“No.” I arched into him again. “Not possible.”
Grey moved down my chest to suck one of my nipples. I drew in a breath as his tongue flicked over the sensitive spot. “Fucking fuck.”
“Mm.”
He explored with fingers and lips and eyes. I felt like the only thing in his world, and that thought made me even dizzier than I already felt.
I ran my fingers through his hair and tested the thick strands with a gentle yank. The resulting noise out of Grey’s throat made me laugh. “You like that.”
“I like you,” he corrected before moving his tongue and teeth farther down my chest.
It was too good to be true. The physical experience, the words he was saying, all of it. I wanted to drink it in and hold it forever. Somehow, despite our arguments and tense history, I felt completely comfortable with Grey. I was able to let go, be open, simply experience the joys of this encounter without second-guessing.
Why? How was it possible the person I felt most comfortable with in bed was the man who’d always despised me?
Right now, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting his mouth on my dick again. As soon as I had the thought, I remembered I owed him. I’d waited fifteen years to reciprocate, and now I finally had my chance. In the tennis house, I’d been so intoxicated with desire, I hadn’t thought about what was happening. I’d simply given myself over to pleasure.
“Turn over,” I said, sitting up and pushing his shoulder. “My turn.”
Grey didn’t argue. He simply climbed off me and turned onto his back, crossing his hands behind his head and grinning in anticipation.
“Cocky bastard,” I muttered, even though he was a very sexy one. I moved between his legs and pressed a kiss to his inner thigh. The muscle curved inward, and the dark blond leg hair turned to darker blond hair trimmed neatly around his dick. His huge, hard dick.
He was fucking gorgeous. Big, broad, fit. His chest, shoulders, and arms were sculpted, and I knew from living with him a few days he prioritized his time in his personal gym. Suddenly, I was intimidated by him. I had zero experience in sucking a guy off, and presumably Grey had been serviced by some of the best over the years.
I glanced up at him and was startled by the soft expression on his face. “I’m going to suck at this.”
He grinned. “Hope so.”
“No, but like… I don’t know what I’m doing.” I settled in and reached for his cock, stroking it with my hand while I tried gathering my nerves to suck it. I wanted to taste it, feel the thick girth of him on my tongue, but I didn’t want to look like some inexperienced virgin who was clearly out of his depth.
Grey ran his fingers through my messy hair. “You do. Do what you know feels good to you. It’s not rocket science.”
“No, I know. I just…” I swallowed. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve imagined doing this. To you. And now I’m here. We’re here. And I don’t want to fuck it up.” The last part was confessed in a whisper. I was embarrassed.
“When you imagined it, what did you do? Lick my shaft? Suck on the tip? Tell me.”
Those words out of his mouth were making me harder and ruining any chance I had at rational thought. “All of that. I imagined sucking it, trying to swallow it and gagging. I dreamed of making you scream, of feeling your balls draw up in my hand while I drove you crazy with my mouth.”
Grey groaned and closed his eyes, arching his cock up toward my face. “Do it. Do something. Anything.”
The scent of his cock and balls made me hungry as fuck. I took one long draw of it into my lungs before putting my mouth on him. I started by running my tongue up and down his shaft and watching his dick jump in response. Then I ran the tip of my tongue just under the edge of his cockhead where I knew it would feel the best. Sure enough, he groaned again and stretched his legs and feet out on the bed.
Every sound he made encouraged me until I was licking and sucking his cock with abandon. Saliva coated my mouth and chin, his cock, and his balls. His fist held my hair without yanking too hard, and his stomach muscles tightened with each strong pull on his cock.
“Fuck, Ells. Like that. Like that. Fuck.”
I moved up so I could get a better angle to try taking more. His dick was big and thick, but I wanted to impress him by taking as much of it as I could. I gagged and tried again until tears were streaming down my face.
Sucking Grey’s dick was the hottest thing I’d ever done, even hotter than getting sucked off by him in the tennis house. Hotter than him shoving me against the door and putting his hand on my throat or crowding me naked in the shower.
I felt debauched, used. At his mercy, but also, strangely, in control. Making him feel this good was intoxicating. His eyes rolled back in his head, and guttural noises escaped his throat.
“Fuck my face,” I croaked.
His eyes were hazy with lust. “Want to fuck your ass.”
I wanted that too, but I was scared. What if it hurt too much? What if I chickened out? What if I disappointed him?
But I wanted nothing more than his utmost pleasure, and if that meant changing things up and taking him that way, then I wanted to try.
I swallowed. “Okay. Yeah. You, ah, have stuff?”
He palmed the back of my head and bent to kiss me even though my mouth was a mess. “Yes. Stay here.”
After he moved off the bed to get supplies from his bag in the bathroom, I turned over and lay on my back, wiping my messy mouth on the closest discarded shirt I could find.
When he came back into the room, he pinned me with his intense gaze. “You sure?”
“Not one single bit,” I admitted with a smile. “But I know I want to make you feel good.”
Grey climbed onto the bed and propped himself over me, dropping the condom and lube bottle next to us on the bed. “You already make me feel good.” He leaned down and kissed me gently before pulling away and meeting my eyes again. “I don’t want you to do something you don’t want to.”
“I want to,” I admitted breathlessly. “Really fucking badly. I’m just a little nervous.” I swallowed. “Or a lot nervous.”
“What if we go slow and you can tell me if we need to stop?” He brushed the hair back from my face, and that simple gesture made me begin to relax. This wasn’t Grey Blackwood, the angry venture capitalist bent on revenge. This was Grey Blackwood, the sweet, kind man who’d helped his housekeeper move a mattress in the middle of the night when the apartment above hers flooded. The man who asked about his driver’s nephew who he’d helped find a job. The man who’d had Neiman Marcus turn off the music in the dressing room after I had a panic attack because he’d noticed I preferred the quiet. The sweet college kid who’d found me, drunk and nervous and babbling, in the hallway of the Crosbie country club and brought me into a closet for the hottest sexual encounter I’d ever had… at least until today.
That was the man I wanted to please, and that was the man I trusted to take care of me.
I nodded. “I want you,” I said softly, just to make sure he knew.
His face broke into a genuine smile. His smiles were rare enough to still make my stomach clench when I saw one. “Try to relax, okay? Let me take care of you.”