Sudden Desires Page 7

  I’m stunned by his audacity, his statement. It doesn’t seem a man like him would say something so harsh, so blatant.

  Griffin isn’t thinking much when he makes his next move. He just… does.

  His chest presses on mine, and between his fingers he clasps my jawline, leaving me no choice but to cave with him. I cave because this touch is too real, too assertive, making my knees wobble and my sex clench.

  He tosses the glass that’s in his other hand, and it flies over the balcony. I don’t know where it ends up but I hear the shatter as it lands, and just like him I don’t care what or even whom it may have struck. His lips are so close to mine I can practically feel them.

  He’s right. We shouldn’t. But there is no one here to stop us and that includes me.

  Knowing that, I lean in and as our lips touch, so feathery and tender, Griffin loses all sense of self-control.

  He crushes my mouth, breathing thickly and raggedly with my face still clutched in his hand. His other comes up to cup my breast, and my back hits the wall as his groin pushes into mine.

  It doesn’t take much for him to pick me up. He releases my face and my breast, hands at my hips, gathering the bottom of my dress in his hands and swooping me up, allowing my legs to ease around his waist.

  We breathe hard, panting deep, the rain pouring down behind us—swallowing our sounds of pleasure whole with its deluge. The rain drowns out each heavy moan, each tight, raw groan.

  Griffin pulls back, but not too far.

  I cling to him, my fingers curling into the back of his black T-shirt, my body refusing withdrawal. “Will you help me stop caring so much? For now?” he pants, lips wet.

  “For now?”

  He grins, lazily. Childishly. “Well, whenever, really.”

  I fight a grin and before I can react, his mouth has claimed mine again. I don’t fight it—I could, but I don’t.

  Our bodies have longed for this moment for days. The pull has been strong, the connection all twisted up and robust.

  So, no, I don’t hesitate like I did at Swede’s. I don’t stop him because I don’t have much to lose, and he deserves pleasure.

  I have wanted this man since the first moment I laid eyes on him. When I saw it was Griffin Boyd holding the elevator for me, I couldn’t not feel some sort of satisfaction.

  He looked even better in person. I’d heard about him, but all I saw were black and white headshots of him in papers or online, but in person… my God, in person he is a god.

  Chiseled everywhere. Cut jawline and cheekbones—built like an athlete with the mind of a genius and eyes as brown as expensive whiskey.

  My pussy actually clenched when he spoke to me and gridlocked me with those sharp eyes in the elevator.

  I can’t fight this… this lust.

  It was inevitable from the start.

  I wanted a taste just as much as he did. I could read him like a book. I could have used his thirst for me to my advantage, but I remained the good woman, respecting him as much as possible, pretending this was only business.

  But who am I fooling? Because it damn sure isn’t him or even myself.

  How can any woman resist this?

  Resist him?

  Such a beautiful, beautiful man.

  My body goes into overdrive for him, walls clenching, body bucking as he sucks the whiskey off my tongue and from my lips.

  Hungrily, his mouth moves to my neck and he jerks my back off the wall, stumbling through the balcony door.

  Our lips connect, my back landing on the soft comforter of the bed. Griffin slips between my spread legs, perched on his knees, brown eyes like dark, wicked flames.

  “Protected?” he asks.

  “Of course,” I breathe. “Can’t take any chances, right?”

  His upper lip twitches, his fingers coming down to the bottom of my dress. He circles his finger on the area around my anklebone, and I smile because it actually feels nice.

  Pushing to his knees, he brings the bottom of my dress higher and higher while trailing caresses of his lips across my skin.

  When the dress is bunched up around my chest, I lift up and he pulls the gathered material over my head.

  My heartbeat quickens as he stares down at me, nestling his lower half between my legs. His cock rubs across my inner thigh through the fabric of his sweatpants.

  My hands have a mind of their own, reaching forward and tugging his pants down. Next, his shirt.

  I push up on my elbows and settle on my knees.

  We are eye-to-eye now, his toned chest working hard as he breathes. My eyes travel down the length of him. Cut in all the right places, a slab of perfectly-toned abs on full display with a sharp V I would love to trace my tongue along.

  Lightning strikes the sky, the dim lighting to our left allowing us to absorb our semi-nakedness.

  The balcony door is still open, a breeze running through the room. All that is left on our bodies is our underwear.

  I reach down, running my palm across the head of his cock. His eyes shut tight, and his lips part as he shudders. Something is bothering him, and I think I know what it is.

  “We don’t have to do this,” I whisper into his ear. “We can stop.”

  He grips my waist, head shaking, lips planting on my collarbone. “No, Angelina. Keep going.” He holds me snug against him. “Don’t you feel how hard I am for you?”

  “Yeah,” I murmur as his lips skim up to the lobe of my ear.

  I continue to stroke him through the fabric until I’ve had enough of just cloth. With dire need to feel flesh on flesh, I lower his boxers and grip his hot thickness in hand.

  He groans and I sigh as his rock-hard member travels across my palm. “Feels good?” I whisper.

  “So good,” he groans again.

  “I’ll do whatever you want me to do, Griffin. Whatever you need in order for me to satisfy you, I will do it.”

  He picks up his head, studying my eyes. Then, he moves my hand away, watching my tongue run across my lips. “Turn around then,” he demands.

  I swallow my desire, hesitantly turning my back to him. His warm fingers come up to the back of my bra strap and he unlatches it.

  My D-cup breasts bounce when they are freed, and he brings both hands around me to cup them.

  Toying with my nipples, he thrusts his groin against my ass and I breathe deep as he holds me tight to his hard body.

  God, he’s so hard and thick. Everywhere. He grinds himself on my ass, still squeezing my breasts, his chest to my back. His breath runs across the bend of my neck, the sweet, natural scent of him driving me wild.

  The rain comes down harder only a few feet away, the pleasant sound of white noise mixing in with heated breaths and scorching bodies.

  “Whatever I want?” he asks.

  “Whatever you want,” I return, rolling the seductive words off my tongue.

  “Kay.” He pulls one of his hands from my breast and runs it from the small of my back to the tip of my spine. He then shoves me forward, face down, and I gasp as his erection slides through the crack of my plump cheeks.

  “Stay just like that,” he growls.

  And I do as I’m told, holding still for him.

  His fingers skim my waist, and once he finds my panty line, he tugs the strings down, bringing them around my ankles.

  Once removed, he groans, trailing kisses up my spine, one hand circling around to my thigh. Slowly, he runs his hand up, nearing damp heat.

  My teeth catch my bottom lip, and I shut my eyes, intoxicated with desire. And once he finds my clit, still kissing my body tenderly, I buckle. Because he’s there… right there.

  With ease, he guides his fingers through my slit, and dips his fingers into my entrance. Pulling back out, he groans, lips planted by my ribcage. “Your pussy is so fucking wet,” he murmurs, voice deep and vibrating through me. “I assume it will always be this way for me.” His finger comes back up to my clit, and he applies a gentle amount of pressure. I start to buck
, but he presses down on my back, keeping me still. “Just like that, Angelina. Like that. Don’t move.”

  He continues circling my nub, going faster and faster with each passing second, causing my knees to buckle and my back to arch. “Oh, God,” I groan.

  “Feels good?”

  “Yes,” I breathe, tossing my head back.

  “Finish,” he demands.

  My eyes shut, and with a few more slow, sensual swirls around my clit, I cry out, cursing loudly again.

  Griffin pulls away slowly, watching as I collapse and bask in the bliss.

  I breathe raggedly, but I’m not granted enough time to settle because he drags me to the edge of the bed and flips me over, adjusting between my legs.

  He’s still unbelievably hard. His pre-cum glistens on his mushroom tip when I look down, studying his hard length. So thick. So long. So fucking big.

  I know I’m in for ultimate pleasure.

  Hovering above me, Griffin plants his hands outside my head, his cock at my entrance. I inch closer, wanting him to sink deep, fulfill my ache, but he doesn’t.

  He holds back with a gleam in his eyes.

  Thunder and lightning hit the sky, the breeze blowing stronger through the open door. I whimper, and he shakes his head. “How badly do you want me to fuck you, Angelina?”

  “Badly, Griffin.”

  “Yeah?”

  I nod, running my hand down his chest, grabbing hold of his cock. His nostrils flare, eyes squeezing tight as I lower my body until my tongue can slide between the slit on his thick tip.

  I know I’m only making this harder for him. His cock is so fucking hard I think he might explode with one simple stroke.

  But, he proves me wrong. He lifts me back up and grabs my wrists, planting my arms above my head. And in one swift movement, he dives deep inside me, stilling—body locking for what feels like an eternity.

  My back goes into an instant curve, a heavy moan spouting through my lips from the unforeseen stroke. Griffin sucks on one of my nipples as he starts moving, grunting like a savage, slamming into me repeatedly.

  His hands continue to hold my wrists, and with the speed of a jackrabbit, only his hips move, drilling, screwing, filling me up with each rapid thrust.

  Skin slaps, and beads of sweat ride on his chest. He grunts, squeezing my wrists, eyes hard on mine, refusing to look away.

  I close mine, but when I do he pulls away from my wrists, grabbing my face in his hands.

  My eyes shoot open and when ours connect, his head shakes. “Watch me,” he rumbles. “Watch me own this pussy, Angelina.” He leans forward, lips coming to the shell of my ear. “You say you can’t be owned. I’m about to prove that theory false.”

  Still gripping my face, he keeps my eyes on his, his cock still hammering away, sinking deep inside me. I clench around him, moaning, panting, and sighing.

  My body goes wild, my sex soaking his cock.

  With each stroke he grunts, and in no time at all he switches positions, shoving one of my legs up and sinking so deep I feel him in the pit of my belly. He steadily rocks, increasing speed, gripping my ankle and pounding mercilessly.

  “Oh, yes,” I groan. “Yes.”

  “Yeah?” he asks, dropping down to steal away a damp kiss. My fingernails drag across his back, our lips locking, tongues stealing tastes that we know we shouldn’t take.

  He releases my ankle, burying his face in the crook of my neck. His body locks, but his cock feels so much harder, so much bigger.

  He’s on the verge. Pulsing. Throbbing. “Cum for me, Angelina. I want to feel you all over my fucking cock. I want to feel how fucking wet you can get just for me.”

  I cling to him, his breath running through my hair. He squeezes the hair on my scalp near the back of my neck, pulling out that sweet mix of pleasure and pain.

  A little rough sex never hurt anyone… especially me.

  In fact, it further increases my appetite. It brings me more pleasure, and when he does it again, I begin to quake beneath him. My hands run down to his hips and I clutch, fingers sliding with the rhythms of his thrusts.

  “Give me that pussy, Angel. All of it,” Griffin breathes. “Give it to me.”

  And that is exactly what I do. I give it to him, all of me… to him.

  I cum so hard around Griffin’s cock that I see shooting stars that mingle with the lightning. As the thunder booms, the crackle of lightning sparking this moment, I shudder and shake, allowing him to bring me beyond oblivion.

  My body twitches in ways I never thought possible, eyes squeezing shut, words spewing out of me that I’ve never heard before.

  Griffin’s body curls as he tries to bring me back into position. He wins, and the deep strokes of his cock continue to make me drizzle and soak the length of him until, hastily, he cums too.

  “Ah, fuck, Angel,” he grunts, voice thick and heavy.

  He slams once.

  Twice.

  Three times, still taking little strokes like he can’t get enough, panting so hard it seems he’s run a marathon. I watch as his face oozes with the pleasure I’d longed to witness since day one—how it is my womanhood that makes him shudder, makes him groan and twitch with each surge of release.

  Finally, our bodies settle, and when our eyes lock, our lips do as well. I sigh beneath his kiss, whimpering as he moves his hips and triggers another tender spot. And when he pulls out and flops beside me on his back, I can’t fight my smile.

  Goodness… I’ve just fucked Griffin Boyd.

  My associate in business.

  This could ruin a lot, or it could better things.

  Whatever.

  That doesn’t matter right now because right now all I can think about is this.

  Sex with Boyd.

  And I can’t lie. He has some pretty amazing dick.

  EIGHT

  Griffin

  * * *

  I lay flat on my back, panting out labored breaths.

  That was an incredible fuck.

  My God, this woman’s pussy is just as I imagined.

  Wet, waxed, and tight. Every man’s dream.

  Angelina sighs and runs her palms over her face, pitching a giggle. She’s embarrassed, but honestly she shouldn’t be the embarrassed one.

  In my drunken stupor I came onto her. I claimed her mouth with the bottle of whiskey that I bought, running a trace of it over her lips, marking her. Staking my claim.

  I knew better. I fucking knew better, but I meant what I said on the balcony. I’m tired of caring—tired of suffering because I have a wife who doesn’t love me.

  But, my God, I think I will trade it all if I can have Angelina over and over again. A woman that I can please physically and mentally. A woman that will grant me access whenever I wish.

  Hmm… maybe I should file for that divorce. No use in dragging dead weight. No use in prolonging this mess of a marriage I’m in.

  “So… um…” Angelina perches up on her elbow, looking me over. Sheen coats the front half of my body and when her eyes go down to my satisfied dick I laugh.

  “Um?” I tease, cupping my relaxed sack.

  “That was… amazing. I can’t even put up a front.” She smiles hard, running a hand across my chest.

  “I, uh, should probably apologize, right?” I sit up, looking down at her.

  She scrambles to sit up as well, brows puckering. “What? No, way. I… well, God, Griffin…” she laughs hoarsely, dropping her gaze. “Well, if I have to spell it out to make you understand, then I will. I wanted this to happen.”

  I quirk a brow. “With me?”

  She nods.

  “You understand that I am married, correct?”

  “I know.” She folds her arms, concealing her once exposed breasts. Her eyes drop, and I feel shitty for making her feel insecure so I reach forward, pulling her arms down and sliding in closer. She doesn’t resist.

  I tilt her chin back up, lean in, and place a tender kiss on her mouth. She sighs behind it, eyel
ids fluttering. I sense hope deep inside her and it’s wrong of her to feel.

  Time to set some things straight.

  “Angelina,” I breathe, laying her flat on her back.

  “Hmm?”

  “I don’t want you to think much will come out of this… out of me and you.”

  She blinks up at me as I kiss her cheek. “I… don’t. It’s just sex, right?”

  “Right. But… I’m just saying. This—well, shit, I have never done anything like this before. Mess around behind my wife’s back, I mean.”

  “So what does that mean? That you feel guilty about all this?” Her face stiffens. She doesn’t dare blink as she watches my face for signs of doubt, hints of regret.

  I let out a hoarse laugh, head shaking. “Actually… no. I mean don’t get me wrong, I know I should but… I don’t.” My throat works hard to swallow. “It just means that you are one hell of a woman, Angel.”

  “How can you call me that?” she asks bashfully, cheeks blazing. “I… tempted you—I mean subtly, yeah…but still. In a way, I made you want me. I am no angel Griff.”

  “Griff.” I smirk. She looks at me, confused. “I like it. The only person that ever called me that was father and my mother.”

  She smiles. “Aww. That’s cute.”

  I laugh. “I guess. But back to you… yes,” I murmur, grabbing hold of her chin again and kissing those supple pink lips. “You are an angel. A sexy. Beautiful. Angel.”

  Between each word, I’m kissing her full mouth and drawing her slender body closer. She moans when my tongue slips between her lips. I collect a taste, fingers running up her thighs until I’m at her clit.

  “What about your wife?” she breathes.

  I shrug. “She’ll never find out… not that she’d even care if she did.”

  “I don’t believe that to be true.” Her breath hitches when I circle her clit and run a finger deep inside. “About her not caring, I mean.”

  “It’s true. Don’t worry about her, alright?”

  Right now I don’t want to think about the wife who despises me. I want to keep pleasing this angel before me, coat her sweet, tight little pussy with my cum until I’m fucking dry. Adorn her slick walls with traces of my pleasure.