Page 57 of Grip Me Tight
“I’m always ready for you.” I stretch up, grabbing his chin and pulling his face down to mine. His kiss brands me and his long, lean body comes down on mine, his cock rubbing against my soaked panties. His tongue invades my mouth, winding against mine with a sinuous rhythm that has my hips moving, grinding against him. He kneels back, hooking his fingers around the waist of my panties and slides them down, crushing them in his hand. He brings it to his face and buries his nose in the flesh-colored silk. My cheeks burn with mingled desire and embarrassment.
“You are my favorite dessert. Your perfume, the way your hair smells like vanilla cookies, the lemon scent of your breath and the creamy coconut of your skin. If I could rub myself in your essence just to claim you as mine, I would.”
The intensity in his gaze, the poetry of his words wash make me quiver.
“I want to taste you, lick you like the sweetest cream and breath in your pleasure, but I don’t think I can wait any longer to be inside that delicious pussy.” He picks up the nearest box. “Any preference?”
I shake my head unable to speak. He rips open a box, and I take off my sundress, my hands going to the front-clasp of my bra. “Leave it,” he says. “That’s my present to open.”
His beautiful muscles tighten as he takes himself in hand, stroking his cock as he slides the condom down. He’s so big and I can’t help myself. I lean over, scraping my nails over his thighs, watching as his cock bobs against his stomach. My mouth waters and I reach between his spread legs, cupping him in my hand, my fingernails grazing the sensitive skin there. He sucks in a breath. “Christ, you are so fucking amazing.” He unsnaps the clasp of my bra, my breasts falling, heavy and sensitive, as he pushes the straps off my shoulders, before gliding his knuckles over my aching nipples. He tangles his hand in my hair and bends, taking my mouth in a demanding kiss. My back slides against the cotton and I feel his free hand guiding his cock between my thighs, circling my clit over and over, the pleasure climbing. He grazes my opening, the tip of him stretching me and I arch my hips, but he doesn’t move. I open my eyes to see his dark gaze boring into me and I feel his fingers slide down, applying a slight pressure to my clit and the pleasure twists up higher. I try to press him to go deeper, to end this delicious torture, but he stays where he is, the teasing pressure at my opening and the deliberate motion of his fingers winding me up and up and up until sensation crashes over me, my vision blurring. At that moment, Tanner thrusts inside, sliding deep as my pussy clenches around the invasion, my legs tightening around him. His hips grind against mine, his lips finding mine as he gathers me close, in a bubble of sensation, his fingers pinching my nipple while he pumps hard inside me and it isn’t long before I feel my pussy contracting again, gripping his cock as another orgasm rips through my body. I think I scream his name, my voice cracking and he groans, slamming into me, his head thrown back, the cords in his neck standing out in stark relief as he comes.
His arms are like steel bars on either side of me and he’s still hard, my sensitive flesh twitching while he shifts his weight, takes himself in hand and slowly slides out of me. I am boneless, breathless, and nearly blind to everything except the tenderness in his gaze.
I look away. I can’t fall in love with this man.
I ignore the pang in my chest telling me it might be too late.
22
Tanner
Birds are chirping in the trees and a light breeze rustles the leaves, sounding a lot like the soft swish of Slade’s drum brushes.
It’s warm, but nowhere close to the heavy heat we’ll get this afternoon. The water is lapping at the shore and I pick up my cup of coffee, feeling both serene and ripped to shreds if that’s possible.
I’ve been up for a couple of hours, cuddling Sterling back into the alcove bed and tucking my pillow against her side when she sleepily protests my movements. We spent a lot of time in bed yesterday evening, going through our endless cache of condoms.
I’m still laughing at her description of the grandpa who suggested she buy some fireworks.
Around ten, we came back downstairs to make sandwiches and soothe our sore muscles in the hot tub, gazing up at the stars and talking. About nothing and everything, the line between reality and this game of pretend we’re hiding behind, blurring even more. Then we dried ourselves on the lounge chairs, and I couldn’t resist the way her nipples peaked when I rubbed them with the towel, which led to another outdoor experience I won’t soon forget.
I lean back in my chair, stretching my legs out, my cock as hard as it’s ever been. I’m afraid I’ll never get enough of her. I flip through my notebook, seeing the pages and pages of notes, impressions, lyrics. I woke up early this morning, for the first time in forever, with music in my head. I could feel the beat building in the composition and the lyrics poured out of me with an ache that was almost painful.
That’s how I know it’s good.
I re-read it again, anticipation thrumming in my veins.
Let’s pretend, you and me
We’re all alone
There’s no history
Let’s pretend
That you won’t walk away
That you’ll catch me
When I fall—
Let’s pretend
You’ll whisper what I want to hear
The biggest lie of all
I read the rest of the song, hearing the crash of the drums, the wail of the guitar, Ajax’s husky baritone in the background. I’ve done it. I’m bleeding on the page, my heart laid bare, but I’ve done it.
