Grayson - Page 73

“You’re so tight,” I growled, my cock pulsing as I bottomed out. I’d never heard myself like this.

I didn’t know I was capable of such things…

Grayson gripped my hair, his legs locked around me like a vice, thrusting his cock against my abdomen as he cried out, bathing me in his hot release.

The emptiness I felt as I waited for him was maddening.

“Henry,” Grayson’s voice brought me back to the moment, and I could hear the wistfulness in it.

I turned to look over my shoulder, our gaze meeting, and I knew.

He remembered too.

“Please,” I begged. I was so hard, it hurt.

“Grayson, please…” I forced the words out, the world spinning all around me.

Grayson pulled me back against his chest until he was fully inside me. The onslaught of pressure, of pain, was only temporary as he wrapped his arms around me, his right hand finding my cock, gently squeezing.

My eyes fell closed in ecstasy as he slowly dragged himself out, the pressure maddening as I waited for the fall.

“That’s it,” he purred, rocking back into me in a slow, torturous fashion.

“Yes,” I said, leaning my head back against his shoulder. His thumb teased my wet slit as he snapped his hips against my cheeks, picking up the pace.

“Come for me, baby.”

His words pushed me over the edge. I came hard and fast, with Grayson’s name on my tongue.

Warmth spread within me as his erratic thrusts stilled, as he gripped my chin and turned my face to meet his lips, swallowing my ecstatic cries with his kiss. His mouth moved against mine with grace, with a sweetness I wanted to taste over and over again.

My favorite dessert.

“Mine,” I murmured against his sweet, torturous mouth.

“Mine,” he whispered in repose, his lips curling into a smile as he held me, my entire body and soul coming undone in his arms.

And only when Grayson let me go, did I realize I was finally whole again.

EPILOGUE

Grayson

I looked at Henry from the passenger seat of his brand new, fully repaired Toyota. While I preferred to see him behind the wheel of my Porsche, I also knew that if we were going to do this—have a relationship—I needed to let Henry drive the car sometimes. Figuratively, and physically.

“You sure about this?” I asked.

Henry’s shoulders loosened and he pursed his lips. He nodded. “Yes.” His answer was solid, confident.

Ever since the other night—the night Henry finally opened up and let me in—it was like he was a different person.

Not as tense, not as scared.

I reached out to take his hand, squeezing it with support. “Okay then, let’s go have ourselves a gay old time, baby,” I teased.

Henry let go of my hand, opening the door, and I did the same.

It didn’t take long to find Giselle, who was in the center of the room occupying three high top tables. The party was there, plus Drew and the florist.