My desire has no brakes.
None.
I feel like I’m out of my own body, watching this amazing scene as I fall down in devotion, wrapping my fingers around his shaft, pumping slowly up and down. Then my mouth goes down, slowly at first, tonguing his earthy length and loving how his whole body pulses.
“There. We. Fucking. Go. Good girl,” he growls, sending a shiver up my spine.
He’s never ordered me around quite like this, and it’s so hot it’s a struggle to focus.
Normally, he holds back until he’s inside me, covered with a condom.
Not today.
I want to see Grady completely let go.
So I take him with my lips, my tongue, my fingers, caressing those balls that never seem empty.
I take him with licks, with hungry pressure, with a slow corkscrew twist downward and an urgent flick of my tongue up, stopping under his crown.
I take him like I’m honestly addicted to his taste, his masculinity and pine-like scents and dark things of the forest.
And let’s face it, I am.
I’m so helplessly addicted to this man, and I worship every single inch of him like he deserves.
I’m rewarded with a low, savage grinding noise in his throat as he throws his head back.
“Shit! Willow. I—”
I only answer by coaxing him harder, fisting his cock faster, a wanton moan of delight vibrating against his dick.
Come on, Grady. We’re in this together. Let me have it.
“I can’t fucking hold it...” he growls again.
Yeah, me neither.
I don’t care how ridiculous it sounds. I feel another O closing in. I’m shaking from holding it back.
“Willow—damn!” His body goes rigid, turning to granite, and his cock jolts like moving steel in my hand.
Holy hell.
I reach one hand between my legs. My climax hits at the same time he starts pouring in my mouth. His magnificent head swells again and again, a dam breaking, ropes of Grady’s release spilling against my greedy tongue, more than I can possibly swallow in one go.
We come together so hard it hurts.
Him in one long spasm and more guttural, cursing breaths than I can count.
Me in this otherworldly current spiking through me, this struggle to contain him, to serve him, to love him—dammit, I said it, love—and then floating down into each other.
We’re both gasping, fighting for every breath as we keep the momentum going until our bodies just can’t anymore.
I lean forward, still wiping my mouth.
Grady caresses my face, brings me in for a kiss, and shows me just how much he’d enjoyed himself.
“You know...we can still put that condom to good use,” I whisper.
Yes, I’m insatiable, and proud of it.
Mainly because my appetite is all thanks to him.
“You better believe it, minx.” He slides his finger in and out of me again as soon as I’m back on his lap. “My cock’s always in the mood for round two, three, four, and seven.”
Oof.
The best part is he’s barely exaggerating.
I love the way he talks about it like we can never get enough.
“You’re in luck, mister. As long as it’s with you, I think I could go a hundred times in a week and still be ready for one more round,” I whisper.
Then his lips are on mine again, smiling and taking charge, claiming what will always be his, no matter what happens next.
16
The Cat’s Meow (Grady)
She lights me on fire every damn day.
Willow is a living, breathing wisp of inferno that crawls up under my skin, smelts my blood, and leaves me aching for her burn.
Aching for more no matter how many times we wind up kissing, fucking, and rubbing our souls raw.
I grab the condom package, fully ready for round two, when we both freeze at an unexpected chiming sound.
“Was that the doorbell?” she asks.
Shit.
Unfortunately for my dick, she’s right.
“Did you lock the doors?” She jumps off my lap.
Double shit.
“No,” I grunt, right behind her as we scramble to get our clothes back on.
“Knock! Knock!” A high, squeaky voice calls out.
More reason for me to seize up again.
Willow grabs my arm.
“Who is it?” she whispers.
“That’s Linda goddamn Wood,” I snarl between teeth clenched tight.
I was stupid enough to let my guard down when I shouldn’t. Linda hasn’t backed off chasing my ass with cupid’s archery set for the better part of a year, ever since she decided I’d make a nice catch. I don’t want to be caught by her in any way.
“Grady? Grady McKnight, I know you’re here!” Linda calls again, her voice a permanent shriek on chalkboard.
I finish zipping up my jeans with such force I could’ve done damage if I’d still been hard. Then I grab my shirt and jab it on over my head.
The humor shining in Willow’s eyes has me shaking my head. I wish it were funny.
“I’ll wait here,” she says, sitting down in the chair we’ve just had so much fun on.
I grab at her arm. “Oh, no, you won’t. You’re gonna help me.”
“But I’m not supposed to be seen!” she hisses. “Remember?”
“Yeah, Linda Wood isn’t an exotic beast trader and you’re just my nanny. Remember?” I throw back, hiding a smile behind my beard.
That’s the part I’ve hated about all of this.
Keeping her as hidden as Bruce.
I get that we have to be careful, but I want to show her off and hope it’s like flashing a cross at a vampire.
Hell, I want this whole thing done and over so we can get back to that second round before my balls turn into overgrown blueberries and fall right off.
I don’t just mean the sex, either.
Every moment with Willow feels precious, fragile as blown glass, and impossible to put into words. Even harder to make sense of when I know it shouldn’t be that way.
Oh, but fuck, it is.
It’s exactly that way.
I’m hoping against hope and good sense there’s some way I can talk Willow back to Dallas when all this crap with the dirty animal sanctuary ends. The girls have asked me more times than I can count if she could stay even after Aunt Faye comes home.
There’s a picture on the front of our fridge by my little artist, Avery. She’s captured all four of us in surprisingly good detail for a ten-year-old, including a flash of Bruce sticking his face out of the barn’s open door. Best Summer Ever for the Fam! is written across the top.
Proof positive Willow’s not just a nanny and not just a heaping mess for me to clean up.
She’s the woman in my life Linda Wood will never be.
“Quit stalling, sweetheart,” I tell Willow, tugging at her arm. “I’m not going up there to face her unarmed.”
“Why?” She grins.
“She’s a barn cat looking to get her hooks in,” I bite off.
“Oh, right. You are afraid of big cats. And lice.” Her smart-ass smile makes me want to bite that lip.
Her teasing makes me grin, but I hold it back and give her a glare.
“Not the nice kind of cat,” I tell her.