by Tessa Bailey
Her palms travel up my thighs, her breath accelerating. I’m already groaning by the time she curls her fingers into the waistband of my boxers, tugging them down. My dick springs out as eagerly as I feel, coming to rest on her cheek before she grips it, leading my flesh toward her mouth. She’s so wide-eyed and flushed when my tip sinks in, I can’t keep pre-come from escaping, probably dripping down the back of her throat. And Jesus, the possibility of that makes me very aware we’ve crossed that line we drew in the sand. I’m calling the shots now.
With both of my hands planted on the couch’s arm, I push my hips forward, growls rippling in my throat the deeper she lets me in. “That’s what I need, baby. Suck my cock with your jealous mouth.” A little flare goes off in her eyes when I hit resistance, so I stop, retreat and enter her warmth again, knowing how far I can go this time. Having those boundaries lets me move with fast, firm pushes until her mouth is treating me to a nice, hot fuck. “Fucking Christ, that’s so good. You wanted this? Show me how bad.”
She moans and circles the base of my dick in one hand, stroking me toward the suction of her lips. My balls are already hard as rocks, but when she closes her eyes, tugging on me with that greedy grip, I have to concentrate hard on not emptying them. She’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, sliding her lips up and down my inches, cheeks hollow when she drags up to the tip. When she lets me go with a pop and her tongue circles the head, my stomach starts to quake like it can’t take the sustained pleasure, so I know, I know, I can’t let her keep this up.
“Get that tiny fucking thong off,” I growl, even though there’s no way I can wait that long. No, as soon as I drag my dick out of her mouth, I’m yanking those panties sideways and thrusting into her soaked pussy. She screams in my ear, her nails sinking like razors into my back. My heart stutters at the possibility that I hurt her with my aggression, but I’m reassured when her knees dig into my sides. Like a rider spurring on a horse. Only I’m the one riding her. And I do it hard. “When you got into a cab and rattled off my address in your little, pink shirt dress, you knew this is what you were going to get, didn’t you? A hard cock between your thighs. Didn’t you, baby?”
“Yes. Oh my God. Yes.”
“Feel it.” I shove her legs wide and give a tight, quick pound. “Tell me you love it. Tell me you walk around the academy in those tight pants wet for a fuck.”
A tear streaks down her temple, eyes glazed over. “I do. I love it. Please, don’t stop.”
“I won’t. I can’t.” Snug isn’t an accurate description for Danika. She’s got these tiny muscles that flex around my dick every time I punch forward, as if they’re welcoming me. My sac is so full, I can hear the fat slap of it against her taut ass, and there’s no comparing my fantasies to the real thing. I grow more and more crazed with each drive to release deep inside her. Mark her as mine so thoroughly, that claim can never be questioned or erased. That’s when I realize I’m not wearing a condom. “Fuck,” I grit out, my thrusts slowing but not stopping. I can’t. I can’t stop. “Didn’t protect you.”
She responds by taking two handfuls of my ass and jerking me close, a long groan breaking free of her wet mouth. I’m so unprepared for the mind-blowing sensation, the sight of her getting satisfaction, that more pre-come leaks from me, my entire body beginning to shudder with the effort of holding back every ounce of what I’ve got.
“Stop moving,” I rasp, my stomach tightening. “I’m too goddamn close.”
“It’s okay,” she whimpers, definitely pulling me deep again and grinding her hips up, her heels finding a home at the small of my back. “I never miss my pill. Please.”
Relief blinds me like two headlights, along with the impulse to fuck her until the pain is gone. “I’m clean.”
“Me, too.” She sobs, those nails burying in the flesh of my ass. “Greer.”
“Hold on to me.”
In the end, I can’t tell who is holding on to whom. Our bodies are flush, sweaty and racing to the finish. I bury my face in the crook of her neck with a guttural groan, my hips pump hard, fast, almost angrily. I’ve never moved in such perfect rhythm with anyone. Not even myself. I’m better with her. We’re better together. As if we’re communicating in a way that’s only native to us, our mouths fuse, our fingers twine together above her head and we go over the edge.
Her close-lipped scream is the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard. It’s woven through with the relentless slap of my body finishing inside hers. Jesus, I’m shaking like a fucking leaf it’s so intense. I’m choking on her name, over and over. “Danika is mine. This is mine. All fucking mine.”
“You’re mine, too,” she says on an exhale moments later. Her fingers sift into my hair, her pulse hammers against my cheek and I take a moment to bask in those words. To bask in the fact that she’s taking ownership of me. Can I let her have me completely?
Start with tonight.
Feeling her shift under my weight, I attempt to move and can’t. I’m actually immobile.
“I think you finally killed me.”
Her laugh is more like a purr. “You make it sound like I’ve been trying to kill you this whole time.”
I think of her strutting past me in the gym, agreeing to dates with other boys and getting thrown into Central Booking. “Haven’t you?”
“Maybe a little,” she whispers. “I’ve decided to sleep in your bed with you tonight.”
It’s my turn to laugh. I’m getting more and more used to the sound.
Finally having regained my strength, I stand and lift Danika into my arms, carrying her to my bedroom. “However I get you there, baby, is fine with me.”
Chapter 26
Danika
I was right about Greer’s bed. Once he’s inside the sheets, it turns into an extraordinary wonderland of warm skin, husky grunts and shoulder kisses. Falling asleep last night was almost as exciting as couch sex. Just kidding. But traveling to sleepy town with the lieutenant was . . . amazing. With two o’clock in the morning rolling around, he was adamant about me getting some sleep, so there was no more hanky-panky, but being soothed to sleep by the knock-knock-knock of his heart and a test drive of the spooning position could sustain me instead of oxygen. I’m convinced.
Okay, though. Okay. I need to slow my roll. There were no promises made last night. Yes, he went full caveman and called me his. Yes, he’s apparently in the kitchen now making me breakfast if the smell of cinnamon is any indication. Very un-Greer-like activities all being performed for my benefit. That has to mean something. We . . . have to mean something.
Roll not slowed, Silva. Back it up.
I woke up in the middle of the night wrapped in a bear hug. My first reaction should have been euphoria. But the way he held me so trustingly made me panic. For a few ticks of the clock, I couldn’t figure out why. Then it hit me. All the truth he laid on me last night and I haven’t told him about those punks threatening me outside my parents’ building. That makes me a deceptive idiot. After he confided in me about his mother, I don’t want any secrets between us. So this morning, it’s all coming out in the wash.
I roll over and squint into the sunlight, begging my heart rate to chill. He’s not going to push me away over keeping the incident to myself. He’s not. For crying out loud, he ignored my phone calls for days. We’ve both done regretful things, right?
Sitting up, I stretch my arms up toward the ceiling and roll my neck, trying to shake off the stress. The clock says 7:49, meaning we have just over an hour before roll call at the academy. Just over an hour before Greer walks past me, scratching on his clipboard, and I have to pretend he didn’t gift me an orgasm straight from heaven’s gates? Holy God, my limbs turn to warm oil just thinking of the way he . . . used my mouth like he’d bought and paid for it. If he hadn’t been cuddling me like a coveted treasure just minutes before, I might have been offended. I only wanted more, though. And what came after? I’m going to be running funny today. There’s no help for it. I just have to pray no
body notices.
With a deep breath, I come to my feet in the sunlight and look for something to cover up with. Turning in a circle, I find his navy blue T-shirt from the night before laid out on the end of the bed, without a single wrinkle. He must have put it there while I was sleeping. The intimacy of that still has my toes tingling as I leave the bedroom and tiptoe into the bathroom. I take a quick shower and brush my teeth with a finger before creeping into the kitchen.
What I see makes me fall a little more in love with Greer Burns. He’s shirtless, first of all. Sweatpants sit on his ass like they’re in love with him, too, the soft material advertising both tight curves like a spotlighted billboard. He’s got two hands poised over a pan on the stove, but he’s leaning sideways to read his propped-up iPad screen. Are those cooking instructions? I scan the counters and, amid the mess, piece together ingredients for French toast. Oh my poor, pathetic heart. She’s a goner.
Remember. You’re coming clean this morning. No backing out.
“Morning,” I murmur, glorying in the sight of his back muscles chasing after one another. “Need some help?”
He clears his throat like he’s about to address the press in an official capacity. “When am I supposed to flip these over?”
“Hmm.” I slide into the homey scene and take the spatula from his hand. “It’s kind of a judgment thing. There’s no correct answer.”
His grunt is released just above my ear, but he’s not touching me yet. “Excuse me while I break out in hives.” My laugh turns to a shivering gasp when his lips meet my neck, followed by a tiny raze of his teeth. “How did you sleep?”
Apart from the twenty minutes of wide-awake worry that Greer would freak out over me keeping things from him? “Perfect.”
Is that relief I sense in him? I don’t have time to examine his reaction before a mighty arm snakes around my middle. It pulls me closer in degrees, our parts conforming one by one. And then we’re standing at the stove like a smitten couple, cooking breakfast. Is this really happening? I’m afraid to breathe in case I dissipate the whole moment. “What about you?”
“I’ve never slept better.” His arm tightens around me. “Is this good? Me holding you like this?”
“Better than good.” I flip the French toast over, shocked to find it isn’t burned to a crisp. Tell him. Tell him about the police report you filed. “Um. Greer—”
“I want to talk to you.” His lips find my ear, kissing the hair that covers it, inhaling me like I’m a pie fresh from the oven. “I don’t know how this works. If I’m supposed to ask you out on dates or piss a circle around you or what. But I want it to be a given that you’re spending your free time with me. I don’t want to lose my shit thinking another guy is going to claim your Saturday night. Or any night. I want it understood you’re going to be with only me. And I’m only going to be with you.”
I’m standing very still, trying to contain the rapture in my chest, but some of it escapes my mouth in a hhhhuhhuum sound. “What about when one of us is working?”
“Then we wait,” he enunciates in his stern lieutenant voice, before sighing. “Look, I know it isn’t fair. Asking you to go all in with me . . . when I’m still feeling my way in the dark. I could fuck this up. Being with you. There’s going to come a time when you’re in dangerous situations, baby, and I have no clue how I’m going to handle it.” His lips move in my hair, his fingertips stroking my hips, across my belly. “I’m just asking you to be patient while I work through it. And while you’re being patient, I’m going to be my usual impatient self, so you’ll have to be patient with that, too.”
My lips trip up into a smile. As bad as I want to be with Greer, I’m not starting down a path that isn’t good for me. Thing is, I don’t think he’d let me keep traveling down that path if it wasn’t a healthy place to be. I have that confidence in Greer, and I want him to know that. I think he needs to know. “Sounds like a lot of compromising on my end,” I murmur, sliding the French toast onto the waiting paper plates. “It’s a good thing I get you out of the deal. That comes with a lot of perks.”
Greer turns me in his arms, shining cautious amusement down on my upturned face. “Yeah? Like what?”
“Like you don’t have to wait at stoplights, you just speed right through them. If I’m ever late for a hair appointment, that could come in handy.”
His fingers dig into my ribs and I squeal. “Smart-ass.”
The smile blooming around his mouth is killing me in the best way. “Okay, I guess it doesn’t hurt that you do sweet things for my mom and help bail out my little cousin. You buy me candy and carry my beer.” I think back to all the studying I did over the weekend. “And you let me win bets, even though I answer with the wrong radio code.”
He tucks his tongue into his cheek. “Found out about that, did you?”
“Yup. Your secret is out.” I loop my arms around his neck, which requires me to go up on my tiptoes. “You’ve got it bad, Grim Reaper.”
“Wrong.” He cups my bottom and kneads. “I’ve had it bad.”
“My mistake,” I breathe against his lips. “I agree to your terms.”
I feel a breeze on my backside, then his hands are touching bare flesh. So much for breakfast. “Repeat the terms. I want to make sure you have them straight.”
Between our stomachs, his erection waits like a reward, long and thick. If I was wearing panties, they would be soaked by now, but I’m not, leading to a slick slide of flesh at the apex of my thighs. “Um. My spare time belongs to you. If I’m asked on a date—”
Slap. A hard blow from his palm to my right butt cheek has me gasping for air. It’s possessive. Just the right amount of chastising. A signal that Greer is the authority right here, in this moment. That he needs to be. And somehow it’s exactly what I need, too. That definitive period at the end of our conversation. Before, when he took control, it was seeking. A test. Now that we’ve claimed each other, nothing feels wrong. Our positions are clear, and there’s no time for doubt when pleasure is on the menu. “I don’t want it to reach the point where other men feel comfortable asking you out. Shut it down before that happens.”
I whimper as he rubs a circle over my skin to soothe the sting of his slap, but deep inside my belly, there are fireworks going off, sparks trickling down through my limbs. “What do you want me to do? Tattoo the words ‘off-limits’ on my forehead? No one is supposed to know we’re together.”
“I’m going to speak to my superior this morning about making an allowance.”
My brain struggles to catch up with several things at once. The fact that being spanked gets better every time. And the revelation that he’s serious enough about me to put his reputation in jeopardy. I’m quiet a little too long, though, because Greer dips his head to capture my glazed-over eyes. “Would it bother you if people at the academy knew? They might think you’re getting special treatment.”
“You better not give me special treatment.”
“Thought you might say that.” He tilts his hips, sliding his swollen arousal between my thighs, lifting until my feet are off the ground. Jeeezus. The stars winking behind my eyes must be visible, because he laughs. “I think you’ll make an exception after hours.”
“You bet,” I pant, clinging to his bare shoulders. “Greer, can you—”
“Finish repeating back the terms.” He rolls his body, grinding me into his lap at the same time. “The amended version.”
Oxygen has almost completely deserted my brain. “My time belongs to you. Unless I want a girls’ night—”
A withering sigh. “Fine.”
“Or I’m spending time with my parents.”
“Spending time without exhausting yourself.”
“Fine.”
“And I get to come with you when I can.”
My heart squeezes. “I’d like that.”
Greer walks us toward the kitchen table and sets me down on the surface, dipping his head to suck on a sensitive spot under my ear. “Continu
e,” he rasps.
I heave a frustrated sob. “I somehow predict when boys will ask me on dates and run in the opposite direction. Happy?”
“Not as happy as you’re going to be.” His hands climb my thighs, taking hold of my T-shirt hem and lifting it over my head. “On your back.”
After weeks of being instructed by him at the academy, my body is so conditioned to obey him that I find myself staring up at the ceiling before I know I’ve moved. My grumble is cut off, though, when his tongue travels in a long lick through my flesh.
“So damn wet, baby,” he groans, pushing a finger into me. “You have my permission to forget your panties at breakfast whenever you want.”
Oh God. Another wet slide of his tongue, his thumb rubbing my clit starts my thighs trembling. “I n-need your permission for that?”
His head comes up, eyes narrowed. “That’s right.” Before I can prepare myself, Greer hauls me off the table by the ankles, spins me and locks me facedown with a forearm. “You want permission for that. Don’t you?”
“Yes,” I admit, breathless, my internal temperature set to inferno. Maintaining focus is becoming impossible, but if this is where we set our course, I’m going to have a hand in deciding the direction. “But only if I give you permission for something in return.”
A heartbeat ticks past. “I’m listening.”
My brain pulls up the go-to image I’ve been daydreaming about most lately. “You can remember to wear your beanie at breakfast whenever you want.”
His laugh is surprised, then pained. “I’m already annoyed at every man who’ll take you down to the mat today. And you have the nerve to make me smile?”
Exhilaration pops along my nerve endings. Fast on its heels comes exasperation, love, need. “What if you . . .” I have to stop for breath. “Make me remember whose hands belong on me. Make me feel it then. And now.”