11. Delilah

Chapter 11

Delilah

" A re you hungry?"

Grey turns to face me, the evening football game he'd been watching still playing across the TV screen in my bedroom. "I could eat. Are you?"

I nod, wiggling my toes beneath the rumpled sheets of my bed to regain blood flow.

It's strange. I've never spent a full day in bed, unless I'm hungover or ill, and even then I usually prefer to drag myself out to the living room and lie down on the sofa. But today, the thought of leaving my bed, the space Grey has carved out for himself in such a short amount of time… the thought of leaving hadn't even crossed my mind.

The papers on my lap rustle with my movements, two lines of neat, red handwriting staring up at me from where I've been attempting to edit a manuscript while Grey watches the football and both of us recover from our fourth round of mind blowing sex.

My mind, like my legs, feels like jelly, straying from one thought to another without allowing me to concentrate, hence only the two lines of editing. Although, I'll allow myself a tiny bit of slack seeing as it is Sunday, and tomorrow—

"What do you fancy?" Grey asks, breaking me out of my spiral.

I shrug, simply out politeness, because I know full well what I fancy to eat. "I've got some takeaway menus in the kitchen. We could dig through those?"

Grey smiles. "Sounds good."

Pulling myself out of bed, I throw on a ditsy floral camisole and shorts set I find within my bottom drawer, and head into the kitchen, beginning the search for my stack of menus. Grey follows a step or two behind me, hands latching onto my hips, his front to my back, pressing a kiss to the nape of my neck.

"I've put your manuscripts on your bedside table," he whispers into my riot of tangled curls. "Didn't think you'd want them getting crumpled in the sheets."

My fingers stall their search. This, today, lying in bed together, fucking, kissing, ordering takeout, it all feels oddly… domestic. Next thing I know I'll be cuddling the man and asking for my back to be scratched.

Shut it down, Delilah. Right now. Shut it—

Grey strokes along my forearm, causing a ripple of goosebumps to erupt. "Where did you go? What's got you so up in your head all of a sudden?"

"N-nothing," I croak, forcing myself to keep flicking through the menus nonchalantly. "Thank you for moving my manuscripts."

"You're welcome, Delilah." Another kiss, to my shoulder this time. "Decided what we're having yet?"

I spin in Grey's arms, inhaling to slow my racing thoughts, but all that does is press our two bodies closer together. This is not what's supposed to be happening today. It's supposed to be about getting each other out of our systems and acting on our impulses. About doing something I've never done before and allowing myself to enjoy it, to experience it, to—

"I really like this Chinese place down the road, they do the best sweet and sour chicken with noodles and—"

"We'll go there, then." The twin dimples in Grey's cheeks pops as he grins. "Get a portion of fried rice and some salt and pepper chips too."

I ring in our order, making conversation with the woman on the phone when she recognises my name and address, while Grey chuckles in the corner.

"You're a regular customer," he states amusedly as soon as I'm off the phone.

I pull open my cutlery drawer, picking out two sets of knives and forks and vehemently ignore the pang in my chest at the unfamiliar sight.

A pair.

"It's a great place." I fill up two glasses with water. "And I-I sometimes work late and I'm too tired to cook when I come home, so… Are you a big cook?"

Grey bobs his head. "My mum always had us helping out in the kitchen from a young age and then when I got into swimming a lot of the food followed whatever dietary plan my food specialist thought best, so it made life easier to meal prep everything in advance."

I retrieve two clean plates from the dishwasher. "Did any of your other brothers swim?"

"Yeah, Blake. The rest weren't really interested, but Blake's only a year older than me so anything I was interested in, so was he. A bit of competitive sibling rivalry, I guess, but it was never malicious. If anything it only urged both of us to push ourselves harder and succeed."

"Is he your closest sibling? I know you said you're all close, but—"

"Yeah, Blake and I are very close."

I nod, hearing the warmth run through Grey's tone while he speaks about his family. It's lovely and I'm happy for him, but still, it stings just a tad when I compare it to my own.

"Is he a swim teacher?" I continue to distract my wandering brain. "Or in the swimming world…? Sorry." I laugh breathily at myself. "I don't know what you call it."

"No." Grey shakes his head, eyes warm but smile gone. "Blake stopped swimming when we we're fifteen. Mum got sick, unexpectedly and…" I can see the way his throat bobs with emotion. "It threw us all, the whole family, for a while. But Mum's fine now. Blake never went back to swimming, he's a football coach at a high school now."

I don't press Grey for any more details. Whatever happened to his mum, I can tell it bothers him to this day.

With everything laid out ready for our dinner, I round the countertop to cross over into the living room, stopping only when Grey catches my wrist. He peers down at me, thumb rolling over the ball joint of my wrist. "Are you going to tell me what got you so up in your head before?"

"I—"

"Surely you didn't think I wouldn't notice, did you, Delilah?"

Grey's tone is cocky, as is the smirk upon his face which matches.

Heat pools in my stomach, a stab of desire throbbing in my core, and I can't stand myself for liking the attitude he's giving off. I like it and I don't want to fucking admit it.

"It wasn't anything," I lie through my teeth, that stone of unease settling in my throat at even the smallest white lie.

Grey says nothing for a second, drinking in the sight of me, until he's threading his fingers through mine, pressing his bare chest up against my breasts and walking us both backwards towards my sofa.

"What are you doing?"

"If you won't talk to me then I'll have to help you get out of your head another way, gorgeous."

Bending his head, Grey sucks at a spot on my collarbone, up to my ear, along my jaw and takes my lips for his own, swiping his tongue along the seam until I open up to him with a moan. My hands come up to round his shoulders, skimming past his warm skin, up until I can run my fingers through the short hairs at the base of his skull.

With practised ease, Grey pushes my shorts down past my hips, leaving me to step out of them. He gives my arse a quick squeeze, while I pull my camisole over my head, ignoring the ping of static from the material.

Bare, my body lights up at Grey's touch, as if it has already learnt exactly how much pleasure he can wring from us and we're greedy for him to do it repeatedly.

"So responsive," he mumbles, circling my tummy button. Instinctively, I suck in, my lips stuttering against his in the same way my mind is stuttering with insecurity.

Grey has to feel it, the tensing of my abdominal muscles, but then he's tiptoeing his fingers up to pinch my heavy breasts, and I can breathe normally again, stomach not super flat. I think I've gotten away with it until Grey raises his head, lips red and puffy from our kisses and looks me right in the eye. "Don't hide from me, gorgeous. You need to get out of your head."

I know I do, but I just find it so difficult, practically impossible, really, because—

I only realise I've spoken out loud when Grey is nodding, tracing my Cupid's bow with the pad of his thumb. "Let me help."

My lower back bumps into the arm of my sofa, and I'm about to step out of the way, until Grey cages me in, turning me around in one fluid motion and bending me over. The arm of my sofa digs into my lower stomach and pelvis rather painfully, a squawk of protest bursting from my lips even if my core does pulse at the dominance of it all.

It's never been something I've experienced in my real sex life before, although I've read plenty of books about dominant men and I've certainly gotten off to the sheer thought of it, but I never thought this would be me. I like my control, I like to hold onto it, tightly. But something about Grey's movements, putting me into a position of his liking, moving me how he wants me to be, it's got me hot all over.

"Grab a pillow."

I do as Grey suggests, reaching for one of my throw cushions, the soft edges of it denting beneath my grip. I hold it above my head as high as I possibly can in this position, still unsure what on earth is going on, until Grey takes it from me and wedges it beneath my pelvis and the arm of the sofa.

At this angle and height, I'm propped up higher, my short little legs unable to reach the floor, perfect for Grey to reach. There's no longer a painful, dull ache of pressure stabbing me in the lower stomach, just the soft cushioning from the pillow instead.

"Grey?"

He strokes a hand down the length of my spine. "Yes, gorgeous."

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Getting you out of your head," he repeats, kneading the thick flesh of my arse. "Tell me what I'm doing to you, Delilah."

"Making me fucking horny," I mutter into my arms, burying my head.

Grey laughs, the loud sound echoing off the four walls of my living room. "Glad to hear it, I feel the same way, but I meant where am I touching you? Literally."

I'm glad Grey can't see the red tinge of embarrassment at the knowledge I got his question wrong, coating the apples of my cheeks. "My-my bum."

"Uh-huh." Grey's fingers move, tracing the backs of my thighs. "And now?"

"My thighs."

He moves again, a body part of his cracking, but I don't dare lift my head to see and spoil the game.

Warmth ghosts over my core, the tip of a finger sliding through my folds, until my hips buck instinctively. "Now?"

"My– ngh. "

Grey slips his middle finger inside, quickly followed by his index and crooks them both. Normally, fingers don't cut it for me, never thick enough or able to reach that spot. But my body seems to react to every part of Grey until I'm spasming.

"Use your words, gorgeous."

My face flames, prickles spreading to my upper chest. "I can't."

"Yes, you can." Grey parts my folds with his other hand, spreading me open, allowing the rush of cold air to stimulate me. "You've read them so I know you can say them. I know you're not shy."

Not when it comes to my orgasm I'm usually not, but there's something about Grey, something tearing me apart, out into the open, no matter how hard I try to hold onto the pieces of myself.

"Say it, Delilah."

I don't even try to hold back my whimper. "My pussy."

Grey licks a long stripe up my pink flesh, nibbling and sucking at my folds while his fingers drive upwards inside me, hitting that spongey spot I've read about but never been able to reach without a toy.

I cry out into my arms, muffling the sound of my screams as Grey goes to town, sucking and swiping his tongue across my clit, nose buried in my seam, fingers constantly moving, squelching.

"Tell me when you're close."

"I'm-I'm—"

I don't even have time, or the breath capacity, to warn Grey before I'm splitting apart, bursting on his tongue. His groans kiss my ears, burying his face even further into my pussy while my walls pulsate around him.

He continues to lick at me, fingers moving at a leisurely pace, until I reach back and push at his forehead, overstimulated and sweaty.

Placing one last kiss to the backs of my thighs, Grey slips out of me, drawing shapes and letters onto my arse and hips with his wet fingertips, while he drapes his front over my back, shielding me and whispers into the shell of my ear, "Feel out of your head yet?"

I nod, unable to answer. Eyelids, head, and body heavy and sated.

"I'm going to go get a condom, don't move—"

"Are you clean?"

"Yeah, I haven't been with anyone in the past year and—"

I swallow hard, the ache in my core relighting. I turn my head to look at Grey, our face inches apart. "I'm clean too and I-I want to feel you. Just for tonight."

Grey simply watches me, his lips parted, and then he's nodding, pulling me in to tangle our tongues together.

His hips kiss the rounded flesh of my arse, grinding into me, bare, leaving a smear of precum etched into my skin. I arch my back as much as I possibly can, feeling the long length of him slip along the cleft of my arse and down to my core. Without the condom, Grey's feels warmer, the skin of his cock velvety soft.

Gripping the base of himself, he slides his tip up and down, up and down, up and down, teasing us both until I can feel myself dripping, my mind blanking out.

"Feel good, gorgeous?"

"Yeah," I moan brokenly, and he isn't even inside me yet.

"That's it," Grey praises. "Focus on how you feel, how we feel together. Nothing else fucking matters right now. Just this. Just us."

My breath leaves my lungs in a whine when Grey dips the tip of his cock inside my wet heat, grabbing at my hip to steady both of us and keep me open.

Grey moans, not even trying to hold back his pleasure. I want to bottle it up and replay it over and over again. He presses in further, stretching me out, filling me up. "You feel so fucking good, Delilah. Fucking addictive. This tight little wet pussy, fucking perfect for me."

My toes curl in thin air when Grey bottoms out, his balls hanging heavy against my inner thigh. I clench my eyes shut, ecstasy rippling across my body, tingling. Reaching back and beneath myself, I touch my clit with one hand, the other tangling with Grey's fingers on my hip. I want to feel him. I need too.

I cry out when Grey starts to move, his thrusts fast and deep, his free hand coming up to grip the ball of my shoulder, holding me down and in place while he fucks me.

"Shit, Delilah . That's it, gorgeous, touch yourself, chase your high. Look at you taking me so fucking good. So, fucking deep. Made for me."

Mouth hanging open, I press and circle my flesh exactly the way I like it, thighs beginning to burn from the stretch and the lack of gravity. My stomach tightens, heart quickening, my mind peacefully quiet while I focus on the pleasant burn starting to build in my core.

Behind me, Grey presses a wet kiss to my flexed shoulder blade. "I can't fucking stop. Your pussy milking me… ah … gonna fucking make me cum…"

I contract around him, walls beginning to flutter. I've lost count of the amount of orgasms I've had in the last twenty four hours, this one feeling just this side of being painful, to know I think my body is ready to tap out. " Grey— "

"Don't fucking hold it, gorgeous," he practically whimpers. Who knew hearing a man make that sound, knowing you're the one doing it to him, could be so hot? "You're doing so good… so good for me… perfect…"

I inhale sharply through my teeth, the balloon in the core on the cusp of bursting. I squeeze my pussy walls, hands scrabbling up his forearm, along the ridges of Grey's stomach.

"I know, gorgeous. I know," groans Grey. "Let it happen. Let it out."

My orgasm rips through me painfully, hot and searing, all consuming. Grey pulses inside me, his hand leaving my hip to catch in my hair, pulling my upper body up and off the arm of the sofa, legs still dangling.

"Can I–fuck–can I… inside of you?"

"Yeah, yeah." I bob my head quickly. "Come inside of me, Grey."

Grey thrusts once, twice, three times, his movements becoming shaky and jagged. On his next thrust, I feel him pulse, cock growing impossibly harder and thicker, until he's spilling warmly inside of me.

Laboured pants fill the small space of my living room, the quiet ‘ ah, mmhs ' falling from Grey's lips as he grinds against me, pushing himself as deep inside as humanely possible.

A warm hand wraps itself around the front of my throat, bringing my head back slowly, soft lips pressing against mine upside down. I sigh happily, the vibrations from my throat travelling across Grey's hand.

When he leans back, Grey slithers the flat of his hand along the ladder of my ribs, cupping my breast and pulling out of me with a wet ribbon. The combination of us drips down my thighs, and down my shin, pooling on the floor.

Grey kisses the shell of my ear. "I'll go get a cloth."

Minutes after we're both cleaned up, and dressed, my doorbell chimes with our dinner. We eat in companionable silence, Grey flicking across the TV channels until he settles on a fictional murder mystery show, while I dish out equal portions of sweet and sour chicken, rice, chips and noodles with sauce onto both plates.

I don't know if Grey feels it, but I certainly do – the snapping of our intimate connection.

He's stays quiet, while I swim back up into my head well aware that my body is tapped out for the night. So, what else can I offer him?

I get my answer as to whether Grey can feel the shift too, after dinner has been devoured, and I take our plates to the kitchen, rinsing quickly and stacking them into the dishwasher. Grey can feel it, I know it in the way he hovers about breakfast bar, unsure, unlike I've ever seen him before.

"Delilah? Do you want me to—"

"Stay." I repeat my same word from last night. "We promised each other a full weekend, until Monday morning, didn't we?"

He nods silently and I try to ignore the unsettled pang of pain shooting beneath my breastbone.

I'm obviously out of his system.

Once we crawl back into bed, I'm more than happy, more than willing simply to just close my eyes and fall asleep. Tomorrow I'll deal with the consequences of my actions, but until then I need a rest.

Grey, however, has other ideas.

"Can I kiss you, Delilah? One last time?" he whispers out into the darkness, his body beside mine but not touching.

I don't even need to think about it. "Yes, Grey."

He takes my lips so softly, fingers cupping my jaw gently, our tongues tangling one last time.

When we break apart, I flip from my back to my side, facing Grey.

"Tell me a dream of yours, Delilah," he says, eyes heavy and tired looking.

"I don't know," I reply automatically, and then exhale. "I-I dream of a life where I don't let fear control my life. You?"

Grey blinks at me. He reaches out and smooths the line creasing my forehead. "I'd like to open a swimming centre of my own, teaching people how to swim, coaching them. Blake and I."

"What would you call it?"

He shakes his head against the pillow. "I haven't got that bit figured out yet, but that's okay, not everything has to be figured out instantly."

I fall asleep with that thought rolling through my mind, wishing I could think the same way and not be afraid.