by KB Winters
Maybe it was the wine talking, but the entire evening was spread out before me like the start of a fairy tale.
I shook my head slightly, chiding myself for even letting my mind go there. Grant was just a nice guy, nothing more. He probably didn’t even think about what he was doing—it was just bred into him. As the child of a wealthy family, surely he’d been through manners classes or something that explained away his chivalry.
“This is the place,” Grant said, bringing us to a stop in front of a small boutique art gallery. It was tucked into an old, vintage looking building and just from the outside…I couldn’t wait to get inside. It was exactly the kind of place I would stop in, if on my own, exploring the city.
I looked up at Grant, and wondered for the millionth time how it was that he made me feel as though we had known each other for so much longer than we actually had.
He opened the door for me and we stepped inside. The walls were stark white with large, abstract paintings in vibrant colors providing the light and warmth of the room.
“Sorry! But we’re closed!” A voice rang out from near the back of the gallery.
My heart sank, and I hurried to look around to try and see as much as I could before we got the boot.
“Essie, it’s me,” Grant called out.
A tall, willowy woman appeared from out of nowhere, her arms filled with a large canvas. “Grant!” She stopped to lean the blank canvas against the wall and launched herself into Grant’s arms with a joyful squeal. “What are you doing here?”
When she stepped back, she looked over at me and then back to Grant.
“Essie, this is Megan Sinclair. She’s an art student at UCLA and the genius behind my upcoming line,” Grant introduced.
My heart sank slightly at the way he introduced me, but then, what had I expected? I had no idea what category the night fell into. It felt like a date, but Grant was my boss. So, maybe it was more of a business thing? Although, it definitely didn’t feel like it. So, was it a date? A night out with a new friend? I didn’t know. But, even if it was a date, that wouldn’t change anything. I wasn’t his girlfriend.
“Nice to meet you,” Essie said, extending a hand to me.
“You too. Your gallery is beautiful.”
Grant smiled at Essie. “We were in the neighborhood. Would you mind if we stayed for a look?”
Essie retrieved the canvas and waved him off, as though telling him he didn’t even need to ask. “Of course! Anything for you.”
Grant steered me to the far wall so we could start at the beginning, and Essie disappeared into the back room. We started looking from piece to piece and after a few minutes all of my questions faded to the background as I lost myself in the beauty on the canvases before me. Each piece told a story, and I didn’t leave one piece until I’d sorted it out in my mind. Grant never hurried me, seemingly content to wait and watch me take it all in.
The gallery was small and I’d soaked it all in within the space of an hour, during which, Essie never returned.
Grant left me at the last piece and disappeared into the backroom. For a moment, I considered following him back as well, but couldn’t seem to unglue my feet from the gleaming hardwood floors. After a few minutes, he came back and led me from the gallery, back into the night.
“Essie and I used to date, back in college,” Grant offered as an explanation as we started walking back towards where the car was parked.
I nodded, unsure how to respond.
“I think I was just a blip on her bad boy radar. A tour so to speak, mostly motivated by the desire to piss off her ultra conservative father,” he continued.
I laughed softly. “I hardly think you could be just a blip.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I bit my lip, wishing I could take them back.
Before I could say anything to cover my tracks, Grant took me by the waist and backed me up against the wall of a vacant shop. He flashed a wicked, devil-may-care smile and his eyes were zeroed in on my lips. “And why’s that?”
I couldn’t think, couldn’t move, and definitely couldn’t speak. Grant’s scent—though faded from the day—mixed with the night air and enveloped me as his lips came nearer to mine. I couldn’t even make a sound of protest if I wanted to, before his lips claimed mine. My entire body lit up as the sensations danced over every nerve. I sagged back against the wall, my legs no longer able to support me, as the kiss deepened and Grant’s hot, seeking tongue slipped past my lips and tangled with mine in a heated dance. A moan bubbled up and escaped into his mouth as he pressed in closer, his excitement evident as his body melded with mine against the cool brick.
“Grant,” I panted, when our lips broke away. “Is this…a…good idea?”
He silenced my question with another kiss, this time deeper and faster, like he couldn’t get enough of me. His lips left mine but only so he could kiss up my jawline and nip at the tender skin of my earlobe. “I’m going to make you mine,” he whispered, his breath hot and thick against my skin.
Oh.
Fuck.
I didn’t know exactly what his words meant, but they sent sparks buzzing over every inch of my body.
Without another word, Grant pulled me away from the wall and we carried on down the sidewalk much the same as we had up to the point of the breathless kiss. His hand rested on the small of my back, gently leading in step with him down the road, back towards his car in the small side lot near the restaurant. The streetlights were glowing softly overhead, and I was glowing as well, a new fire of anticipation searing my belly. I wasn’t very experienced with men, and I had the sense that Grant knew more than just where to put the pieces. He had the air of a man who could drive a woman insane with his touch, setting off a need that could only be fulfilled by him.
I shivered from the nip in the air and the excitement burning through my veins.
Grant paused on the sidewalk and removed his suit jacket to wrap it around me. “Thanks,” I said, sliding my arm into the silk lining that was warm from his body heat.
“Of course. Megan, before we go any further, there’s something you should know.”
The way he said it—deadly serious, his voice low—made my heart flutter.
“When I’m with a woman, I want things a certain way. I’ll lead you, and show you what to do, but I need you to understand that I will push you, and that you have to trust me to take care of you.” His eyes were nearly black, his pupils dilated to soak up the dim light of our surroundings. His jaw was set, waiting for my answer.
“I trust you,” I replied. I knew it was what he wanted to hear, but there was more to it than that, I actually meant it. After all the time we had spent together in his office and over dinner, I’d been able to merge my two views of Grant together and see the whole man for the first time, and I’d reached a deeply rooted trust of his intentions. Wherever the night was about to lead, I was okay with it, because he was with me, leading the way.
Grant’s eyes flashed with a hungry spark and before I could blink, he had me wrapped in another molten kiss. This time, his hands slipped into the oversized jacket that was wrapped around my small frame and roamed over my curves. His fingertips slipped under the edges of my chenille sweater and skimmed across my stomach. I sucked in a sharp breath at the searing heat of his touch. Grant smiled and lowered his lips to my ear. “You’re beautiful, Megan. I can’t wait to get you home.”
I let out an involuntary whimper as he nipped at my earlobe, his breath hot and steamy on my neck.
Grant eventually let me go, just as I’d been wondering how far he was willing to take things on a public sidewalk. We finished the walk to the car and Grant drove us to the heart of the city with smooth, calm precision and I marveled at how cool and collected he remained. In comparison, I sat in the passenger seat, trying to keep the bundle of nerves in my stomach from exploding. I wanted him that much was a sure thing but wondering how and when and what it would be like, had me on edge.
We arrived in front of a very
exclusive condo high rise and Grant helped me from the car before handing off the keys to a valet attendant. He escorted me into the building and to anyone who passed by us, we looked like any other couple, casually strolling through the lobby. No one would have guessed that we were secretly dying to be alone so we could rip each other’s clothes off. The secret amplified the excitement of it all, and by the time we stepped inside the elevator, my body was vibrating.
Grant hit a floor number and the machine jolted to life, lifting us up and away. His hand rested on my hip, rubbing a soothing pattern on the soft curve. Minutes later, he led us into his apartment and wasted no time taking me back to the master bedroom. He lit the bedside lamp, bathing the room in a soft light, and then turned to me, his eyes dark and wild. “Alone at last.”
“Uh huh.” I licked my lips, unable to think of something more creative to say.
“There’s something I’ve been dying to know since the day I met you,” Grant said, starting across the room towards me.
“What’s that?”
He reached for me and slid his jacket from my shoulders. I was wearing a simple sweater and a black skirt and his hands went right for the zipper on the side of the skirt, pulling it down in super slow motion. “What kind of panties you wear.”
I nearly laughed, thinking it was some kind of line, but his eyes were serious and stopped the smile on my face.
“I think, from now on, you have to send me a picture of yourself in your panties before you get dressed,” Grant said, his fingers finally stilling, the folds of fabric parting as he finished undoing the zipper.
I blushed. “Grant…”
He set a finger on my lips. “Remember what I told you?”
I hesitated.
He removed his finger. “Megan.”
I met his eyes. “I trust you.”
“Good.” He flashed his bad boy smile and in that moment—I knew I’d do anything he wanted me to.
He slipped the skirt from my hips, letting it pool on the floor by my feet. Then pulled the sweater up and over my head, leaving me standing before him in nothing but my high waisted, vintage style briefs and my favorite demi bra, it was cut a little too low and showed off a sliver of the dark pink surrounding my nipples. Grant’s eyes raked over my body and definitely noticed every detail.
“Take down your hair,” he instructed.
I reached back and loosened the ponytail and let my long hair fall over my shoulders in soft waves.
“God, Megan.” He didn’t finish his thought before stepping close and inspecting my body closer, this time letting his fingers do the exploring instead of just his eyes. He skimmed the curve of each breast, dipping low to tease the exposed patch of each nipple, smiling deeper at the reaction of the hard beads.
Grant removed his own shirt and I sucked in a breath and held it as I took in every inch of him. He was a perfect specimen, better than any guy I’d ever seen in person, and quite frankly, better than most movie star bodies—although, I had to admit that might have been due to the fact that I’d never seen them up close. I ran my fingers over Grant’s bare chest and down his bulging abs as we got tangled up in another hot and wet kiss. When his body pressed against mine, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, standing on my tip toes to reach, and I could feel his rock hard cock.
He lifted me up and I wrapped my legs around his slim hips. The heat was building hot and fast between my thighs as I rocked against him. I didn’t want to rush it, but I needed his touch. Grant laid me down on the bed and stripped off his slacks and tight boxer briefs before joining me. I stared at his cock unabashedly, my entire body screaming out for the thick shaft to bury deep inside me. Grant hovered over me, and I wrapped my legs up and around him, urging him towards me. He broke away from kissing me and reached out for the bedside table drawer. I looked away for a moment, figuring he was looking for a condom, but his hand came back holding a length of black fabric. I bit my lip as he fingered the filmy looking material.
“I’m going to put this on you. It’s a blindfold.”
I nodded and Grant tied the material behind my head in a knot that was tight enough to hold it in place, but not too tight. As soon as the room went dark, my other senses kicked in and a new rush of exhilaration ran over me. He reached above me again and I could hear him rummaging in the drawer again.
“I’m going to tie your wrists together, Megan. I’m not going to hurt you.”
I nodded again, a new rush filling my belly at the thought of being completely powerless and allowing Grant to do whatever he wanted to my body. The idea both thrilled and terrified me. He pulled both of my arms above my head and bound my wrists with, what felt like, the same material that the blindfold was made from. He tied them to the bed frame, essentially immobilizing me from the waist up.
Once I was secure, he resumed teasing my skin and I felt his lips on my stomach, working south towards my throbbing pussy. I clenched tightly, waiting for his touch, and his lips got so close that my entire body was trembling, but then, just as quickly his lips were gone and I felt his weight lift from beside me on the bed.
“I’ll be back,” he said.
“Okay,” I replied, trying not to let my nerves seep through my tone.
He was gone for what seemed like forever as I lay there, tied to the bed, with my sight gone, thanks to the blindfold. I strained my ear, wishing to hear some sign of what was going on. I trusted him, but his lingering absence was leaving room for some doubts to creep in.
I was replaying the details of some of the more gruesome news articles my dad had shared with me when I’d started college, telling me the particulars of coeds who got in way over their heads, when footsteps sounded in the hall and every hair on the back of my neck and arms stood up on end.
“I’m back,” Grant said, his weight sinking back on the bed.
I heard rustling but couldn’t identify the source. Grant was close enough that I could feel his body heat, but he wasn’t touching me. I did my best not to squirm, but my body was on fire, wanting and needing him. Waiting in the dark had driven me half crazy.
Before I could say something, Grant’s fingers slid between my thighs and I gasped as they brushed my pussy over the top of my panties. I instantly arched my back, silently begging for more. He peeled away the soaked panties and my vulnerability mixed with my intense arousal, created a conflict in my mind. His fingers slipped between my wet thighs and all reason flew from my mind. All I could focus on was the way his touch felt against my swollen skin.
“Moan for me, Megan. Tell me you like it,” he said, his fingers working faster, slipping over my clit in small circles.
I moaned and swiveled my hips in time with his pattern. He had me ready to explode within minutes, but backed off the pressure before I could release the tension. I let out a disappointed whimper and Grant laughed softly. “Trust me, I’ll get you there.”
I nodded and then gasped as his fingers were replaced by his lips and tongue, tracing the same pattern, lapping up the wetness. “Mmmm. Megan, you taste amazing. Have you ever tasted yourself?” he asked, his face still between my thighs.
“No…”
“Open your mouth,” Grant said, shifting his weight again. I did as instructed and his fingers slid inside my mouth, dripping with my own juices. “Suck on my fingers,” he said.
I sucked in what I’d hoped was a seductive way as he worked his fingers in and out of my mouth. The taste was sweet and much different than I’d expected. When all the juices were gone, Grant slowly slid his fingers from my mouth. I heard a new noise and turned my head, momentarily forgetting that I couldn’t see. It sounded like ice shifting in a glass.
I realized I was right, as a stinging cold slide down chest and teasing my nipples into even harder little buds. Grant sucked the ice cube into his mouth and used them both to suck and play with my nipples before sliding down my belly, over the soft curve below my navel, and then over my pussy from end to end a few times, slowly building friction and
need again deep within me, before parting the lips and finding my clit once more.
The warmth of Grant’s mouth and tongue mixed with the burning cold of the ice rocked a deep and intense orgasm through me that was unlike anything I’d ever felt before. I shuddered as my body clenched and tightened, as though trying to squeeze every last drop out of the wave of pleasure, before releasing me, throwing me back against the bed. “Holy shit!” I exclaimed once I could speak, my breaths coming in sharp pants.
Grants mouth met mine, and took my breath away completely. He tasted like my pussy and I arched against him, finding a new strength as he brought his body over the top of mine. He spread my legs and I expected him to push into me, but there was a long beat of silence, where nothing happened and my mind started to panic again.
“Is something wrong?” I ventured to ask him.
“I’m just admiring you. You have the most perfect pussy.”
My heart raced at his words and I felt a flush of embarrassment, even though he was complimenting me. Knowing that he was sitting there, staring at my most intimate parts brought up some flicker of fear. On the one hand, I’d never felt more wanted, sexy, or desired…but on the other, I was wondering if what he was saying what true, or if it was just a line to make sure I went along with him.
Trust me. Grant’s words echoed in my mind and I relaxed as he slid his hands down the inside of my thighs and spread them apart another inch. He lowered down and the tip of his cock slid inside of me, thick and pulsing. He entered me slowly, letting me stretch around him, and when he was fully rooted inside I gasped at the mix of pain and pleasure, and he stilled. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, please, Grant,” I begged, bucking my hips.
“Tell me,” he growled into my ear. “Tell me what you want me to do. Talk dirty, Megan. Let yourself go.”
I bit my lip. “I want you to fuck me, Grant.”
“Louder,” he said, starting to stir inside of me.
“I want you to fuck me, fuck me hard!”
My second, more forceful attempt did the trick and Grant pulled out and slammed back inside me. I moaned at the pressure and it morphed into a full scream as he pounding into me again.