Worth the Risk(76)

Jesus. I could come from the dominance in his voice alone.

“Yes, Grayson,” I say as I push my ass back toward him and prepare myself for the pleasure.

“Good.” The heat of his breath hits my ear as his fingers slip out of me. “Mmm, you taste so fucking good.” My breath picks up, and the only part of him touching me is the promise of his cock between my thighs, just at my entrance. Another gentle pull of my hair, this time he turns my face some so he can slip his fingers between my lips. “Suck.”

I taste myself on him. I wrap my tongue around him and suck as hard as I can. His groan fills the room as I do so, and then it takes everything I have not to bite his fingers when he leaves them there as he thrusts his hips forward and fills me completely.

“Take it,” he murmurs as he grinds his hips against my ass so that I buck and writhe and beg for him to move again. To manipulate those nerves again. To make me come like he promised.

“God, yes,” I finally say when he slips his fingers from my lips and slowly pulls out before slamming back into me again. My hands grip the sheets as his hands grab the globes of my ass and spread them apart so he can watch as he fucks me.

Thrust after pleasure-inducing thrust, and with each one, my breasts jolt forward and brush against the comforter beneath me. It teases my nipples, which are, aroused to the point of being painful, but the sensation only seems to add to the whole of it.

“Sid,” he moans as he bottoms out and grinds into me at the same time I feel pressure on the rim of muscles.

“Yes,” I pant as I grow even wetter at the thought of sharing this with him. Of giving this to him.

He holds still as his finger presses ever so slowly into me. There’s resistance at first. A slight burn of pain. When the moment passes, and he begins to move his cock as his finger moves ever so gently in and out of my ass, my pleasure center is stretched to maximum capacity.

I want him to stop. I want him to never stop. I want him to take every ounce of bliss he’s giving me and somehow get it in return . . . but I can’t speak. I can only feel. I can only react. I can only let him take whatever it is he needs from me.

And I know when he does. I know when he’s done being the considerate lover and the strings of his restraint have snapped.

The current in the room shifts.

Grayson picks up the pace.

There is nothing gentle about him anymore. There is no sweet touch or tender affirmations. There is pure dominance. A side to him he’s hinted at but has never really shown me before.

This woman is definitely not going to complain.

While he is relentless in the pursuit of our orgasms, bringing me to the brink and then edging me down so I don’t come before he wants me to, there is something different about today.

Something shifts between us.

I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I can feel it when he kisses me goodbye.

I can hear it in the tone of his voice when he says he’ll call me later.

I can see it in the look in his eyes as he shuts the door behind me.

I think about it all the way home and still can’t figure it out. Maybe I don’t want to.

All I know is that Grayson Malone just pulled the most classic display of “this is casual sex,” I’d ever seen.

It was just a display, though.

Because what we just did was so much more than casual. It was intimate and tender and demanding and so many things, and I’m not sure what the hell to think about that other than wanting more.





“So, let me get this straight. The Malone guy—the contestant from your hometown who you kind of remember from high school but don’t—is the one you’ve been sleeping with?” Zoey asks. We are at a small table in the back of the Greer Vineyard’s tasting room, and even though there aren’t many people around, I’m tempted to shush her.

“For the fifth time, yes, yes, and more yes.” I take another sip of wine, hoping this will be the end of it but knowing this is only the beginning.

“But you neglected to tell me the man you were sleeping with and hot pilot boy were one and the same. Why?”

“It slipped my mind.”

“Ha.” She laughs. “More like he slipped into you and you forgot your mind.”

“Well . . . can you blame me?”

“But you’re sneaking around doing the whole clandestine lovers thing why?”

My mind goes back to last week. To the naughty texts and the sexcapade at The Cottage. And then I realize how much I’ve missed him since he started back to working his twenty-four-hour shifts.

Texting is fun, but it definitely isn’t the real thing.

“Work. My dad. The appearance of impropriety that I’m sleeping with the contestant who is currently winning the contest,” I finally say when I realize I haven’t responded.

She gives me a sour look and lifts her brows. “So, the small-town gossip you told people was a total lie really wasn’t?”

“No. Some of it is a lie. Do you see a ring on this finger? Do you see me engaged?”

“You know I’d kick your ass if you were hiding that from me, right?” she asks as I avert my eyes and look around again. “Wait. You don’t want that, do you?” The expression on her face—raised brows, lax jaw, wide eyes—looks just like the shock in her tone.