I need North Whitlock with every ounce of my being.
Turning around so my backside is reflected in the mirror, I drop my panties. Taking a deep breath for courage, I shake out my hair, arch my spine and snap a picture of me naked from behind, just a hint of side boob peeking out on the left.
A text comes in from North immediately.
Jesus Christ. Can’t believe you sent me this. You’re so fucking hot. Just wait until I get my tongue between those buns.
My mouth drops open.
Is that a thing? I text back.
And then a picture comes in and my jaw drops even lower.
North. No shirt. A white towel wrapped around his waist. Eyes hooded. Muscles on full display. The picture of male prowess and confidence. He’s more than just hot. He’s a man. He’s a…workhorse. Is that why my private flesh and inner thighs are turning wet and pliant?
My gaze tracks lower then and I see the thick protrusion against the front of his towel. His erection. It’s enormous. Did I give him that?
My question is answered a moment later when he texts me again. Look what you do to me.
Pretty sure I’ll be looking until I see you tomorrow, I reply back.
Jesus…same. Please be safe for me until then, Gracie, North says. Until I can protect my beauty myself.
I will, I reply. And then I collapse onto the floor in a fit of squeals, willing time to move faster. More eager for tomorrow to arrive than I’ve ever been for anything in my entire life.
“North Whitlock, I’m yours,” I say in a heartfelt whisper to the empty bathroom.
Six
North
I tell myself she’s not really coming. That this is all a dream.
I’m worried if I get my hopes up too high, they’ll speed down from the sky and crush me.
After waking up early to clean the entire apartment, I’m standing at the kitchen window waiting for an expensive car to pull up and park on my block. I have no idea what she drives, I just know it’s probably new—and it’s probably going to stick out like a sore thumb. Honestly, I don’t care. Like I told Grace, money is going to be an issue between us. Pretending it won’t be is just foolish and shortsighted. But right now, I don’t care about who has more spending cash, I just want to see her. I just want to touch her.
Living in this cramped apartment with my sister, I don’t get a lot of alone time. But ever since Grace sent me that picture of her tight ass, I’ve locked myself in my bedroom and crammed my cock into my fist three times, panting into my pillow when I come. Christ. I’m half hard again right now remembering the taste of come on her thighs. How she kisses sweetly once second, dirty the next, keeping me on my toes. If she actually shows up here, it means something. It’s important. This won’t just be a one-time thing where I drive her home, hook up, and leave. It’s the start of something.
My gut tells me it’s something big.
Bigger than me or her or zeroes in a bank account.
A silver Porsche stops in front of my building and all I can do is shake my head. That thing is going to get keyed to hell. Unless I let everyone know the owner of the Porsche is with me. With that in mind, I stride out of the building, down the flight of stairs and out into the muted Sunday sunlight. And that’s when she steps out of the car.
My step falters, heart smashing helplessly into my jugular.
Oh fuck.
Oh fuck, I’m gone for this girl.
And she’s looking at me the same way over the roof of her low sports car. A car I wouldn’t be able to give her in a million years. She’s flushed, outrageously gorgeous, her blue eyes naked with yearning. I’ve got to be reflecting it right back at her. There is no way to hide something this strong. I’m already moving in her direction, faster than before, starved for the sight of her up close. When I round the hood and see she’s wearing a short, white skirt and a black, tucked-in top that molds to her tits, all of the blood in my brain travels south.
“Hi,” she breathes, taking a single step in my direction.
Whatever expression she sees on my face makes Grace drop her purse. She throws her arms around my neck and I catch her up in a bear hug, lifting her straight off the ground. I can’t help it—I groan brokenly at the feel of her body, the cherry cola scent that rushes straight to my head. My groin. I haven’t felt whole since Friday night when I drove away from her house, I realize. This is whole. When she’s in my arms.
“God, Gracie. How did I miss you so much?”
She rolls her forehead against mine, her breath coming out in a stuttered pattern. “I missed you, too. I don’t know how I made it through yesterday.”
Her honesty is the knockout blow to my self-control and I kiss her hungrily, tasting that initial gasp on her tongue, memorizing the way she gathers the collar of my one nice shirt in her hands, slanting right and opening her lips for me. Letting my tongue slide in deep, deep, everything moving in slow motion, the earth allowing me to get a hit of my drug. Our tongues wind together and pull, a sense of possessiveness powering through me. Oh yeah. Mine. We start easy, taking our time, but soon we’re messy and frantic, my right hand molded to her ass through that short fucking skirt, holding her tight to my lap.
The kiss has a lot to do with sex. There’s no doubt of that.
Before the day is over, we’re going to end up naked.
Grace isn’t leaving Southie a virgin. There’s just no way an attraction like this can go unsatisfied. It’s not typical. It’s not normal. It’s demanding and raw and vital and vicious.
This attraction hurts.
There’s more than sex inspiring the desperate movements of our mouths, though. It’s almost like this is our new method of breathing. I’m not sure how life was possible before now. How I got up out of bed every day without being able to kiss Grace. And the way her heart slams up against mine? Those broken sounds coming from her throat? They tell me that by some miracle, she feels this way, too. Jesus, it’s a miracle.
I have no idea what we’re going to do about it.
We’re from different worlds.
But for today, I just want to forget all about the differences in our economic statuses and be with her. Soak up every blissful second I’m given.
I back Grace against the car and she moans, starting to wrap her legs around my hips—and that’s when I know I have to break the kiss or risk plowing her in broad daylight, right here up against this fancy Porsche. Calling on every ounce of my will, I take my tongue out of her perfect mouth and press her face into my neck, stroking a hand down the back of her hair. “Damn, Gracie.” I gather her up to me as tightly as possible. “How long do I have you for?”
“Until tonight.” She lays her cheek on my chest. “I usually have an early dinner with my father at the club on Sundays, but I told him I needed to do some research at the library for an extra-credit assignment. He gets home around eight and I should try and be home by then.”
“Eight,” I repeat, unable to believe my luck. “That’s almost the whole day.”
She stiffens slightly. “I…I mean, I don’t have to stay the whole time. I just thought—”
“I want every second.” I tip her chin up, surprised to find her looking a little self-conscious. How the hell is that even possible? “Hey. Whoa. There are no doubts here between us. If you can give me time, please give me the time. I want it so fucking bad. Every minute you can spare me. You doubt that?”