Grant’s fingers fly across my plate and he snatches a fry, not taking time to dip it in my ketchup.
“Hey!”
He laughs before popping the French fry in his open mouth, his tongue licking loose salt off his lips. It took years of training for Drew to learn he needed to keep his hands off my food. It looks like I’ll be putting Grant through the same program. Although, when Drew does it I have the sudden urge to stab him with my fork. So far Grant hasn’t invoked the same feelings yet.
Watching his tongue swipe at the seam of his mouth brings back memories of the places I let him put it two months ago. It doesn’t help that he smiles while he chews, too proud of what I let him get away with. It causes his cheek to lift up creating that stupid dimple I find so fucking attractive. I swear I’ve never had this dimple fetish before.
Sitting on the hotel room floor with Grant only inches away is pure torture. Each and every time he moves my body finds a way to make it turn me on.
Stupid stuff. The way he fingers his hair while running his hand through it. Or when he scratches the small amount of scruff highlighting his jawline. I’ve pictured myself leaning over and ripping his clothes off at least ten times. I’ve thought of nothing else the last half hour. There’s no longer any vodka in my system so I can’t pull a Jamie Foxx and blame it on the alcohol.
To his credit, Grant hasn’t put the moves on anything except my fries. We’ve done exactly what he said we’d do — ordered food and played Dragons Reborn.
It’s annoying. When a man asks you up to his hotel room, sex is normally implied.
Isn’t it?
Have I blown my chance with Grant?
I’ll admit I don’t have much experience dating guys. I intimidate half the male species and the other half annoy me. Drew is the first and last guy I’ve tolerated.
“Do you realize you have a room full of treasure chests?”
“I keep everything organized. Do you have a problem with that?”
Grant backs his character away from a treasure chest, the lid closing. “Not at all. It reminds me of my own on the beta server.”
“I keep extras. Then when random men find their way to my castle, I supply them with their battle needs.”
Grant laughs. “Are there many random men attempting to break down your castle walls?”
“Not particularly, but there’s one who is quite persistent.”
“He must think the prize is worth the work.”
“I’m not a prize,” I mumble.
Grant resumes his task of looking at my chests one by one. “Confused, you are.”
Ready to be done with the conversation I decide to grab his attention with sparkly things. I’ve learned gems are only valuable to men in video games. “I keep the extra swords and enchanted armor over here. Take your pick.”
Grant hesitates, but eventually his half of the television screen fills with the chest inventory. “I’m not sure how I feel about you supplying me. I like to impress girls with my sword collection.”
Now it’s my turn to act jealous. “Are you showing many girls your sword?”
He laughs again, the stupid dimple in his right cheek sending my insides into a twitter. “Not in the last few months.”
I smile even as I bite the back of my lips to stop it from growing. The rhythm of my heart picks up with his words and I imagine my insides resemble the dumb bunny from Bambi. If I’m not careful, I’ll start thinking thoughts like Grant has me all twitterpated. And that is not something I do.
“If we were playing on my server, I’d offer you the world of gifts, but you’re hell-bent on playing this by your rules.”
“I don’t need gifts.”
Grant lays down his controller and turns to face me. The air in the room thickens with seriousness. “What do you need, Clare?”
Our eyes lock on one another, Grant daring me to admit what rages inside my body. If only I’d been the Cunningham I should be. This conversation would be much easier. I balance back and forth on the line. Parts of me want to tell him everything even if it will surely be a tear-soaked conversation. Other parts want me to shut up by using sex as a diversion. Sex is a much better topic than my family history.
With a deep breath I suck back the tears that were so close to falling. My brain screams at me not to do it. Not to take the chance, but with work I force my lips to form the word, “You.”
As the answer crosses the space between us I lean in meeting Grant more than halfway. Our lips join together, his as soft as I remember. His upper arms are more muscular than his presence gives off outside his shirt. My fingers twist the light blue material of his polo shirt and pull him closer. The soft, sweet caress of his tongue pushes through my closed lips and I welcome the intrusion.
As quickly as this started, it stops. Grant pulls away, his back hitting the couch with an audible thud. His breaths come in quick pants. It’s not hard to see he was in the moment too.
“This is not going to happen tonight, Clare.”
“What?”
“I’m not having sex with you.”
“Since when?” Have I done something tonight to give myself away? Made a small move and flashed my warning lights — beware: this girl came from foster care. Is it written on my forehead? “You invited me to your hotel room.”
“Yeah, to play video games. You said sex was off the table. I’m trying to figure you out and respect you at the same time.”
“But you are Grant Moore, the Playboy. Everyone knows that.”
He rears back like I slapped him. “Is that what they say about me?”
Guilt over hurting his feelings abates the sexiness of the night. I thought Grant was proud of his don’t bother with a phone number approach to dating.
“No,” I lie. “But it’s been noted you have a problem hanging on to phone numbers.”
“I’ve had no problem hanging on to yours.”
“Why?”
Because I’m the first one to say no to the rich, pretty and popular Grant Moore? He’s already mentioned how he considers this a quest. What are the odds if we have sex tonight he’ll move on like he does with the other girls?
Quest complete.
My brain says do it. Have sex with Grant tonight and get back to regular life, but the beating inside my chest stalls at the idea. I can’t let myself consider what it would be like to date Grant. Truly date him with the boyfriend/girlfriend titles and everything, but it doesn’t stop me from wishing.
He shrugs. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”
When men say that crap, do they think it answers our questions? They’re obviously unaware most females are big balls of uncertainty and low self-esteem. “I’ve never met anyone like you” could mean you’re hotter than Megan Fox on a good day or you completely disgust me and I consider you one of the guys. When given the choice, any female will always believe option two. At least I always do.
“So you’re turning away sex tonight because…” He respects me?
“Because you made it very clear you weren’t coming to my room to have sex.”
“I take it back.”
Grant moans, resting his head on the couch cushion. “You’re killing me, Clare.”
I unbutton the first two buttons of the long sleeve blue plaid shirt Grant gave me when we first entered the suite.
His eyes pop open as I unfasten the next three.
“Clare,” he says in warning.
“Grant,” I match his tone. “I’m a lady and ladies are allowed to change their minds.”
“If we do this tonight, you won’t run out of here ashamed tomorrow morning?” he asks referencing how I left this exact room two months ago.
I finish with the buttons of his shirt revealing my white tank top underneath. He’s asking me to make a promise I’m not sure I can keep.
“I’m serious, Clare. We’re not going to do this if it will mess everything else up.”
“It will be fine.” I hope.
“I’m not k
idding. I will tie you to the bed so you can’t wander off in the morning. I’m not going to spend another two months out of my mind wondering what you’re thinking and knowing it’s not good.”
It’s the most honest and deep answer Grant has ever given me, but I don’t have time to analyze it now. “You’re going to tie me up, huh?”
“Yup.” Grant repositions himself so he’s propped up on his knees as I work the white tank top over my head.
I undo the top button of the white shorts Aspen loaned me. “With what?”
“I’m a handy guy. I’ll make do,” he says smugly.
There is a snapping sound beside us and I whip my head in the direction of the sound. Grant rips the corded controller from the Super Nintendo console he keeps next to the newer Xbox. He wraps the long cord around his hand and then jerks the other free.
Earlier I questioned the older system, which he reassured me he needed because it had the best versions of Mario and the original NHL hockey game. There definitely wasn’t extra money in our budget for game systems growing up so I have no choice but to take his word for it.
“What are you going to do, tie me up with a controller?”
With the sweep of his hand he brushes the wireless Xbox controllers out of his way. “Precisely.”
“No, really?”
Grant closes half the distance between us on his knees. “Do you trust me?”
My first response is to say no. I don’t trust anyone. But I trust Grant.
“Sure.”
“Then take off your bra because you won’t be needing it anymore tonight.”
I reach back, unfasten the material and let the straps fall down my shoulders. Grant pulls it the rest of the way down my arms, exposing me to the room. With his direction I raise my hands above me, his fingertips sliding down and over my skin causing it to pebble. The two Nintendo controllers clack together with his movements.
“Oh, Clare, I am going to have so much fun with you.” Grant leans forward and pulls my hands down, placing a soft kiss in the middle of each palm before he holds them together and wraps a Nintendo cord around them.
When he finishes I test the strength. My hands barely part. The wrapping doesn’t hurt but it’s tight enough my hands are stuck.
“Lie back and keep your hands above your head or else I’ll stop.”
I do as he says, lifting my head once my back is against the floor. “Stop what?”
“You’ll see.” Grant’s fingertips are feather light as his hands work their way lower on my body, tickling and heating the exposed skin of my stomach. “I still have a controller left.”
He unwraps the second controller from his hand and leaves it in a pile on the floor next to my hips. My tummy clenches as his tongue circles around my belly button. His head lowers until he tugs on my zipper, the sound breaking the silence in the room.
My head lacks the strength needed to stay up without my arms as a prop, so as my energy wanes I lower back to the floor until I’m staring at the ceiling. Grant tugs on my shorts, pulling them down my legs and throwing them somewhere in the room. The metal of the button clink together as they hit the floor.
Smooth plastic tickles the bottom of my foot and I raise my head to get a quick peek. Grant runs the controller from the bottom of my foot to the inside of my leg. Slowly and deliberately he pushes my legs apart as the controller gets higher and higher.
When he reaches the apex of my thighs, the controller doesn’t stop. The thick plastic material rubs against my underwear as he presses it firmly against my sex. The long cord follows his movements tickling my leg at unexpected times.
The controller moves higher until Grant stops, allowing it to rest between my breasts. The black cord trails over my body and wraps around my lower leg. A fully clothed Grant leans over me, his eyes blazing as he licks his lower lip staring at the controller in the middle of my chest.
His head lowers blocking my view with his head of brown hair. “Oh,” I moan at the first pinch when he bites my left nipple.
He pulls back, his tongue licking and soothing the area. My lower body jerks and I want nothing more but to reach out and pull him closer. I yearn for Grant in a way I never have for anything or anyone else.
His touch.
His taste.
I’m surrounded by him but still it’s not enough. I fear there will never be enough when it comes to Grant. I want so badly what I can’t have. My lower body raises up to meet his, desperately seeking any connection with him.
Grant releases my nipple with a pop, giving it one last lick before his tongue trails down my body following the path of the cord. He circles once around my belly button and stops at the top of my underwear. Three quick kisses across the top and my pelvis jumps in excitement. He reaches up, pulling my panties down.
His head fits between the crevice of my thighs as perfectly as it did two months ago. On the balls of my feet I raise the lower half of my body up, pushing my mound closer to his face. It slams back to the floor when Grant’s tongue makes contact. One hard and long swipe from bottom to top and I suck in a breath.
He stops, taking time to suck on my clit until I moan and shove my pussy closer to his eager mouth. “Please, Grant. Please,” I call out.
“Shhh.” His tongue stops long enough to chastise me, but then he takes up a pattern as he creates a figure eight. His movements start along my opening and then circle around my clit, licking and sucking every few passes.
“Please… please… Grant. More.” My voice rises until I’m screaming my pleas into the softly lit room.
His palms push on my inner thighs opening me wider while he holds my legs down to steady me from the rise and fall my hips do on their own. “Shhhh.”
I thrash on the floor, the pressure increasing until my eyes squeeze close, my body tight and ready for release. Grant’s tongue breaks through my slit and I push up on my shoulders, my orgasm ripping a harsh moan from my body.
The floor hits my back as I plummet from exhaustion. My chest rising and falling in quick succession as I work to control my breathing. “Oh god. I forgot.”
Grant chuckles, his head stationed above my stomach. His lips still glisten with the evidence of my arousal. He starts to stand and I wrap my legs around him, the cord tugging on my skin. “Oh I’m not done with you yet. I’ve got to grab a condom. I know I have one somewhere. Give me a minute,” he says. Each word comes between his own hurried breaths.
He wants to take time to find a condom? After all that? Is he crazy? “Screw it.” I lift my arms to wrap around him pulling him closer, but I forget they’re still tied together.
“Are you sure?” His fingers wrap around my knees ready to force me to let him go but I double my efforts.
“Please don’t leave me. Not now.”
Grant tugs on the end of the controller wrapped around my leg. The cord tightens and the controller on my chest falls to the carpet beside me. “I haven’t had sex with anyone since the last time you were here.”
His eyes search mine waiting for a reply, but I don’t have the time or energy to be eloquent about it. “Clean, pill, it’s good. Please just fuck me. Right here.” I raise my arms, again forgetting they’re tied and then let them fall back to the floor.
Grant doesn’t waste time arguing with me anymore. His pants are off without him having to stand. His black boxers, strained by a bulge in the fabric, soon follow. He lines himself up between my thighs.
“Shirt too.” I squeeze my legs together and the insides rub against the hair on the tops of his legs.
With one hand he sends his shirt over his head flying through the room to land in an unseen corner. “I might not last long. Watching you come all over my face is like a fucking miracle. I’ll make the second time better.”
“Okay, then fuck me hard and fast.”
“You got it.” He grabs his dick tugging on the thick swollen member twice before it spears me in one quick thrust.
“Ahh…” My moan fills the room as G
rant wastes no time setting a punishing pace. I’m tight, my walls squeezing his thick hard dick.
He palms my ass with one hand, his fingers pulling me closer as they scorch against my skin. “Shhh.” He grinds into me hard, his hand floating down my body to twist and tug on my clit in time to his frantic pace. “Holy fuck, this is hot.”
I mumble and scream out for him, but the words get lost as I writhe on the floor of the suite. Grant flicks the top of my clit almost painfully, but it causes me to explode. The orgasm tightens my body and his pace increases.
“Shit.” He pulls out and my body is left screaming.
My hips jump up searching for a way to finish my half completed orgasm when his mouth replaces his dick and Grant sucks on my clit. Two fingers enter me recreating the demanding rhythm his dick created seconds earlier. I ride the final moments of my orgasm out with his face buried between my legs.
He doesn’t stop until my body lies quietly on the floor, my energy spent in the last fifteen minutes. Grant continues to pump his orgasm from him, the white milky substance landing on the floor beside me. When it stops, he throws himself over to his back landing on the space beside me. His breath comes in short gasps matching my own.
My eyes close, creating the illusion I’m at rest even though my brain feverishly processes the facts. Grant and I being explosively hot together was not a fluke the first time.
I’m in serious trouble.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The stark white ceiling is too bright. Do hotel staff repaint it every year? It wouldn’t surprise me if they did. The bright morning sun reflects off the white surface. The thick curtains used by normal people to block out the morning light hang open and I roll over to try and hide from the sunny rays. My stomach rumbles as I bury my head in the pillow.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think I had a hangover.
But all the choices I made last night were with a straight head. The vodka I consumed earlier in the evening had burned out of my system long before we reached this hotel room. If I’m suffering from a hangover, it’s the emotional kind.
Grant pulls on the covers, and a short snore escapes between his lips as he rolls further away. The loss of his body steals my warmth with him. I’m too old to continue playing this game. What in the hell am I doing in Grant Moore’s hotel room?
Quest (The Boys of RDA Book 4) Page 6