by Leigh, Ember
I huff, fidgeting as he swirls his fingers back and forth over the hollow. “And what makes you think you’re gonna win this time around? You don’t know how good I am at beating you.”
His smile spreads wide, full of mischief. “You’ll have to make me lose.”
I don’t know what we’re after, I just know that I have to win. Hell, he probably doesn’t know either. It’s so baked into our DNA that it’s become a biological imperative. Eat food. Procreate. Beat Grayson.
The sunset blazes into the master bedroom as Grayson’s hands drift toward my hips. He jerks me toward him, and I gasp.
“Fine. So what are we even competing for?” I ask, my voice shaky. He’s got me wrapped around his finger right now. My pussy is basically leaking already from wanting him. Fuck, this man still knows how to push all my buttons. And then some.
“You know what it is,” he murmurs. “It’s the same thing we’ve been after the whole time.”
His words don’t make sense—what have I been after the whole time except peace of mind?—but the confusion dissipates as he lifts my hips in his big hands. I fight to stay annoyed, but it’s hopeless.
“So now you’re exploiting our adolescent rivalry for a chance to break in your new bed?” It’s hard to joke when he’s squeezing both my ass cheeks. “You could have used Tinder, you know. Gotten a random booty call.”
He grunts, and climbs onto the bed, kneeling with my legs on either side of him. He jerks me again by the hips, bringing my pelvis crashing against his.
“That’s no fun.” The look in his eyes is pure fire. He’ll eat me alive, and oh my God, I want it.
Except I shouldn’t. I’m conditioned to resist whatever it is that he wants. And if he wants me? Then he can’t have me.
“I already told you,” I say a moment later, and the words barely leave my lips. “Not interested anymore. Got it out of my system.”
His hands push up to my waist, but I twist away from him. And that’s when it clicks. He stills, and I can practically hear the record screech. He stares at me for a moment, then he lets go of me.
“Fine.” He climbs off the bed. The thick ridge of his cock is visibly tenting his jeans, and I almost whimper. Almost. “Sorry if I misread this.”
His quick retreat leaves me stunned. That’s not what I wanted. Not really. I can’t move. I only want that encroaching heat on me again. The weight of his body denting the mattress around me.
I force myself to sit up, feeling disoriented and lightheaded as I assess him. He crosses his arms over his chest, avoiding my gaze.
“Just go then,” he says, but there’s something in his tone that tips me off. He’s goading me. Pushing me to see if I really mean what I said.
Gray might be a master in innovation when it comes to our competition, but I am the master of endurance. I can hold out so long that his bones will turn to dust. And I can’t wait to prove it.
“Thanks for the tour,” I say and then hop off of his bed. Each step away from him feels like a mistake, but I can’t take it back now.
I’m almost to the door when he barks out, “Hazel.”
I pause, my hand on the doorknob. “What?”
“Am I really wrong about this?”
There’s something in his gaze right now that splits me in two. Suddenly, this isn’t part of our competition. This is Grayson, confused and worried, asking me a real question. I soften for a moment, and against my better judgement, I answer, “No. But you told me to make you lose.”
Chapter 14
GRAYSON
If Hazel leaves this room right now, I’ll fucking explode. I didn’t buy this king bed for her, but I did buy it because of her. This whole thing is because of her.
And this hard-on right now?
Also because of her.
I shake my head, heading for her where she’s still paused at the door, hand on the knob. Like she’s waiting for me to stop her.
“Leave then,” I challenge her. “You know where the front door is.”
She looks up at me, regret written all over her face. I’m eating it up. Time to see how dedicated to the game she is. She slowly turns the knob and pulls open the door, eyes never leaving mine. Like a puppy waiting for the signal to jump.
But I’m not going to give it to her. She wants to act like she doesn’t want it, then I’m here to test her resolve. Nothing ever came easily between us; why would sexual satisfaction be any different?
“Fine,” she says, a slight waver to her voice. “Nice bed. Bye.”
She walks out of the bedroom and heads down the hall. I grip the doorframe above my head, watching her go until I can’t see her anymore. Her footsteps scuff down the steps.
And then the front door closes.
Fuck.
Doubt ripples through me. Maybe I read that whole damn thing wrong. If she could walk away from these fireworks, then maybe I was the only one holding the lighter.
I fist the front of my hair, equal parts frustrated and disgruntled. I could almost laugh, if my cock wasn’t throbbing. Nice bed. Bye. I can’t tell if those words are the pinnacle or the rock bottom of my career as a virile man.
The front door slams shut a moment later. Footsteps thundering up the stairs.
Hazel pushes into the bedroom a moment later, looking like she’s run all the way home and then back again.
I can only stare.
“I forgot my shoes,” she breathes, and then she heads straight for me.
Those black flats securely on her feet.
She makes a running leap for me, and the air whooshes out of me once our bodies connect. Her hands fist in my hair and her mouth is on mine, wild and wanting. Our kisses begin furious but bleed into something so passionate that it makes me crash backward against the window.
“Should have gotten curtains,” she mumbles through the kiss.
“And ruin this glorious sunset?” I squeeze the balls of her ass, a groan ripping out of me. “Fuck, Hazel.”
“What?” she demands, nuzzling into the hollow of my neck. My vision goes spotty for a second when she starts nipping at my earlobe. It’s my weak spot. She hasn’t forgotten.
I grunt, hauling her over to the bed. I toss her easily, and she bounces a little on my new memory foam mattress. This shit was expensive, almost seven grand, and fucking Hazel in the red rays of sunset is the best way to break it in I can think of.
“Time to see how nice my bed is.” I unbutton my jeans, my hands shaking like it’s the first time all over again. Hazel was my first, after all, and I’d been more nervous than this. But as a successful man in my late twenties, I didn’t expect my gut to be the size of a peach pit.
The other day had been different. An out-of-the-blue thaw that turned me into a Neandertal. Like Brendan Fraser emerging from his cave. But this? This was premeditated. This is a step toward something I know I shouldn’t be heading for. Something I know can only end poorly in the long-run, even if it provides a spectacular light show in the interim.
“Part of the real estate checklist,” Hazel says, wriggling out of her shorts, then toeing off the flats she’d never forgotten. “Personally testing the staging furniture.”
“Mm-hmm.” I run my palms up the sides of her legs. Her belly caves in and then rises as she watches me, eyes on my hands. “One could call it a blessing for the next owners.”
She snorts with laughter at that, and then I flip her onto her stomach and tug her panties down, exposing both her ass cheeks. She moans into the down comforter.
“Graysooon.” She fists the comforter, already writhing against the bed. I’ve barely touched her, but I can see the juicy slit of her pussy. Leaking already. My heart rate skyrockets, and I step out of my jeans and briefs, tugging my shirt over my head.
“Jesus, Hazel.” I run the heels of my hands up the bumps of her spine. She inhales sharply, wiggling her ass in the air. “I can tell you really didn’t want to come back.”
“Nope,” she grunts. “Forced against my
will.”
I smirk, tilting my head to drink in the sun-drenched lines of her body, her dark hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, glinting honey. My cock is straining into the air, desperate for any amount of contact with this princess.
Except she’s not like the princesses that fairy tales talk about. This is the type of epic warrior bombshell who runs empires and counsels others on moisturizing routines. She’s as motivated and high achieving as the best of them. As motivated and high achieving as I am.
Fuck, at one time, I wanted her to be my princess.
Maybe I still do, but in her own way. Not in the helpless, pretty princess way I’d always use as an insult against her.
In this moment, I want her as my warrior princess. Building empires and taking names.
“If this is going to be a staging-furniture real-estate blessing,” I say, my voice gravely as I jerk her up to all fours. “Then I think we should do it with a view.” I guide her around on the bed so we’re facing the brilliant sunset. The lake sparkles choppy teal in the distance, framed by oak trees leading to the beach. My chest tightens as I drink it in, the heat of Hazel’s ass pressed against my groin.
Outside, it looks like paradise. But sinking into her luscious pussy is the actual paradise awaiting me. I even bought condoms as part of my master plan. I reach for my jeans and tug the condom out of my back pocket. She sighs, looking back at me.
“Do we have to?” she asks.
I stare at her. This woman is perfect. “I mean…”
“I’m on birth control,” she says. And that seals it for me. I toss the condom aside and spread her ass cheeks, lining up my cockhead with her swollen lips. She jolts as my dick brushes her pussy. I can tell I’ve hit the mark when she shivers as if a winter chill ran through her.
“Please, Grayson,” she whimpers, wilting a little. Her eyes pinch shut as if she’s been waiting for years instead of minutes.
She doesn’t need to ask me twice. I surge forward, all the air in my lungs escaping me as I enter her. A river of heat and electricity swarms me. Sex has never felt like this with anyone else. Sure, I’ve had plenty of good sex. But with Hazel, it’s fucking awesome sex. It’s life-changing sex. It’s make me consider residing permanently in Bayshore sex.
An animal moan rips out of her. Her ruby fingernails pierce the comforter as I bury myself to the hilt. She is velvet and juice around my cock. I don’t even need to thrust twice before the warning prickles in my gut tell me I could come already.
She wasn’t lying about her magic pussy.
My breath escapes in soft grunts as I rock against her. She drops to her elbows, allowing me a deeper angle. With this view of her ass, with this vice grip around my cock, I’ve got another minute if I’m lucky. I draw myself out of her and pause, bending down to press kisses up her spine.
“Don’t stop,” she rasps.
“I’m timing it,” I say, steeling myself against the urge to bury myself in her once more. I’ll probably be fighting this urge for the rest of my life. “So we can come with the sunset.”
She laughs, dropping her forehead to the bed. “That’s cute.”
“Part of the blessing,” I say, and then I crack my palm against her ass cheeks. She hisses.
“That was for lying about your shoes,” I tease.
“I really forgot them,” she insists weakly. “By the front door.”
“Mm-hmm. Even though you never took them off.”
She dissolves into laughter. “Shut up and fuck me, Daly.”
I surge forward again, claiming every last inch of her pussy, a shiver racing up my spine. The bedroom is full of red and gold and the scent of freshly cut grass. I’ve never been so turned on and simultaneously at ease. My heart hums with contentment, a feeling that breaks through the sex fog.
Right now. Right here. Life is perfect.
I fuck her hard. And I mean hard. My fingertips leave indents in her hips as I hold her in place against me. We’re both grunting and groaning and sweating. I can’t pretend to hold on much longer.
“Hazel,” I grunt. She arches her back, her pussy clenching around me.
“I knooow,” she wails, and then it turns into something else. Primal and guttural and from the depths of her being. She’s coming, and her orgasm prompts my own. My cock spasms, and I pull myself out of her in time for my spunk to arc through the air. It lands on the small of her back, my hips jerking with additional rounds of residual pleasure.
She sinks to the bed like she’s a deflated balloon. Chest still heaving, I wipe my forehead with my forearm. “I came on your back, Hazel.”
“Nnnngh,” she says.
That’s a good sign. I sigh, trying to get my legs to work. I have nothing to clean her up with. But I’m not going to leave her like that. I reach for my T-shirt and wipe up the tiny pond of semen. I toss it aside and then collapse on the bed.
I’m pulling her into my arms before I can think twice. Before I can think better of it. She nestles back against me, and we’re both facing the last rays of brilliant red that stain the sky. The bloated sun has just sunk beneath the horizon.
I tighten my arms around her, and she sighs.
Yeah. This is Bayshore-level perfection.
But this is a new type of perfect.
One I didn’t realize I’d been searching for.
Chapter 15
HAZEL
We’ve reached an armistice. At least, this is how I rationalize it.
Not a truce and not a peace treaty. Simply a lowering of our weapons while not declaring peace quite yet.
Besides, we need some way to continue this mind-blowing sex without becoming total hypocrites.
This is about sex. Nothing else.
Which is why I’ve seen Grayson every single day since we broke in his king bed. Because of the sex. It’s also why we’ve started ordering takeout and eating it in his newly remodeled kitchen and why I’ve spent the night twice and gotten up extra early so I could walk-of-shame it back to my own house.
Only because of the sex, which the armistice allows.
It’s mid-next week when Gray finishes the renovations on the upstairs bathroom, turning it into a pebbly paradise with one of those rainwater showerheads. Now I officially want to live here instead of at my own home, which is not great.
His brothers have spotted me here on more than one occasion. Luckily, I work late most nights, so it’s not like they see me waking up here or anything. It seems wrong to let anyone know what’s going on, though I’m sure the neighbors are more than aware that I roll up to his house every night and never leave. This neighborhood is full of porch lovers. Neighbors who sit outside from about seven-thirty onward, soaking up the evening and the people walking by.
They’re also very effective spies and gossips, so I’m sure rumors have started circulating.
Gray texts me before I’m done with work that Wednesday. We’ve started texting throughout the day, which is also related to the strictly-sex arrangement. There’s nothing else going on here.
GRAY: I made dinner plans for us.
Excitement swells inside me. Looking forward to seeing him each evening makes me lightheaded sometimes. The sex is that good.
HAZEL: Oooh. Downtown, beachfront, or something else?
GRAY: I’ll tell you when you get here.
I wrap up work as quickly as I can, fumbling with the lock on the front door in an attempt to get the hell out of the office. As I’m hurrying up the brick walkway to Gray’s house, he steps outside in a gray T-shirt and dark shorts.
I pause. The sight of him actually takes my breath away, which is not something I expect. I grew up with this guy. I’ve seen him more than probably any other human being on the planet except my dad, especially given our recent escapades.
Yet still, my heart flutters each time I see him. The same way it always has. Even when I’ve hated him or been annoyed by him or been ignoring him.
“I’ll take your stuff and put it inside,” he says
in lieu of a greeting. His tone makes it hard to argue.
“Okay,” I say, handing over everything except my phone. I try to tamp down the excitement. I love surprises. I love it when a man is on my level. I love Grayson.
The thought sears through me, hot and awkward. Thank God it was only in my head. I can delete that thought history and pretend it never happened.
“How was work?” he asks, guiding me back down the path. We start a slow stroll down the sidewalk. I lean into him, resting my head on his shoulder. I’m tired from the day, but seeing Gray has given me a jolt of energy.
This is nice. Actually, this is way more than nice.
This is perfection.
“Busy as usual,” I say. Our hands brush, and he takes mine in his a moment later, giving it a squeeze. “Where are we going?”
“My parents’,” he says, a smirk on his face.
I search out his gaze. “Oh? Are we…outing this?”
His jaw flexes, and his blue eyes burn on the horizon. “No. We’ll just…I dunno. We don’t need to tell them anything. You’re a family friend.”
His response—typical male not thinking ahead—reminds me I have no idea what’s going on between us. Neither of us knows. We haven’t talked about it, because why would we? Except now, his mother will want to know. Everyone has long suspected our inevitable love affair. Showing up together will only add fuel to the fire.
“But, uh, hello? Your mom? She’s been our number one fan since day one. We’re holding hands. She’s going to order wedding invitations during dessert.”
He snorts. “Fine. I won’t hold your hand.”
But he doesn’t let go.
His parents’ house is in sight now, and my heart rate picks up. The anxiety is real. Besides, it’s not like we can tell her we’re fucking. Your son has a magic dick, and I’m riding him like a pogo stick. Not what you tell the sweet woman who bore your current fuck buddy.
Even though thinking of Grayson as a fuck buddy isn’t quite right. He’s so much more than that. But no—it’s just sex.