His hands slid around my back, I felt the fingers of one at my bra then it was loose then he lifted up and it was gone.
Over the last week, Gray hadn’t avoided my br**sts. When we were making out on his couch, he’d cupped one over the bra, his thumb gliding across my nipple and that was fabulous. And yesterday, in the haystack, his hands under my clothes, he paid them a considerable amount of attention.
But he’d never seen them.
Suddenly, uncertainty slithered in as he again arched his back, his eyes gliding down my body and he took me in.
It hit me then this was going fast. Really fast.
And I was a virgin.
I needed to slow things down.
“Gray –” I whispered, his eyes went from my body to mine and I clamped my mouth shut at the look in them.
It was blistering. It was appreciative. And it was carnal.
I was again breathless.
“Prettiest thing I’ve ever f**kin’ seen,” he whispered then he came back to me but did it by twisting his torso even as his hand slid up my ribs to cup the bottom of my breast, lift it and then his mouth was there and he drew my nipple sharply between his lips.
Heat shafted through me, my back left the bed and both my hands slid into his hair as I whimpered.
And that was it, I was lost. It was all mouths and tongues, licking, sucking, biting, hands roaming, nails scraping. I heard the zip go down on my skirt then it was gone then my tights with my panties. Then I heard the zip on Gray’s trousers and suddenly he was naked. I didn’t see it, I was too busy running my tongue up his neck, one of my hands gliding along the skin of his back, the other one over the skin over the defined muscles at his stomach. I heard his swift intake of breath as they trailed and then he adjusted. Jerking me with him until I was on my back, Gray’s weight on me, his h*ps were rolling. My legs opened automatically, his fell between, his hands raced up the back of my thighs, hooking the back of my knees, yanking them up and he drove inside.
My back arched and I cried out, not in pleasure, in pain as that surprising sensation seared through me.
Gray’s body went statue-still for a moment, still buried inside me then just his head came up.
My neck righted and my eyes opened as his hand framed one side of my face.
“Jesus, Ivey,” he whispered.
“I kinda…” I hesitated, “got excited and forgot to uh…” I paused again, “mention I was a virgin.”
“How the f**k did that happen?” he asked.
What a bizarre question.
“Um…when you don’t have sex?” I answered in a question.
He stared at me then his face got that near to tender look but he did it one better because he got that look even as his eyes warmed in a way I hadn’t seen before (and Gray’s eyes were almost always warm). In a way that made my body warm all over, his lips tipped up in a grin and his dimple popped out.
Sensational.
“Yeah, my beautiful Ivey, but how the f**k does a girl like you reach the age of twenty-two and not have sex?”
My belly dropped again but this time not in a good way.
“Like me as in a pool hustler?” I whispered and his thumb immediately slid out to stroke my cheek as his face got closer, his grin disappeared but the tender took over his expression.
“No, dollface, like you like the most beautiful girl to hit Mustang, f**k, maybe the entire state of Colorado in a century. Like that kind of girl.”
My belly didn’t drop with that. It flipped.
“In my life, I haven’t made a lot of connections,” I told him softly and the grin can back.
“You’re connected now, baby.”
I was. I definitely was. In a lot of ways.
All of them good.
I returned his grin.
His hand left my face, slid down my shoulder, arm, in between us and down.
“Wrap your legs around my hips, Ivey. I’m gonna take care of you so you can take me,” he ordered gently, my whole body trembled and his grin turned into a smile.
“My girl likes that,” he whispered.
“Yes,” I whispered back.
His thumb hit the spot, pressed in and rolled.
My eyes closed and my neck slightly arched.
“And my girl likes that,” he growled.
“Yes,” I breathed.
He kept pressing and rolling, I held on tight. He kept doing it, I held on tighter, lifted my face and shoved it in his neck. He kept doing it and started moving inside me slowly.
Oh yes.
That felt really good.
My head turned and I gasped in his ear, “Gray.”
He stopped.
My limbs clutched him and I gasped again, “Don’t stop!”
He kept going.
And going, thumb swirling.
Oh yes.
Yes.
“Gray,” I breathed in his ear.
“Right here, Ivey,” he whispered in mine.
Right there, as right there as he could be.
Instinctively, I lifted my hips, rocking them up with each of his strokes.
When I did this, Gray groaned, his strokes went deeper then they started going faster, harder, his finger pressing and rolling.
Yes.
More, faster, harder, deeper, I held on tight.
Yes. That felt really, really good.
“Gray,” I gasped.
“Right here, baby.”
“Oh my God,” I breathed then there it was.
My head flew back into the pillows, my fingers plunged into his hair and fisted, I cried out then moaned loud then just felt it, lips parted, no breath, experiencing the beauty as it washed over me.
Better than in the haystack.
Better than anything in the world.
The best.
When my body relaxed under him, his thumb left me and his hand pulled one of my arms from around him. His fingers lacing through mine, he lifted our hands and pressed them in the pillow beside my head. Lifting up on his other forearm that he was bracing his weight on in the bed, that hand slid up and his fingers tangled in my hair as his head came up, his eyes locking on mine and he kept thrusting.
I kept rocking my h*ps and taking him, digging my heels into him to do it, watching him moving inside me and he was so beautiful, it was arguably better than what he’d just given me.
Then he drove deep, his fingers laced through mine tightened, his other hand fisted in my hair, pulling my head slightly to the side and his face disappeared in my neck where he groaned against my skin.
I liked that. The sound, the feel, it was beautiful.
Okay, no.
That was better.
He stayed buried inside me and I held him close to me until his breath came to almost even and his mouth started nuzzling my neck, his fingers never unlacing from mine.