Текст книги "Sudden Desires"

Автор книги: Shanora Williams

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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 11 страниц)

FIFTEEN

Colette

Griffin went to lunch with my father. Explains why he’s come back in such a dull mood, looking at me from the door.

Yeah, I notice. He’s even more slumped than he was when he left. I refuse to see my Dad. He’s an asshole, always comparing me to my oh-so-perfect older sister Beth.

Beth Jenkins, the business bitch. The one who knows her politics, how to cut a deal, and let’s not forget the way she wraps herself around Dad’s finger. I don’t care for any of it. But because my mind is a touch more creative than theirs, I’m the weird one.

Whatever.

Mom is the only one who has never minded it, though she does worry a lot about me in general. Speaking of, I should really give her a call. Pry for some dirt on Beth. Mom never holds back, and I love hearing that Beth struggles, probably even more than I do.

Griffin’s arms fold across his chest, and before he can speak, I say, “The Potters are coming over for dinner tonight. Arianna and her sister will be cooking for us.”

His eyebrows pull together. “Tonight?”

“Yes.” I glance over my canvas. “Is that a problem?”

“Yes, it is. I have some things to take care of at work. I’ll probably be there all night.”

I frown. “Things like what?”

“Work stuff. Mr. Jenkins wants the rest of my reports tonight. I have to finalize the rest before having Kelly send them all off.”

I narrow my eyes, halting on my next brushstroke and squeezing the wooden handle. “And you can’t do that down the hallway in your home office?”

“My files are at my real office. I shouldn’t have to explain this to you. It’s work. I have to get it done.” He turns and walks away and I drop my brush, rushing for him as he gets to the bedroom.

“Griffin, are you fucking serious? You cannot leave me to have dinner alone with the Potters! God, I hate them so much! All they do is brag about what they have, like we can’t acquire the same exact shit!”

He pulls down his overnight bag. “Well, cancel the dinner then. Reschedule. Something.”

I release an exasperated breath, stepping around him. “I can’t just cancel now, Griffin. This was planned since last month. I told you about this.”

“Well, my job is much more important than dinner with the Potter’s, Colette.” He sighs, turning around to face me. He looks me over, my body smothered in different colored paint.

I know I should be getting ready, showering away this mess, but I’m just like him. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to do dinner. I don’t want to force smiles or indulge in their bullshit lives.

I just want to be left alone.

Why does this have to be my life now? Pretending to be someone I’m not. I refuse to stay alone here with them. If I cancel, they will wonder what’s going on. They will pry and snoop and I can’t have that.

I can’t have anyone thinking we don’t keep our word or we are having issues. Not after all they know. I need Griffin here, and if manipulating him into it will do the trick, then so be it.

My breathing thickens as I unbutton my blouse and then my jeans.

He watches me with hard, confused eyes. “Colette, what are you doing?” One of his brows is quirked, and he steps back as I walk forward.

When my paint-stained shirt is tossed aside and Griffin’s back is against the wall, I press my chest against his, point my face up, and kiss his lips. He doesn’t kiss me back.

It’s been a while since we’ve done this whole mouth-to-mouth thing. I don’t expect him to. It’s been so long since I’ve done something like this with him, all so that I can get things to go my way.

So I make up a quick lie, some bullshit pill I know he will swallow. “I feel like you’re still mad at me about that whole San Diego flight thing.” I reach behind me and unlatch the hook of my bra. It falls, hitting the carpet. “I just wanted you home, Griffin. Is that so bad?”

His face is still solid, eyes dropping to the breasts that are now on full display. “I’m not. It’s fine.” His voice is tight, like he wants to say more but needs to control himself.

“No,” I breathe, running my hand down his toned arm. “You aren’t fine. Let me make it up to you.”

“You’ve never made shit up for me, Colette. Why do you want to now?”

“Because I need you to stay… at least for dinner. For me. Please,” I beg. God, I’m so good at this. I should win a fucking Emmy award.

Griffin looks me over, falling for my pleading doe eyes. He’s too weak. Too kind. He can never say no to me, not during times like this, when his cock is hardening and my naked body is so close to his.

Finally exhaling through parted lips, he rakes his fingers through his hair and shrugs. “Fine. Whatever.”

It isn’t enough. I need him to be enthusiastic about this. I need him to pretend to be jolly during dinner, not make it seem like we are having issues in our marriage.

We have to look perfect. We must. We have no choice of the matter. It seems now that Griffin has given up on me, and if he has, he will not care how he acts during dinner just as long as he gets it over with.

So, gradually, I run my palm down his chest and sink to my knees. I position my face in front of his crotch, and when I look up, he’s staring down at me with hot, whiskey eyes.

He doesn’t speak. He just waits. I bet he thinks that I won’t do it.

Well, I’m about to prove him wrong.

I unbuckle his belt, unbutton his slacks, and once his briefs are yanked down, my mouth closes around the smoothed head of his cock.

I take him in, inch by inch, his groan filling the room, the back of his head bumping against the wall.

He loves this. Always has. Griffin loves getting head. I mean, what man doesn’t? I’m pretty sure he enjoys this more than fucking sometimes.

His hand palms the back of my skull, and he pushes himself further into my mouth.

He is deep in my throat, and I gag, trying to pull back, but he doesn’t allow it.

He’s all in, and it hurts, but I don’t care right now.

As long as he stays.

As long as he doesn’t consider leaving.

My eyes flicker up to his, and when I realize that this is what he wants, to see me like this—owning me, finally controlling some part of me—I can’t help but feel myself clench with neediness.

He wants to see me suffer, my throat lodged around his thick, hard cock, and somehow that turns me the hell on.

Griffin… Griffin has never wanted to see me in pain. But right now, I’m sure he’s enjoying this.

Every bit of it.

He finally allows me some air, his hand easing up in my hair, but I don’t stay away for long. I slurp him back in, gagging so hard spit builds up and spills down the corners of my mouth.

He grunts and groans, fisting my hair, his hips thrusting.

And soon, he’s fucking the shit out of my mouth, my hands on his hips, pleased by it all. His body moves fluidly. I can feel his upper half tensing through his shirt.

Every single part of him is begging to be released, and when he finally does, I go still, trapping his entire cock deep in my throat.

His piping hot cum spills down, and I swallow as much as I can, still gagging. Still reeling. He spasms and curses beneath his breath.

“Ah, my sweet fucking angel,” he groans, and I beam around his twitching cock.

Wow.

He’s never called me that before.

Sweet angel. I must have just given some heavenly head.

I guess I am good at what I do.

Finally releasing me, I sit back, drawing in heavy breaths as I peer up at him. He’s looking down, studying my face, tucking his limp cock back into his boxers and yanking his slacks up.

“I’ll stay for an hour—hour and a half max, but that’s it. When I leave, they are your problem.” He steps around me, grabbing one of his suits out of the closet. Bringing it back to the bed, he lays it flat and says, “And stop planning fucking dinners here, Colette. I hate pretending to be something we both know we aren’t.”

“Yeah,” I breathe, pushing to a stand. “I fucking hate it too, Griffin. Just get dressed,” I mutter, making my way to the bathroom. “I’m going to clean myself up.”

I slam the door behind me, hearing him grumble beneath his breath.

He still despises me, but shouldn’t he feel good about knowing he can still control me in some sort of way?

That was… rare for the both of us, and still nothing has really changed.

Well, actually I take that back. Something has changed. When I look into the mirror, I realize I’m smiling.

I’m smiling because for the first time ever, after years of receiving his pity, Griffin hate-fucked me. He pummeled my mouth. Almost obliterated my throat with that rather large cock of his.

He proved that, in this, I wasn’t alone.

That I wasn’t the only one just going with the motions.

The only one that needed pleasure in all the worst ways.

God, that was so hot and, fuck me, I think I now want more of the husband I loathe.

SIXTEEN

Griffin

Dinner with the Potters is inane.

All Jacob Potter talks about are his investments and how they “saved his dealership from going bankrupt.” I call straight bullshit on that one, but I bite my tongue anyway.

Oh, and I can’t forget Missy Potter. All she can talk about is her plastic surgery. I love a pair of tits, but silicone has never done it for me.

“I’m telling you,” she hisses across the table to Colette like we can’t hear her. “The surgeon I went to is great. He even cut me a deal. I bet if I put a word in he’ll cut you one too.”

Colette’s mouth barely tilts. She doesn’t care. She’s not pleased either, especially by the way Missy looks her over as if she doesn’t have enough for a man or even a woman to look at.

I start to say something, but Colette speaks. “I think I am just fine with my body, Missy, but thank you.” I can tell she’s trying her best to avoid a clipped tone and clenched teeth.

Missy shrugs. “Suit yourself. It never hurts to keep it together.”

Me and Colette frown. “Exactly what are you implying, Missy?” I ask, sitting forward and meeting her eyes.

Hers swing to mine, bewildered. “Nothing at all!” she practically sings. “I just—well, I know Jacob loves my body even more now ever since the surgery. Men love being able to grab onto something, you know?” She forces a laugh, one that makes my skin crawl.

I glance at Colette and she’s squeezing the handle of her fork, but her face remains even. She’s going to burst any second now.

“Honey, why don’t you have Arianna get the cake, huh?”

She whips her head up to look up at me—probably because I haven’t called her that name in ages—and I reach for her hand, easing her off the fork before she ends up springing across the table and stabbing Missy in the neck with it.

“Yeah,” she breathes, dropping the fork and pushing out of her chair. “I’ll tell her.” Colette marches away in her stilettos, the anger clear in the swing of her hips.

Sighing, I look from Colette as she makes it to the kitchen, to Jacob who shrugs and picks up his glass of wine, and then at Missy.

Missy is looking in the direction Colette took off too, shaking her head with disapproval.

All right. So my wife may get on my fucking nerves, but I’ll be damned if I allow this plastic bitch to disrespect her or me under my fucking roof. Grabbing my glass of wine, I lean back in my chair and study Missy.

She’s completely artificial and it’s fucking hideous. Her face full of Botox. At least Colette still has that glow, her face free of wrinkles, skin clear and still youthful.

“Once we have the cake,” I say, my eyes boring into Missy, “you two can leave. No need for goodbyes.”

Missy finally looks up, but I don’t pull away. Through my peripheral I spot Jacob adjusting in his chair uncomfortably. “Griffin? Everything okay?”

“I don’t know,” I snap, pointing my gaze on him. “Are you going to control your wife, or do I need to put the leash on her?”

He lets out a hoarse laugh, looking between Missy and me who is now shocked. He thinks I’m joking, but when he takes note of my serious tone, my solid face, he straightens up. “I—I don’t get what you mean…?”

“Oh, get the fuck out of here with the bullshit, Jake. We all know why you come here for dinner– why you plan these monthly visits. You are not joining my business. I would never even consider hiring you. You’re lazy, you gamble, and you would be a huge fucking liability.”

They gasp, looking at each other with broad eyes before looking at me. I push out of my chair and step back with my wine of glass in hand. When I said I was taking my life back, I meant it. I’m done with these phoney dinners and bullshit smiles. I’m tired of people trying to use me to their advantage. This is my life, and the first ones to go are the full-of-shit-Potters.

“You know what, actually, no cake for either of you. How about you just get the fuck out of my house now? That would make my night so much better.”

They are stuck in their seats, so flabbergasted. So floored. I guess I would be, too, considering I’m usually the levelheaded one in this relationship, but not anymore. They’re only wasting my time. I’ve gotten three calls from my angel and I’d much rather be there than here right now.

“Griffin, I didn’t mean any disrespect—”

“I’m sure you meant all the disrespect in the world, Missy.” My voice is even. Careful. I walk around the table and meet at the exit of the dining room. I extend an arm and gesture in the direction of the front door. “You two can leave now.”

They are quick to get up, looking at one another, Jake angry as he looks at me and Missy confused. They are hesitant to walk by me, but they do anyway, glancing over their shoulders as they trip over one another to get down the hallway.

They make it to the front door and pull it open, Missy staggering out first. Jake follows closely behind her, but he turns just as quickly, looking at me. “Griffin, I’m really sorry for Missy’s behavior. I don’t want you to think of her and think any less of me.”

I exhale impatiently, looking him over as I grip the doorknob. “Control your wife, Jake. Stop letting her spend so much of your fucking money. You seriously wonder how you keep getting in debt? Well there’s your reason, right there.” I point over his shoulder at Missy who is waiting by their car, applying lipstick.

He looks over his shoulder. “If I get rid of her, you think I can come work with you?”

I give him a dull look, step back, and slam the door in his face. I don’t have time for his nonsense. Marching down the corridor to get to the dining room again, I find Colette sitting at the table, staring ahead at her slice of coconut cake.

“You kicked them out?” She lifts her head to look at me.

“I’m sure they won’t be planning another dinner with us ever again.”

“Yeah.” She laughs. “I heard pretty much everything you told them.” Her eyes thin up at me. “That isn’t… well, Missy? You don’t want me to look anything like her, do you?”

“Colette, no. You’re fine the way you are.”

“I know, but… shit.” She waves it off. “I don’t know.” Silence settles in the dining room and for the first time in forever I feel sorry for her. Of course, after only five seconds, she makes me regret feeling anything at all because she waves a hand in the air, head shaking. “You know what? I don’t really give a shit. Just get rid of this cake.” She gestures to the table, her nose scrunched with disgust. “Go to work. Do whatever you need to do. The dinner is over with. You cleared your deal with me. Just get out of my face.”

She pushes up out of her chair and I watch her walk around me. Now I’m confused, brows sewn together as she clomps her way up the stairs. I hear a door slam, and I shut my eyes, exhaling again as I drop my arms.

I swear I will never understand that fucking woman. And right now I don’t plan on it.

I walk up the stairs. She’s not in the bedroom because the door is still open. That means she’s in her study.

I collect my bag and pull out my cellphone. I was supposed to meet Angelina at The Swan two hours ago. I haven’t responded to her missed calls.

I’m sure she’s upset, probably thinks I’m bailing on her.

Maybe I’ll keep having her think that and surprise her. Yeah, I’ll do that.

I check my emails, the one with her room information, and I thank God she sent it.

I need an outlet. Some real release. I need out of this house, away from reality. Who better to escape it with than a woman that wants every single inch of me?

SEVENTEEN

Angelina

I’ve called Griffin five times since landing in Miami.

Jesus. I never do that, but there is a logical explanation. I have been eager to see him ever since we left each other in San Diego. Isn’t that terrible?

Like now.

I am staring down at my cellphone on the bathroom counter, debating whether I should even bother freshening up.

What if he doesn’t show? I’m sure he’ll have some excuse, and no matter how believable it is I will still be disappointed.

Nothing beats wanting someone so badly you fall victim for every thought, every whim, and every ache they conjure up within you.

I sigh, looking up at the mirror. My hair is beautifully straightened thanks to my hairdresser Naomi back in New Mexico. Funny because she asked me why I wanted it straightened this time instead of my regular loose curls.

I couldn’t fight the grin that swept across my mouth, and when she caught it through my reflection in the mirror, she laughed and said, “Ohh! Now I see!” She giggled as I did. “Let’s get you looking irresistible, then, hot mama.”

It felt nice to share some girl talk. With all the business I’ve been doing with these uptight men lately it felt good to indulge and brag about my personal plans. I usually do it with Jackie.

I told Naomi all about Griffin—well, I didn’t tell her his name or anything exactly—and she was intrigued. Not only that, but as always, she made sure to make my hair as beautiful and as silky as possible. I also didn’t tell her he was a married man. I didn’t need my reputation ruined for that.

I am no one’s mistress.

But… I know I’m lying to myself.

Apparently I’m Griffin Boyd’s mistress because, here I am, waiting in a hotel for this married man. Waiting for him to sneak his way here and fuck me.

Because that’s all this is. Fucking.

I decide to do myself up anyway. If he doesn’t show, I’ll just carry my workaholic ass down to the hotel bar and have a few, let loose for a while.

Griff made some promises, but stopping by because I decided to show up randomly was not one of them.

He’s probably busy. I guess I can’t blame him if he doesn’t.

So, I take care of myself, grooming my hair, even though it doesn’t need it, brushing my teeth, applying some makeup, and then dressing in a tan and black halter-top dress and open-toe, red bottomed Louboutins.

I look at the mirror when I’m done, my lipstick matching the bottoms of my shoes.

A smile creeps to my lips.

Good enough.

Hmm… maybe I won’t just get a drink at the bar. Maybe I’ll catch a cab and go to a chill nightclub with a comfortable VIP section. It’s not hard for me to make friends, catch a couple of free drinks here and there from some cute guy.

I walk to the bathroom and grab my iPhone, checking it once more.

Nothing.

I can’t lie and say I’m not upset because deep down I am. But being upset means I’m caring too much and I can’t afford to let myself get out of hand like I did our first night together. I refuse.

Grabbing my gold wallet-clutch, I safely tuck my phone into it and just as I grab my room key to store it, a knock sounds at my door.

My heartbeat accelerates, my head whipping to the right. My throat thickens, and this warm, fuzzy feeling swarms my entire body because I know exactly who it is.

There is only one person who knows where I am right now. Not even Scott knows. As I make my way across the room, peeking through the peephole, I am correct.

Griffin Boyd stands behind my door, the collar of his shirt undone, his hair messy and beautiful. He’s looking down at the floor, and his shoulders drop when he sighs, as if he’s finally glad to be here—away from whatever stressed him out.

The stress visibly slips off his shoulders. He really wants to be here. I can’t keep him waiting.

I unlock the door and swing it open, and as soon as I do his hard, brown eyes run down my body, head to toe. He stands up straight, and his tongue gradually runs across his lips. When he finally locks eyes with me, I can’t help but smile.

Here he is.

In the flesh, eager to be around me.

Eager, I know, because he wastes no time stepping towards me and reeling me into his arms, crushing my lips with zealous heat. I moan behind the kiss, caught completely off guard by his suddenness.

Nevertheless, I sink into him, my delicate body molding with the solid contours of his. His hand immediately cups my ass, the other slamming the door behind us.

Slowly, he walks forward, my feet scampering backwards in my heels, until the backs of my legs hit the edge of the bed and he lands on top of me. It’s quick and so fucking hot. His lips never pull away from mine, not even for a second.

For a split moment, I have the urge to ask him what the hold up was—why he made me wait and didn’t bother calling me back—but then I realize that doesn’t matter anymore. It doesn’t matter because he’s here now, ready to fulfill my every desire.

“Where did you think you were going?” he asks gruffly, clutching my face tighter in his hands.

“Thought you weren’t coming,” I breathe as his lips skim my jawline and trail down to the hollow of my neck. “I wanted a drink… or three.” I smile at my statement and he comes back up, looking me in the eyes.

“That’s funny?”

“I think so.”

“I was coming.”

“You took forever.”

“I had… things to take care of.” He pulls back, perched on one elbow.

“Like what?”

He blinks, but doesn’t respond, and when he doesn’t I realize the exact reason why. He made a promise not to say her name—not to mention her around me. He can’t even say it. So I know.

“Your wife.” I wiggle from beneath him and he draws away.

Rubbing his face, he says, “She had a dinner planned with this lowlife couple. Complete waste of my time.”

“If you knew it was going to be a waste of time, why did you stay?”

He shrugs. “She asked me to. It was either stay, or face sudden doom when I came back.”

“Oh.” I drop my head and laugh a bit. “So… less than a week ago you didn’t give a fuck anymore about how she made you feel, but now, you care? Sounds like something has changed since you got back home. Are you here to call it off with me?”

His eyes narrow, anger now present. “Do you think I would have even showed up if I wanted to call it off?”

“Well, you are a few hours late.”

He sighs, sliding in closer to my side. When he presses his lips together to smile, I realize I’m overreacting. “Don’t think too much, Angelina. Please.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, tucking my hair behind my ear. “You’re right. You’re so right. I’m thinking way too much about this.” But it doesn’t mean I will stop.

He reaches up to twist a few strands of my hair around his finger. “Your hair… it’s different.” His mouth twitches to smile. “I like it.”

“Yeah?”

“Did you do this for me?” he asks, studying my mane.

“Um, no,” I laugh, playfully swatting his hand away. “I just decided on something different.”

He shrugs one shoulder, his hand possessively clutching my upper thigh. “Doesn’t matter,” he mumbles. “Regardless, it’s going to get fucked up tonight.”

My sex clenches as I fight a smile. I can feel my nipples pebbling beneath my strapless bra, warmth running to my core. All arousal springs out of me as Griffin’s hand moves north on my thigh.

“Let’s get you out of this dress, huh?” he murmurs, grabbing the hem. “Get you comfortable.” His mouth comes to the bend of my neck and he kisses me there, so tenderly, so smoothly, I ache like never before. With ease, he pulls my dress over my head as I kick my heels off and as I sit with nothing but my strapless bra and panties on, he asks, “How bad do you want my cock, Angel? Hmm? How long have you ached for me to be inside your sweet pussy again?”

“I’ve been waiting for days, Griffin.”

“It’s only been seventy-two hours,” he chuckles.

“And with each one, I wanted you more and more.”

He tilts his head back, a smirk on his lips as he asks, “Really?” He cups one of my breasts, and one of his fingers curls beneath the padding to toy with my nipple.

“Yep,” I breathe.

“Funny, babe, because I’ve felt the exact same way.” Babe… that’s new. I like it. Griffin’s eyes fix on mine, and since I’m so sick of waiting, I make the first move.

I kiss him with my whole being, throwing my arms around the back of his neck and climbing on top of his lap.

He allows me to take charge for a max of thirty seconds, but then flips me over, his hard groin plunging between my legs, his hands clasping mine and securing them above my head.

“Take care of me,” I moan when our kiss finally breaks. “I need it. I’ve missed your cock so much.”

His lips spread, breaking into a smile as he releases my hands and I unbutton the rest of his shirt. He pulls me forward, sitting me up straight and reaching around me to unhook my bra.

And as he does, he’s placing sweet kisses on my shoulder, my collarbone, and my neck. His breath runs warm on my skin, fingers so firm yet so gentle.

I allow him to do as he wishes, because what he wants is always so fulfilling to me. “Still whatever I want, right?” he asks.

“Of course. Always.”

His cheek quirks up, and in no time I’m flipped onto my stomach. His hand comes to my ass and he spanks one of my cheeks.

I yelp and then sink my teeth into my lower lip, fire building in my chest. He groans, his fingers sneaking beneath the strap of my panties. He tugs them down, and then the bed dips.

I glance back, and he’s unbuckling his belt and undoing his slacks. He shrugs out of his shirt, revealing rock-hard abs I can’t help but admire.

His cock springs free once those briefs are gone, and my clit throbs at the sight of it. Hey boy, I think to myself. I remember you. How could I forget?

Eyes shifting up to Griffin’s, I smile at him, and as if he can read my mind—as if he knows I’m just as ready as he is—he climbs back on the bed, whispering, “Stay just like that, Angel.”

He grips my waist, slightly positioning my ass in the air so that my stomach is lifted only a little, right where he wants it, and then he hovers above me, one hand going outside my ribcage, while the other grips my throat and forces my head back.

My eyes are pointed up to the ceiling. After a while, I can’t see the ceiling because his whiskey eyes replace it, brewing and ready.

Then his mouth comes down hard on mine, and he smothers it, squeezing the base of my throat just a little tighter while his cock presses at my entrance from the back.

He kisses me so full and sweet that it takes me by total surprise when his cock sinks deep into my pussy. My mouth gapes, but he doesn’t draw away. He continues kissing, allowing my body to adjust to his massive size. And when I relax, I swear it is so fucking perfect.

Just what I wanted.

With deep, easy strokes, Griffin runs in and out of me, and I keep my hips in position for him, because I want to savor it all, each thick, valuable inch.

Not once does his mouth pull away from mine. I expect him to speak, to get me to talk, but he doesn’t. He’s wanted this badly—for days—and he’s proving it with this magical cock of his.

In and out, deep and long, body tensing above me, grip tighter around my throat. It’s so amazing—I can hardly breathe, I feel so smothered, so bombarded, and yet… I can still breathe. I still feel free.

He finally releases my throat, but it’s only to cup the right side of my face, fingers resting behind my ear. He turns my face in the direction of his, and kisses me.

Sweetly.

Wholly.

Passionately.

I quake when his body locks up behind me, and when he grunts, a mixture of a sigh and a moan spills through my lips because he’s close. And knowing he’s so close—knowing that my pussy is wringing him dry—I drop my head, clenching harder as his thick arm comes around my body and his fingers circle my swelling clit.

After the slow, torturous circles get me to breaking point, finally, I cum.

And he releases a small but heavy grunt. It’s deep, triggering constant spasms out of me. He keeps me as still as possible, making sure every single drop of his release shoots deep inside me.

I pulsate around his throbbing cock, his mouth catching mine again, and when he finally lets my face go, I drop my head, panting wildly, whimpering from the aftermath.

Not once did Griffin speak.

Not once did he demand anything out of me.

He took care of me.

It just… happened.

I promise you this time was even greater than the first. And all along I thought that the first time could never be outdone. Boy, was I wrong.

Now, all I can wonder is what the future will bring us. I can’t say I’m not further intrigued. After all, incredible sex will leave you no choice but to think that way.

I’m not sure when we fell asleep.

I want to say about three hours or so ago. Griffin’s arm is sprawled across my stomach, the right side of his face buried into one of the fluffy white pillows. My eyes are heavy—not much sleep happened for me—but I can’t help but admire his beauty.

There is a bit of stubble forming around his mouth and along his chiseled jawline. It makes him look more rugged. Sexier. As he breathes deeply, I have the sudden urge to touch it.

He’s so beautiful.

So handsome.

How can anyone not love him?

I mean, there must be a flaw. There has to be.

Though Griffin can be a little overconfident and more on the serious side than content (which is probably because of his personal life and the stress from his job), he is every woman’s dream. I have caught myself laughing at some of the things he’s said.

I’ve admired his beauty from up close and afar.

He has a body to die for, abs for days, slender, and not too bulky. Bare chest, strong legs, and a really, really nice cock. Long and surprisingly thick, actually. What woman can go wrong with that?

My finger traces the light stubble, the graininess treading along my soft fingertip. It feels nice. It’s been a while since I’ve been this close to a man. Like, right with him in the bed. With him right beside me, breathing on my skin, taking up my space.

I rather enjoy my space, but with Griffin Boyd I don’t mind sharing it at all.