I’m still sore from fucking Sin, but I also can’t seem to resist Grainger either.
I’ve missed him. If he’d died … All I can think about is the quiet, restrained chatter in that room, the feel of his limp hand in mine, the tears that ran hot and salty down my face.
I’m wearing an oversized t-shirt now along with a pair of Sin’s boxers, that’s it. I’ll admit, when I woke up this morning with a bizarre craving for orange juice (is this pregnancy shit or something?), I found myself entertaining a strange thrill at the idea of digging through Colton’s dresser drawers as he slept.
I’ve never had the opportunity to wear a boy’s clothes before. Well, okay, man’s clothes, but Sin is the closest thing I will ever have to that giddy, champagne-bubbles-in-the-chest feeling that I’ve heard other high school girls talk about.
The thing is, I could never get that feeling from a high school boy. Even now, thinking about Trevone Hundley kissing me in the cold waters at the church camp, I feel nothing. Less than nothing. Blank.
I don’t want a boy; I want a man.
And Grainger, dickhead that he is, is most definitely a man in every way that matters. He’s big and hard—in more ways than one—with a chiseled jaw and dark stubble, his rust-red hair a similar color to my eyes.
He offers me my own version of those champagne bubbles, like fluttering bats in my belly instead of butterflies. It’s the sort of dark, morbid love that can only be built on a foundation of tragedy. It’s the only thing a girl like me can really dig into.
I swing my leg over his lap, spreading my thighs and hovering above the thick heat of his erection. The boxers are easy enough to push aside, so I don’t bother to remove them. I like the idea of fucking Grainger while wearing Sin’s clothes anyway.
My hands come up to touch either side of Cade’s face, digging my fingers into his hair and searching for the edge of that sun and moon tattoo that rests partially beneath his hairline. The first time we had sex—first time ever for me—he had the sides of his head shaved, and this tattoo was highly visible. Now, it’s hidden, almost private.
I brush my thumb across that ink, feathering his hair, and he quite literally growls at me, reaching up to snatch my wrist in strong fingers.
“What are you doing?” he asks, voice accusatory. I scoot back, brushing my hips over the straining length of his cock until it’s pinned between me and his rock-hard stomach. Keeping most of my weight on my thighs, I rock against the underside of his shaft and make him curse so violently that a smile rises to my lips.
“Grainger,” I say, giving him a look that he returns with a fierce one of his own, the fingers of his left hand burning as they hold my wrist in a punishing grip. “Don’t fight this.”
“Fight what?” he asks with a harsh laugh. “Sex? Because you know I want to fuck you, Gidge. I’ve wanted that for years. Unfettered. Unrestrained. I thought maybe there was something about that, about you being off-limits and taboo as fuck.” He shakes his head as I lean over, brushing my mouth against his, but just barely.
He’s still recovering; I’m in complete control right now.
It’s a rare opportunity, to have Cade Grainger this vulnerable. I don’t imagine anyone has ever seen him like this. If I have my way, nobody else ever will. This is for me and me alone, and so I’ll give him something that he can have all to himself.
I rock my hips against his cock again, already regretting keeping the boxers on. The material is thin enough that I can feel his heat, that I know I’m soaking through the fabric with my own arousal, but I want—no, I need—his skin to touch mine.
Using the wrist he’s still holding, I move his hand to my chest and place my left one over the top of his, pushing his palm against my beating heart.
“That night … if you’d fought just a little harder, it might’ve been just you and me.”
The words fall between us like stars, winking in a distant sky. The light is there, but it takes eons for it to reach the eyes. That’s what my words are like, just hanging there, waiting to be perceived, flickering and dancing and burning.
Cade looks at our entwined hands on my chest and not at my face. He’s breathing hard; I can feel him underneath me. Oddly enough, I feel like I can sense his heartbeat in his cock. I push my hips down harder, pinning that impossibly rigid shaft between our bodies. He grits his teeth and finally lifts his eyes to mine.
