Oo-la.
And he’d just started rocking my universe.
I’d been taught turnabout is fair play, so I settled in to return his favors. I trailed my fingers along his sternum and played with his nipples while covering his neck with kisses. Wriggling down, I ran my fingertip around his penis. A drop of liquid lubricated the tip.
He moaned, his hips lurched, and I found myself flat on my back. Gray slid my hand from him and above my head, pinning my wrist there. His mouth moved to mine, capturing my lips without hint of release.
Our tongue tango, along with undulating, meshing upper bodies, increased the heat. When I ran my fingertip down his spine to his butt crease, he grabbed my hand and pinned both wrists above my head.
He lifted his chest while keeping his lower body hard against mine. His lungs heaved. “Your hands were in the right place at the wrong time, honey.”
I pushed against his confining hand but he didn’t release my wrists. Gray’s gaze slipped to my boobs. He licked his lips, lowered his head and latched on.
Writhing, I bit back a scream but a groan slipped out. I could feel Gray’s smile as he suckled me into a moaning frenzy. His fingers made an unerring foray into my wet center and I felt myself spiraling into ecstasy.
My last thoughts were muddled but a fantasy of tying an aroused Gray to my bedposts sent me into orgasm screaming his name.
He cupped my face with his hands and filled me. My hands, now free, moved to his butt, kneading his hard mounds. His belly slapped against mine, setting a steady rhythm. I massaged his balls.
He gasped, and though the action didn’t seem possible, grew harder. His tongue pushed into my mouth then withdrew, pulling my lower lip between his teeth. Nipping and licking, his slower pace revved steadily.
We panted in unison, gasping and clawing closer to orgasm. The scent of our arousal filled my nostrils. He reached between us, massaging my clit as I lightly squeezed his balls in my hand.
Gray licked my ear and whispered. “Pour some sugar on me, Lily.”
Did I have a choice, wavering on the edge of orgasm? Heck no. I let loose a screaming, “Yes!”
Based on my exploding world and Gray’s answering shout, I knew we’d rocked out together. Now our mutual existence engulfed my senses, our two worlds become one. If we hadn’t already become part of each other, I’d want to crawl inside his skin and stay there. For a long, long time.
Maybe the wild nights calling us would last longer if we ever made it into a bed.
Then again, maybe not.
Chapter Thirteen
We lounged on my couch, the detritus of Christmas Present scattered around us. A pot of chocolate mint coffee perked in the kitchen. Mingled with the aroma of baking homemade cinnamon buns, the house wafted in tasty smells.
“You’ve just given me the best gift of all.” Gray pulled me against his chest.
“A funky lighted reindeer Christmas tie?”
He shook his head, his lips curved up. “You for Christmas.” I could see him swallow. “Lily, I’ve got something I want to say. I mean ask you. Actually, I have more of a gift.”
Confused with his stammering, I looked at his empty hands. Well, almost empty. One of them palmed my left boob and the other cupped my shoulder. My gaze returned to his face. He read the question in my eyes and grinned. Then he swallowed again.
“You know I said I wanted to be friends with you, right?”
My throat filled with a lump the size of Charlotte. I nodded.
“Don’t look so scared.” His hand tightened around my shoulder. “I still want your friendship, but I, well, I want more.”
“You want to break my collar bone?”
He blinked and loosened his grip. “Sorry, I’m a little nervous.”
I laid my fingers against his cheek. “Just spit it out.”
Gray rubbed his hand along my upper arm. He cleared his throat. “Lily, I’m pretty sure I love you. Have for a long time.”
My pulse sped. I had to stop what I feared he might say. “Gray, please don’t ruin what we have. Friendship suits us, doesn’t it? I mean we don’t have to go all church and flowers.”
“Huh?” He leaned back. His fingers gripped my chin, turning my face toward his. “I just wanted to ask if you’d mind stepping up our friendship. Go on dates. Find out if we fit for the long term.”
If he hadn’t been holding me so tight, I would have sagged in relief. I’d have refused a marriage proposal if he’d made one. Too often only the diamond lasts forever, and I didn’t want to play a round of rock/paper/scissors. You know: the diamond rock, the marriage license paper and the final divorce scissors cut that unbinds. “Oh. Um, okay.”
His hand dropped from my face. “Well, isn’t that an enthusiastic response.”
I imitated a fish out of water. Not a big acting stretch.
His head dropped. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”
Twisting to face him head on, I palmed his jaw and kissed him. Hard. “No way I’ll forget what you said. It’s just that, well, we don’t have the best history.”
“Maybe not, but we’ve got a good right now. Doesn’t that count more than the past?”
I searched my feelings. “Yes, the present counts. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
He pushed hair from my temple. His lips quirked, his tone hitched. “Um, okay.”
In spite of my best attempts, my eyes rolled at his imitation of me. “Brat.”
We sat quietly until my heart pushed me to speak. “I don’t trust many people, but I do believe in you.”
His finger stroked my cheekbone. “That’s the best gift ever.”
Not content to let events unfold, I voiced a question. “So where do we go from here?”
His pupils dilated. “Sex. Hot, steamy sex.” Open-mouthed kisses punctuated each word. “Under the Christmas tree. Me. Unwrapping. You.”
Undone by his caresses, I still managed words. “Only if we exchange gifts.” My hand moved to his zipper.
He pulled back, his face flushed. “Oh, I’m counting on it.”
His grip tightened and Gray rolled us off the couch and under the tree. Ornaments bobbled and shook, but none fell. I inhaled fresh pine from crushed needles around us, a scent that reminded me of clean starts.
We smiled as we kissed, caught in a holiday mood that promised a loving new year.
A word about the author...
Ashantay Peters loves escaping into a well-written book. Her reading addiction also has her perusing magazines, newspapers, Internet articles, even food labels. The last is often feebly excused as an attempt to maintain health, but her friends know the truth.
She lives in the mountains of western North Carolina, a happy transplant from the much colder (and flatter) Midwest.
Ashantay loves to hear from readers! Give her a holler via this website and she'll get back with you as soon as she comes in from gardening or takes a break from writing her next book, Death Rub.
Or contact her via [email protected]. Check out www.ashantay.com for recipes and helpful information supplied by Granville Falls characters.
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