Playing With Trouble

by Chanel Cleeton

  She tasted . . . I didn’t even know. Like nothing I’d ever tasted before. So fucking sweet. Addictive.

  I tongued her nipple, my teeth grazing her sensitive flesh. Her hands came down and tangled in my hair, yanking on the ends, pulling me closer while I toyed with her other nipple, twisting and tugging, flicking it between my fingers until it begged for my mouth. I released her nipple with a wet pop, turning my attention to the other one, my dick hardening even more at the gasps and whimpers rolling off of Blair’s tongue.

  I trailed a hand down her stomach, stopping when I reached the waistband of her lacy black thong. Her earlier words came back to me, Hell, I’d like for someone to rip my thong off, and the next thing I knew her ruined underwear was lying on the hardwood floor next to us.

  I trailed my finger down, my touch featherlight over her clit. And then I stroked her, inches away from where I wanted to be.

  She was soaked.

  I groaned, my cock hard to the point of pain. I wanted to free myself, to sink into her wetness and drown. But from the moment this had started, from the moment she’d begun talking, I’d been determined to give her the best night of her life. She’d never had an orgasm from straight-up sex before? I wanted to make her come over and over again.

  I circled her entrance, teasing her swollen flesh as she shuddered against my hand, and then I filled her, two fingers sliding in to the hilt.

  Tight. Silk. Warm. Wet. Fucking perfect.

  I dragged my fingers in and out, each time leaving her sensitive flesh quivering around me. Sometimes I gave it to her hard and deep, her pussy clenching around my fingers. Other times, I pulled out, giving her nothing more than the tips of my fingers hovering at her entrance until she was taking what she wanted, fucking herself over my fingers.

  I released her nipple, adding a third finger, my thumb moving up to rub her distended clit. The second I did, she clenched around my fingers, and I felt the beginning of her orgasm ripping through her.

  “Come for me, baby.” I whispered, my voice tight with lust and need.

  She pulled at my hair as her back arched. My fingers kept pumping, harder, faster. Just as she was right on the edge, ready to fall into oblivion, I pulled out of her. She gasped and then I was on my knees, my mouth on her, my tongue on her sex, lapping at her clit, and then she was shattering against me, sobs escaping her lips. I held her up while I ate her, while she shuddered against my mouth, and then when her legs simply gave out, I guided her to the floor and looked my fill.

  Her breasts were full, her nipples so fucking tight, red and wet from my mouth, her delicate, pale skin marked from the stubble on my face, my lips, my hands, my teeth. Her hair fell around her shoulders, a silken mess that left no doubt that she’d just been fucked thoroughly. Her eyes said she’d loved it.

  My cock needed more.

  “Let’s go upstairs,” I mumbled. “Bedroom.”

  She didn’t answer me, but her hands reached out and came to rest on my hips, just above the drawstring tie. She fumbled with the fabric and then they were untied, and she was pushing them down my legs and then I was naked.

  “I don’t have a condom down here,” I ground out, struggling to get my body under control. I felt like I was fifteen again, desperate to fuck. She did that. Blair stripped everything away and gave me the world in return.

  “I’m on the pill,” she whispered. “After Thom . . . the cheating . . . I got tested. I’m good.”

  “Me, too,” I croaked.

  I wanted her like this, nothing between us. Just her.

  “Gray?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Fuck me. Now.”

  And just like that I gave up trying to be the man I thought she deserved and became the man she wanted.

  I spread her legs, taking another moment to stare down at perfection. I was a guy, and I wasn’t going to pretend that there wasn’t always something about sex that was intense, but this was different. This was every single part of me screaming “mine” when I looked at her.

  It felt right in a way nothing had before, like a key sliding into place.

  I thrust inside her, a groan escaping my mouth as her wet heat surrounded me, her pussy clenching down on my cock. So fucking tight. I pushed forward until I filled her. Our gazes met and I took her mouth, my lips devouring hers. And then my hips began moving, sliding in and out, pumping harder, faster, and something came alive in Blair.

  Her nails raked down my back, mixing pain with pleasure until my balls ached, begging for release.

  The orgasm built within me, the feel of her too good to resist, and then I was exploding inside her, her sex milking my cock. Her back arched, her head fell back, and I watched the beauty of my girl riding her second orgasm of the night.

  Chapter Twenty

  Did you check out our list of D.C.’s most eligible bachelors and bachelorettes? Rumor has it one just might be off the market . . .

  —Capital Confessions blog

  Gray

  I woke to an empty bed and the smell of bacon cooking. It took me a minute to get my bearings, and then last night in all of its black-corseted, Blair Reynolds glory came rushing back to me.

  I threw on a pair of boxers and a T-shirt, and followed the sounds and smells until I reached the kitchen and froze in the entryway.

  Blair stood in front of the stove, dressed in one of my T-shirts, the hem barely covering the curve of her ass, exposing a whole lot of leg. Her hair spilled down her back, my fingers itching to stroke it.

  Most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

  She turned, and then I revised my assessment.

  Blair beamed at me, spatula in hand, her face free of makeup, a delicious, rumpled mess.

  That was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

  “Good morning.”

  The happiness in her eyes echoed in her voice, teasing an answering smile from my lips.

  “Morning.”

  She turned back to the stove. “I’m making pancakes and bacon,” she called over her shoulder. “The coffee should be ready. How do you take it?”

  My gaze drifted to the countertop where two coffee mugs sat by my Keurig. A knot tightened in my chest. It was so like her to have coffee waiting. To take care of me in a way no one ever had before. She took care of everyone around her as though it was effortless.

  And just like that, I knew—

  I loved her.

  I came up behind Blair and wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her into the curve of my hips. I lifted her hair, baring her neck, burying my face there, my mouth pressing a line of kisses on her skin.

  “Thank you,” I whispered, my voice thick.

  She turned in my arms, her eyes wide, lips parted, and linked her hands behind my neck, pulling my head down toward her.

  “It’s just breakfast,” she whispered.

  “It’s not just breakfast.”

  She closed the distance between us, putting her mouth on mine.

  If I’d had any question about how much things had changed between us after last night, her kiss answered it. There had been an intensity to our kisses before, as though we both knew we were doing something we shouldn’t be. Now when she kissed me, she gave me sweetness, her mouth coaxing mine to open, her lips and tongue caressing me. It was a lazy morning kind of kiss that had me wrapping my arms around her tighter, tugging her toward me, my hands dipping under the T-shirt’s hem until I cupped her ass in my hands.

  She broke away first, giving me a playful swat with the spatula still in her hand.

  “The bacon will burn.”

  I grinned. “Worth it.”

  She shook her head. “I’m making you breakfast.” Her lips twitched. “Then maybe you can have dessert.”

  Blair

  I felt like I’d overdosed on happy pills. I couldn’t keep the smile off of my face, was a few steps away from humming a freaking song.

  I’d woken up this morning to the sight of Gray’s muscled chest, his face in sleep sof
ter than I’d ever imagined it could be. There had been a moment when I’d thought about waking him up early, but after last night . . . holy multiple orgasms . . . I figured he could use his rest. And then I’d walked downstairs in search of coffee and had the idea to cook breakfast for him.

  I loved to cook, and now that my days weren’t dominated by hundreds of pages of reading, or stressing about finals, I couldn’t resist the urge to indulge. Given the rather untamed look he had about him, I figured Gray hadn’t had a lot of domesticity in his life.

  Luckily, Martha Stewart was my middle name.

  His kitchen was awesome. By the look of things, he didn’t use it a lot, as in ever, but what he had was pretty spectacular. I might have had another mini-orgasm at the sight of his stove.

  My apartment was nice, and I’d rented it right when I started law school, but it was small and nowhere near as fancy as his place. Cooking on my little stovetop was hit or miss, and thanks to an unevenly heating oven, baking was even worse. I’d have to see if Gray would let me commandeer his oven for Christmas cookies.

  I’d set the table and then started cooking, relishing the feeling that the noose around my neck had been temporarily lifted with the end of fall classes. I might have had only a month’s reprieve, but I was definitely going to make the most of it.

  And then Gray came downstairs, and held me in his arms, and what was already feeling like a fantastic day became infinitely better.

  So I kissed him, giving him my happiness with my mouth, giving him everything I had.

  When he released me, he had a slightly dazed look on his face, as if I’d surprised him once again, much like I had last night.

  I really liked surprising Graydon Canter.

  I turned back from the food, smiling at him leaning against the counter, a cup of coffee in his hand, his gaze locked on the sight of me cooking. In a suit, he was devastating. In boxers and a T-shirt, his eyes heavy with sleep, he was practically edible.

  I’d never seen the boyish side of him, doubted many people had, and I couldn’t resist. I wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

  “Breakfast is ready. Why don’t you sit down at the table, and I’ll serve it.”

  He blinked.

  “Gray . . .”

  “I feel like I’m going to wake up and discover you’re a figment of my imagination,” he murmured, his hand reaching out and stroking my hair. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you; I’m not even sure I do deserve you. Fuck, I probably don’t. But I can’t let you go. I don’t want to, and even more, I’m starting to think you wouldn’t even let me if I could walk away.”

  God. Sleepy, sweet Gray was almost too much to resist. My heart, the one he held in his hands even if he didn’t realize it yet, thudded with each word that left his mouth. His heated gaze warmed me from the inside out, filling me with a glow he’d given me several times last night.

  And he thought he was the lucky one . . .

  I kissed him again, and then pulled away, nudging him with my hip. “Go sit down.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he teased.

  I swatted his ass with a dishtowel. We were definitely going to go for round four later.

  I carried the food into the dining room. Gray stood behind one of the chairs, staring at the table.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He looked up at me. “You did all this while I slept?”

  I nodded.

  “The flowers?”

  “I picked them from the courtyard.”

  “You picked flowers. From my courtyard?”

  I nodded again.

  I’d basically been taught to set a table and entertain from birth. My mother wasn’t big on cooking, but she loved hosting dinners and parties, and she’d expected me to know how to do the same. Maybe it was a weird skill for a twenty-three-year-old to have, but my upbringing hadn’t exactly been normal.

  I stared at the pretty purple flowers on the table in a makeshift vase. They brightened things up, and Gray definitely needed a little bright in his life.

  “Sit. The food’s going to get cold.”

  He sat at the head of the table, me on his right, and took a bite of his pancakes. He finished chewing and gave me another heartbreaking smile.

  “Best pancakes I’ve ever had.”

  “I’m glad. I love to cook. I haven’t been able to do it as much as I’d like.” I hesitated. “Speaking of. How would you feel about me using your oven to bake some Christmas cookies?”

  That same surprised look came on his face—like he held the winning lotto ticket in his hand and didn’t know what to do with it.

  And then I knew.

  I was definitely, undeniably in love with Graydon Canter. And even though I doubted he was ready to admit it, the look in his eyes said it—he was more than a little in love with me, too.

  I fought back against the tears pushing at my eyes, and tried not to freak him out.

  “Are your cookies as good as your pancakes?” he asked.

  “Better.”

  “Bake away.”

  I grinned. “And if I’d said they weren’t better?”

  “Do you really envision a future where I’m not going to give you everything you want?”

  Then we were both in luck—

  All I wanted was him.

  I sucked in a deep breath and asked the question I thought I already knew the answer to. Maybe I didn’t even ask it for me. Maybe I asked it for him, so he would understand that I was sucking him in deep and I wasn’t letting him go.

  “So we’re doing this?”

  He set his fork down, leaning across the table, and cupped my cheek in his hand, holding my gaze. The force of his stare flooded me with warmth, his voice low and gravelly.

  “We’re doing this.”

  Thank god.

  We finished eating in silence, Gray giving me smiles that did more to wake me up than the coffee. Definitely ready for round four.

  When we’d finished, I stood up and grabbed the plates to clear the table.

  “I’ve got this,” he interjected.

  I shook my head. “I can do it. Why don’t you sit and relax? I cooked breakfast, I don’t mind cleaning up.”

  He grinned. “I mind. You cooked. I’ll clear. It’s only fair.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, enjoying the experience of fussing over him.

  A gleam entered his eyes. “Besides. You promised me dessert.”

  I so did.

  “Go upstairs and get naked. I’ll be there in a sec.”

  Maybe he was right, and I had many instances of getting my way in my future. But for now, I was more than happy to let him have his.

  I went upstairs and got naked.

  Gray

  Just the idea of Blair naked, waiting for me in bed, had me hard. Especially now that I knew what to expect after last night.

  But then I walked into the bedroom and I about had a heart attack.

  However she carried herself in public, the Blair I got in the bedroom was something else entirely.

  She laid spread out on my bed, her knees up, legs crossed at the ankle, hair fanned out over my pillow, completely naked.

  My lungs dragged in air, my heart hammering as I struggled to breathe. There was no one like her. No one had ever come close.

  I couldn’t speak, couldn’t get my shit together enough to even form words, so instead I let my body take over. I knelt down on the bed, moving forward until I hovered over her. I stared down into her beautiful eyes, and lowered my lips to kiss away the smile on hers.

  And then my hips settled against her, and her legs wrapped around my waist, and she decided I was wearing too many clothes.

  I’d intended to take my time, to explore the parts of her body that I’d rushed over last night, to tease her until we were both craving release. Blair took my plans and threw them out the window.

  Her mouth devoured mine, her hands gripping the hem of my T-shirt, pulling it up over my skin until
she couldn’t go any farther, and I reared back, yanking it over my head. And then her hands were everywhere, and her mouth left mine, kissing her way down my neck, my chest. I groaned, my hands fisting in her hair, the sensation of her lips on me so fucking good.

  Her fingers found the waistband of my boxers, and she slid them down my hips, her hand growing bolder until she held my cock in her palm. Our gazes locked as she stroked me, her lips parted in an invitation I couldn’t resist. I kissed her while my hands caressed her breasts, while my fingers played with her nipples.

  I released her mouth, and then I was kissing my way down, my tongue flickering over each nipple before I drew the bud deeper inside, while my hand went between her legs, my fingers grazing her clit, her body coating my fingers in her wetness.

  My teeth grazed her nipple and her back arched as I drove my fingers inside, her pussy tight around me. I slid in and out, her hips arching against my hand, my middle finger curling, seeking, finding. Blair moaned when I hit the right spot, and then my thumb began stroking her clit, rubbing back and forth until her hips began thrashing, her back bowing over the bed. I brought her to the edge of orgasm, so close I could feel the tremor building inside her, desperate for release.

  Blair’s eyes slammed open. “Why’d you stop?”

  I grinned. “You promised dessert.”

  I slid down her body, spreading her legs wider, enjoying the show, pretty and pink, and so fucking wet. I wanted to taste her, wanted to make her shatter against my mouth.

  She began to say something, and then I licked her clit as I lifted her legs up over my shoulders, spreading her even wider before me, and I finished the job my fingers had started, as I fucked her with my mouth, and she came.

  Twice.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  With the holidays quickly approaching, D.C. has become far too quiet. Is everyone trying to stay off of Santa’s naughty list?

  —Capital Confessions blog

  Blair

  I knocked on Gray’s front door, a shiver sliding down my spine as the cold wind whipped around me. It was chilly for December, just two days shy of Christmas. I bundled further into my coat, the bags in my hands shaking.