Page 71 of Divorced from Number Thirty-Eight
“Gray!”
He grins. “Damn right, Red.”
And for as good as he’s making me feel, annoyance is also beginning to flicker. Mostly because Gray Roberts is a fucking tease!
And maybe that’s why the words come…
The demands.
“Gray Roberts, so help me God,” I snap, tugging at his hair. “If you don’t make me come already I’m going”—I look to the side, spot the proper implement, and pick up the butter knife, pointing in his direction—“to unman you!”
He grins, runs his thumb over my clit.
Then presses.
My hand—and head—fall back, the knife clattering to the counter.
“If you unman me then how will I pleasure you?”
“I thought—” I suck in a breath, trying to settle my pounding heart, my hitching lungs. “You talked…a big game…about orgasms.” I lift my head and glare at him. “Only all you been doing”—another breath—“is teasing and talking and—oh my God!”
He’s slipped a finger inside me and dropped his mouth and all hint of my temper disappears into a haze of pleasure.
It floods me, going taut, sparking every nerve ending, and when he slides his other hand up, cups my breast, rolling my nipple between thumb and forefinger, when he does that at the same time he sucks at my clit, flicking out his tongue…
I go taut.
Then I shatter into a million pieces, my orgasm not like the ones I’ve had before, just flowing through me in a giant wave, gently drawing me into bliss. Rather, it explodes inside me, bursting outward, reducing me to nothing but sensation.
But it’s glorious sensation and it goes on for what feels like forever, leaving me suspended in that fog of pleasure, that fantasy of feeling.
I could be there an hour.
A day.
A month. A year. An eternity.
Or…it might be minutes before I slowly sink back down into reality, into myself. Into this moment.
Gray is still kneeling between my legs, a satisfied smile curving his lips. He’s cocky as fuck…and I can’t even blame him.
Because that orgasm…
Holy hell, I’m undone.
“Gray,” I murmur and my voice is basically a rasp.
His smirk grows.
My pussy convulses.
Something he notices considering that his fingers are still inside me.
He flutters them as he rises, bending over me, lips coming to mine for a single blazing kiss. I can taste myself on his tongue and I like it, want more of it.
So, I kiss him back, not stopping until my vision starts to turn black at the edges and my lungs scream for air.
“Inside me,” I demand.
