Chapter 7

Seven

Grace

Tulip’s face lights up when the lightbulb blinks on and off in a glowing pattern.

“Holy hell, North,” laughs the girl. “Your girlfriend’s a genius.”

I’m still flushing from her use of the word girlfriend when he leans down and gives my neck a quick kiss. “Among other things.”

Tulip is asking me questions about battery life and electrical conduits, but I can’t help watching North move around the kitchen out of the corner of my eye, this rough and tumble fighter who is in the act of making dinner. Cooking an actual meal. His shirt is back on, a tragedy, but I console myself by cataloguing his other parts. His forearms flex as he grinds pepper into a bowl of ground meat. His brow furrows in concentration when measuring out the right amount of pasta, snapping it over the bubbling water.

I’ve never been more comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time.

I’m relaxed in this apartment. Doing a science project while the scent of tomato and meat and oregano teases my senses. It’s warm here. Welcoming. It’s nothing like my sterile and oftentimes hostile home in Beacon Hill. It’s the people that make a home, obviously. And North has turned this into a functional, happy space for his sister. I feel lucky to be here. Happy. Like I’ve stepped into a bear hug.

There is also the great discomfort that comes from being anywhere near North.

He’s so much more mature than any boy I’ve been around. He’s not a boy—he’s a man. There’s an air of capability and strength and confidence to him that makes my body feverish. What he said to me on the phone Saturday morning is making more and more sense. My female parts know something my brain doesn’t quite comprehend yet. I’m sensitive between my thighs, my every movement seems to set off a series of tingles. Down my spine, in my nipples, along the line of my neck. My thoughts are kind of fuzzy because all I can think about is his voice saying “it’s time to put it in.”

Tulip commands my attention and we work on her research paper, our heads bent together. She tells me funny stories about her science teacher and I return the favor with some of my own. North’s little sister has a depth of knowledge in her eyes I’m positive I didn’t have at thirteen, but she’s also silly and outspoken and honest. I like her a lot.

I don’t realize how much time has passed until North sets down a bowl of pasta in front of me and I glance up from the textbook, noticing the glow of an orange sunset through the kitchen window. “Thank you,” I murmur, almost biting off my tongue when he takes a seat to my left and squeezes my thigh under the table. “Do you cook every night?”

“Mostly, yeah,” North says, twirling his fork in the pungent pasta. “Sometimes we grab sandwiches from the deli if I can’t make it to the store.”

“Those are my favorite nights,” Tulip sighs. “No chance of food poisoning.”

North throws a wadded-up napkin across the table and it bounces off his sister’s forehead. “You love my cooking.”

“Ah, it’s decent, I guess.”

They smile at each other and my heart almost plonks onto the floor.

“Do you cook?” Tulip asks me.

“D-do I cook?” I repeat, the back of my neck prickling with heat. “Um…no. I’ve never cooked anything, actually. We go to the club. Or…there’s always just food in the refrigerator.”

As soon as those ignorant-sounding words come out of my mouth, I want to take them back. Tulip pauses in the middle of chewing. “Who makes the food?”

I’m suddenly a fish out of water, flopping around on the dock. “Our chef,” I admit quietly, digging into my pasta. “She comes three times a week. Makes fresh meals on those nights and leaves easy heat-up ones for the others.”

“Wow,” breathes Tulip. “Your parents must have stupid money. That’s what North calls it, because too much money makes people forget how to do basic things for themselves.”

“Tulip,” he growls, setting down his fork. “I didn’t say that about your family,” he rushes to explain, his hand back on my thigh under the table. “I probably said that years ago. Never about you, Gracie.”

“It’s okay,” I say, laughing to break the sudden tension. “There’s some truth to the phrase stupid money. I don’t think the Fosters would win any survival competitions. They’d drop us off on the desert island and we’d ask for directions to the spa.”

Tulip giggles around her bite of spaghetti.

North gives me a look heavy with apology and I shake my head to let him know I’m not offended. “Maybe your brother can teach me how to cook.”

A smile tilts his lips on one side.

His hand moves higher on my thigh. “I’ve got a lot of teaching to do, don’t I?”

The question seems innocent or related to cooking, but the two of us know it isn’t. And I eat the rest of my meal highly aware of North’s big massaging hand on my thigh. I can’t help but think this is the beginning of what we’re going to do together later. Almost like he’s preparing me. Turning my legs limber and moistening me in that private place. Foreplay.

“This was amazing,” I say unevenly, after taking my last bite.

He winks at me, his thumb digging gently into my inner thigh. “Thanks.”

“My night to clean up,” Tulip sing-songs, collecting the dishes from the table. “I have to hurry. Naya is going to FaceTime me in like five minutes.”

“Naya is one of her friends,” North explains to me, before addressing his sister again. “I’m going to take Grace out for a walk. You good here for a while?”

Tulip is already sailing from the room, calling, “I’m good,” over her shoulder.

“A walk?”

North pulls me to my feet, planting a kiss on my forehead. “Uh-huh. Come on.”

Excitement dances in my belly as we leave the apartment, North locking it behind us. But we don’t go down the stairs, we go up three more flights, then out onto the roof. The cool night air does nothing to cool my flushed skin, still so warm from North’s attention at dinner. And it doesn’t help when he threads our fingers together, pulling me close for a long, promissory kiss, his mouth slanting hungrily over mine.

“Goddamn, I love you sitting at my table. Eating food I made myself.”

Speaking of spaghetti, my knees suddenly have the consistency of wet noodles. “I love it, too,” I manage. “Kind of like…the grown-up version of playing house.”

“A lot more grown up, if you want, beauty,” His eyes are hot on mine, glittering and dark. Hungry. “I’m going to take you somewhere we can be alone. You good with that?”

I’ve barely nodded before North is pulling me along, to the edge of the roof.

“Watch your step, Gracie,” he says, holding me by the waist and helping me step across the slight gap between buildings. And then we’re simply walking across rooftops in the fading orange light of sunset. It’s magical. Holding the hand of this young man I’m rapidly falling in love with, allowing him to lead me on an adventure in this unfamiliar place, so far from my upper-crust zip code and all the expectations that comes along with it.

We’re walking for about five minutes when North stops outside of a steel door located on one of the roofs. He lets go of my hand and produces something metal from his pocket, using it to jimmy the lock. It pops open, groaning on its hinges, and North guides me into the near darkness, smirking back over his shoulder. “Having second thoughts?”

“No,” I admit quietly. “Is that crazy?”

“If you were with someone else, yeah. Letting them take you into a strange building at night would be crazy. But you’re with me.” He squeezes my hand. “And you’re not going places with other guys anymore. Not even as friends. Are you?”

His possessive tone causes a lustful twist beneath my belly button. There’s a part of me that knows I should pump the brakes on his ownership of me. I’m not like this. I don’t let anyone treat me like property. Collier tried to do that very thing before and I refused to allow it. In fact, it outraged me. With North, though…I like the way he claims me. I want to be claimed by him. To be unquestionably his. Is it okay to be possessed by someone as long as you’re choosing to be? Yes, I think so. And thank God for that, because I’m not sure I could deny what’s happening between us even if it was wrong.

“No,” I say to his back. “I’m not going anywhere with other guys anymore.”

“Say the rest.”

My nipples turn to spikes. “Not even as friends.”

“Good girl,” North says, stopping abruptly, turning and pulling me up against him. I expect to be kissed and I’m dying—dying for his mouth. So I’m surprised when he touches something behind me on the wall and the lights come on.

A gasp turns into a laugh as I register our surroundings.

We’re in a giant, windowless space.

There’s a pool. Several of them. Steam rises from their surfaces.

There are big, oversized lounge chairs around the perimeter of the room. Stacks of fluffy white towels on racks. The gentle hum of jets releasing bubbles beneath the water.

“What is this place? A…bath house?”

“More like a fancy club. I found it by accident. There isn’t even a sign downstairs to mark the entrance.” He looks around with a raised eyebrow. “I think it’s in Southie for a reason—whoever comes here wants to be off the radar.”

“Oooh. You think a lot of clandestine meetings take place in these heated pools?”

He shrugs. “You can’t wear a wire if you’re naked.”

I laugh, letting him pull me along slowly. “Do you come here a lot?”

“Only when I’ve had a particularly bad fight and I need to soothe a muscle or something.” We stop at the edge of a small, ornately tiled pool, steam rolling off the surface to curl around us. “Or if, say, I meet the girl of my dreams and want to impress her.”

“Who me?” I say, acting surprised.

“Yeah,” he rasps, brushing back my hair. “You, Grace Foster. Only you.”

I lean into his palm when he cups my cheek. “Well you’ve already succeeded. This is the best date I’ve ever been on. Eating spaghetti, meeting your sister. Doing science? The whole day, everything about it, has been perfect.”

He hums, tracing the line of my mouth with his thumb. “We haven’t even gotten to the best part yet.”

My breath runs short. “Are we? Going to get to it?”

“If we don’t, I’m pretty sure I’m going to die, so yeah. We’re getting to it. I just…” He blows out a breath that stirs my hair. “This is important. You’re…God, you’re so important. I’m making sure I do this right. I’m making sure you’re locked down before we go any further.”

A breathy laugh puffs out of me. “How much more locked down can I get?”

North’s eyes track over my face, his gaze taking on even more intensity—and I didn’t think that was even possible. But now? His energy is…adult. Male. Dominant. A little dark. And it excites me. Beyond my wildest imagination. “I’m going to undress you while we talk, Gracie.”

Oh my God.

What is coming?

My knees are trembling, but I nod.

Jaw clenched, North crouches down and unstraps my sandals, the delicate leather looking extra dainty in his scarred hands, and he removes them. Then he drags his fingertips up my legs from ankle to the hem of my skirt, slowly tugging the garment down to the floor. My tank top has been tucked in all day and I stupidly try and smooth out the wrinkles, but North catches my wrist, kissing my firing pulse and holding it away, his golden eyes captivated by my sheer, sapphire blue panties.

“Bet those were expensive.” He leans in, his hot breath feathering my stomach. Lower to my mound, his lips nudging me there. “Good. Only the best for this pussy.”

Letting go of my wrist, he hooks a finger into the waistband of the underwear and slowly, slowly, tugs the blue material down to mid-thigh, stopping to exhale shakily at the sight of my bare sex, before continuing. I can barely breathe while stepping out of the panties, and that’s before he stands, so tall I have to tip my head back, his hands gathering the hem of my tank top and peeling it upward, over my breasts. His eyes never leave mine as he strips off my top, those thick fingers going to work on the front clasp of my bra.

And then I’m naked.

Totally exposed, while North is still dressed, shoes and all. I’m vulnerable and achy and shaking, but not because I’m cold. No, it’s warm and humid in this place. It’s…I think it’s my body’s awareness of what’s coming.

North captures my chin and tilts it up, golden eyes boring into mine. “Give me permission to touch you—any part of your body—at any time. I want that trust. I need it.” Before I can answer, he lays a kiss on me that is so sexual, I whimper around his seeking tongue, my head growing dizzy from lack of oxygen before he pulls away, rolling his forehead against mine. “I want you to trust me—completely—to know when we need to fuck. When it’s been a hard day or you get wet out in public, if I pull you behind a parked car and unzip my pants to service you, I don’t want you to question me. I want you to trust that I’ve weighed the risk and that I’m going to keep you safe. That I would die for your safety. If you’re sad or stressed out, I want you to trust me to hold you and care for you, without sex. To know when it’s time to be between your legs—and when it’s not. I just want absolute fucking trust from you, Gracie, and I don’t know…I don’t know.” His fingertips dig into my hips, his forehead grinding on mine. “I’ve never felt like this before. It’s new. I don’t even know if it’s bad.”

Goosebumps occupy every inch of my skin. My head is spinning from his words. His confession. Our bodies crowd closer automatically and I feel his erection against my stomach, hard and long. There’s a voice in the back of my head whispering, you’re not a girl anymore. Not after tonight. And I know that to be true. Something is happening here. Maybe it’s premature, maybe we’re inspiring complicated, adult-level emotions in each other, but it’s too late to turn back now. We’re in the thick of it. “It’s not bad,” I gasp against his mouth, trying to recall every single detail of what he said. “I want t-to give you that trust, too. Making the decision once and then having it out of my hands…it’s exciting. It’s a relief. And I do trust you enough to give you that. To give you…control. Of what we do and when. Oh my God. It sounds crazy saying it out loud. It feels like I’m not supposed to, but I want it so bad.”

“I know you’re not supposed to.” His palms slide down over the cheeks of my backside and clutch roughly, making me whimper. “I’d knock a man’s teeth out if I heard him asking a girl for this…total permission. But it’s me and you, Gracie. I can’t stop. I look at you and I’m just honest.” His exhale is jagged. “I want no barriers between me and your body. It’s mine.”

God help me. I want that, too. I can’t explain how right it feels.

There’s just nothing but this. There’s no denying we both want the same thing.

“It’s yours.”

North makes a hoarse sound and jerks me off the ground, up against his fully clothed form, my legs encircling his hips involuntarily. Our mouths merge into one, licking deep and groaning wildly at the slippery contact. His hands are everywhere, petting my backside, smoothing up my back, tangling in my hair—and then I’m being laid down on one of the wide lounge chairs, cool leather kissing my spine. North presses down on top of me, ravenous, heavy with muscle and need and passion.

I’m at the fighter’s mercy.

I’ve just given him permission to do whatever he wants to me, whenever he wants. Somehow, at the tender age of eighteen, I’ve tossed the reins of my sexuality to this man and it feels incredible. Exhilaration. Like I was just waiting for this moment to arrive all along.

“I stayed innocent for you,” I whimper between kisses, need gripping me when he groans loudly into my neck at that statement. “I waited, I waited, I—”

His mouth cuts me off with a turbulent kiss, raking his tongue against mine until my sex begins to squeeze, signaling the approach of an orgasm. Already? Lord, oh Lord. I can’t think straight. I can’t concentrate or fill my emptying lungs. I’m tied up in a rope and he’s holding the other end. “Fuck yes. I’m your first man, Gracie. I’m your last man. I’m all you know now. I’m fucking it. You dress and undress for me. You breathe for me, like I breathe for you.” His mouth is moving directly on top of mine, teeth bared. “You’re the only female who’ll ever make my dick hard. And I’m the only man who makes this pussy drip. We. Are. Each other’s. Period.”

A hot tear escapes my eye and rolls down my temple. My vision is unclear.

All I can do is chant “yes, yes, yes” as North’s mouth travels down my body, licking and sucking my nipples, molding my breasts in his calloused hands, squeezing, holding them in tight fists one second and treating them to featherlight touches the next. My sex is so wet, I can feel beads of feminine moisture slipping through my folds, onto my thighs and into the valley of my bottom. It should be embarrassing, but it’s not. It’s not. Especially when he drags his tongue down to my belly and lower, fitting his mouth to my cleft and moaning.

“Ah Jesus Christ, you wet little virgin.” He pushes my thighs apart and parts my sex with a long, thorough lick. “I’m going to do bad, bad things to you.”

His tongue barely grazes my clit before the orgasm snaps and I scream, the throaty sound echoing in the bath house, pleasure roaring through me at an alarming speed. I can’t keep up and I don’t try. I just ride it out, grinding my flesh against the only friction it knows or needs—North’s stiff tongue. My naked body is shaking violently, his dark head buried between my legs, those golden eyes peeking up at me over my mound. And I can’t seem to come down from the crest. It twists undiscovered muscles and shatters me, leaving North to pick up the pieces and he does. Oh my God, he moves on top of me again, grounding me with his big body, his presence, his reassuring mouth. He surrounds me and owns me with his confidence, his ownership, his reverence of me. He’s the turbulent ocean and the life raft. I’m treading water and clinging at the same time.

“You’re getting my cock now,” he pants against my lips, unfastening his jeans with one hand. “Because I’m telling you it’s time. And that’s all you need to know. Isn’t it?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Those two words pop out unfamiliar and unplanned.

I’m mortified. I can’t believe I just said that. I can’t believe I called him that. He’s going to think I’m sick or demented or crazy—

“Again.” He seems to be holding his breath, a new, darker awareness transforming his expression. “Goddamn, Gracie. Call me that again.”

I close my eyes and whisper it. “Daddy.”

“Fuck. Oh fuck.” Those words rush out of him—and then I’m being entered. Roughly. I’m being filled by North’s thick shaft, my slippery sex stretching to allow him inside. “That’s it. That’s exactly what I need to be to you. God, Grace. I’m your Daddy.” He rolls his hips on a guttural sound, pressing open my thighs as he sinks deeper, deeper, all the way inside me until his balls meet the lips of my femininity. Grinding in a slow circle. “And you. You’re my tight…” He hisses, shuddering on top of me. “Tight little virgin. Does it hurt, baby? Please say no.”

Hurtis a funny word. It’s a way to describe pain. But I’m hurting in two ways now. With the discomfort of being breached for the first time—and now…now I’m also hurting with the need for another release. Because he’s so huge and spectacularly male on top of me, throat muscles flexed, his handsome face already so beloved by me. “I hurt in a good way. I hurt for you. For more.” I let my legs open wider and he makes a rough sound, sinking in slightly deeper. “Take off your shirt. Please.”

“Anything you want. Anything.” He whips off his top, throwing it aside, messing up his dark hair in the process. Uncovering that incredible wall of muscle, all cut and sinewy, shadow and light playing off the rippling indents on his shoulders, arms. “See, I might be in control of when we fuck, but I’m here to orgasm my little beauty. Aren’t I? That’s my goddamn job and I want to be so good at it that your pussy gets wet when I snap my fingers. Going to find out what you need and give it to you. Fucking constantly. Constantly. You want me to walk around shirtless for you, baby, I’ll burn every shirt I own. What else do you like?” He snaps his hips back and thrusts forward—hard. One two three. “You like that? You want more of that?”

“Yes!” I scream, my nails embedding in his shoulders, my core beginning to pulse once again with renewed lust. Need. A buildup of hunger. “More. M-more.”

North’s mouth ticks up with a darkly satisfied smile and he pushes my knees up and out, creating more room for his big body to press down into mine, his weight pinning me, his lower body starting to move in a fast pattern. Scooping and riding, powering into me in hard succession, testing me, watching my face, finding out what makes me tense up and gasp. What makes me squirm. What rolls my eyes back in my head.

“Ahh shit, Gracie. You’re wrecking me. You’re fucking me up so bad. So tight and hot, baby. Can’t believe you’re mine.”

“I’m yours. Yours.”

And then he finds this spot. Oh God, it makes me whine and thrash my head side to side on the leather cushion. Whatever way his hips are angled brings the length of his shaft purring along my clit, continuing deep where it butts up against the spot. The spot. I claw at him and bite down on my lip and he remains right there, in that perfect position, but he ups the tempo until I can’t—I can’t stand it. The pressure culminating inside of me is too great. I slap at his shoulders and face, but he only growls and fucks me harder. Harder and faster.

“Go on. Slap me. Bite me. Scream the fucking walls down. You just better come on this fat dick afterwards.” His jaw bunches up tight enough to snap, his head falling forward, that fighter’s body continuing to work, work, work. “Go on, girl. Wet me up. Make me drip. I’m starved for it. My baby’s come. Need it all over me.”

I can’t last another second after that. Not with him growling those words at me. Those filthy words that I’ll never be able to live without again. They make me feel coveted and objectified and filthy and feminine. I love them. I hate them. They tear my body in two directions before colliding those halves back together in a velvet explosion and I wrap my legs tight around North’s bucking hips, whimpering brokenly into his kiss, my body jolting and spasming beneath him, the anchor of his weight the only thing keeping me on this earth.

“North.” I hiccup, my loins pulsing and releasing. “Daddy.”

A shudder passes through him at my whine of his title. “Ahhh, Gracie. You might be an uptown girl, but you don’t come like a lady, huh? Nah, you grind for it, don’t you? Been hiding this kinky, wet, horny little cunt under your skirt until I could come and find it? Satisfy it?” North sits back into a kneel, bringing me upright, leaving me impaled on his impossible large erection, squirming on it, trying to find relief from the pressure but there is none. My thighs are restless on either side of his hips. I’m full and aching and wonderfully miserable all over again. How long can this go on for? I’m a shaking, dewy mess and all I can do is chant his name in disbelief. In worship. “What did I tell you on the phone? I’m a what?”

“A workhorse,” I sob, immediately knowing what he refers to. That word has been living in my head since he said it, just waiting to be brought out into the open.

“That’s right, beauty.” He starts to bounce me on his lap. Fast. Our flesh slapping together hurriedly, wetly. “What do you do with a horse?”

“Ride it,” I pant.

“Good girl. Do it.” He slaps my backside with an open palm, the cracking sound exciting a part of me I never knew existed. It’s deep down and it’s wild. It’s all for North. “Ride your workhorse, Gracie. Ride until you come again. We don’t stop until you’re limp.”

“I can’t. I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” he grunts, gripping my butt and riding me up and back on his kneeling thighs, filling me to capacity over and over again. “Where did I touch last time that made you feel good? Which parts of your pussy?”

“Deep inside,” I manage, sweat rolling down my spine, our sexes meeting loudly. Slapping together crudely, beautifully. “Deep.”

“Fuck yes, I got deep. I’ll get it deep on the fucking regular. That’s what I do for you now,” he rasps, his eyes starting to glaze, muscles tensing and holding. “Where else, Gracie? Where else felt so good and made you come, baby?”

“M-my clit.”

“Good girl. Rub it on Daddy. We can get you there again.” He lurches forward and gnashes his teeth against my ear. “I’m going to take such good care of you. Going to provide and fuck and fight and torch my sanity for you. Give you so much pleasure, you can’t walk straight. Tell me you need that.”

“I need it. I need you,” I moan, barely recognizing my voice. Or my actions. I’m frantic, tilting my hips and squirming until my clit is flush to North’s shaft, rubbing shamelessly. Rubbing until I’m a mindless servant to my own pleasure, sobbing, grinding my hips down into North’s lap, his hands clutching my bottom and helping me, pushing me down as he thrusts upward with loud grunts, his eyes blazing into mine.

Another climax ripples through me, pulling my sore tummy muscles and making me cry out loudly, my thighs trembling around his hips, a sensual earthquake passing through me. Our mouths lock and kiss desperately, my heart pounding wildly in my ears. changed forever. I’m his, utterly, completely. No going back. There’s nothing but this. But him. I’m obsessed. I’m one half of a whole now. That truth engraves itself on every inch of my soul.

North twists, throws me down on the leather.

Pins me and thrusts once, twice, nostril flared. Muscles flexed. “I hope you’re on the pill or something, Gracie. I can’t pull out. You’re so tight and wet from comin’ fah me.” His Boston accent is thicker than I’ve ever heard it. It endears him to me so completely, I can’t help but pull him down for a kiss—and our tongues entwine desperately, eagerly, his body pumping faster and faster into mine. On the verge of an obvious precipice. Riding me for broke, our sexes smacking wetly. “I’ll care for my kid if you get pregnant. Same as I’ll care for my beauty. You know that, don’t you?”

“My mother made me go on the pill,” I gasp. “N-never needed it until now. Until you.”

His eyes flash with possession. “Until your man. Until your Daddy.”

I cry out. “Yes.”

North punches high and deep one last time, burying his mouth in my neck and making choked sounds, his incomparably strong body weak on mine for the moment, lost in sensation, shaking, harsh grunts leaving his throat, moisture filling me in warm, heavy spurts. His hips flex, his back muscles rippling beneath my soothing palms, my inner thighs running up and down his heaving ribcage. “Mine,” he growls, his teeth raking my neck. “Mine.”

Yes. Forever.

Somehow I know that for sure. At our age, there isn’t a lot that feels certain. Our futures are an abstract thing that we’re moving toward because it’s the only next step. The next thing. But I’ve never been more positive of anything as I am about North Whitlock being part of my future. And as he lifts his head and looks down at me with unabashed idolatry, I know he’s thinking the exact same thing. Our fates have been sealed.

Lurking in the back of his golden eyes, however, is also the knowledge that we’ll eventually have to fight to keep each other. To maintain a relationship between a rich girl with Harvard on the horizon and an underground boxer raising his little sister in Southie. But I vow then and there to do whatever it takes to keep this.

To keep us from being pulled in two directions.

Ignoring the sense of foreboding in my stomach, I snuggle into North’s side and let him stroke and kiss me back until it’s time to walk home.