Page 11 of Snowed In With the Grump
“Fuck, Lucy,” he growled against my lips, his voice wrecked and deep. “You feel like fire under me.”
He shifted lower, lips trailing down my chest, tongue circling my nipple before he sucked it into his mouth. I arched with a moan, threading my fingers into his hair. He groaned like he was starving, his beard scraping across my skin in the most delicious way.
“I need to taste every inch of you,” he said, almost reverently.
When he reached my thighs, he paused, spreading my legs with those big hands like he was opening a gift. His eyes darkened as he took me in...completely bare, soaked and swollen.
“Jesus Christ.” His breath hitched. “You’re dripping. For me.”
He leaned down, nuzzling the inside of my thigh, then pressing a kiss right above my clit.
"Griffin," I whispered, already breathless.
His tongue met me in one long, slow lick that made my hips jerk. He chuckled against my pussy, then did it again, rougher this time. When he wrapped his lips around my clit and sucked, I cried out, grabbing the back of his head, shameless in my need.
He moaned into me like I was the best thing he'd ever tasted.
“That’s it,” he murmured, voice thick. “Ride my face, baby. Give me every fucking drop.”
I did. Grinding against his tongue, clutching the headboard, coming hard with a strangled scream as he licked me through it, groaning likehewas the one getting off.
He stood, unbuttoned his jeans, and peeled them down along with his boxers.
Oh. My. God.
He was as big as a bull. My breath caught, and for a split second, I genuinely wondered if he might split me in two.
Then I thought...what a way to go.
He crawled back up my body, face flushed, mouth still slick with me.
“You taste like a fucking dream,” he said. “And I’m not done.”
I wrapped my legs around his hips, pulling him in close so I could feel his cock, hard and heavy, pressing against me.
"Need you inside me,” I gasped. “Now."
But instead of lining up, he grabbed my ankles, lifted my feet, and looked at them like they were holy.
“What are you doing?” I asked, breathless.
He smirked...actually smirked...and kissed the arch of one foot, slow and sensual. “You have no idea how much this does it for me.”
My breath caught.
“Oh, really?” I flexed my toes against his face. “Should I have painted my nails?”
“Don’t tempt me,” he growled, licking a path up the side of my foot before sucking two of my toes into his mouth.
“Holyfuck,” I moaned. The sight of this giant, gruff man worshipping my feet like it was the hottest thing in the world short-circuited my brain.
His mouth was filthy and reverent at once, kissing every inch before tossing my legs over his shoulders.
“Now,” he said, his voice low. “Now I fuck you.”
He didn’t ease in. He thrust, hard and deep, burying himself in one perfect stroke that made us both groan in relief.
“Shit...you feel so fucking good,” he grunted, rocking into me with brutal rhythm.
