Rm w/a Vu(91)

Feigning innocence, I glance up to the sky. “I didn’t want you to think I’ve become predictable.”

My response makes him laugh. “Juliette, you’re far from predictable. In fact, you’ve done nothing but surprise me from the day we met.”

“Again with the flattery,” I tease, my fingers lightly grazing the back of his neck and making him shiver. I giggle. “Ticklish?”

“Is this really a game you wish to instigate?” he challenges, his right eyebrow arching.

I smirk, feeling the air between us shift. “Maybe… Unless there’s something a little more…gratifying that you can think of.”

His expression seems contemplative, his right hand drifting down my body and over my ass until he grips my thigh and pulls it up around his hip. Feeling unbalanced, I lift the other leg, hooking my ankles together behind his back. “I think a little might be undershooting just how gratified you’re about to be,” he tells me.

“Careful. You don’t want to oversell yourself or anything,” I shoot back, my voice low and airy.

“Sultry and funny…a dangerous combination, Miss Foster.” His hands squeeze my ass, pulling me against him. I release a whimper as his lips find mine.

I weave my fingers into his hair, holding him close while my lips part and the kiss deepens. The passion between us escalates quickly, and I don’t want it to stop this time; I’m ready…we’re ready. I pull back slightly, locking eyes with Greyston. “Let’s go upstairs.”

His arms loosen around me, allowing me to slide to the floor slowly. Our eyes stay fixed on each other, the passion in the air between us thick. Greyston locks the patio door when we finally turn away from one another, and we head upstairs.

Excited to be together again, I pull Greyston into his room. I don’t know what exactly is going to happen, but the possibilities are endless. I stop beside his bed and lift my arms above my head. He wastes no time asking questions, instead understanding my silent request by slowly pulling my shirt up my arms. The speed he’s chosen is torture, but soon my shirt is nothing but a heap on the floor, and his eyes travel down to my waist.

I remove Greyston’s shirt and let it join mine. Without warning, Greyston grabs me and tosses me down onto his bed. I cry out, bouncing lightly on the mattress, some of my hair falling out of my ponytail and into my face.

Instead of joining me, he stares, his hands slowly working his belt free, then the button on his jeans. My pulse thickens before settling between my legs, and I press my knees together in an effort to quell it until he joins me. He slips his jeans off, pulling his feet from them, and then wraps his hands around my ankle and coaxes me toward the edge of the bed. I bite back a shameless moan when his hands travel up my legs, his thumbs tracing the seam of my inner thighs and pressing at the apex and teasing me further.

I watch his eyes, letting my gaze fall down to his hands as he flicks the button loose, and I whimper when he slides the zipper down at a ridiculously slow pace. It’s maddening. He leans forward, pressing a kiss to my lower abdomen, right above the waist of my panties, and I tremble under the sensation.

His lips curl up into a smirk against my skin, and he loops his fingers behind my jeans, easing them down over my hips.

Finally! I find myself cheering silently, lifting my ass off the bed to help make this process a little quicker. They join our growing pile of clothes, taking a lamp down with them. He doesn’t seem to notice, and I forget rather quickly with his hands on me.

“Greyston,” I whisper again.

I can’t stop my hips from undulating beneath him as he presses soft and firm kisses to my abdomen, trailing his tongue from one hipbone to the other. The passion builds, making it hard to breathe, and Greyston’s lips are hot against my skin. I look down nervously when his hands slip back up my thighs and freeze.

His blue eyes burn into mine, and then he lowers his face, his lips—then tongue—grazing the skin of my inner thigh and slowly moving north. I gasp the second I realize his intention, his tongue barely touching the juncture between my thighs, and I press my foot against his chest roughly, pushing him away.

“W-wait.” I prop myself up on my elbows and look at him, panic rising until it eclipses my pleasure. “I don’t… That’s… No.”

He looks perplexed. “No? Why Not?”

When he makes no indication of moving, I drop my foot, averting my gaze. “I-I guess it kind of…I don’t know. I don’t really like it.”

He sits back on his heels, staring. “What the hell do you mean you don’t like it?”