Page 76 of Grissom
Her thighs were more muscled than he’d expected, especially now, when he could feel the impact of her naked body slamming against his. As slow as he meant to go, her upward thrusts were feverishly brutal. His woman was a natural. Their bodies weren’t just coming together, not as hard as she kept banging into him. Smacking against his pubic bone. Her fingernails still tacked onto his ass.
At last. He was through. But what the fuck? Was she fucking him? Was demur little Tuesday Smart one of those legendary Amazonian women come to life? In his bed? Was this determined woman so fierce and so driven, that he was now the weaker sex?Oh, hell no.
With one firm fist gripping her gorgeous ass, Grissom got serious. She wanted to play rough? Game on. Growling from the sheer pleasure of being set free, yet still making sure he didn’t bump her bandaged wound, he slammed forward, goingas deep as he could. Keeping his mouth on her breast, he sucked hard, stretched that cocky nipple, marking her creamy skin and branding her inside and out. Like primal man did to his woman back in the Stone Ages. With fury, lust, sweat, and a fuck-ton of animal passion.
Right on time, too. Tuesday’s legs stiffened into planks. Her weeping core became a burning fist of fire, strangling his cock, reminding him that this was how she’d survived all those years of torment and death. By being strong and fierce, by killing him in the best way.
Tuesday’d been honed in the worst fires possible. Somewhere along the line, she’d apparently elected to become one helluva survivor instead of just another whiny victim. Victoriously strong, she’d conquered her attackers, every last one of them. Grief. Death. The extreme solitude of her chosen profession. The almighty FBI with their illicit, illegal outreach. Hell, even that pig, Maeve Astor. Estes. Pam. Moreno. And now…
She was conquering him and her virginity, both in one fell swoop.
“Fuck, yeah!” Grissom hissed, unloading into Tuesday’s sweat-slickened body.
The power and energy of their coming together blew his mind. Her body’s grip was so damned strong, and her core so phenomenally tight, he couldnotcatch a full breath. Not deep enough to get him through the onslaught of aftershocks radiating through her body to his, holding his rigid cock in place, as if it—he—had no will. No choice. Which he kinda didn’t. What red-blooded man wanted one?
The sweetest, feminine, “Wow,” shivered over his sweaty chest. Balanced on both palms to keep from crushing her, Grissom stared down at the woman he adored, sweat drippingthrough his bangs and stinging his eyes. What a rush! “For a tiny thing, you’re dynamite in bed, woman.”
Delight, joy, and a butt-load of womanly satisfaction glittered back at him. Not a hint of red-light stop, stop, stop in sight. Damned if those darling absinthe eyes didn’t light up like traffic lights, all sparkly go, go, go. Made a man proud to realize he’d met his match. His one and only. That he, Grissom McCoy, was the first and would damned well be the last man claiming Tuesday Smart. His soulmate. His other half. His true destiny. She was no shrinking violet, and if that cocky smirk of hers meant what he hoped it did, they were headed for one helluva repeat performance.
There was no need to ask if he’d hurt her, and he’d never admit she’d hurt him. She hadn’t. She couldn’t, not as small as she was. That constellation of tiny, indented crescents she’d marked his hairy ass with were precisely what had pushed him off the edge of worry and right into her. They’d taken their Leap of Faith together.
He offered another breathless, “Again?”
The wide grin that cracked her pretty face was the perfect answer. Tuesday Smart was one helluva dynamo, and Grissom was up for the challenge.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
After her first fantastic orgasm, Grissom had dragged Tuesday into the ensuite bathroom, where he first covered the burn mark on her waist with a large waterproof bandage before they played like kids under the shower. Soapy fingers and hands had explored each other, their mouths hungry for more than food, and their bodies eager for another coupling.
But when he turned her face to the tile and ordered her to, “Spread ’em…”
When he pressed a massive palm firmly to her lower back until she was bent so far over that she could touch her toes…
When he told her, “Grab the backs of your knees. I’m going to fuck you till you scream…”
Tuesday discovered she liked being bossed. She especially liked Grissom pumping into her from behind. The way he took control. Seemed smart since he seemed to know his way around her body better than she did.
The harder they crashed together, the louder their wet flesh slapped, and the deeper his glorious cock went, the more her love for this handsome father bloomed. She didn’t think she could manage another screaming orgasm, but he took her there. What she lacked in experience, she made up with enthusiasm and another ungodly growl that made her sound like a woman in the throes of labor, “Gr-r-r-issom!”
“Shhhhh,” he ordered, reaching down and pressing a wet hand over her lips.
As if she could. “Gris-s-s-som!” she hissed between his fingers, pleasure exploding through her body like Fourth of July fireworks.
With one final thrust, he filled her with heat. There was nothing better than his version of play. It took the stress out of sex, because, wow. She never knew orgasms could feel so good. Or how much she craved the smile her coming always put on his handsome face. Or how loud he could make her grunt and scream. Grissom made the night exciting. She couldn’t wait to do it again, to stimulate the heck out of her cowboy in his bed.
Better yet…Our bed.His fingers digging into her hips kept Tuesday balanced. His cock buried to the hilt didn’t hurt. Her hair was drenched, the tips of it swirling like silk on the tile floor. She was utterly boneless, limp as a noodle, but her ass was so damned happy. She’d be sore in the morning, but she’d never regret what she’d done with—and to—Grissom.
Especially what she’d done with her mouth. When she’d knelt in front of him and touched her lips to his—there. When she’d kept her eyes on him to make sure he was watching as she kissed the tip of him—there. When she’d opened her mouth and licked up that squeaky-clean shaft. She’d barely gotten a taste when he’d jerked her to her feet and ordered her, “Wrap your legs around my waist. Hurry up. Now!”
Thrilled with the power she had over him, Tuesday had complied in the nick of time, finding herself wedged into a corner of the shower. With her pinned in place, Grissom worked her slick, wet body up high enough, he’d wormed his shoulders under her thighs, and then…Whoa.
She shivered remembering how her thighs had clamped over his ears, holding his head and that wicked, wicked mouth of his in place, while she came and came and—
Her body clenched again, reliving every sensation. Thunder roared once more. The blessed friction of his body pounding into hers brought on another blinding, searing orgasm that stole her breath.
Even facing the floor like she was, Tuesday knew her man was smiling. She could feel it in the gentle way his rough hands smoothed over her well-pleased ass. The way his hips thrust forward while those callused fingers tenderly held her in place. They’d given each other something tonight, something they’d never had before, and it wasn’t just sex. It was that indefinablemore, the coming together of two broken parts. The joy of finally being put back together. Of putting each other back together.
It dawned on Tuesday then, standing there naked in Grissom’s shower, tipped nearly upside down, staring at the warm water sluicing down her bare legs. At Grissom’s much larger bare feet and toes spread behind her thinner, daintier feet. With his very capable fingers tapping her wet, naked skin… It came to her the way the winter sun dawned over the wild Atlantic on bitter cold mornings. Warming the earth. Promising spring, new life, and second chances. Maybe, third chances, too.
