Grounded (Up in the Air #3)(23)

He took us directly to the bath, stepping into the deep tub with me as it filled with water.

He washed me slowly but thoroughly, scrubbing the paint where it was caked onto my skin. The bath quickly turned blue. We laughed as it just got darker and darker.

James had to work on us both for a while.

“Want me to help?” I asked, so relaxed that I wasn’t sure I could work up the energy to be that helpful.

“No, Love. I want you to relax. When we’re done in here, I’m going to take you to the fourth floor and give you a very thorough massage.”

“Mmm,” I said, closing my eyes. I felt his fingers move between my legs, and I opened them wider. He began to stroke me, humming against my throat as his clever fingers got to work. He pleasured me with his hands while he sucked on just the perfect spot on my neck. It was an almost leisurely orgasm, at least compared to what he usually gave me.

When he continued to thrust his fingers into me even after I’d come, I wiggled. “I want you inside me, James.”

He bit my neck, hard. “You’ll know when I’m ready to give you my c**k because you’ll have it inside of you,” he said, thrusting the c**k in question hard against my butt. “In the meantime, open your legs wider.”

He worked at me with two fingers thrusting inside, dragging his other hand down my body to rub my clit just so.

“Come,” he said into my neck, and I fell again.

We ended up showering after the bath. I had been a little overzealous with the paint apparently, because the bathtub ended up looking like it had been attacked by a paint-gun.

James dried me but left us both nude, pulling me to the elevator by the collar.

I had a thought, fingering his mother’s earrings still in my ears, wet hair trailing around them. “Oh, James. I forgot I was wearing your mother’s earrings. I didn’t mean to get them wet.”

He shot me a very doting smile over his shoulder. “They aren’t my mother’s. They’re yours now, and a little water won’t hurt them.”

He went directly to the elevator, pushing the button. He grinned down at me. “Just pleasure tonight, Love. You need some time to heal from the roses. The fourth floor isn’t only about the pain.”

“I know,” I said softly.

It had always been about more than pain, every bit of it.

He pulled me into the car as it opened, pushing me hard into the wall, pinning me there. “Have you ever been f**ked in an elevator?” he asked with a smile.

I laughed. “You know I haven’t.”

I had thought that he was joking, but of course he wasn’t, and he slid a leg between my thighs, pushing them open, and lifting me up. He had me wrapping my legs around his hips and was sliding into me in a flash. He pinned my arms above my head with his hands and began to thrust. I gripped him tightly with my thighs, whimpering as he pulled out of me, dragging along those perfect nerves and drove in again, driving me relentlessly towards another orgasm. He pounded at me, those mesmerizing eyes of his watching me with desperation, and an ardor that made it seem impossible that he’d already taken me less than an hour ago.

“Fucking come,” he gritted, his words hard, his tone hard, but his eyes so unbelievably soft on mine.

I obeyed, losing all control at his command. “James,” I cried.

He kissed me, not letting me down, not pulling out of me. He let my wrists free to wrap his arms around my back.

He began to walk, but didn’t let up kissing me, didn’t pull himself out of me. He padded down that ominous gray hallway and into our playground.

He was bending forward at his waist, and abruptly let me fall back.

I gasped. I didn’t fall far, my back making contact with a firmly cushioned table. He thrust into me twice roughly before letting himself come with a low groan. “Mine,” he said.

I only then realized that I was lying on a massage table as he dragged his thick length out of me, turned me over onto my stomach, and shifted me until my face was over the table’s opening.

Within swift moments, he was pouring warm liquid into the center of my back, rubbing the oil firmly into my skin. He massaged up to my neck, rubbing on that sensitive area for long minutes, working over to my shoulders, taking his time, rubbing until each of my muscles had been loosened thoroughly by his strong hands.

He worked down one arm, paying special attention all the way down to each of my fingertips. He worked back up and over, paying equal attention to my other half.

“Your hands are magic,” I said to him, my eyes shut in pleasure.

He didn’t respond, working on my back, kneading and rubbing that tissue into relaxed submission. He spent extra time on my lower back, working with teasing slowness into my ass. He made a delicious little noise in his throat as he kneaded my butt. I felt a kiss there a scant moment before I felt a finger at that entrance. I gasped and tensed as he pushed a well-lubricated finger into me.

“Shhh, Bianca, relax. Relax.” He pulled that sneaky finger out of me, leaving me for too long before coming back. He began the massage where he’d left off, kneading at my butt and upper thighs.

He covered every inch of my back with strong kneading strokes, all the way down to my toes, before he flipped me onto my back. He began the same treatment at the front of my shoulders, taking his time, relaxing every part of me as he worked down. When he reached my sex, he plunged a finger into me. I was wet, of course, and he worked that flesh with sure strokes, using his other hand to part my legs wide, drawing my knees up into my chest. I gasped and tensed as he used his other hand to breach my other entrance again, working a lone finger in slowly, not stopping the smooth strokes at my sex with his other hand.