Page 38 of Roaring Flames

Just before I can fall over the edge, Grayson pulls away and grins up at me.

I growl at him.

“What?” he asks innocently. “Did you want something, sweetheart?”

“I will castrate you if you don’t let me come,” I warn.

And I’m not even sure I’m joking. I don’t need a dick to get off, after all. His fingers will suffice.

“Is that so?” As Grayson speaks, he stands and pushes down his dark jeans. His thick cock springs free instantly, already dripping with precum.

I rub my thighs together to help alleviate the all-consuming ache there.

“Do you always go commando?” I ask, feasting on the sight of a naked Grayson.

His cock is long and veiny with a mushroom tip. I wonder what it would feel like in my hand—all of that silky skin over solid muscle.

I’ve given my fair share of blow jobs and hand jobs over the years, but it’s never been something I was particularly interested in. It felt more like a job to me than anything else. Half the time, it was the only way I could convince a guy to go down on me.

But with Grayson, I want nothing more than to touch him. Taste him. Run my tongue over the crown of his dick.

“Your mouth’s watering a little bit,” Grayson says teasingly.

I scoff indignantly and cross my arms over my chest like a brat. This draws Grayson’s attention to my breasts, and his eyes heat and darken.

“Can you blame me? You have a pretty cock.”

“A pretty cock.” One of his brows quirks. He begins to stalk towards me like a predator approaching prey. I feel like an innocent little bunny about to be devoured by a…wolf. “My cockisn’tpretty.”

“Is that too feminine of a word for you?” I tease. “Would you like me to say it’s a manly cock?”

“A sexy cock will suffice.”

“A handsome cock?”

He moves another step closer. “You’re being a brat, Izzy.”

“I’m always a brat—” My words break off and turn into a giggle when he pounces on me, tickling my sides. “Grayson!”

He continues to move his fingers over my sides, playing my body the way he would a piano, and my laughing gradually subsides when I feel something hot and needy against my core.

This time, when I say his name, it’s rife with desperation. “Grayson…”

He holds himself over me, his forearms on either side of my head, and whispers, “Are you ready for me, baby?”

In response, I pull his lips to mine while simultaneously jerking my hips up. His cock brushes against my pussy before slowly sinking inside, inch by inch.

He’s big—bigger than most of the guys I’ve been with before—but I can’t help but think he fits inside of me perfectly.

Like he was made for me.

“Fuck!” He drops his forehead against my shoulder as he stills inside of me. “You feel fucking amazing. Better than I imagined.”

“Move,” I beg, once again thrusting my hips.

Grayson doesn’t need me to tell him twice.

He fucks me against the bed the same way he kissed me—like he wants to consume me, own me, possess me. It’s a wild and desperate type of claiming, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Not after all this time. Not after years ofyearning—a yearning I once believed to be unreciprocated.

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