Page 54 of On The Rocks

And yet here I was, sitting on his lap.

I didn’t do daring when it came to sex.

But I wanted to—this time. There was something elemental about the way he made me feel. Like there was a storm brewing under my skin.

I lifted the hem of the soft T-shirt—which I would be stealing, thank you very much—and tossed it over the arm of the guitar beside us.

His green eyes were intent on my face, even though my exceptional tits were on display.

He never did exactly what I expected.

I rocked forward and drew my thong-covered center over his very happy cock. His jaw did that flex thing, which stirred me up. I kept up the easy rocking as I slowly unwound my braid.

He liked my hair.

That much I’d figured out, at least.

I didn’t wear it natural that often, preferring to bind it with braids or to attack it with a flat iron, but the wild suited this moment. I definitely wasn’t behaving as I normally did.

The chemistry between us was electric.

Lightly, he stroked his fingertips up and down my thighs in an echo of the easy rhythm I’d started. Until there was nothing easy about the moment between us. He took over and controlled the angle of my hips, dragging me a little rougher against him with each pass.

My breath hitched as the friction ramped up the chaos inside me.

Determined to regain some of my equilibrium, I shook out my hair until it flowed over my shoulders in a cloud of curls. I gripped his shoulders and leaned in until our breath collided like thunder.

He didn’t break the staring contest we were inadvertently having.

Even when I flicked my tongue along his lids, the turbulent green of his eyes still held me.

The music piping through his house was a bluesy guitar-heavy song with a singer I didn’t recognize. I let myself fall intothe slow, drugging beat that matched the way I felt as we finally tumbled into a deep kiss.

One of his hands lifted into my hair, his fingers sinking into my thick curling strands as he turned my head to get ever deeper.

There was nothing sexier than a man who knew how to kiss.

Especially when most men didn’t give a shit about anything other than the final destination of getting his dick wet.

Griffin, not so much.

He was going to rock me into another damn orgasm, and I’d be lost again. He groaned when I backed up, but I distracted him by dragging my breasts across his chest as I snaked a hand into his sweatpants.

Hot.

Hard.

Impressive.

I peeled back his sweats and stroked him.

The kiss churned and burned with each stroke of my hand. I caught a drop of precum on my fingertip then I tore my mouth away from his.

He was breathing heavy, the green of his irises a mere thread with how blown out his pupils were. Untamed for me.

I brought my finger up to my mouth, licking the salt away.

He dragged me back against his mouth, chasing the taste. Drawing it off my tongue.

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