Rm w/a Vu(98)

“For what?” he rasps against my neck, slowly working his way down over my collarbone.

With all the willpower I can muster, I press my hand flat against his chest and push him back a little. “Don’t you think we should, I don’t know, talk?”

He no longer looks at me with confusion, but concern. “About what?”

I arch an eyebrow, unsure if he’s serious. “Your behavior after paintballing,” I tell him.

This only makes him smile, and his hands move up the outside of my thighs, his fingers hooking into the sides of my panties. “Mmm hmm.”

“It was kind of upsetting.” My confession forces him to pause, and he stares at me in shock. “I just… I thought we were having fun.” I exhale loudly. “And then you barely spoke to me until we got home.”

Soft fingers touch my jaw as Greyston cradles my face in his large hands, my body still firmly pinned between him and the mirror. “You think I was upset about losing to you?” I shrug despondently. “Baby,” he croons, his soft voice rolling over me like warm water. He runs his fingers through his hair and sighs. “Watching you today was…well, it was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

My eyes snap open, and my jaw falls slack in his hands. Did I really just hear him right?

He shifts his hips between my legs once more, and his hands drift back to my thighs. “You were so confident out there today—proving it time and time again with every shot you made. You were so focused and in control.” Pausing, he chuckles lightly. “It’s no wonder I lost so many damn times.”

“Well,” I say, feeling relieved and a little stupid for misreading him—again, “that, or you just suck.”

Greyston’s chuckle turns into a deep laugh. “It took every shred of self-control I had to keep my hands off of you, because I knew that even the slightest touch would result in me taking you wherever we were.” Slowly, his hands travel up my outer thighs to my ass, pulling me against him. I wince when his fingers press into one of my bruises, and he pulls his hand back, looking remorseful.

“Comes with the territory,” I assure him as he leans over to inspect it. He’s got to move my panties slightly in order to see the area entirely, and I sigh when he ghosts his finger over the tender flesh.

He abandons the area when he notices the ones on my stomach and chest. “Jesus,” he mutters, tracing around them with his thumb. “Where else?”

“The, uh, back of my thigh.” I bite my lip and reach out to tug his shirt up his body. “Really, I’m fine. I’d be willing to bet I left my own marks on you.” He raises his arms as I remove his shirt, and I take in the two deep purpley-red marks on his left pectoral. I let my fingers glide over them, the pads of them barely making contact with his skin, but his body reacts, the light hairs on his chest prickling into goosebumps.

I lean forward and press a gentle kiss against the reddened flesh, and Greyston groans, his hips pushing against me and making me whimper. My hands move up his chest, feeling his hard muscles, and then up around his neck until I’m fisting his hair.

“I don’t know how much longer I can wait,” I admit softly, looking up into his stormy eyes.

He smiles, moving his hand between us and into my panties. My eyes begin to roll back into my head as his fingers glide back and forth. “Greyston,” I breathe, letting my head fall back.

The hand that’s not busy pushing me closer to climax moves up my back and undoes my bra on the second try, letting it fall slack around me. I release my hold around his neck and toss the bra to the floor as Greyston takes one of my erect nipples into his mouth. His warm tongue flattens against my breast before he grazes his teeth over the pebbled flesh, driving me absolutely crazy.

“More,” I pant, and Greyston eases his fingers into me. But it’s not enough. “I need you.”

Before he can protest, I undo his jeans and let them pool around his ankles before working his underwear over his erection to join them. He removes his hand from between us and looks at me, his eyes not showing any sign of objection before he hooks his fingers back into the sides of my underwear and tugs them down my legs.

This is happening. My palms begin to sweat, and my heart pounds rapidly as I look over his paint-splattered face. I can feel the tip of him resting against my heated flesh. Slowly, I push my hips forward, forcing his length to slide through my arousal, and we both release a satisfied moan.

And it’s still not enough.

“Greyston,” I whisper again.

His hips continue to move, his erection gliding with ease back and forth between my lower folds, and I teeter on the edge of pure bliss, while still craving more. Whimpering, I thrust my hips against him in hopes he’ll take the hint and take me.