Page 62 of Cuffed (Everyday Heroes 1)
“What do you need from me?” he whispers against my lips, unknowingly giving me the question I need and the willingness to take it.
I’ve never been shy about taking
what I wanted from a guy before. I’ve never worried about what they thought because, in the end, we were both there for the same thing—pleasure. With Grant? I care. His ability to give me the things I need without even questioning is unnerving and comforting and makes me want this all the more.
“You. I just want you,” I say as he hisses a breath when my hand slides inside the waistband of his jeans to find him hard and stiff and ready for me.
“Take me, Em.”
And then our mouths crash together again in a torrent of desire that warns of its irreversible damage to my body and my heart. I push it away, focusing on his hands undoing my bra. The pads of his thumbs brushing ever so softly over the tips of my nipples. His fingers tugging at my zipper. The palms of his hands as they run down my sides and push my pants down over my hips.
My body reacts in every imaginable way to him. It wants and needs and begs and pleads. He pulls me against him so we’re body to body. Skin to skin. Mouth to mouth.
“Christ, I want you,” he says as he shoves his pants off and steps out of them.
“Then take me.” I give his words back to him because control has given way to need, and hell if every part of me isn’t ready and willing.
My hands are around his shaft, stroking him gently. I cry out as his fingers part me and find me wet, muscles vibrating, nerves stimulated and waiting to respond to his onslaught of touch.
He falls backward onto his couch—our laughs filling the room before they morph into drawn-out groans. There’s the telltale rip of foil and then I straddle his lap. Our mouths meld again as I grind atop of him so that my arousal coats his cock, and the feel of him steals my breath.
Urgency becomes the name of the game.
I lift my hips so his hand can find its way between us, and his fingers press into me. I moan. My nails dig into his shoulders and score his skin. He doesn’t seem to notice or even care as his fingers keep their even tempo.
“Grant. God. Yes. Please. I need. Oh.”
His chuckle is a murmur amidst the sounds I make, and at some point, I begin to beg. At least I think I do. Or maybe he does. I’m so caught up in the machinations of his fingers and the crest he’s slowly building within me that I’ve lost all semblance of time and place. As long as he doesn’t stop, I don’t care where I am.
And in a practiced move that’s both impressive and havoc inducing to every nerve within me, Grant withdraws his fingers from me and replaces them with the girth of his cock.
If I thought I’d felt pleasure before, I was dead wrong. This—his cock in me, his tongue licking against mine, the sexy groan in my ears—is pleasure. Pure, unadulterated pleasure like I can’t ever remember feeling before.
“Fuck.”
It’s one word, but it’s long and drawn out and almost a growl as we begin to move together. He thrusts up as I grind down, allowing the base of his shaft to hit the nether part of my clit in a way that sends shockwaves to where his crest is working within me.
We don’t speak, we react.
His exhale, my next inhale.
His curse—fuck—my want.
His tempo, my pulse.
We move in unison, each taking and giving and feeling, until every part of me burns bright with a desire I never knew possible.
His fingers press into my ass. My hands grab his biceps. The sounds of skin on skin fill the room with the constant undertone of our moans and groans and praise and pleas of bliss. His dick swells. I grind harder. My breath hitches then catches then gasps as the orgasm swells and surges. It hits with such forewarning, but I still lose myself as it drags me under its possessive haze, only to toss me up again just as Grant groans my name and loses himself to me.
My forehead rests on his shoulder. His fingers trail up and down the line of my spine. Our heartbeats bang against each other’s through our rib cages. Our breaths remain labored. My mind too hazy from being overwhelmed by everything that is Grant Malone to think about next steps and what the hell line we just crossed.
“That promise wasn’t so bad, was it?” He chuckles as he brings his lips to the top of my head, his breath heating my hair.
“No,” I murmur.
He definitely made me come, all right.
At least I know he keeps his promises now.
