Page 49 of The Grief We Hold

“I need to see you, Blue. Are you going to let me strip you and then lie there naked so I can see all of you? Or is that too far?”

God, how long have I wanted a man to speak to me like this.

The heavy throb in my clit tells me it isn’t anywhere close to enough. But I nod.

“Good girl.” He sits up and slides his Henley over my head. I barely notice the loss of warmth. He dips his fingers beneath the waistband of my panties, and it tickles as he moves across my stomach. He places a soft kiss just above the elastic before lowering them down my thighs to remove them.

“Can I see you too?” I ask. My voice is raspy, filled with need.

He rips the T-shirt he’s wearing over his head, revealing a chest as solid and firm as I imagined. Then he kneels up and shoves the pajamas over his hips. I can’t imagine how painful it must have been to tattoo his groin or the long black line on the underside of his penis, but it’s the metal that glints on either side of his cock that must have been most horrendous.

“Oh my God, is that a piercing?”

He palms his cock and grins. “It is. Is it going to be a problem?”

16

WRAITH

The look in her eyes tells me it won’t be an issue. Raven reaches out with tentative fingers and touches the apadravya piercing.

I suck in a breath, letting her take a minute for curious exploration.

I’m no psychologist or sex therapist, but it occurs to me that this is the first time I’ve desired someone in a long time.

I’m not talking wanting sexual release but feeling real bone-deep longing.

For what, I have no fucking clue. But something about this woman crosses my wires.

Instead of letting her soft body ease mine, I should be packing up my shit and stomping across the hallway to Smoke’s room, the only one in the place with two beds. He won’t care if I’m in there, even if he’s busy fucking one of the club girls. He’s an exhibitionist who loves an audience.

Hell, I could watch, jerk off, and chase some sleep.

But I can’t walk away from whatever this is for tonight.

All I can hope is that the cold light of day will bring the logic I can’t find right now.

The barest of touches from her brings out a primal urge to mark her as mine. I slide my palm over her shoulder, down her arm, and back again.

“It looks beautiful. Does it hurt?” Her wide eyes look up at me.

“It did, when I first got it done. For a few months after.” I climb to my feet, shuck the pajama bottoms, and take my chance to pull a box of condoms out of the side table.

Maybe we’ll fuck; maybe she’ll just tug on the barbell crossing my dick a few more times and call it a night. But what I do know is that not even a gun to my head could make me leave, and it will still be a good time.

I climb back into bed and tug her body to me. She feels almost fragile in my arms. Might take a minute for her to take me, and I can’t wait to feel how she’s gonna choke my cock.

Skin soft as silk, thick, lush hair, and I swear she smells delicious. Citrus and warmth. Yet, I challenge myself to take it slow.

Not just for her, but for me.

“God, you feel good,” I say as she settles against me.

Lips trace a line of kisses along my pec.

The reason I never kissed anyone else on the lips was because I wanted to cling to the last kiss Hallie ever gave me. If I’d known it was going to be our last, I would have made it last longer instead of rushing out the door to get to the club. Yet, while I feel like a traitor for even considering kissing Raven again, I can’t stop myself. She’s so light in my arms; I shift her up my body easily enough.

And when my lips hit hers, when that soft moan leaves her mouth, I sink into her.

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