“I’m right down the hall if you need me,” Slayer says.
I watch his back as he walks away and disappears into a room a moment later.
I close the door to my room and strip off my ripped clothing, opting for the sweats Slayer loaned to me.
It’s when I’m finally sitting on my bed in silence that the impulsiveness of earlier dawns on me.
Grave’s touch was like nothing I’ve experienced before. Intense, untamed, and hot. So hot. I would have gladly lain there and taken all he had to give if we hadn’t been interrupted.
Though, I guess it’s a good thing we were. With my ex, sex was more strenuous on my part, and in the end, it was only me giving—and in more ways than one.
In the small amount of time Grave was inside me, he already possessed more of me than Orion ever could. And that’s just insane. Frightening.
I just met the guy.
All I know is that he’s a man with expressive eyes that seem to constantly rage with intensity. And his name is Grave, which—Oh, my god.
That has to be his club name.
I slump onto the bed and hang my head in frustration. There are words to describe women like me—ones that rhyme with cut, or nut…
Oh, my goodness. It gets worse.
I groan aloud and lean forward with my head in my hands.
I was so caught up in the moment with Grave that the concept of protection was like an alien on an uncharted planet. There was absolutely nothing between us.
The only thing I have to be grateful for is that he didn’t finish inside me.
But the thought of his body shaking atop mine as his thick cock surges and releases cum inside my unprotected pussy is hot as fuck.
A familiar heat blooms between my thighs, and I squirm pathetically and laugh like a lunatic. I turn and burrow underneath the covers of my bed in an attempt to distance myself from the mistake.
As the moments tick by, however, and turn to an hour and longer as the numbers on the digital clock next to my bed change, our moment seems less like a mistake.
I wanted him, and he wanted me. We had sex. End of story.
He said we would finish what we started in the kitchen…but I think it’s best we leave it and keep our distance.
He looks at me in such a way that leaves me completely stunned; a way I have never witnessed even once.
Maybe in how Morrigan and her husband look at each other, but even then…it’s so different. Their love seems tame; content. When I look into Grave’s eyes, I see storms of deeper emotion.
It’s unrivaled, and I didn’t even glimpse that in my ex, who was obsessed with me.
In the short span that Grave was buried inside me and holding me in one of the most intimate ways possible, yearning raged in his gray depths like a hurricane.
And I’m almost positive it wasn’t just about lust. The way he fucked me was far too possessive.
But maybe that’s just how he is: all in, with everything.
My mood continues to plummet the longer I lie there and think about him. I know virtually nothing about the man. Not his name, nor his persona.
He could look at every female like he looks at me.
I could even go as far as to think he’s fucked some woman in the same spot on that counter downstairs.
Another groan is wrenched from my chest, and I pull a pillow over my head. All this thinking is giving me a migraine.
My brain feels full, like I’m tired and just lifting my head will cause some type of internal bleeding or mass aneurysm.
One idle peek at the bedside clock says it’s just past four in the afternoon. I heard the guys leave on their bikes a little while ago, so it’s a perfect time to nap.
I don’t have to do a damn thing until later tonight. Work, and then put Slayer’s offer to use and get my things from the hotel.
The room is dark aside from the slightest hint of dusk that shines through the window when I feel the empty side of my bed dip in. Heavy arms pull me into a hard, warm body.
After having Slayer drive me to the hotel down the road, I came back to my room and lounged restlessly.
Apart from the more pressing worries in my mind are those thoughts of the man now holding me once again.
Who is he? Is he insane? Why are his eyes so damn entrancing?
And is it a habit of his to sleep with women he just met?
God. Those questions will pan out wonderfully. I suppose I could start with the basic one most people figure out if they stop to actually introduce themselves before sex.
I turn in his arms so that I can meet his gaze and ask, “What’s your name?”
His gray eyes bore into me, one of his brows tensed in a confused manner. “G—”
“Your real name,” I clarify.
His lips twitch, and he then mouths slowly, “G-a-r-r-e-t-t.”
“Oh,” I mumble in response. Hearing his name isn’t as lust-provoking as I thought it would be. And maybe it’s because I was first introduced to Grave that I think it doesn’t fit him.
I try to imagine a time before now that it might have as I look at him.
To me, that means he has a past. Like everyone. Like me. But something tells me that his is more…lonely; shattering. And it’s all raging in his eyes.
“Don’t,” Grave mutters, his thumb brushing over my downturned lips. His features are guarded now, eyes less expressive.
In my imagination, Garrett smiled. He was vulnerable, and his eyes weren’t filled with shadows. I want to know how they got there.
“When did you become Grave?”
His thumb moves along my jaw as he traces my face. “I joined the Reapers when I was nineteen.”
I catch his hand in mine and ask more carefully, “Why did you become Grave?”
He stills, and his eyes churn with a devastating darkness. They clear up about as fast as he focuses on mine.
“When did you become Sissy?”
“When I came here,” I reply, confused. “You were there when Silver picked my name.”
Grave shakes his head. “Sissy is who you are.” One of his large hands rests against my left breast, over my heart. “Silver didn’t just give you a name.
“He gives everyone a club name that means something. He sees into you.” He chuckles to himself. “We are Reapers after all.”
I smile up at him and decide not to press about his past any further.
The smile on his lips is too precious. Somewhat stiff, like he doesn’t do it often, but still stunning upon his features.
“What name would you have picked for me then?” I ask instead.
He looks straight at me and states, “Nothing.”
“Why does that not surprise me…?”
Grave’s head dips just as my eyes roam down to his lips. He captures mine with his, and the force of the kiss makes me gasp.
He pulls back and looks at me with that dark gaze that has me hot all over. I remain still, in wait of his next move.
“I said we would finish what we started, Celia,” he reminds me as his hand fists the hair at the back of my head.
Starting from anticipation to the need to see his naked form before me, my desire turns to an ache to feel him buried inside me again.
“Now is a good time,” I whisper, and his lips come crashing against mine again, the weight of his large body pinning me against the bed.
I moan at the feel of him pressed against me—every hard, masculine inch. He feels so good.
“I need to make one thing very clear,” Grave suddenly says, his fist curled tight in my hair and his lips hovering above mine, tantalizingly close.
I can’t think about anything but them and the thick erection straining against me.
“You’re mine. From here on out, you’re mine.”
Grave’s rough palm cups my right breast, and his mouth descends upon it, sucking my nipple through the fabric of my shirt until it’s aching and sending currents of pleasure straight to the apex of my thighs.
“Grave,” I gasp, writhing beneath him in search of his hard cock to sate the hollow ache in my pussy. The hand that isn’t already pleasuring me begins to pull down my sweats.
With the way I’m feeling now—delirious, wanton, burning with need—and how my body responds as soon as his fingertips brush against my folds, I was his from the moment we made eye contact.
I don’t protest against his claim like I decided I would earlier. I let myself feel what I do in this moment and fucking love it.
Cool air clashes with my heated skin as Grave finally relieves me of my pants.
“Your pussy is fucking magnificent,” he growls, and with his big hands, he pushes my knees apart and fits his broad shoulders between them.
I watch almost breathlessly as his face descends on my hot center. I’m so wet for him, ready, and even though I can’t see his face completely, I know he can see it by now.
His dark, disheveled hair and the sight of his brawny form there has me growing wetter right in front of his eyes.
He groans, throaty and like he’s being tortured by the sight, and closes the distance between my pussy and his mouth.
He sucks my throbbing clit, and I thrash from the sheer ecstasy of sensations running on a never-ending current throughout my body.
“Oh, fuck…yes!” I cry as long, hard licks rain on my clit just after.
My back bows off the bed as I try to ease the intensity of the pleasure he’s causing. It’s so good it almost hurts.
The moment my pussy moves within an inch from his mouth and I can finally breathe, Grave grabs my hips and wrenches them down as he reconnects us.
He growls like an animal who just got his favorite chew toy stolen.
“Fuck,” I pant, my palm slamming against his head harder than intended as I slide my fingers through his hair.
The pressure between my thighs grows to fretful heights, and I can’t do anything but ride out the sensations as they bring me higher and higher on his sinful tongue.
Just when my thighs are beginning to tremble and the sounds out of my mouth garble into nonsense, Grave’s attention delves lower and flicks a place no other has dared.
Fuck, it’s hot.
His fingers spread my folds, and he starts strumming my clit in a breath-stealing rhythm.
“Have you ever had a man here, Celia?” he asks, lifting his head to look at me.
One of his fingers prods at my back hole, teasing me with shallow thrusts, while he continues to circle my clit.
I jerk against him and gasp once that finger stops teasing and pushes past the tight ring of my ass.
“No,” I finally answer in a whimper. I struggle to keep my eyes open as I take in the erotic sight of my desire shining on his lips.
Grave’s expression darkens, and he pushes a thick index finger into my pussy. The dual penetration drives me wild; I let out a cry and thrust against his touch for more.
He keeps up a slow, torturous rhythm.
“More. Please,” I moan.
His mouth returns to my clit in compliance.
I see stars as he sucks in the bundle of nerves and lashes at it just as slowly as the fingers inside me move. God, he’s trying to drive me insane with need.
Another thick finger presses deep inside my pussy, and I gasp at the new sensations; the new stretch.
“Grave, oh, god, Grave, don’t stop!”
“Never,” he groans against my clit.
I begin to ride his fingers with new urgency, seeking out an orgasm I know I’m going to feel all the way down to the tips of my toes.
“Yes,” I mewl as he nibbles at my aching bud. I’m so close; so fucking ready to cum.
Another finger pushes into my ass and wrenches a ragged cry from me.
I thought the sensations before felt good. Now? Fucking fuck, this man…
I moan at how amazing it feels to have his fingers stretching me; to have his tongue on my pussy and his big body wedged between my legs.
It isn’t long before I’m shaking, clenching around him, and preparing for the crash of an orgasm.
The fullness feels so good. “So good,” I moan in agreement with my thoughts.
All at once, my body starts to burn with pleasure, my thighs start to tremble and close around Grave, and—
He pulls away.
His fingers disappear from inside me along with my orgasm, and I could cry from the frustration of it.
I gasp and sit up on my elbows to look down at him. “What the hell?”
His stormy eyes meet mine, and his lips settle into a grin. He thought that was funny?
I pull my knees up and try to close them, but Grave thinks ahead and grabs hold of them, spreading them back apart and diving for my clit.
“Ahh!” I cry out, falling back against the bed and shaking as he nips at the sensitive spot.
He lifts his mouth again to say, “We have all night, beautiful.” And then he’s back to lapping at my clit.
I almost break into pieces when his tongue dips into my pussy. “Grave, yes,” I moan. I thrust my hips into him, desperate for more.
He doesn’t disappoint. I wind my fingers through his hair and tug him closer as he drives his tongue into my channel.
The need and desperation to cum hits me at full force all over again once three fingers yet again replace his tongue.
I choke on a moan and demand, “Do not stop that.”
In answer, his digits curl inside me. I shudder and pant uncontrollably.
The heat in my lower stomach starts to rise with the tension between my legs. I tighten my thighs around Grave’s head again, uncaring that I’m probably hurting him.
He chuckles against my pussy—even that feels so fucking amazing—and then pries my thighs apart effortlessly with his big hands.
“No, no, no,” I cry when his tongue slows again.
He sucks my clit back into his mouth with so much more pressure I practically scream.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Yes, Grave!”
A harsh ring cuts through the air, and the biker between my legs jerks away, taking my orgasm with him…once again.
I. Was. So. Damn. Close.
Frustration wells up inside me to the point that tears prick at my eyes. Grave answers his phone.
“Yeah,” he says into the line. His gray eyes squint as he concentrates, and I feel completely forgotten.
I watch as his features tighten through the conversation he’s having, then they slowly relax.
I close my eyes and struggle not to squirm in irritation. With every passing second he is on the phone, I grow angrier.
Until I remember that I have two capable hands of my own that haven’t let me down thus far.
Using my left hand to play with my breast, I let the other trail down and between the soaked lips of my pussy.
As I circle my clit, I think about how this moment should be going and drown out Grave’s voice as he talks on the phone.
He would have licked my pussy without pause. He would have let me cum all over his glorious tongue. And then he would have crawled up my body, covered me with his large self, and thrust his big co—
A loud moan slips out of me as my body begins to shake with ecstasy.
I writhe in pleasure, completely forgetting about the man just inches away while I rub my slick pussy through the intensity of my orgasm.
It’s when the silence aside from my heavy breathing becomes evident, I realize I have a spectator. I meet Grave’s cool gaze and gasp at the amount of lust I see in it.
The phone is still at his ear. He mutters a response to whoever but keeps his focus on me. And then on where my hand rests against my sex.
His jaw clenches hard enough to make the muscles on either side visibly tense.
“Grave?” I gasp, rocking my hips forward as his hand moves up my thigh and those thick fingers brush against my labia.
I’m rewarded with an urge-filled grunt in response, and the rough pad of his thumb against my clit. I cry out his name, nearly coming undone all over again.
“Don’t worry about it,” he mutters. It takes a second for me to figure out that he’s talking into the phone.
I meet his stormy gaze and whimper as his thumb begins to circle. I cover my mouth with the back of my hand.
The ache at the junction of my thighs gets stronger. Stronger. Stronger.
It’s a short-lived feeling because, without warning, Grave slides three broad fingers inside my pussy. He’s deep enough that the hard press of his knuckles teases my entrance.
Deep enough to make my walls quiver.
Just right when he curls those digits forward and makes me come hard.
My sex clamps hard, refusing to let them retreat, as a second forceful high sweeps through me. I moan into my hand and look into Grave’s stormy eyes through every scorching wave.
My legs shake for what feels like forever.
I ride his hand until it begins all over again.
With the phone still against his ear, Grave continues to thrust his fingers into me.
“Grave,” I moan in satisfaction as I tremble through the final orgasm that pushes me into a blissful state of rest.
