He stretches out on the bed, resting his head on his folded arms.
“Very nice, Mr. Lock,” I murmur, ripping into one of the packets and squirting cream in my cupped palm.
“Drop the robe.” He stretches one arm and tugs on the edge, pulling me forward.
Letting out a fake huff, I slowly let the robe fall from my shoulders.
“More,” he encourages.
I let it drop to the floor.
“Much better.” His eyes study every bare inch of me.
I press my knee to the mattress and straddle his thighs. “Such a difficult patient,” I mutter. I slide my hands together, warming the cream, then slick my palms over his shoulders.
The second my fingers touch his skin, he groans. “That feels so good, buttercup. Sorry for giving you a hard time.”
I slowly dig my thumbs into his tight muscles. His whole body tenses. “Breathe,” I remind him.
When the tension fades, I continue. “It’s okay. I know you don’t want to show what you consider weakness in front of your brothers. And you especially don’t want me to think you’re weak. But pain isn’t weakness. It’s your body’s way of asking you to slow down and let your woman take care of you,” I whisper.
He groans. “Wise words.”
I work my way down each side of his spine. He freezes again when I reach his lower back. “Yup, I thought this might be tight. Deep breath, in and out.”
“Jesus Christ,” he sputters. “for such a delicate woman, you have iron fingers.”
I resist the urge to laugh and keep working until I feel his muscles give. “There you go. Keep breathing.”
“That stuff tingles.” He sniffs. “Is it menthol?”
“It’s a couple of different things. Just concentrate on breathing.” I work my way back to his shoulders, and lean over him. “You can’t resist me.”
“True, you little witch.” He plants his hands on the mattress and lifts himself, tipping me sideways.
With a yelp, I wrap my arms around his neck and hang on tight. “I’m not done!”
“Your magic fingers caused another problem I need you to take care of.” He settles on his back and clamps his hands over my hips, guiding me over him.
“What’s that?”
He glances down his body and I turn.
“Oh my. That’s quite an erection,” I tease.
“It hurts, buttercup.”
I settle my knees on either side of his ribs and flash my fingers at him. “You don’t want me rubbing this stuff on your sensitive areas.”
He frowns for a second. Then, a wicked smile curves his mouth and he grabs my hips again, yanking me forward. “I have a solution. Sit on my face and keep your hands in the air.”
“What?” Thrown off-balance, I brace my hands against the wall and stare down at him.
“You heard me.” He slaps my outer thigh. “Spread ’em.”
I inch my legs farther apart, careful not to dig my knees into his shoulders. “I’m going to smother you.”
“I’ll die a happy man.” His eyes burn hot as I open for him. “That’s it. Good girl,” he praises.
The first sweep of his tongue sends a violent shiver of bliss through my body. My hips roll, pressing my center against his mouth.
“Mmm-hmm,” he encourages, gripping my ass and pulling me closer.
“Oh God.” I arch into the pleasure, leaning back and resting my hands on his shins.
“Perfect,” he mumbles between kissing and licking. He slides one of his hands over my belly, settling it between my breasts.
“Gray,” I whisper desperately. “I’m already…I think…”
He hums urgent, encouraging noises and pulls his hand away from my chest. I squeeze my eyes shut, concentrating on the fiery waves crashing against my center. He slides a finger inside me, twisting and curling to the exact spot that makes my toes curl.
“Right there!” I gasp and shackle my hand around his wrist.
Sparks of heat pulse through me and explode. I ride out the orgasm until I’m limp and trembling.
“Give me your hands.” Gray’s gruff command can’t be denied. My arms are rubbery and weak, but I reach for him.
Gathering my wrists in one of his big hands, he rises and flips me to my back, pinning my arms over my head. His heavy body covers mine. A hot, blissful weight that makes me feel safe, cherished, and eager for more. He buries his face against my neck, kissing and licking. “You taste so fucking good.”
A zip of electricity zings through my post-orgasm haze.
“Now, spread your legs.”
I can’t help but follow Gray’s primal command.
“Wider.” He settles himself between my thighs, slowly slipping inside me. “That’s it. Fuck.” He squeezes his eyes shut.
He keeps pushing, burying himself deep inside me with a long, satisfied groan.
“That’s it,” he praises in a deep raspy voice. “Take it.” He thrusts again and again. “You’re so fucking wet for me.”
Each satisfied sound and compliment sinks in, filling me with a need to be closer in every way. “Only you,” I whisper.