by Lila Monroe
“That was—amazing!” I gasped and gave him a high five. He was laughing like crazy too, and pulled a long-necked bottle out from under the seat.
“Our best private vintage label,” he said, popping the cork and handing it to me.
There were no glasses, so I chugged it like a beer, the rich red wine going down smooth and sweet, before tossing it to him. He caught it and poured some down his own throat before shaking his head in wonder.
“And they say Aussie girls know how to party!”
“So the honor of my country’s at stake?” I said. The wine and the adrenaline and the proximity to Grant were all making my blood sing, making me feel unconquerable. “Move aside, bitch, and let me show you how we drunk-drive a golf cart in the land of the free and the home of the brave.”
He acceded, and the engine purred under my ministrations, a lot more powerful than a golf cart should be: “Did you make some modifications to this?”
Grant flashed his teeth; half grin and half dare. “No point in owning something that can’t go fast.”
“Truer words…” I murmured. “Let’s see how many horses you snuck under this hood!”
Unfortunately, I wasn’t prepared for precisely how many horses, and I was also unfamiliar with the terrain. A patch of mud causes us to skid, and I just managed to swerve out of the way of a large boulder before we had to bail if we were going to be skewered by a tree.
“Who put that tree there?” I giggled, dragging myself up on the bank of the stream, muddy and grass-stained.
“My grandfather,” Grant said, coming to my side equally disheveled. Ooh, that ruffled hair…
“Sorry about the golf cart,” I said.
“It’s nothing,” Grant said distractedly, fishing about in his pockets. Whatever he was worried about, he must have found, because he stopped fishing and grinning, raising the wine bottle with his other hand. “Look what I found!”
“My hero,” I said, collapsing backwards onto the grass, mouth open. “Save me, good sir, and slake my thirst.”
“Ay, milady,” he said, pouring a good quantity of rich warm wine into my waiting mouth before collapsing beside me. “If thou couldst rescue thy knight…”
“Verily,” I said, but my giggling—I swear, I was giggling more on this night than in my entire previous life combined—made my hand shake, and the drink splashed over Grant’s lips, a few drops pooling in the hollow of his throat.
Well, waste not, want not.
I lowered my mouth to his throat and lapped at the wine, kissing its sweetness from his skin.
I felt him swallow, hard. “Lacey…”
“It’s delicious,” I said, and kissed his neck again, my lips curious, my tongue teasing its way along his skin to find the last traces of the wine, and beneath that, Grant’s own taste, salt and sweat and something uniquely him…
Grant lifted my head and kissed me on the lips, long and slow and breathtakingly tender. “You’re quite delicious too.”
Was it minutes or hours we lay there, just kissing, just feeling our bodies press against each other on the grass, burning with a slow hot desire like lava? My head was swimming, my heart hammering. At some point Grant took my hand, helped me to my feet. His eyes were so blue in that still half-light.
“Let’s go get you cleaned up.”
We left our fancy shoes behind as a lost cause, and walked hand in hand through the vineyard, the leaves rustling in the midnight breeze, the darkness a cool cloak that flickered over our skin and set my heart racing—or was that the feel of Grant’s fingers in mine?
In the dark the forms of the trees and hills seemed imbued with a solemn, serene beauty, almost a power. Owls hooted softly in the distance, cicadas hummed, lightning bugs danced through the air. I looked out into the wild night, and up into Grant’s face, and I thought, Oh, I could get used to this.
We came upon a cabin hewn from logs of red pine. It was charmingly rustic-looking from the outside, but the moment we stepped in I saw the granite fireplace, the marble countertop, the genuine antique Oriental rugs.
I saw, through a door, the bed.
Butterflies fluttered in my stomach, and for the first time I really thought the words that had been flitting around my subconscious mind since the moment I kissed Grant’s throat:
We’re going to have sex.
Five little words, and they sent a thrill up my spine, made my hands tingle where they touched Grant’s, made my lips and skin tingle where he had touched and kissed.
Was he feeling the same? This strangle, bubbly, nervous excitement, as if sparks were playing across his skin? I snuck a glance at him and saw him sneaking one at me as well, almost shy. He smiled, and I giggled. That wine was really something else.
Grant led me to the bathroom, the tub hewn from mica-speckled pink marble, and filled it with steaming hot water and a perfumed oil that smelled of roses.
We’re going to have sex.
Oh God. Could I do this? Of course I could do this. I couldn’t not do this, couldn’t walk away from the magic of his touch, of the heat radiating from his body so close to mine. I just had to remember to keep it light, keep it casual. This was just a bit of fun.
I watched those strong hands twist off the faucet, the steam rising between us as he rose to face me, and I saw the hunger in his eyes like a lion.
I’m about to have sex with my boss.
I almost came just from that thought, so naughty, so forbidden. Only that slight edge of nerves, like champagne bubbles popping in my stomach, kept me hemming in, my feet skittering back slightly as Grant leaned forward and captured me once more in a powerful kiss.
And then I forgot everything but him.
Looking deeply into my eyes, he slowly unbuttoned my dress, letting it slide to the floor around my ankles. He let his hands roam to my back and unhook my bra, the insubstantial silk drifting through the air as my nipples hardened against the light brush of his thumbs. He reached down, easing my pink satin panties down my thighs. His hands moved slowly, lazily, temptingly as he wrapped them around me and set me gently into the embrace of the warm water, where I propped my head against my hand and watched him watching me.
There were so many things I wanted to say. Keep it light, Lacey, don’t get invested. Play it cool.
“The lady would like her show now,” I murmured, and his pupils dilated.
Those elegant fingers traveled down his rumpled dress shirt, sliding mother-of-pearl buttons through the holes until he could shrug the garment off, revealing his sculpted chest and powerful shoulders, the occasional scars along his powerful arms only accentuating their perfection. Light golden hair ran along his tanned skin, and I wanted so badly to touch him, to feel where he was rough and smooth, strong and scarred.
His pants and briefs came off together in one smooth movement, and oh God, the muscles of his thighs and calves, like he was a Greek statue come to life, and that cock, just like I remembered it, long and thick and already hard, his hand coming down to stroke it almost unconsciously as he stared at me, his eyes intense. As my mouth watered.
“You going to leave me in here all alone?” I asked softly.
His eyes flashed fire, and he stepped into the water, looming over me.
He ran the washcloth gently over my chest, soaping my breasts, then slid it down to caress my legs and thighs. I bit my lip to keep from whimpering in delight, I couldn’t let him know how good it felt, how much I wanted it, wanted him…
Oh God, this was really happening, his hand was really stroking my thighs, climbing up to my aching center, his fingers were really sliding in, this had to be a dream, an impossible dream…
My hands were roaming across his muscled back without a single signal from my brain, coming forward to stroke his broad chest, sliding soapily downwards to his powerful legs then taking firm hold of the base of his shaft.
He groaned, his eyes squeezing shut like a contented cat as he let his head fall against the hollow of my neck, planting lazy, d
reamlike kisses along the skin there, panting as I began to work his cock harder and faster.
“You’re so fucking sexy,” he growled into my ear, nipping my earlobe, and my thighs clenched as I almost came from his words alone.
“You're beautiful,” I whispered back, and he was. Like an angel angled over me, his skin gleaming and hair glistening in the soft light.
He raised his head then, and looked into my eyes with an expression like wonder. Then he reached down and stopped my hand.
“Wait,” he said when I started to protest. “There’s something we—there’s something I have to show you first.”
Still more than slightly tipsy, we helped each other from the tub, giggling at the accidental and not-so-accidental brushes of skin. He took my hand and pulled me into the bedroom, lifting me up and dropping me on the bed before I even had time to yelp in surprise. But he didn’t join me on the bed, not yet.
Instead, he reached into the pocket of his muddy dress pants and pulled out a small black box, and suddenly I couldn’t breathe.
“Is that—”
He popped it open. It was.
The ring was white gold, nicked slightly around the band, with diamonds and emeralds set around it in a vintage flower pattern. The design and the light wear confirmed what Grant was about to say:
“This was my mother’s wedding ring, and her mother’s ring before her. It’s a tradition to pass it on, to—to welcome the bride into the family. If my mother were here, she would have held onto it until the day of the wedding, but…” he took my hand, and slid it onto my finger. “I couldn’t wait a minute longer to see how it looked on you.”
I couldn’t stop the tears from rising to my eyes. “Oh, Grant. Thank you so much. I never expected—”
He stopped me with a tender finger on my lips.
“You mean more to me than I could ever say in words,” he said. “So I thought I might try showing you.”
And what could I do then but kiss him?
I pulled him onto the bed above me, reaching again for him; he distracted me by flipping us so that he was on his back, reaching up to squeeze my breasts.
I whimpered loudly as his mouth closed hungrily on my right breast, sucking on my nipple hard as his fingers played lightly with my left. His right hand trailed slowly down my stomach, and then his fingers were teasing at my clit. I loved how he touched me, how his hands explored every part of me.
I cried out as his fingers slowly circled, tantalizing, tormenting, making me whimper and beg for more, and then he entered me roughly with two of them, still not letting up on the attention to my breasts or the light, not-nearly-enough touches to my clit. He paused
“Does that feel good?” He asked, his voice both tender and raw.
“Mmm.”
I lost track of time as he set up an insistent, demanding rhythm. I had never been so fucking wet. He fucked me with his fingers until he found a spot that no one had found before, circled it and teased it, stroked and prodded and pressed and oh God oh God oh God—
Electricity lit up my body, sparks lighting up behind my eyelids, my whole body straining to its limit, the whole world exploding as I screamed—
And came harder than I ever had in my damn life.
I slumped on his chest, boneless and weak, my body wracked by my orgasm. “Give me…a minute…” I panted.
No one had ever touched me that way. No one had ever made me feel that way before. How could he do it? How could he reach down into my mind and soul and give me exactly what I wanted?
Don’t think that, Lacey. Just a bit of fun. Just a bit of risky, sleeping-with-the-boss sex. Goosebumps flared across my skin at the thrill of it.
“You may have all the minutes you need,” Grant murmured. “I will, however—” He shifted, his long, hardness pressing against my thigh—“I will draw the line at an hour.”
I felt a new rush of lust and pushed myself up on my arms, nipping and sucking at the skin of his neck where I had already marked him in the woods.
Yes, you’re mine. For this moment, you’re mine.
I began to kiss my way down his chest, savoring the way Grant’s breaths became shorter and heavier, his throat issuing intoxicating gravely groans of need.
Oh, you’re mine now. And I’m going to savor every last second.
I made it to his waist and teased at the skin there for a few sadistic seconds before giving in to his unspoken pleas and moving further downward. I circled the head of his dick with my tongue, and then swiped it down the underside before sucking him in deeper, moaning. I’d never wanted a cock so bad.
I licked him like an ice cream cone, trying to memorize the shape and scent of him, so powerful, so masculine. Every fantasy I’d ever had was playing in full-color behind my eyelids as I sucked him deep into my throat.
Give in, Grant. Give in to me. Come for me. Come down my throat and watch me lick it off my lips and spank me for being such an eager little slut—
I slid him deeper and deeper, humming and moaning as I devoured that delicious cock. His breathing was really shaky now, and I felt an undeniable surge of passion at the sway my mouth had over him at that moment. He began rocking his hips gently upward, and I increased the rhythm of my own movements.
I looked up into Grant’s eyes, wanting to see how he looked at me while he fucked my mouth, and his eyes were dark as the sea at midnight.
“I need you,” he growled. “I need to be inside you. I need to fuck you until you’re begging for more. I need—”
My thighs clenched, and I launched myself up towards him, mashing my mouth against his in a rough collision of lips, teeth, tongue, and need. He grabbed my hips and slammed me down onto his thick cock. I shrieked as he plunged into me, stretching me, so much bigger than anything I’d felt before, so much better.
“Oh, oh, oh, fuck me, oh please Grant, harder, please fuck me—”
He kept a firm grip on my ass as he thrust upward into me, bucking hard as I rode him. He lunged up to lick and suck at my breasts and I swooned, leaned further into his touch, grasping at his strong shoulders, the muscles underneath rippling like an earthquake.
Never felt anything like this before, flying so high, flying so hard, needing him, needing to never stop fucking, needing already to fuck him again as soon as we were done, needing that thick hard cock filling me up, just a little more, all I need is a little more to--
“Fuck me,” I moaned. “Oh God, Grant, I need it hard, I need you in me hard, I need you to fuck me hard—”
He flipped me onto my back, staying inside me and barely pausing before pounding me into the mattress, his speed and power increasing, his hands squeezing the globes of my ass as he dove into me, taking me, taking all that I could give, God I was so wet, I was so ready, I wanted everything he had for me—
“Come, Lacey,” he ordered, his voice low and grating with need, sweat dripping down his chest. “Come for me, you sexy fucking—”
He drove into me one last time and came, and the feel of him collapsing on top of me sent my orgasm ripping through me like a force of nature.
20
I woke slowly, like rising out of a warm cloud. I was sprawled on the expanse of Grant’s broad chest, his arm draped over my shoulders, and I felt so safe and secure in the shelter of his embrace. How could I ever have fought this? In this man’s arms was exactly where I belonged. All was right with the world.
“Sleep well?” he murmured, a sexily low morning rumble.
“Mmm, perfectly,” I said. I looked up at him, at that adorably sleep-rumpled morning hair, the print of the pillow on his cheek. He was sexy and disheveled and all, all mine.
He brushed a lock of hair out of my eyes and made a face. “Naughty hair. Kept me from seeing your lovely face.”
I blushed. “You have a lovely face.”
“Well, that’s a new one on me,” he said, not quite smirking yet. “And I beg to differ. Yours is the lovely one. It’s got lovely dark eyes—” he bopped my eyelid
s lightly—“a cute little nose—” another bop—“and an absolutely sinful mouth.”
His thumb stroked the edge of my lips, and I nipped it, drawing a growl from him that made my knees turn to jelly.
“And it’s got this lovely soft skin. In fact, you have lovely soft skin absolutely everywhere.” His hands began to roam, cupping my breasts. “I particularly like how it feels here—“
And then the phone rang.
I groaned and flopped face-down on his chest. “You should get that.”
I wasn’t looking at him, but I could hear the childish face he was making in his voice. “But it’s probably boring!”
I rolled off of him and sprawled on the silk sheets out of his reach. “Well, that’s the price of fake-being-with-me, Mister. You have to do lots of boring, grown-up, responsible things. It’s very high-maintenance. Think you can handle it?”
“I’d rather handle you,” he grumbled, and leaned over to blow a raspberry in my ear. I could feel his growing smile against my skin, though. “I think I can maybe make that sacrifice. Only for you, though.”
I tilted up my head for him to press a quick kiss to my lips. He took the opportunity to try to drag it out a bit longer, but pulled away when I gave him a playful shove, and took the bedside phone off the hook. He made a face at me as though I’d put salt in his Cocoa Puffs before answering.
“Yes, this is Grant Devlin. Look, the party was dragging, I wanted to show Lacey the grounds—well, I would have answered my cell, but it’s probably halfway down the stream on its way to Mexico by now—look, what was so important that you had to work your way down the list of phone numbers till you hit this one?”
A pause while the other person spoke, and Grant’s face went blank. All animation left his expression abruptly. He began to speak in monosyllables.
"Yes. I see. I can see that. No. I’ll deal with it. Yes. Bye.”
He put the phone down and stared off into the distance as if he had forgotten what came next.
“Grant, what happened?” I asked, sitting up with the blanket clutched around me. Alarm was beginning to bubble in my chest. “Is everyone okay? Did someone get hurt? Is it something with the company?”