting in the sunshine in an old white t-shirt, his come-and-get-it smirk drenching my panties as I shift with indecision. This isn’t my teenage crush, this is Tanner Steele, the man whose voice makes women cry and whose body makes them lose their minds. I saw it when we left the hotel together, the excitement in their eyes as they screamed for him; their jealously when he took my hand and pulled me close to his side. He smiles like he knows he’s gained the upper hand and my pulse flutters. Do I want the fantasy?
Yes. I want him any way I can get him. And I’ve been fantasizing about him for so long, does it really matter what the story is?
“I’m all in.”
My voice cracks but he doesn’t seem to notice as heat flares in his eyes and he crooks his finger at me again. Slowly, I walk to him, my hips swaying and I’m keenly aware of the way my body is moving, how my skin feels too tight, the slight breeze that lifts my hair off my neck. He reaches for me, his thumbs pressing into my hipbones before pulling me down onto his lap. My knees sink into the cushions on either side of him and he spreads his legs wider, my thighs tightening. I’m soaked and he hasn’t even touched me yet.
“You’re so beautiful.” He glides one hand up until he reaches my breast, his thumb rubbing the edge of my nipple. “Did you miss me?”
I shake my head in confusion. “What?” He presses my nipple and I moan, shifting on his lap.
He leans forward, biting my breast lightly while his hands snake under my shirt to undo my bra. “Did you miss me while I did the shows in Chicago?”
Ahh. Right. Let’s pretend there’s no history. I groan while he drags my bra straps down my arms and pulls it out from my shirt. “I did.” I grind closer to where I want to be and lean down to take his lips in a kiss. “Did you miss me?” I whisper, brushing my mouth over his.
He grips the back of my neck and takes the kiss deeper, driving the heat between my legs higher. He pulls back slightly. “I missed you desperately,” he growls before plundering my mouth again.
I cling to him, his tongue stroking mine while I whimper with need. This feels different from the other night and this game makes me feel a little off balance. He hooks his hand around the crotch of my shorts where they’re stretched tight across his lap and his knuckles graze my slit. I cry out at the contact and he stills.
“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he says into my mouth. “I need these off.” He stands, cupping my ass in his big hands and pivots, laying me down on the couch. He hooks his hand in my shorts again, flicking the button with his other hand. The rasp of the zipper echoes in the silence of the room as I suck my tummy in against the sensation of his fingers slowing caressing my swollen flesh. He pulls my shorts off, dragging my soaked panties with them and tosses them behind him. He steps between my legs and I rise up on my elbows. “I want you naked too.”
“Unbutton my jeans.”
I sit up, lifting my shaking fingers to where his cock is straining against the soft blue denim. I unzip him, but I must be moving too slow because he pushes my hands out of the way and shoves his jeans to the floor, stepping out and kicking them out of the way. Before I can blink at his long, perfect cock bobbing in front of my face, he drops to his knees and pulls his t-shirt off. Tanner moves in, curling his fist in my shirt and pulls me towards him for another drugging kiss.
He breaks away, hooking his arms under my knees and tugging me forward. “On the plane, all I could think about was your sweet pussy. The way your softness clings to my fingers, the sweet honey of you melting against my tongue.”
“Tanner,” I breathe, as his fingers glide up the inside of my thigh and his thumb grazes my clit, making me shudder. He slips two fingers inside of me, pushing them in and out while he gently circles my clit.
His touch is electrifying, and I cling to his shoulders, rubbing myself against his hand. “That’s it, baby, show me what you want. Let me feel how hot you are, how much you want me.” The husky rasp of his voice sounds like pure sex.
I bite my lip, feeling the orgasm rush up and rip through my body, hard pulses of pleasure that make me throw my head back and cry out. I want him inside me, I want to make him lose control. His fingers slowly slide out of me and he rubs his wet hand up my stomach, pushing me onto my back before licking the trail of wetness on my stomach. I moan, my hands covering my breasts, but he pulls them away.
“That was just an appetizer, Silver. I haven’t had you for nearly two weeks and I need drown in this softness to make sure I know how much you missed me.” He lightly draws his fingers over my sensitive flesh. “But I don’t want to abuse this little pussy.” Tanner kisses my inner thigh, and his stubble scratches the soft skin there. I shiver and he rubs his cheek back and forth, the hard rasp in contrast to the gentle tickling of his fingers as he strokes my pussy. “Tell me what you did while I was away. Did you keep a picture of me under your pillow?”
I close my eyes. Jesus, the way his voice sounds so innocent and filthy at the same time. I don’t think I can answer, and he lifts his head when I whimper. “What’s that baby? Tell me about the picture.”
