Page 36 of The Pucking Grump

She looks . . . glorious. She’s hairless, slick, wet, and dripping, her lips full and pink. She’s insanely perfect.

“Why,” I choke out, “are you intent on playing a game when you want me this bad?” I swipe a finger down her labia, and she squirms in my grasp.

“Because it’s more fun,” she says, sounding breathless, like she’s desperate for me to touch her again.

With a groan that sends birds scampering off tree branches around us, I finally push into her. The first feel of her slick walls contracting around me sends me out of this universe and into a place I’ve never been before.

I don’t know this feeling, but I know it’s the best. Take it from a man who’s had his fair share of women and then some.

Faye, for her part, lets out a scream that only serves to deepen my enjoyment. She sounds like it’s as good for her as it is for me, like this is the first time she’s feeling like this. It’s hard to believe that her moron ex has let her go. I slam into her again and again, unable to be gentle or patient.

She writhes, pushing back against me. Reaching forward, I cup her breasts with my palms, fondling her nipples as I continue to fuck her. She surrenders, gasping for breath, giving me complete control.

I’ve never enjoyed anything—or anyone—quite this much.

Perhaps that’s why, in less than five minutes, my breath is catching, warning me that I’m about to come. Faye’s moans are getting louder too, and I know I’m about to push her over the edge.

If it were any other girl, I’d pull out and beat myself against her ass until I came. But my attraction to Faye is so strong that I can’t even imagine not spilling myself inside of her and marking her as mine.

My climax is intense, taking me by surprise. I bend over, pleasure skyrocketing as I come in quick, short bursts while her walls contract, milking every last drop from me. I hold on to her even as the sensation recedes, reveling in the feel of her squeezing and twitching as her orgasm drags on.

And now I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to let her go.

13

PAPARAZZI PURSUIT

Istand on my tiptoes and pull open the cupboards hanging over the kitchen sink. Except for a cockroach that scurries into the darkest corner once I spy it, there’s nothing in there. I open another cabinet, then the one beside the dishwasher. Nothing there either.

“Don’t look so surprised.”

I jump and turn around, my heart already banging in my chest. I know who it is. How could I not? We’ve lived together for the past week, and for the last three days—I swallow hard in almost-embarrassment—we’ve been fucking nonstop.

Like, literally all the time. The kind of continuous sex that leaves my vagina sore and the insides of my thighs aching, but also the kind that I can’t do without. We’ve done it in bed, on the kitchen counter, in the lake, on the bank of the lake again, on the kitchen table, on the ground, up against the walls . . .

It’s more sex than I’ve ever had. And it also feels better than anything else I’ve done my whole life.

Blake is shirtless, and even now, my mouth goes dry when I see his broad, hairless chest spread out like a smooth canvas in front of me. I look down at my body, clothed in one of his shirts, which is so large that the cuffs stop inches below the tips of my fingers.

“You won’t find anything there. Obviously.” His gaze is dark and expressionless, as usual. Nothing about the way he speaks to me or looks at me has changed. Except for when he’s thrusting into me and the tight way he holds me, I could sometimes be fooled into thinking that he still doesn’t want me around.

Maybe he really is incapable of arranging his face into a smile.

“We’ve run through all our supplies. After we finished that last bit of Nutella . . .”

There’s a glimmer in his eyes that tells me he’s thinking the same thing I am.

Last night, just hours ago, I walked up to Blake while he was reading in bed. He put his book down and watched me as I smeared the chocolate spread over my nipples. He pounced at me like an angry lion.

Spending time with Blake emboldens me to try things I would have never considered with Ben, not even in the wildest of my daydreams. I love discovering this new version of myself. Yet, fully embracing my new identity will take some time.

“We’ve got to go into town, then,” I say, kicking the cupboard beside the dishwasher shut.

Blake’s eyes narrow. “I,” he corrects. “I have to go into town. But then I’d have to leave you for half an hour, and I really don’t want to do that right now.” He walks up to me and places his hands on my hips, pulling me into him and letting me feel his hardness.

I pull away, shaking my head. I’ve been mentally preparing for this conversation for days now.

“I don’t want to be locked up here all the time.”

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