This was too good, too much, too everything.
He broke the kiss, his hungry lips moving across her jawline and to her neck as he backed her up so she was against the car. She tightened her legs as he freed one of his hands, using it to tug her T-shirt free and slip underneath. How he managed to get a hand between them considering she was all but literally glued to him, she had no clue, but there he was, rubbing the pad of his thumb over her still-bra-covered nipple. She wasn’t sure she could get any more sensitive or desperate for his touch, but she did.
He nipped at her neck, kissed the delicate skin better, and then continued on. Kinsey’s fingers were tangled in his dark hair, anchoring herself before she just flew away or exploded or got a look at another dimension as she ground against him, so frantic to feel him, to get to that place where she’d find relief that dry humping him seemed a valid option.
She was close, so fucking close, and they both still had all their clothes on.
He sat her down and nudged her feet shoulder-width apart while she was still too dazed to even think to question it. One of his hands went to her hip while the other stayed under her shirt, trailing down from her rock-hard nipples and over her stomach, sending sizzles of desire in its wake.
“Kinsey, I’m gonna make you come here, and then I’m gonna take you upstairs and fuck you until neither of us can lift our heads off the pillows.” He ran his fingertips across her bare skin above the waistband of her shorts. “Does that sound good to you?”
Fuck yes roared through her head, but already dick drunk without even touching it, the best she could do was nod.
He flicked his thumb across the button of her shorts, popping it open. “Words finally escaping you?” he teased.
The big, hot jerk picked this moment to tease her for being silent for once? He’d pay for that. Later. Now she just wanted—needed to get off.
“It sounds,” she said, as out of breath as if she’d done laps around Meemaw’s ten acres, “very, very good.”
Eyes dark with lust, he slid his hands south, forcing her zipper down as he did so. Two long fingers glided over her hard, aching clit swollen with desire.
“Later, I’m gonna eat this pussy, just bury my face in it, and lick and suck and taste until you’re right on the edge, and then I’m gonna back off before taking you right there again.” He bracketed her clit with the length of his fingers and slid them up and down her slick slit. “My face is gonna be so wet from you and my tongue’s gonna get tired and that’s when I’m gonna use my fingers.”
He squeezed his fingers together, increasing the pressure on her sensitive flesh. “Trace that opening. Dip inside. Stretch you, play you, make you want it so bad that it wipes out every other thought but me in your head, just like I can’t think of anything else when I think of you.” Up and down he stroked, gliding over her clit, demanding her response. “You take up all the space. You quiet everything else. It’s just you, Kinsey.”
He paused, his breath coming in nearly as fast and hard as hers. “And when you’re there, twisting on my bed, begging me not to stop, not to make you wait, I’m gonna slide my dick home, balls deep, so you come all over me and with me and we are both absolutely fucking wrecked for anyone but each other.”
Her breath caught and her thighs started to shake. This was what happened when Mr. Silent started talking? Good gravy.
“Griff.”
“Yeah, baby? You want more?” he asked, increasing the speed of his fingers because he obviously knew damn well the answer to that question.
“Yes,” she said anyway, fighting to keep her eyes open against the onslaught of pleasure. “I want all of that.”
He caught her gaze, his so intense, his eyes had gone dark with it, and then leaned forward, his breath coming in hot pants against her temple. “Fuck, Kinsey.”
The yearning. The need. The bone-deep promise in those words. It was all there. All for her.
Her incoming orgasm pulled back as if someone was pulling on the strings of a slingshot. Pulling it back farther and farther until it seemed like it would break and then letting go so all of that pleasure was flying forward, through her, over her, in her, and washing over her as she climaxed hard enough that her groan of pleasure echoed in the parking garage.
Some part of her realized what she’d done and where she’d done it, but it was a small part. The rest of her felt too fucking good to care. She let out a shaky breath and opened her eyes to see Griff sucking her juices off his fingers, a possessive look on his face that should probably worry her but didn’t—not even the littlest, tiniest bit.
“We’re not done,” she said, needing him to confirm what he’d said—that all of it had been real, that she hadn’t just dreamed it up.
“Not even close.” He buttoned her shorts, pulled up the zipper, and let out a groan that sounded a lot like a growl and a pledge as he patted the crotch of her shorts. “Not even a little bit.”
Thank God.
Chapter Thirty
Griff
The elevator wasn’t moving fast enough. Past Griff had been an asshole for thinking that living on the top floor was anywhere close to a good idea.
Kinsey stood in front of him, her perfect ass snug against his hard cock as he glared at the security camera in the corner of the elevator. His fingers—the same ones that had just been inside her—were resting on her hips. He still couldn’t believe it. He’d never done anything close to that before. He kept his shit locked down. Words. Emotions. Wants. Needs. Complaints. Celebrations. All of it stayed folded up and shoved in a pocket to be forgotten about. The only exception was when he stepped into the ring and finally let go—until Kinsey had walked into his gym.
That moment changed everything.
It changed him.
And now here he was, in a small metal box willing it to go faster so he didn’t strip her down in between the twentieth and twenty-first floors so he could drop to his knees and get a taste of her before sinking into her right up against the wall, his pants only lowered enough to get out his cock. Every inhale filled his lungs with the smell of her shampoo, of her orgasm, of her, and it imprinted itself on him, a sensory recall trigger he’d never forget. She may not be his, but he was hers, and fuck if he couldn’t stop spinning out fantasies from the image of waking up with her asleep on his chest to one of both of them passed out naked and sweaty, exhausted, and satisfied. He wanted all of it and everything in between. He wanted her, and he wanted it right the fuck now.
Kinsey arched against him, watching his distorted reflection in the metal doors. “You’re gonna crack a tooth if you keep grinding your teeth like that.”
He let out a grunt or a growl or a groan or more than likely some sound that was a mix of all three. It was the most he could do at the moment; fighting to keep himself in check was a white-knuckle endeavor at this point.