“Vlad. Vlad, I’mso close, please. Please, please,please…”
I take him in my mouth again. All of him this time, and I want to gag when the head of his cock bumps the back of my throat, but I suppress the urge. Grant cries out my name, making my cock throb between my legs, and he pulls so tightly on my hair that I almost lift my head and let him fall from my mouth.
I do not. Tears sting my eyes, my own arousal a beating drum thudding through my body, but I watch through the haze as Grant comes, shooting down my throat. He squeezes his eyes shut, mouth falling open, and a flush spreads from his cheeks down his chest and he’sbeautiful, so much so that it almost hurts to look at him.
I swallow every drop I can and suck until he squirms and pulls my hair with more intent. He doesn’t let go when I pull off, using that leverage to hold me in place.
“Fuck, that was incredible.”
“Good.” I stroke his inner thigh. “I would want nothing less.”
Grant huffs a faint laugh, eyes falling to where my cock stands heavy between my legs. My pyjama bottoms are bunched around my thighs, the whole thing rather undignified, but it does not feel that way when his gaze sears through me.
“We don’t have time for everything I want,” he says.
“Not tonight, perhaps.”
“What do you want?”
I know what he means. His hand, his mouth, his—Well. I will not fuck him until we have time. It is not the be all and end all of sex, I know that, but I know too that it is important to me. I want to wait. I do not want this job hanging over us when we lie together that way for the first time.
“Fuck, come here,” Grant says, apparently more impatient than I am. He does not let go of my hair as I shuffle up the bed and awkwardly straddle his thighs. No, he uses that grip to tug my head down, to one side, and when his lips land on mine, his hand curls around my cock.
I let him take control. I want him to. It is novel to hand myself over to a lover like this, to worry for nothing but the way his grip feels around me, hand still so warm, and the way he bites at my lower lip whenever he pulls back. He might be beneath me, but somehow he is still surrounding me, possessing me, and some beast deep within me is tremendously satisfied by this fact.
I groan when I am close, hips thrusting into his hand, but Grant does not hesitate or slow. He growls and kisses me harder, hand moving faster, and when he tugs my hair again, sharply enough that I gasp into his mouth, I come, too, spilling over his hand and onto his stomach.
Panting, shaking, I rest my forehead against his. Grant grins up at me, bumping our noses and mouths together, not true kisses, just pressing skin to skin.
Sweat cools, hearts slow, and I wrap my arms around Grant’s neck, leaning my chest against his.
“We should do that again sometime,” he murmurs, then laughs at the expression on my face. “If we had time right now…”
A jolt of heat goes through me, but I kiss his temple and do not give in to temptation. I want to. It is all I want. “We do not, do we?”
He reaches over and picks up his phone, then groans and drops it again when he sees the time. “Absolutely not. Even less time if we don’t want Quinn to come in here before we’ve had a chance to air the room out.”
I huff against his throat—I really care little about who knows what we have done—but I understand the logic of it.
“Up,” Grant says, eyes sparkling with mischief as he gently taps my hip. “Dressed. Come on. I’ll even help you shower.”
I kiss him again, letting the touch linger. “Well, how could I say no to that?”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Grant
Quinnjoinsusonthe corner near the club, and I don’t like the frown on his face. “Yeah, he’s not in there.”
Margot throws her hands up in the air and even Rachel looks annoyed. “What do you mean, he’s not there? He’s in thereevery night.”
“Is there anywhere else he could be?” Asher asks. He might sound patient to them, but there’s an edge to his voice; hedoesn’t like that tone being aimed at his mate. Can’t blame him. Don’t think I’d be best pleased if someone was talking to Vlad like that, either.
“No,” Margot says quickly, then frowns, clearly thinking it through. She pulls the book she showed us yesterday out of her back pocket and flicks through the pages. “No. We’ve literally never seen him anywhere else. No one we’ve talked to has told us about another place he could be living or anything like that.”
“Did you attempt to stake out the club?”
“Yeah, after—” Margot shakes her head. “Later on, I guess.”
