Page 8 of Grimm
His breath fanned against the exposed skin of my neck. I resisted the urge to push my ass against the bulge in his pants. Gently, his hands moved to my front, his fingertips grazing the underside of my breast, my nipples hardening from the featherlight touch. My head dropped forward, and I pushed down the moan crawling up my throat while his light but painfully teasing touch wreaked havoc on all my senses. He knew exactly what the hell he was doing. And apparently, I wasn’t the only one affected by his exploration of my body. But, at this point, his interest in vetting me shifted, and my interest in not being affected by his touch disappeared, too.
His bulge thickened, laid perfectly against the crack of my ass, and his breaths increased as his hand seared a path down my abdomen, across my hips, onto one thigh. He bent behind me, rubbing his hands down inside and outside one thigh, then he repeated on the other. A deep guttural groan echoed behind me when I sucked in a breath, his fingers close to my pussy.
“Shit,” I moaned, another rush of wetness coating me.
I couldn’t hold back anymore at how much I loved his hands on my body. I hadn’t been with anyone in close to a year—not intentional, just work getting in the way. I wouldn’t mind if Tavish MacDaniel broke my dry spell, which was a huge ass problem.
His towering presence rose behind me, his large palms following his path up the sides of my thighs, then my waist. I clenched my fists against the hood of the car, relishing in his touch, resisting the urge to jump on the hood of my car and spread my legs for him.
He leaned forward, his front against my back, his overwhelming scent engulfing me, his closeness driving me insane with desire.
“Not too handsy, was it, Miss Coleman?” His whispered words swept over me like a sweet caress, his tone unapologetic.
Bastard.
“No,” I said, my voice shakier than I would have liked. “Not too much.”
Opening my eyes, I came back to reality, fighting to restrain myself from making a huge mistake. The president of Sin City was trouble. I was already swimming knee-deep in it with my attraction to him, and if I wasn’t careful, I would gladly drown in everything Tavish MacDaniel offered.
CHAPTER THREE
GRIMM
My cock pressed against the zipper of my jeans. The pre-cum beaded at the tip, wetting my boxer briefs. When I adjusted myself to relieve the pressure, her lips parted, her pink tongue darting across her lips. Oh, she wanted me as much as I wanted her. There was no reason to hide the effect of having my hands all over her body.
She felt good in my hands. Right.
No woman affected me that way, and it wasn’t a good thing given who she was, but I was a glutton for punishment. I never ran away from trouble, and Miss Coleman was trouble wrapped in a sexy as sin body I wanted to defile in the most inhumane ways.
Diving right in wasn’t smart. My conscience tried to slap some sense into me, whispering all the things that would go wrong if I acted on my desire. However, she might be too hard to resist. I’d weigh my actions and the consequences where the lovely Regina Coleman was concerned.
Exhilaration rose inside me from having her curves in my hands. I was ecstatic that she’d requested me to check her instead of Joker having the pleasure, even though she thought I wouldn’t call her bluff. But there was no way in hell she’d step foot in my clubhouse without being searched. I might have been distracted by pussy, but I was far from being a dumbass.
“This way, Miss Coleman.”
I entered the clubhouse with her in tow. Uneasiness about being here poured from her pores, but I wouldn’t ease any of her concerns until I found out why she was there. And I sure as hell wasn’t sure if inviting the enemy inside the clubhouse was the best idea, but I’d listen to whatever she wanted to say. I wasn’t about to have our conversation outside where anyone could listen. At least, inside my office, whatever we said was protected.
A gasp slipped from her lips. “Holy shit!” she said, stopping me in my tracks. “What the hell?”
Her hand laid against her chest, and her mouth hung wide open. I followed her gaze, and a grin lifted at the corners of my mouth. Grunts and mewls echoed throughout the main room of the clubhouse. I hadn’t paid much attention to our surroundings. Either my focus was on her, or I’d gotten used to what happened in the clubhouse. I’d witnessed much worse when I was a kid. Nothing shocked me anymore.
Jax and Viper had Brandi on her hands and knees on the worn leather brown couch sitting in front of our 75-inch television. Her fake breasts hung low, jiggling as she gave Viper a blow job, his hands intertwined in her long, blond hair and his bottom lip clenched between his teeth. Jax fucked her from behind, his fingers digging in her fleshy hips, his pants wrapped around his ankles.
Just another day at the clubhouse.
My eyes raked boldly over Regina while she stood transfixed at the scene, appreciating how well her jeans molded to her curvy frame and the way her silk blouse clung to full breasts. I’d only seen her in professional attire, and those clothes definitely did not do her body justice.
“Are you a voyeur, Miss Coleman?”
Say yes. Say yes.
She hesitated, blinking at me with confusion. “Excuse me?”
“Are you a voyeur?” I asked again, looking at the threesome happening in front of us. I smiled at the look of surprise on her face. I wasn’t one for them, but I loved when anyone watched me fucking someone else. It was a thrill like no other.
“No, I’m not,” she said, her voice hitching.
Even though she lied, I nodded. She enjoyed watching.
