Our sexual chemistry is off the charts. Grant's sex on a stick—well, sex with a stick. Or is that a dick? I smile at my silly thoughts. I can’t imagine this erotic love affair ever slowing down.
I get up and carefully place Briley in his crib, covering him with a light blanket. He’s a great sleeper. I’ve left the baby monitor in the kitchen already.
Mitten yawns, stretches and curls up without me. He’s happy to hang out in the nursery.
I leave the nursery door open, so Mitten can leave when he likes, then I run down the stairs, in a hurry to see the gorgeous hunk of man, who’s also the love of my life.
Grant enters directly into the kitchen through the internal garage door. Stunned by the sight of him, I blink and stop in my tracks.
Jesus! What the hell’s wrong with him?
Outwardly, he seems the same, although his face is strangely expressionless. Brown tousled hair, powerful torso and slate blue eyes—but it’s his eyes that give him away. Oh, his eyes! They burn.
His gaze is wild. Raw. Haunted. He’s vulnerable, angry or maybe despairing—I honestly can’t tell.
There’s something heavy, blackening his soul. When circumstances trigger it, I can practically feel his darkness. It’s as if he casts an actual shadow with his mood.
Like right now.
What in the hell has he seen today?
Panic tears through me. “W-w-what is it?” I gasp. “What happened?”
His strange, needy stare never once leaves me. He takes a step closer and stops, uncertain. I want to move—to go to him, but something holds me back.
I know this face. This is the Grant I first met, a man whose inner scars were far worse than the outer wounds on his face. The man with the tortured soul and the lost, betrayed heart of a child.
What in the hell is wrong with him?
“Renata, I…” he rasps tightly. Moments pass as he stares at me with those dark, bruised and burning eyes.
I have to help him. I long to banish his terrible pain. My mind flies off in all directions, imagining the worst. The suspense is killing me!
My voice wavers. “Grant, tell me!”
In less than a heartbeat, the spell breaks and I’m able to move. I stride toward him, reach up and wrap my arms around him.
With a half-cry, or half-sob, he presses his face into the curve of my neck. His warm breath fans my throat. He pulls me close, smashing his solid chest against my breasts.
He holds me tight, as if he’ll die if he lets go.
I gasp when he squeezes me, overwhelmed by the strength of his embrace and his intense need. I thread my fingers through his thick locks and cradle him against me like a child.
I gently stroke his hair, but I'm confused by my impulses. I want to nurture and soothe him. I want to wrap myself around him in the protective cocoon of my love, healing his hurts, preventing anything bad from happening. I want to kiss him and make it all better.
Shit. Am I his mother or his lover?
I have no idea what’s going on.
I’m not sure if he wants to fuck me or weep over some terrible tragedy. My eyes sting. He’s so upset. I’m completely shredded by his pain. Now, I feel like crying.
“Talk to me, sweetheart,” I manage to murmur, patting and smoothing my hands up and down his back. “Tell me what you need.”
“You,” he rasps. “You’re all I need.”
“You have me,” I assure him, surprised by his erection pushing against my sex. He’s huge, hard and ready. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m all yours.”
He pulls back from me so we’re face to face, meeting each other’s gaze. With an unfamiliar aura of vulnerability, he stares at me, anxiously studying my features.
“You promise?” he asks.
I force myself to give him a lighthearted smile, feeling nothing even remotely 'light' at the moment. I'm trying so hard to calm this strange mood he’s in.
“You goofball! Of course, I promise. We’re engaged. You’re mine and don’t forget it. I’m going to marry you, and we’re going to have a ton of wonderful kids that we’re going to love to bits. Don’t even think of getting out of your promise to marry me. I’m never, ever going to let you go.”
This reassurance seems to break the dam holding back his intense passion. With an arm around my back and his fingers tangled in my hair, his lips crush mine. He moans.
The moment our mouths meet, my whole body zings with electricity. I’m captivated by his taste and texture. I adore the strong male scent of him.
Nope. No longer confused.
All of the mothering impulses I felt are consumed by flames, reduced to ashes… I'm 100% back in the role of Grant's lover.
All I want now is to have him bury himself inside of me.
Chapter 34.
"One of the advantages of not being puritanical about sex is not being embarrassed after. You should try it."
— Inara Serra
~~~
Renata Koreman
Grant’s kiss is bruising and desperate, his lips hot and demanding. For the love of God, he feels divine. He fucks me with his tongue with delicious strokes, hard and determined. His fully erect shaft rubs against my sex.
My blood rushes, igniting a low, lusty burn through my veins. Mouth, chest, stomach, hips and erection, hot as fire, his entire body presses against mine. He doesn’t need words to communicate.
He physically conveys his longing—promise—need. Jesus.
My body quivers, flushed and aroused. Goosebumps prickle my flesh. I was wet before I came down the stairs, but with this one intense kiss, I’m flooded. My nipples pebble and my knees weaken as my body responds.
He needs me so much.
Fuck, it’s such a turn on.
His solid chest smashes against my breasts. He lifts me up and walks me backwards. In two quick strides, he pins me up against the wall. His shaft rocks against my thigh, hard and hot. His big, strong hands cup my ass.
Gripping his shoulders, I arch up and wrap one leg around him, guiding his cock to where I need it most. Grant rolls his hips, grinding against me. My thighs tighten as I try to pull him closer, wanting more… wanting him inside me.
My heart slams against my ribs, my breath comes in ragged gasps. I pull up his t-shirt, craving his firm chest, wanting to feel skin on skin. His mouth leaves my lips, his teeth clamp on to the side of my neck.
“Oh, mmm,” I murmur, shuddering from the erotic feel of him at my throat. I flatten my palm against his perfect abs. “Skin,” I plead between gasps. “I want to feel it.”
One hand slips under my dress, bunching it in a fist. The other runs up my thigh to my ass. He swears volubly when he discovers I’m not wearing underwear. His hand flexes, gripping my soft flesh with surprise. Expelling a lungful of air, he squeezes and strokes my backside with pleasure and disbelief.
Grant loves my ass. He’s constantly touching it, grabbing it, biting it. He adores taking me doggy style so he can look at it all he likes.
I know he craves anal sex. He’s got fantasies, but no matter how many times I ask, he avoids the subject. With his history of abuse, combined with a religious upbringing, impenetrable inhibitions surround him like a moat around a castle.
One day soon, I’ll get him to let down the drawbridge. Then we’ll deal with the rest of his hang-ups.
The image of breaking through his barriers, setting him free, and having him act out his fantasies is a huge turn on.
Anal is one of André’s favorite things.
Grant, I suspect, will be the same.
The idea of him taking me in the ass is as hot as hell. Introducing him to something so taboo, something he's held back from for so long, arouses the hell out of me. It'll ratchet up the heat and passion between us a hundred-fold.
It will set him free.
I can’t wait to take him there.
His palm leaves my buttocks, inching between my legs, cupping my sex. When he discovers how drenched I am, he gives another soft o
ath of pleasure and appreciation.
His hands push against my hips, making me drop my leg, putting space between us. I make a sound of complaint at the loss of him. He stands me up, pulls my dress up and over my head, drops it so it pools on the floor in a heap.
Now, he’s back on me. He presses me forcefully against the wall, once more. With one hand he fondles and massages my breast—the other is between my thighs, tracing my slit.
“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he demands, growling into my ear. His low rumbling voice is such a turn on.
“Hell, no—don’t stop. Fuck me, take me in whatever way you need to, please!”
With a sexy male sound, he slides his fingers up into my slick channel. I cry out as he drives them into me, finger fucking me hard and fast. My most sensitive flesh tingles, while my molten core throbs.
God, he knows exactly what I love.
Desperate, I buck into him. A tidal wave of desire hits me. I’m so close to climax!
The potent erotic smell of sex and man fills my senses. I love the feel of Grant’s body, so masculine and hard against me. His thick fingers probe deep within my pussy, while his thumb tantalizingly circles and teases my clit. His other hand pinches, tugs and rolls my nipple.
I thrash and moan in a mindless fever of need. Such powerful sensations! Grant’s heavy breathing and male sounds of arousal send me wild. His desperate hunger for me is the cherry on top.
“Touch me, please,” I beg.
God, my poor aching nub needs to be touched.
When his thumb finally taps my clit, he pushes me over the brink. I come screaming as though I’m on fire. My pussy contracts around his fingers, gripping and releasing.
“Oh, yes,” he whispers reverently “I love to see you orgasm. You look so beautiful.” He continues his ministrations, intensifying and prolonging my pleasure.
Pulling back to meet my gaze, his hooded eyes are alight with triumph.
“Oh no you don’t,” he says, as I start to slide down the wall, weak with Jell-O legs. He bends down, picks me up, and hitches me over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift.
What the fuck?
I’m caught off-guard, astonished by his unexpected move. I simply stare, dazed at his tight, beefy ass. Even in his jeans, his backside is a masterpiece. Lord in heaven, that’s one fine ass! I want to sink my teeth into him.
Languid and boneless from my climax, he dumps me onto the kitchen table. Salt-and-pepper shakers go flying, as well as a small bowl of salted nuts. They scatter across the table, and onto the floor, ping, ping pinging as they drop.
I giggle. What was I thinking, leaving those nuts out? Silly me. If I was smart, I would’ve been prepared for the possibility of table sex. I make a mental note to keep all horizontal surfaces in the house clear in the future. That way they’ll be available for any possibility.
Grant rips off his t-shirt, tosses it aside, unzips his jeans, and shoves them and his boxers down. His fully erect cock juts out in front of him. Then he’s on top of me, his chest pressing me down. His mouth kisses my neck, sucking my earlobe, his big palms grip and tug my nipples.
“Ah, ah, ah,” I whimper.
Taking his shaft in his hand, he strokes the tip up and down my folds, wetting himself. I sigh with pleasure. Fuck, he feels amazing. I raise up on my elbows for a moment, greedily drinking in the sight of his hard, muscular body and his colorful, tough guy tattoos.
I spread my legs and lift my knees. Wide open I welcom him in.
I know what I want.
I know what I need.
I crave the exquisite, seamless union I feel whenever he’s inside of me. It’s a connection that’s at once pleasurable and profound. I feel fulfilled as a woman and as a person when we join as one.
Now comes the best part as he pushes his thick head past my folds and into my opening. I give a throaty moan as I reach out to cling tightly to the sides of the table.
Eyes hooded, Grant exhales with a grunt as he shoves his cock inside my needy heat.
The strong tension in my inner muscles creates a delicious sensual struggle as he enters. There’s sweet resistance to his width, his bulk and length as my body expands to accommodate his size.
This first moment of entry is an intense pleasure that borders on an exquisite kind of pain.
My body adjusts to his welcome invasion. I feel a sensual, stretched-out, full sensation as his thick heavy shaft finally slides all the way home.
When he fully impales me, burying himself balls deep, I almost weep with joy.
That, right there, is the most amazing part of sex.
“Yes,” I sigh, as a shiver of pure pleasure runs up my spine. The pressure and heavy fullness is intense.
God, I just had an orgasm, but I’d still felt empty. Having him inside of me, having him fill me so completely is still an incredible relief!
Both hands holding my breasts, thumbs teasing my nipples, my pussy clutches at him as he withdraws. It’s resistant to him pulling out. Only the head of his cock remains partially inside me, then his abs tighten and he pounds back in again. His pace is relentless, out, in, out, in a brutal, delicious rhythm.
The table is the perfect height. His eyes greedily travel over my body, he grips my hips. This time he looks as he shoves himself into me, he watches as he fucks me.
I gyrate, writhe and thrust back, wanting to feel him touching every part within me. We meld together into one luscious sensation.
“So good,” I gasp, delirious with pleasure.
“You want more?” he grows.
“Yes, yes. Fuck me, please!”
I want him inside me as far as humanly possible. Hunger and arousal deepens. Another orgasm begins to coil, building in intensity.
Grant grunts with the effort of his next powerful surge forward, rams inside, giving it to me without restraint. I take him in my body with joy in my heart and my soul.
We get into a frenzied pace, grinding ourselves into each other. No longer dazed from my climax, I work frantically, meeting him thrust for thrust. My awareness heightens, sweat slicks my skin. All I know is the wonderful sensation of his punishing shaft.
“Fuck, yes,” he pants, staring at me with concentrated focus. “You want it, don’t you? You need my cock.”
“Yes, yes, please!”
The feel of his body rubbing against mine, the sound of his groans, gasps and ragged panting, the strength of his hunger, passion and need makes my skin heat and my muscles quiver.
I'm lost in a maelstrom of delicious sensation.
He increases his depth, bumping into my cervix, causing a pleasurable pain. Now, I know I’m taking all of him.
I want all of him.
I want everything he’s got.
I can’t think about anything except the feel of his thick, swollen cock.
I’m being ravaged. Grant acts like an uninhibited animal. He holds nothing back, he takes what he wants, what he needs. In this moment he’s not thinking, he’s not self-conscious—he simply is. I love it. I love this raw, dominant part of him. He so rarely allows himself to let go.
Woo hoo! Has he finally let the beast off the chain?
The table rocks as he slams into me, fucking me hard and fast, just the way I love best. His skin is slippery with sweat. He pants and grunts from this swift pace, this determined effort. I make continuous sounds of effort, as well.
Is there anything hotter than a gorgeously built man making hot, erotic noises? Not to mention the feel of him out of control, wildly pumping inside of you?
I tilt my pelvis, I need him deep, all the way in. I’m spread so wide. His cock slams against my G spot, his testicles slam against my anus.
Fuck, it feels amazing. He’s hard as steel. He’s ruthless. He’s rough. He’s an animal pounding inside of me! Fucking hell.
I could take this kind of sensual beating all day long.
If I’m bruised and tender tomorrow, I’ll smile with the memory.
Harder and harder, he
grunts each time he drives into me, hitting against my thighs, hips and ass. Each time he penetrates me our flesh meets with a sexy slapping sound. He works at a perfect pace now. Thrusting in, out, in, out, he hammers away like a jackhammer.
We’re both slick with sweat. Urgent now. Mindless. I feel his penis pulsing. It’s swelling further… he’s become even larger.
He’s close to climax… so close!
My eyes slam shut as my own orgasm strikes unexpectedly. Waves of pleasure take me completely by surprise. I arch and scream as my inner core contracts around his long, thick length, squeezing him, hard and tight.
Groaning, he makes a low, throaty sound of excruciating ecstasy.
The noise he makes is so damn hot.
His cock jerks, he begins to spray in long, burning pulses. Once, twice, three more times he pumps himself into me. On the last thrust he stays all the way in. He empties himself into my body. We’re joined. Connected.
Grant’s deep within me, body, mind, heart and soul.
I love the weight and feel of him on top of me. His head is at my neck, his hot breath fanning across me. We both pant raggedly, inhaling lungs full of air. Aftershocks cause my body to shake and tense.
Whoa! That was one hard, fast fuck. I feel as though I just ran a marathon. My hair is sweat-soaked, clinging to my head. A lock of it drapes across my eyes. I pull the damp strand away.
What an effort from both of us!
Idly, I stroke his back, and run my fingers through his hair. Buried within me, I smile as I feel his cock pulse and twitch. I’m deliciously, fabulously sore. It’s a good ache.
Jesus. He just fucked the shit out of me. His solid erection remains deep within me, exactly where I love him best.
I lay sprawled naked on the kitchen table, slowly—very slowly coming back to myself. In a sensual fog I lie there, boneless and languid. Dazed with pleasure. I’ll never get enough of him and his delicious, permanent erection. I’m intoxicated.
Talk about dick drunk!
Everyone should experience such rapturous sex.
I feel loved, valued, sated and well-used. Purposefully used. Grant, a man of formidable control, didn’t hold himself back. I was a channel for his aggression, arousal and need.