“Grayson! Oh, god,” my mouth falls open and he rocks one last time, gliding his pelvis against my clit, and I shatter. I clench his cock as my muscles spasm and my legs shake. I toss my head back, and the euphoria never seems to end.
“Fuck! I can’t. No, I don’t want to yet,” but he groans anyway. “Finley, my Finley.” He thrust two more times, and his warmth splashes against my walls as my orgasm drinks him dry.
He takes my mouth in a sloppy wet kiss, and I’m nearly too tired to kiss him back. Grayson flips us so I’m on top of him, and I settle my head against his chest. We are both gasping for air, and I’m trying to form into words how amazing that was for my first time.
Especially when I had convinced myself that I’d never truly have a first time.
“Are you okay?” he asks me. “Was that too much?”
I shake my head and wrap my arms around him tighter. “It was perfect. You were perfect.”
His finger slides up my throat and settle on my chin, and he turns my head so I’m looking at him. His brown eyes are thoughtful and sweet. The way he stares at me makes me melt, makes me fall harder for him, makes me want to be with him forever.
“You know what this means, right?” he asks.
“That … I’m no longer a virgin,” I state the obvious.
“Damn right you’re not,” he puffs out his chest, proud and cocky. “But no, that’s not it.”
I giggle, suddenly feeling shy and vulnerable. I try to glance away, but he doesn’t allow me to. He cups my face and sits up. The new position has me wrapping my legs around his waist, and his cock sinks deeper, still hard, still ready for me to use.
“You’re mine, Finley. You hear me? The world will be against us. You’re too good for me, too young, but I don’t give a damn about any of that. I’ll be good to you. You know that, right?”
I let my forehead fall to his as I close my eyes, doing my best not to get emotional. How embarrassing would that be after passionate sex? “I know. You’re already good to me, Grayson. You’re more than I ever imagined for myself.”
“And I plan to always be more than your wildest dreams can paint for you, Finley.” He flips me onto my back again and slides his long, wide cock out of me, then pushes in.
He makes love to me, slow and steady, making the room heat and my pulse race.
He makes me fall in love with him.
Chapter Fifteen
GRAYSON
I jolt awake and see it’s still dark outside. I rub my eyes and grab the alarm clock off the nightstand and squint to read the time.
3:05 a.m.
A slight snore comes from my left, and I grin remembering who is next to me. I bend down to kiss her shoulder and the sheet slips, reminding me that she is naked underneath the comforter. I need to get up and get to painting his room. Dillon sleeps later than usual kids because of his treatments, so if I can get up and get going, put on a pot of coffee, I’ll still be able to get his room done before he gets up.
But Finley’s ass is right here, pressing against my thickening erection, and I want nothing more than to slide inside her for the tenth time.
Nothing feels better than knowing I’m the one who took her virginity. Her pussy molds to my cock now because she’s made just for me. That moment of being inside her without her barrier resisting makes me feel so fucking good because I took it. I claimed her.
She’s mine.
“Daddy!” Dillon cries for me. It’s loud, agonizing, and it has me rolling out of bed so fast, I hit the floor instead of standing on my feet. “Daddy!” he wails.
“What’s wrong? What is it?” Finley is adorable while she’s sleepy.
I slide on my jeans and button zip them up. “I don’t know. He’s calling for me. Something’s wrong, I need to go.”
“I’ll come with you,” she says with urgency. She climbs out of bed much more gracefully than I do and slides on her sweatpants, then the t-shirt she wore earlier before I pulled it off.
I hate she’s covering up her body because she’s so damn beautiful, a painting, a masterpiece, a fucking sculpture, only something otherworldly could create.
“You don’t have to do that,” I say.
“Daddy! Daddy!” he cries.
I run out the door and hear Finley right behind me. I’m tugging on my shirt in the middle of the hall and burst through my bedroom door to see him sitting up in the middle of the bed, crying his lungs out.
“What is it, Dillon? What’s wrong?” I run to him and stop at the edge of the bed when I see his pajamas are wet.
He continues to cry and tries to speak through wails, but it sounds like jabber.
“Is he okay?” Finley asks from behind me, and it means the world to me that she’s here.
“I don’t know,” I say. “You’re worrying me, buddy. What’s wrong? Do you feel okay?” I put my palm on his forehead and check for a temperature, but he feels normal. “Buddy, you have to talk to me. I can’t fix it if I don’t know what’s going on. Talk to me. Breathe. Hey, look at me, Dillon. Look at me ” I hold his face in my hands and stare into the eyes that are an identical match to mine. His cheeks are wet, and his eyes are swollen and red. His nose is running down his lips, and he’s breaking my heart with how loud he is crying. “Breathe like me,” I tell him. “Deep breaths. In through your nose and out through your mouth.” I inhale and exhale, and he does his best to breathe and calm down, but he’s still so fucking sad.
“I—I had a bad dream, and then I wet the bed cause I was scared. You weren’t here, and in my dream—in my dream…” He gets worked up again. I pick him up and hold him, not caring about the wet piss on his pajamas. I can shower and change.
“What happened in your dream?” I ask in a soft voice and sit in the chair in the corner as he sniffles.
Finley blows me a kiss and starts to take the sheets off the bed. I didn’t ask her to, but out of the kindness of her heart and because she’s a natural nurturer, I think.
“In my dream, you—you died. I just got you.” He wails again, and the admission has the damn emotional knot working in my throat.
Finley’s hand falls to her heart, and she frowns.
Tell me about it.
I’m barely hanging on here.
“I’m sorry.” He hiccups.
“For what?” I ask gently, rubbing his back with my palm.
“For peeing the bed. My foster mom always spanked me with a ruler when I peed the bed. I can’t help it sometimes. The treatment—”
I bite my tongue until it bleeds as I rock him. I don’t know if you rock kids his age, but I don’t know what else to do.
Finley gasps in horror and wipes her cheek.
I’m going to kill that foster mom with her own fucking ruler for putting her hands on my kid.
“Buddy, I’m just glad you’re okay. I don’t care that you pissed the bed. I don’t care.” I hold him tighter, thankful that I have him. I don’t know how it’s possible for a man to change overnight, but I have. I have an instant connection with Dillon. All I want to do is give him love and safety. I’m scared out of my mind about raising a kid.