Arm Candy (Real Love #2)(16)

“Davis,” she moans into my mouth. I want her to say it again, but her palm cups the front of my pants, gripping my hardening cock.

I grunt, biting back a growl of pleasure. She gives me a gentle squeeze and then the she-devil smiles, certain she has the upper hand.

Little does she know.

I slide her panties aside and find her bare skin. I nudge her arm aside as I slip a finger inside. Grace’s hands fist my collar as she holds on. Her knees give, just slightly, and that’s when I stop.

“Davis.” That was a protest.

“Don’t worry. I’m not done.” I back her to the couch, where she sits, releasing me to reach for the zipper at the back of her dress. So impatient, this one.

I’m a lucky son of a bitch.

I pull the zipper down and whip the dress over her head. In two seconds flat, Grace is wearing nothing but transparent black lace—the bra and panties she teased me with at her house.

She doesn’t look as confident now. She’s perched on my couch, nervous and unsure. It’s such a foreign expression for her, it takes me by surprise.

“You’re beautiful,” I tell her. She’s a divine, exquisite creature. I cup her breast, thumbing her nipple through the sheer material as her eyelids close. “Lie back.”

She does as I say. I run my hand down her stomach and to her panties, yanking them from her hips and shimmying them down her legs.

A thin line of auburn hair is the only barrier standing between my tongue and a flooring orgasm for Grace.

She watches me, propped on her elbows, as I remove my shirt.

My belt.

My pants.

Then I lower between her legs to help myself.





Chapter 6


Grace


“Wait.”

Moments before Davis lowers his lips to my…well, you know…I stop him cold with that one word. His hand is looped around one of my ankles—my high-heeled shoe still strapped in place.

“I’m waiting,” he states before resting my calf on one round, muscular shoulder. He maintains eye contact, which is incredible. Since I’m naked from the waist down, he’s closer to looking my vulva in the eye than me.

“Um…”

He waits, eyebrows raised.

I bite down on my lip, weirdly embarrassed. “You don’t have to…do that.”

I mean, this is sort of Sex 202 stuff, right? First-date sex is usually had quickly—standing up…or in the back of a car.

Davis’s eyebrows crash over his nose. “You don’t want me to do this?”

“I didn’t say that.” I clear my throat, my face heating. We’re having the world’s most awkward conversation.

“Then why don’t you get comfortable, Gracie?” He winks and throws my other leg over his other shoulder, wedging himself into place between my thighs. “I’m not in the habit of doing things I don’t want to do, so no worries.”

“But—”

A wink precedes him lowering his face and giving me one long, slow, mind-bending lick.

I forget what I was going to say.

The result is like lightning striking—every part of me tightens in anticipation of the inevitable thunderclap. Davis glances up, a cocky smile on his face. But he doesn’t plead his case. He just does it again.

And again.

Soon my fingers are wound in his hair, my hips thrusting toward his seeking mouth. He takes his sweet time, squeezing my thighs as he administers his perfect licks. I’ve been so close for so long, I have no idea how much time has passed since he started.

I’m getting antsy—and not because Davis is doing anything wrong. Because my stupid brain won’t shut off enough to give me the pleasure the rest of my body is begging for.

So close.

So freaking close.

“Dammit,” I huff in frustration, tossing an arm over my eyes.

But Davis isn’t ready to give up. His fingers nudge, then slide deep, filling me, as his tongue finds my clit.

I incinerate on contact. Heat blooms low in my belly as he delivers blow after decadent blow. By the time he reaches up to cup my breast, I’m writhing. Then he tilts my hips and I’m totally gone.

The orgasm hits me mercilessly, shocking my entire system. I grab whatever’s close—a pillow from Davis’s couch—and smother my cries with it. As my hips pump their helpless rhythm, I’m aware of Davis leaving the cradle of my legs. I use the break to push my knees together, roll to my side, and cuddle the pillow against my chest.

When I finally open my eyes, Davis is on his knees by the couch in front of me. Not gonna lie, I half expected him to be rolling on a condom.

He pushes a lock of red hair from my eye and smiles proudly. “It’s okay if you’re nervous about performing, Gracie.” He lifts a haughty brow. “I’m a pro. You can trust me to get you there.”

I respond by lifting the pillow and smacking him in the face with it. When it bounces off his perfect jawline, he’s squinting one eye and his hair is falling over his forehead. He looks puckish and laid-back.

“Want some more?” he asks so sincerely, so sweetly.

“I want you,” I answer with my own sincere sweetness.

We lock eyes for a beat and a small part of my brain asks: Are we in uncharted territory?

I clasp his neck and tug him to me. I’m rewarded by his kiss—another intentional onslaught, slow and effective in its delivery.