The Rules According to Gracie

by Stefanie London

  She nodded, peering up at him through her lashes. “It is now.”

  “I’m glad I’ve had a positive impact on your life.” He stroked her arm. “You deserve more than the bare minimum.”

  “So four orgasms it is?” She laughed, delighting in the roguish smile that crossed his face.

  “You drive a hard bargain.”

  “Speaking of hard…” Her hand hovered at his waist, her fingertips dancing over the chunky silver buckle that kept his jeans in place.

  She skimmed her fingertips down over the hard ridge of his erection, which was perfectly outlined beneath faded denim. His sharp intake of breath emboldened her and she traced the tip with her finger, swirling it over the most sensitive part of him. It was as if some force controlled her, filled her with the confidence to do what she normally shied away from.

  “This is payback isn’t it?” His dark eyes were shielded by thick lashes, his voice strained.

  “You bet it is.”

  She gave him a light squeeze before working her way back up. Tugging on the leather belt, she undressed him slowly, taking her time with the buckle, button, and zip until there was enough space for her to slip her hand into his pants. She closed her fingers around him, the throb of his need strong against her palm.

  “Sweet mother of G–” He stood stock still, allowing her to move her hand inch by inch along the length of him.

  Supressing an evil laugh, she withdrew her hand and reached for the hem of his T-shirt, pulling it upwards to reveal the flat, muscular plane of his stomach. He was built, more so than she’d ever realized at the bar. The intricate designs of his tattoos ran over one shoulder and down both arms. Color swirled, and the black outlines made each shape pop against his olive skin. A lion’s head with a date scribed in its mane covered his left pec.

  Gracie traced the design, following the curved black lines of the lion’s nose with her fingertip. “What’s this date?”

  “It’s the date I got out of prison.”

  Her hand retracted and she looked up at him, her eyes wide. He laughed and shook his head.

  “You really do think I’m from the wrong side of tracks, don’t you?” He captured her hand and brought it back to his chest. “It’s the date my mother went into remission after having breast cancer. Her name is Leone. It means lion in Italian.”

  Heat flared in her cheeks. He could read her more easily than anyone she’d ever known. It wasn’t the first time she’d shown how naïve she was, though with a mother like hers it was a miracle she could even function in modern society.

  “I’ll make you pay for that.” She covered her embarrassment with a coy smile and a flutter of her lashes.

  “I don’t think so.” Des scooped her up once more and she instinctively wound her legs around his waist.

  The hardness of his erection and the sharp teeth of his zipper dug into the soft underside of her thighs. He held her easily, as though she weighed no more than a feather pillow. Stubble scraped along her skin as he kissed her neck, every so often thrilling her with a little nip as they made their way to the bedroom.

  Hovering at the edge of the bed, he paused before lowering her until the soft cover pressed into her back. Moving down her body, his experienced hands easily dispensed of her bra. He trailed his lips down her stomach, pressing a kiss to each hipbone before he peeled the last scrap of lace from her body. As he slid the underwear down her legs, Gracie cringed at how wet they were. She had given in to her fantasies tonight, letting Des pull her apart at the seams, letting him encounter her at her most vulnerable.

  “No frowning,” Des said, parting her legs and trailing a finger from knee to hip. “I only want you screwing up your face if you’re coming.”

  “Get to work then.” She ran her foot up the side of his leg, over his hip until her toes traced the length of his erection. “But I want you to get rid of these first.”

  “You want to see me naked, do you?” His tone was teasing, but he immediately complied.

  Gracie sucked on her lower lip. “It’s only fair.”

  Standing, he pushed his jeans down over muscular thighs. The black cotton boxer briefs followed. She drank him in, committed each and every angle to memory. He was magnificent, hard and smooth in all the right places. His cock jutted towards her, and her fingers ached to wrap around him again. She’d never felt so hungry for a man before. She’d never felt like her world might fracture if she didn’t find release with him deep inside her.

  Kneeling at the edge of the bed, he grabbed her hips and dragged her to him, forcing her legs apart with his strong hands. She gasped. Each move was so primal and commanding. He didn’t ask for permission to please her, didn’t handle her as though she might break. He controlled her pleasure, took what he wanted.

  Air rushed from her lungs as his mouth came down to her belly, kissing a blazing trail down to her center. His tongue parted her, delving, searching. The long, slow strokes pushed her higher and higher, each lick sending flames through her as she melted into the bed.

  “Fuck.”

  She never swore. Never, ever, ever.

  “Fucking hell!” She wound her hands into his hair, tugging him into position.

  He slid his hands under her ass, fingers biting into her flesh as he devoured her. Gracie bucked and arched against his face as his tongue swirled a hypnotic spiral over her clit. Wave after wave of pleasure rolled over her and she moved in time with his rhythmical assault.

  “Such dirty language,” he murmured against her. “From such a lady.”

  “I can’t—” She writhed, head rocking side to side. “Oh, God.”

  Just as she thought she’d reached the peak, he slid a finger into her, twisting in and out in time with the purposeful flicks of his tongue.

  She broke apart hard and fast. Spots danced behind clamped eyelids as she cried out, her back lifting from the bed. Her body shook and her hands fisted into the bed cover, heat and pleasure and satisfaction flooding her. Drowning her.

  As she floated down to earth, Des’s weight pressed into her, his lips at her temple.

  “That’s two.”

  “I can count.” She wound her arms around his neck and drew him closer. “Though, I might not be able to after the next one.”

  “That’s my goal.”

  He reached over her to pull open the drawer next to the bed and grabbed a silver packet. Tearing it with his teeth, he never took his eyes off her. He sheathed himself with the condom and came back down onto his palms.

  Here we go.

  As he nudged her legs apart, she lifted to meet him. Positioning the head of his cock at her entrance, he brought his mouth down to hers for a deep yet tender kiss as he entered her in a single, steady stroke. His thighs were heavy between hers, his hips grinding her into the bed.

  Hot, primal, carnal heat filled her with each movement. She was crushed beneath him, absorbed by the softness of the bed and floating on a wave of euphoria that she wanted to last forever. The sweet friction of their bodies pulled her out of a satiated state, hunger returning with force.

  She wanted him. Needed him.

  He angled his hips, shifting so that he filled her more deeply. His mouth was hot at her throat, teeth on her skin, the wild fluttering of her heart intensified by his hands all over her. Pleasure swelled, the pace increased. In that moment there was nothing but the sound of his deep, rumbling moan and the heady scent of him.

  The orgasm slammed into her out of nowhere and her throat burned with a scream as she let go, falling, falling, falling. Her nails dragged up his back and he panted against her neck, her muscles squeezing him tight.

  Now it was her turn to watch him unfold, the pupils of his entrancing eyes widening until she stared into an abyss. He moved with the powerful grace of a predatory cat, the muscles in his back cording beneath her hands.

  “Gracie, baby.” It was drawn out, long and anguished and beautiful. He loomed above her, his hand finding her breast as he thrust.

&nbs
p; He pressed his forehead to hers, noses touching as she stared unblinking back, wanting to drown in him, wanting to go under and never come back up.

  “I want you to come, Des.” The words shook, her body already breaking apart. “Come for me.”

  Her name was on his lips as he threw his head back, roaring his release to the ceiling. His skin glistened in the dim light, his tattoos stark against flushed skin. As he let his weight rest beside her she curled into him, never to be the same again.

  Chapter Seven

  Gracie wasn’t a morning person, not usually anyway. But the first crack of sunlight had her eyes snapping open like she’d been jabbed with a stick. She tried to shift onto her back, but something held her down.

  A tanned arm, sprinkled with dark hair, lay over her midsection, a hand curled possessively against her stomach. It was difficult not to notice the jut of something hard against her lower back nor hear the drowsy murmur of pleasure as Des moved against her in his sleep.

  Her body ached. Everywhere he’d touched her burned with satisfaction and a hint of delicious soreness. The memory of him moving above her would be forever imprinted in her mind, a bar set impossibly high for any other man she might end up with. Gracie cringed at the thought.

  No other man would ever compare to Des.

  Despite the stillness of her body, her heart beat wildly. Panic seeped through her like a poison, stilling her movement while her insides went into shock. What had she done? One minute she was at her mother’s house defending herself and her choices and then next…

  She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to slow her breathing. She’d almost had sex with Des at the restaurant and, if that wasn’t bad enough, she’d come home with him to do the one thing which would either ruin their friendship or ensure she’d break her promise to her father.

  What the hell were you thinking? You can’t have it all. This isn’t a fairy tale.

  Beautiful, kind, imperfect Des. He was her friend and she’d screwed it up by sleeping with him. How could she have been so stupid?

  Any way she turned she would be hurting someone and making herself miserable. She had shared something special with Des last night. It wasn’t just amazing sex. They had a connection on some primal, instinctual level that made her body and soul sing.

  Deep down, she knew that she’d never have that with anyone else.

  But being with Des would mean putting them both through hell with her family, not to mention that she’d have to live with the guilt of failing her father. No matter how much she wanted to explore their connection, she couldn’t put him through that.

  She couldn’t risk giving in, only to lose him when it all got too hard.

  To protect them both she had but one option—end it now.

  Des had hoped for many things upon waking after spending an incredible night with Gracie. He’d hoped she was willing to climb on top of him for the promise of continued pleasure, despite the fact they’d woken up in the middle of the night for round number two. He’d hoped that she’d be up for breakfast and the strongest cup of coffee he could make. At the very least, he’d hoped that she’d be happy to laze about in bed for a while before they faced the real world.

  Yet as the sunlight streamed in through wooden blinds, and his eyes adjusted to the pale morning light, what he got was something else entirely.

  Gracie was fastening her bra while searching for her underwear. Her hair stuck out in all directions, the curls tangled and wild like a halo around her face. Mascara had smudged under her eyes, giving her a sexy dishevelled look. But it was the wide-eyed, fearful expression on her face that caused Des’s blood to run cold.

  “Looking for these?” he asked, plucking her lacy underwear from where they draped over the railing at the end of the bed.

  “Uh, yeah.” She took them from him, her eyes averted. “Thanks.”

  “Something wrong?” He threw the covers back and got out of bed. He didn’t miss the way her lips parted when she caught his naked frame in her gaze.

  “No, nothing’s wrong.” She wriggled her hips as she pulled the cream scrap of lace up over her thighs. “I…uh, have to get going.”

  “So soon?”

  “Duty calls.” She folded her arms across her chest, her breasts pushing up and looking more delectable than ever.

  His cock stirred again. He took a step towards her, wanting to stroke that smooth skin of hers until she melted against him. Instead, she found his boxer briefs on the floor and handed them to him, a silent request for him to keep his distance.

  “Gracie, it’s Sunday.” He pulled the briefs on but made no move to get dressed further. “You don’t work weekends.”

  “But you do…don’t you?”

  “I’m not on ’til the evening. The restaurant is covered for the brunch shift.” He sighed. “I do have some sort of a life, you know.”

  “Right.” She nodded. “Yes, well I should still be going anyway.”

  “Tell me what’s wrong.” He closed the distance between them and took her hands in his. They were cold, fine-boned. “I thought you had a good time last night.”

  “I did.” Her eyes fluttered up, her dark lashes framing them perfectly. In the course of their intimate night together he’d learned that her eyes were not a mere brown but a mixture of golds, reds, and chocolate shades. Brown was far too boring an adjective for someone like Gracie.

  “Then why are you so eager to run away? If I hadn’t woken then would you have said goodbye?”

  “We had our night, Des.” She tugged her hands away from him. “That’s all it was. One night.”

  Part of him had known that’s all he was going to get from her, but the words still stung. Disappointment pounded in his chest, the ache of reality spreading through him, slow and steady.

  “What if I want more?”

  “You can’t have more,” she said. She shook her head, her hands fiddling with the strap of her bra. “I can’t have more, either. That’s not how it works.”

  “I don’t understand. We’re two adults who like each other and we had an incredible night together.” He frowned. “Unless you’re going to tell me I’m wrong?”

  “No, it was incredible. It was thrilling and amazing and the best sex I’ve ever had.”

  “Then what’s with the runaway act?”

  “That’s exactly the point, Des. It was good sex—no, it was great sex—but that doesn’t mean it’s anything more. It doesn’t mean we can sustain things for longer than a night.”

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you were the one who was worried about being a one-night stand, and now you’re telling me that’s all this is?” He raked a hand through his hair, his temple throbbing like a drumbeat.

  “You said we were right for now.” She turned, obscuring the panic in her eyes, and hurried towards his bedroom door.

  Following, Des threw his hands up in frustration. “‘For now’ doesn’t mean one night only. It means we’ll see where it goes.”

  “I know where it goes, Des.” She stalked into the living room and found her shirt and jeans where they had landed on the floor the night before. “I’ve been down that road before.”

  “Enlighten me, Gracie.”

  He watched as she fumbled with the zipper on her jeans, her hands shaking as she hurried. “It ends with us discovering that we’re not right for each other, except instead of having the memories of one great night we have a world of pain and anger and resentment to get through.”

  “Why aren’t we right for each other?”

  Déjà vu swirled to life in Des’s mind. He’d been here before—he’d had this conversation before, except he’d been the one running away, and it had ended with a diamond ring being thrown at him. His grandmother’s diamond ring, the one he’d been so sure would be on the hand of the woman he loved forever. They hadn’t even made it down the aisle.

  Memories of the last time he saw his ex-fiancée flickered before his eyes. Her Queen’s Counsel father hated the fact that his
daughter was engaged to a blue-collar boy whose mother spoke broken English. Des had been the one to call it quits in the end because he couldn’t put up with the constant criticism.

  Haven’t you learned anything? Listen to her, she’s right. This is a disaster waiting to happen. You had great sex, now move on.

  “We’re too different,” she said. “Our lives are too different.”

  “Why? Because I work with my hands and you work with your head?”

  “It’s more than that.”

  “Tell me what it is.” It would have been better if he’d let her go, but he had to hear it. He wanted to torture himself with her words, wanted the sharp slice of her judgement to cut into him, to teach him a lesson.

  Maybe then it would be easier to be without her.

  “Well…” She chewed on her lip and smoothed a hand over her hair, unable to tame it into shape. “You’re at First til all hours and I’m always up early. We’d never see each other. We’d never spend time together.”

  “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

  “We don’t have anything in common.”

  “Not true. We both enjoy food and wine. You’re starting to enjoy dancing.”

  Her lips pulled into a ghost of a smile. “We’re from different worlds.”

  And there it was, the truth.

  “My family is so uptight, so traditional. They’re stuck on these stupid ideas about how I should live my life.” She twisted a strand of hair in her fingers. “I’ve already lost someone I cared about because I tried to ignore our differences. It doesn’t work.”

  “You’re worried they’ll think I’m not good enough for you.”

  The realization that Gracie held exactly the same prejudice as his ex made his blood boil. He’d known it deep down, but to hear it out loud was another thing entirely. He was good enough and he certainly wasn’t going to settle for someone who didn’t see that.

  She didn’t have to respond. The flame in her cheeks and the shame that pulled her eyes to the floor was enough to confirm his suspicions.