With Grace in his arms and her bare center rubbing against his lower belly, Crew moans, and his tongue slips into her mouth with languid purpose. He somehow has the wherewithal to walk them out of the foyer, through the scattered piles of Grace’s abandoned clothes and toward his bedroom, where the shower—and, more importantly, thebed—awaits.
The moments that follow are blurry, shifted out of focus by the blinding desire and arousal that hums beneath Grace’s skin. A flurry of skin, water, soap, and wandering hands. Crew stands behind her in the shower, lathering her breasts and taking extra time on her nipples, plucking at them even when they are far past the point ofclean.He’s been hard against her backside since they walked into the bathroom, but with him now free of his jeans, the heat of his length radiates into her, and all Grace can think about is how easy it would be to bend over and invite him inside. To place her hands against the tile of the shower and let him bury himself within her, to feel the fullness she so desperately needs.
Her sense of urgency becomes clearer to him when she starts to whine with impatience as he rinses the conditioner from her hair, and then his own. He runs his fingers through her longbrown locks thoroughly, testing her, challenging her will to wait, to hold on for just a little bit longer. Only when he’s reached past her to shut the water off does he finally give hermore, pressing her backward until she’s flush against the glass door and cupping her entire cunt with his hand. The tips of his index and middle fingers dip shallowly into her, and they both groan. Grace with relief and impatience and excitement, Crew with awe at how wet she is, and knowing it isn’t the shower’s doing. As methodical and careful as he’d been during the washing up, Crew seems to abandon all pretense now, as though this tiny glimpse of how turned on she is, of the hot, soft wetness that awaits him has depleted all of his patience. He lifts her up by her waist, encouraging her legs to encircle him once again, and then he walks them, still dripping from the shower, to his bed.
He doesn’t lay her down, doesn’t tuck her into his mattress and climb on top of her like she thought he would. Instead, he turns around until the backs of his thighs hit the bed, and then he slowly lowers himself, letting her rest atop his thighs.
Grace hums, arching her back until her chest is pressed into his. Instincts, she’s learning, are her best friend—her most reliable resource. Undoubtedly, she has a severe lack of experience for this type of congress, and with anyone else—someone she trusted less, cared about less—she’d probably be bumbling and awkward, apologetic for her naivete. But with Crew, that critical, doubting part of her brain switches to standby, stepping into the darkened background and allowing the more primal, impulsive urges to take center stage. She moves without thinking about it, letting her body take what it wants. And right now, all it wants is to see him undone. To watch this pillar of a man become unmade.
Crew’s hands push up her back, settling at her rib cage, and Grace shivers from the rough texture of his hands, the path of warmth drawn by his fingertips. When her head tips backward at the sensation of it, a whimpering sound vibrates in his throat. She feels his lips at her neck, his teeth scraping her skin. “God, I want you,” he says on a shuddering exhale.
She looks back down at him. “You can have me,” she declares, and punctuates the sentence with a roll of her hips, a burst of intense friction between the aching crease in her legs and the thick hardness between his. “Youdohave me.”
Crew growls into her collarbone, and then he’s moving, shifting backward until he’s closer to the middle of the bed, her still secure in his lap. He lies down then, but when Grace goes to follow him, to let the magnetic pull of his lips and his eyes drag her down, Crew shakes his head. Instead, he grips beneath her thighs and drags her up, up,up, until she’s covering him entirely. She’s sitting on his face without reservation, and though she’s never done anything like this before, she isn’t worried or nervous—especially not when Crew’s hands move to her hips while his mouth encompasses her dripping cunt.
They both groan loudly at the first touch of his tongue, and then he begins tofeast.He eats her pussy with the same level of careful determination he reserves for everything else in his life. Never anything in halves, only ever giving his full, undivided self. He situates her to his liking more than once, using his hands on her hips to guide her, rocking her back and forth over his mouth and changing angles and techniques anytime she’s venturing too close to the edge. His tongue flattens out against her clit, then delves inside, then spends a maddening amount of time tracing her lips, just barely grazing the border of thatsensitive, swollen little nub. He repeats that, mixes it up, listens for what makes her scream, and keeps going until she’s practically sobbing with the need to come. When he finally decides to let her, it’s with the assistance of two of his fingers pressing deep inside, making a scissorlike motion and caressing a part of her that she’s never been able to reach on her own.
“Come on my tongue, baby,” he slurs when he comes up for air. “Wanna feel you gush.”
She’s breathless and trembling with her mouth hanging wide open on a silent scream when she does, and it’s almost painful, how good it feels. Her head falls back as she regains enough breath to let out a long, broken moan, the shape of his name mixed somewhere in the middle.
Grace is only partly aware, only slightly coherent as Crew gently lifts her off him and settles her onto her back. He hovers over her, leaning onto his elbow, and stares at her with deep, brazen affection as she breathes deeply, steadily making her way back down to earth. When he dips his head down to kiss her, it wakes her up a little more, and she can taste herself on his lips. Maybe it should be embarrassing, but it isn’t; it’s devastatingly intimate and she is suddenly hit with an onslaught of emotion, of appreciation and care and something staggeringly close to love for this man and the way he moves her—not just her body, but her mind, her heart, her very soul. Their kiss quickly grows deeper and more urgent, their tongues delving into each other’s mouths, saying everything they need to say without words.
I need you.
I want you.
I’m with you.
Grace, fully aware that physical intimacy with Crew makes her insatiable and demanding, breaks from the kiss to tell him, “I’m on birth control.”
Crew blinks at her, darts a quick glance downward, and then back up. Hesitantly, he says, ortriesto say, anyway, “So, I don’t—” He coughs, clearly overtaken by the implication, unable to form the words to even ask the question. “You’re sure you—”
“I want you to fuck me without a condom,” she confirms, and in any other setting, her unearned confidence would probably be laughable. But here, with him, it’s unshakable. With Crew, Grace can finally say exactly what she wants, when she wants, without the worry of being told her desires don’t matter. With Crew, she can be brave.
Something that sounds very much likefuckslips from his lips, and then he’s on top of her, settling himself between her legs and kissing her, hard and rough and finally starting to match the impatience she’s been feeling since they were surrounded by that field of mud. Crew grabs both of her legs beneath her knees and pulls them up until they’re slung around his hips, and that’s when she feels it—the blunt, smooth head of him rightthere, right at the place where she will take him in. “You’ll tell me if it hurts,” Crew says roughly, his lips tracing her jaw. And though Grace nods, Crew says, “Promise me you’ll tell me.”
“I promise,” she says, wrapping her arms around his neck.
Satisfied, he drops a quick kiss to her lips, and then he’s breathing long and hard through his nose as he reaches down and positions himself. He keeps himself gripped securely as hepushes in, the tip of his cock breaching her entrance. In the space of a heartbeat, Grace’s senses are overloaded. Her eyes widen slightly at the feeling, and itdoeshurt, but not enough for her to want him to stop, especially not when she looks up to find him staring down at her, his eyes scanning every inch of her face. He gains a couple more inches and his mouth, which had been pressed into a firm line, parts, a heavy exhale falling from his lips. Grace grinds her teeth together as he pushes in farther, and if she were any less wet, if he were even half an inch larger, it’d probably be too much. But he’d taken the time to make sure she was soaked, drenched in arousal for him, not only to bring her more of that blinding pleasure, but to ease this passage. It’s working—between the wetness of her pussy, that look of awe in his eyes, and the feeling of his cock burying itself within her, the discomfort begins to quickly subside. It takes a sharp left turn into something much more enticing, hovering in that sweet spot between pain and pleasure. And then Crew captures her mouth with his, and pain becomes an afterthought entirely. Grace moans into his mouth as he reaches the hilt, and together, they breathe the same air, lips pressed together but neither of them moving.
Crew picks up his head slightly to ask, “Okay?”
Grace reaches up, pulls him back down, and says, “Better.” And then she kisses him again. She tightens her legs around him, unintentionally causing him to grind into her, and Crew grunts, his hand flying down to her thigh to hold her there as he starts to move.
Grace’s vision starts to blur—the room is fading out of view, leaving everything in a haze except for Crew. He’s in full color, high definition. She wants to burn this image into her brain—the way his mouth falls open when he pulls nearly all the way out only to plunge back in with more force.
“Crew,” she moans when she sees his eyes roll back, just as turned on byhispleasure as she is by her own. Maybe more.
“Fuck, Grace,” Crew grunts, and it’s like the words are punched from him, like saying them finally gave him the ability to breathe again. He continues to roll his hips into hers, never fully leaving her but stretching her out with each thrust.
He rises then, sitting back on his haunches and gripping her hips, pulling her body into his. His breath stutters as he pulls one of her ankles up onto his shoulder, holding it there as he pumps in and out. Grace’s head lolls back, and she can feel it, that telltale spark of something hot and all-encompassing creeping at the base of her spine. With each pump of his cock, it gets bigger, more insistent. She whines at the feeling of it, lost to the sensation of it all, and for maybe the first time in her life, she is fully in her body. Fully present, fully rooted to the earth, anchored by the weight of the man she loves.
The realization of that hits her like a derailed train, unexpected and catastrophic. She is overwhelmed instantly by the knowledge, by the fact that she’s known long before this moment. She blinks up to find Crew staring at her again, those pink, plush lips parted in a haze of pleasure as he moves inside of her, expertly, exquisitely splitting her open.
“Say it again,” he demands, his breaths growing shallower. Grace reaches up to touch his stomach, his chest, runs her fingers over his nipples. Crew groans and picks up his pace, fucking her steadily into the mattress now. “Say it, Grace. Say my name like you’re mine.”
Grace manages to get what she wants—pulling at him in anyway she can until he’s inches away again, his mouth hovering over hers. “Crew,” she says, and as it leaves her mouth, he gives her a particularly hard thrust, causing her to elongate the word with a moan. “Crew,” she repeats, and then again, “Crew, I—”
