Page 41 of Grissom
Three? Did not compute. That phenomenal pleasure was pulsing through her again, blocking logic. Like those lightning storms, pushing her up high, into light so intense and warm and wanton, another scream begged for release.
Every flick of his talented fingers created more sparks, and every spark, the need to scream and hold on tight. Her blood was running hot. She was out of control—flying like he’d told her to do. While his teeth and lips feasted on her tenderized nipples and aching breasts, slathering sloppy wet circles, nipping and sucking, and—
It was happening again. Her hips gyrated as that lovely, wicked storm built higher and higher until... “Grissom. Too much! I can’t. Too…!” It broke loose like a hurricane. Wicked, crazy lightning sizzled behind her closed eyes. Her hips bucked, desperately seeking the coarse friction of Grissom’s massive male body. Wanting him inside. Every last rugged inch of him. Their bodies slammed together. The only thing between them ? That darn cotton Hanes chastity belt he was so determined to wear.
Darn it! Tuesday wanted his underwear gone and him naked. The thought that too much sex could kill her flitted through her semi-conscious state of euphoria, even as her fingers crawled between them, down his belly, frantically seeking the overheated missile still in his underwear. But what a way to die. Burning together, in love and lust—just him and her. Only Tuesday and Grissom. Forever and ever.
At last. She found what she wanted, pumping him—just once—before he clamped a hand over hers and ended her willful exploration of his magnificent body.
“Please, don’t. Stop love. Hold still. You’re responsive as hell, and if you keep that up, I’m going to come,” he growled, his voice gruff and tight, his face pressed into the corner of her shoulder and neck.
Him coming sounded like a bad thing. “What’s coming?” she had to ask. “Will it hurt?”
“I’ve lost count,” Grissom huffed, his chest heaving like he’d just run a marathon. “How many orgasms have you had?”
“I have no idea,” she replied stupidly, still trying to catch her breath and not sure why he was counting. Must be a guy thing. She’d lost count at three, after he’d told her what those glorious feelings were. If they were orgasms, then… “Is coming having orgasms?”
“You’re so tight” —he pressed his monstrous erection, still completely covered by that darn Hanes barrier, between her legs— “Feel that? I’m so hard for you, I could pound railroad spikes. We need to slow things down. And yeah, coming’s another word for orgasm.”
“Slow things down?” she asked, loving the heat and girth of the lightning rod still pressing against her. Out of breath and panting, as tiny aftershocks lit up receptors she never knew her body had, she asked, “W-why slow down? I’m just gettingstarted.” To prove it, she slid a sneaky hand down his taut belly, under that darned waistband, and back inside his briefs.
His smile turned delightfully tender the second her fingers circled the girth and thickness of him again. With lovely ridges and bulging veins. She wanted to look at it, darn it. At him. At all of him.
“Because you’ve never done this before, and I don’t want to hurt you. I’m not a small guy, and—” his shoulders lifted “—us going all the way tonight will hurt. But trust me, I’ll take it slow and easy, and we’ll work on it together.”
“Has anyone ever died of too many orgasms?” He was still hard as a spike, yet velvety soft and so, so hot. Made her want to put her lips on him—there. Maybe more than just her lips. Maybe her whole mouth.Bet he’d like that.
As if he’d read her mind again, Grissom’s entire face brightened even while he pulled her hand out of his briefs.Darn it.She’d lost her chance to fondle him.
“You keep saying stuff like that, love, and my head’s gonna swell.”
“Well? Has anyone?”
“If they did, they died happy,” he teased.
“I believe it.” Sweat trickled into her eyes, but Grissom captured her fingers before she could wipe it away.
“No hiding. Please, not anything from me. Ever,” he told her gently. Earnestly. The top of his fingers smoothing over her damp forehead. “Not your tears, your sweat, or your blood. Not your passion or lust, your pain or your rapture. Not your curiosity, your questions, or your fears. Never, ever hide from me, Tuesday, and don’t be ashamed of anything we do together. You want to try something new, tell me. Don’t ask. You’ll discover what you like and don’t like soon enough. We’ve got time. We’ll figure things out as we go. I’m just so damned honored to be the first man who’s been with you like this. But Ihad to stop you. If you’d kept squeezing me like you were, things would’ve gotten messy, and I don’t think you’re ready for that.”
A fiery blush stormed over her face, no doubt leaving bright red splotches in its wake and watering her eyes. “Okay, I guess. Agreed, no secrets. Only trust and honesty. That’s a good rule. But Grissom, honey.”
Impossibly, his eyes grew darker. Lust still glittered there, but—were those tears?
Sliding both hands up and over his rounded shoulders, Tuesday cupped that rugged, bristly jaw and stared into the worried gaze of the gentle giant breathing down on her. Grissom might look fierce and angry to people who didn’t know him, but beneath that give-no-quarter, rough-and-tumble gunslinger, was a pure-hearted man earnestly fighting the world, and sometimes, fighting himself, too. She’d witnessed his panic attacks too many times today to pretend she hadn’t seen the cracks in that handsome façade. But she also knew this beautiful, damaged man wouldn’t give up; that he’d fight to the death for his boys, and now, for her, too.
Running the pads of her thumbs under his eyes, collecting those rare, precious male tears, Tuesday gave back to Grissom what he’d given her. “You aren’t just thefirst man. You’re myonly man.” She bumped her forehead to his. “You’ve made me—”
What could she say? There were no words for what Grissom had given her tonight. No one word could capture the range of emotions he’d ignited in the lonely stretches of her soul. For the first time in years, the hollowed-out pit in her heart was full. He’d changed her. Might’ve healed her. Right here, right now, in this bed.
“I’ve made you my woman, love,” he finished for her.
“And you’re my one and only,” she whispered, her hands curled around the back of his neck, her fingers threaded into his hair. “All. Mine.”
Chapter Twenty
They lay quietly on the guestroom bed, catching their breaths, their arms and legs tangled, and their heartbeats in sync while the overhead light bathed them in soft LED. Tuesday’s warm breath fanned over his chest. Grissom wasn’t in a hurry. They still needed to have a talk about birth control, but that could wait. What she’d just given him, allowing him to be the first man to explore her exquisite body, knocked the wind out of him. But when she said he was all hers? He’d damned near bawled like a baby.
The only honest love he’d ever known hadn’t come until Tanner was born. His dad used to say the right words. He was good at talking about how much he loved Grissom, but not once had he proved it by being brave enough to save his son by leaving his wife. That would’ve been hard, sure. But real men protected their children from bullies and the chaos they eagerly inflicted on everyone around them. Even when those bullies were family and standing up to them was hard. Especially then.
