An Ounce of Hope(94)

Grace squeaked in surprise, whirling around, hand clutched to her chest to find Max smirking in that devastatingly handsome way of his, leaning nonchalantly against one of the cellar's support columns. He was filthy. His arms were caked in dirt and she could see smudges on his face where he'd wiped at the sweat he'd no doubt worked up. It had been a scorcher of a day. His blue jeans were blackened, as was his gray T-shirt, which stretched gorgeously across his chest. She imagined he smelled incredible, all musky and man. He was the sexiest thing she'd ever seen.

"What are you doing down here?" she asked, her voice shaking with the adrenaline still coursing through her. She wasn't scared, of course, but the way Max was staring at her made her body tighten in ways that were altogether delicious.

His stare strayed back up to the steps to the basement door, which was still open a crack. He smirked and dropped his chin, his stare predatory. "Imagine my delight when Holly said you were down here. All."

He took a step toward her. "By."

Another. "Yourself."

Grace's back hit cold stone. Her chest heaved. "And why would that delight you?"

He paused, his gaze snapping from her denim skirt to her face. "Because I vividly remember you saying, while you were riding me, that you'd thought about me fucking you here."

Grace remembered, too. God, she remembered everything from that day. The first time he slipped inside her and whispered her name as though it were a prayer. The feel of his hands so tight on her hips, the sound of his skin slapping against hers, and the twitch of his orgasm inside of her.

Her recollecting that perfect day must have appeared like hesitancy, and the fire and want in Max's dark eyes died a little.

"I'm sorry," he blurted. "I'm an idiot." His hand found his hair quickly. "I just thought that we could, because you said- But if you don't-"

"Max?" Grace interrupted, moving her hands to the edge of her denim skirt, heat lurching across her skin.

He watched her movements like a hawk, swallowing when she lifted it, showing him her underwear. "Oh shit. Yeah?"

"Shut up and fuck me."

He was on her in moments, yanking her panties down, dropping to his knees, and burying his face between her legs. Grace cried out before slamming her forearm against her mouth. His tongue was perfect, so damned perfect, and when he . . . oh, God, did that thing against her clit, she about fell apart in his hands. He was voracious and, once again, Grace fantasized about what his mouth against hers would be like. She wanted to taste his tongue so badly. Would he be as hungry? What would his lips feel like as he came? Would he-she called out-kiss her . . . just. Like. That?




 

 

"I want you," she managed, gasping, vaguely aware that voices from the bar were drifting down to them through the open door.

Max eyes lit further. He pulled his mouth from her. "Yes. How? Tell me how."

His deep voice and the way it curled around her with lust and desire sparked something in Grace that she'd thought long lost. Her back straightened and her chin lifted as confidence and sexiness began to fill her so quickly, she thought she might burst.

This man. This beautiful man on his knees before her wanted her. Really wanted her. He wanted to please her, to make her feel good. And at that moment it didn't matter to Grace how long that might be for. No, he wouldn't be in West Virginia forever and that hurt and scared her more than she could possibly allow it to, but at that very moment, from the look on his face, wet with her need for him, she knew he would have done anything she'd asked.

Grace turned, placing her palms against the wall, and arched, pushing her ass toward him. "Like this."

"Fucking Christ," he muttered, not moving but for his hands, which ghosted so carefully over her skin, cupping her hips, and trailing his thumbs between her cheeks. He breathed deeply and grunted when his teeth scraped across her ass. "You're not playing fair," he muttered.

"I don't want to play," Grace answered. "I just want to feel you."

She felt his lips against her butt before he stood abruptly. The sound of his heavy belt clanging as he undid it made goose bumps pop up along Grace's arms. He pressed against her, his cock hard against her thigh.

"Can you keep quiet?" he grunted before he ripped open the condom wrapper with his teeth.

"No," she gasped honestly.

He laughed darkly. "Good, because I want them all to hear what I do to you."

Grace's entire body shivered.

"Shhh, it's all right," he whispered next to her ear, his nose trailing up the lobe while his tongue darted out to lick her neck. "I've got you." He pressed his large hands to the small of her back and, for a brief moment, his voice lost its husk, becoming careful, concerned. "You okay?"