Chapter 13

Thirteen

IZZY

M y body is on fire. Lava traverses my veins, but it’s the most delicious type of heat imaginable, burning me alive and reducing me to nothing but ashes.

“Yes,” I whisper on a breathy exhale. “Wait, no.”

He’s still close, too close, and I can practically feel his smirk against my lips.

“No?”

“I’m still mad at you. And there’s still so much we need to…” I gasp when he lowers his face to my jawline and plants a chaste kiss against the sensitive skin there. “Ummm… We need to talk…”

“We can talk later.”

His voice is always husky—a product of way too much smoke inhalation at a young age—but now it sounds completely different. Deeper, almost. Raspy. It reminds me of that first moment in the morning when you roll out of bed and try to speak, before the sun has even fully risen in the sky.

And god, the sound of it does things to me.

Decadent, delicious things that make my entire body tingle.

“I’m mad at you,” I breathe out, even as I arch my neck to grant him better access.

“You can be mad at me,” he assures me silkily. He kisses up my cheek, leaving trails of fire in his wake, before pausing at the corner of my lips. “You can yell at me, snap at me, hate me?—”

“I could never hate you.” I mean for the words to sound strident, adamant, but they’re nothing but a whisper.

And then he’s kissing me—or maybe I’m kissing him. All I know is I lean towards him at the same time he lunges for me. His hands are on my waist, my ribs, my cheeks, my hair. I can feel him everywhere.

I almost swear I can feel his heartbeat inside of me…

Desperation fueling my movements, I pull away to tug his shirt over his head. He obliges without complaint, and I take a moment to study his naked chest.

Fuck, how many times have I dreamed about him shirtless? Too many to count.

It isn’t as if this is the first time I’ve ever seen him without a shirt, but it is the first time I’ve allowed myself to look. To study. To memorize every dip and crevice.

His abs are defined—a prominent six-pack—and smooth to the touch, with a tiny trail of dark hair leading down to the waistband of his jeans. I run my hands over his lean, resilient muscles as he pulls my lips back towards his.

He doesn’t just kiss me. Oh no. He devours me. I swear it feels as if he’s attempting to suck out my damn soul and merge it with his own.

And I’d let him.

Fire simmers in my veins as I clumsily remove my shirt and toss it across the room.

I’ve been intimate with guys before, but never with someone who matters. I feel like an inexperienced virgin, fumbling and tripping over myself.

Grayson reaches for the clasp of my bra, and I suck in a sharp breath, even as anticipation swells.

His hand pauses there, waiting, hesitant, and then he whispers, “Is this okay?”

My lust amplifies, tinged with desperation. “Yes.”

Grayson’s fingers tremble as he removes my bra and tosses it to the floor. For a long moment, he simply stares at me, his eyes smoldering with emotions I can’t quite put my finger on, not with my brain as rattled as it is.

“God, you’re so beautiful, Izzy.”

Heat enters both of my cheeks as my heart pounds dauntingly against my rib cage. I want to cover myself, to hide from his penetrating stare.

But I don’t.

Instead, I meet his gaze unblinkingly, desperate to feel his hands on my flesh.

“So are you,” I confess, once again trailing my gaze over him.

His dark hair is messy from my fingers, and his cheeks are flushed with arousal. Seeing him like this fuels my lust to levels I can’t even articulate with words.

I remember when he told me he loves me. At the time, I didn’t believe it—didn’t allow myself to even entertain the possibility.

Now, it’s all I can think about.

Grayson Grey loves me.

He loves me.

Grayson shifts our positions and then begins to kiss down my body—stopping to lavish each of my breasts with attention, his tongue circling my peaked nipples—but pauses when he reaches the waistband of my pants. There, he hesitates, his eyes burning with emotion.

In answer to his silent question, I buck my hips upwards in a wordless plea.

He slowly slides my leggings down my legs, and then my panties. When he discards both articles of clothing on the floor, he settles his muscular body between my legs, his eyes zeroing in on my core.

“Fuck, Grayson…”

He plants a chaste kiss to my most sensitive area. “Shush, woman. Do you know how often I’ve dreamed about this? Let me savor the moment.”

“Savor my pussy, you mean?” I drawl with an insouciant grin.

“If the shoe fits…”

“Don’t you mean if the cock fits?”

“Naughty girl. Get your head out of the gutter.”

“Kind of hard to do when your— Oh!” I cry out as Grayson licks up the seam of my pussy lips.

“Huh.” He pulls away marginally, his lips glistening with the evidence of my arousal. “I suppose that’s one way to shut you up.”

“You’re a dick,” I murmur, but the words don’t hold any anger. If anything, they’re tinged with desperation.

I reach for Grayson’s dark hair and grip the strands tightly, guiding him back to where I want him.

His chuckle feels fucking amazing against my oversensitive pussy.

And then Grayson’s amusement dwindles, and he laps at me like a man possessed.

I buck and writhe like mad, practically arching my spine on the bed. Grayson adds a thick finger, and I swear I see stars.

Just before I can fall over the edge, Grayson pulls away and grins up at me.

I growl at him.

“What?” he asks innocently. “Did you want something, sweetheart?”

“I will castrate you if you don’t let me come,” I warn.

And I’m not even sure I’m joking. I don’t need a dick to get off, after all. His fingers will suffice.

“Is that so?” As Grayson speaks, he stands and pushes down his dark jeans. His thick cock springs free instantly, already dripping with precum.

I rub my thighs together to help alleviate the all-consuming ache there.

“Do you always go commando?” I ask, feasting on the sight of a naked Grayson.

His cock is long and veiny with a mushroom tip. I wonder what it would feel like in my hand—all of that silky skin over solid muscle.

I’ve given my fair share of blow jobs and hand jobs over the years, but it’s never been something I was particularly interested in. It felt more like a job to me than anything else. Half the time, it was the only way I could convince a guy to go down on me.

But with Grayson, I want nothing more than to touch him. Taste him. Run my tongue over the crown of his dick.

“Your mouth’s watering a little bit,” Grayson says teasingly.

I scoff indignantly and cross my arms over my chest like a brat. This draws Grayson’s attention to my breasts, and his eyes heat and darken.

“Can you blame me? You have a pretty cock.”

“A pretty cock.” One of his brows quirks. He begins to stalk towards me like a predator approaching prey. I feel like an innocent little bunny about to be devoured by a…wolf. “My cock isn’t pretty.”

“Is that too feminine of a word for you?” I tease. “Would you like me to say it’s a manly cock?”

“A sexy cock will suffice.”

“A handsome cock?”

He moves another step closer. “You’re being a brat, Izzy.”

“I’m always a brat—” My words break off and turn into a giggle when he pounces on me, tickling my sides. “Grayson!”

He continues to move his fingers over my sides, playing my body the way he would a piano, and my laughing gradually subsides when I feel something hot and needy against my core.

This time, when I say his name, it’s rife with desperation. “Grayson…”

He holds himself over me, his forearms on either side of my head, and whispers, “Are you ready for me, baby?”

In response, I pull his lips to mine while simultaneously jerking my hips up. His cock brushes against my pussy before slowly sinking inside, inch by inch.

He’s big—bigger than most of the guys I’ve been with before—but I can’t help but think he fits inside of me perfectly.

Like he was made for me.

“Fuck!” He drops his forehead against my shoulder as he stills inside of me. “You feel fucking amazing. Better than I imagined.”

“Move,” I beg, once again thrusting my hips.

Grayson doesn’t need me to tell him twice.

He fucks me against the bed the same way he kissed me—like he wants to consume me, own me, possess me. It’s a wild and desperate type of claiming, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Not after all this time. Not after years of yearning— a yearning I once believed to be unreciprocated.

His thumb presses down on my clit, and I finally get my wish.

I orgasm so suddenly and so intensely that I swear I black out. All I know is pleasure. My molecules are rearranged until I don’t recognize who I am anymore, except for his.

I feel safer than I ever have in Grayson’s arms.

There’s a lot we need to talk about, but now isn’t the time.

Snuggled in the embrace of the man I love, I allow all thoughts to cease, replaced by white-hot ecstasy.